#they Do Not Trust nurses or doctors to genuinely have their best interests in mind.

[byanyan]

byan's distrust and outright fear of hospitals is something that's come up a bit in threads and muse discussion, but i've never really talked about why they hate them so much?

for one, they have a heavy distrust of any authority figures, including doctors and nurses. pair that with the fact that being treated in the hospital puts them in a vulnerable position and not in any control of things going on around them or to them, that's already enough reason for them to hate the place. and YET... the thing that really traumatized them and created a proper fear of hospitals happened when they were 12. after running away from an abusive foster home, which put them back on the street as they had no where else to go, byan stole from the wrong person and wound up severely injured in the resulting altercation. someone found them, called an ambulance, and they woke up in a hospital bed. using clues from the things they'd had stuffed away in their backpack, the hospital managed to find byan's identity and, from there, found their family - or, the foster family they were still technically under the care of. when the nurse told them that their family had been called and was already on the way, byan panicked and pleaded with her to not let them in, but... of course that didn't work. she thought they were merely afraid of the consequences of running away and being out so late in such an unsafe part of the city, brushing off their concerns to assure them that everything would be fine. it wasn't.

going to the hospital resulted in the family they fled from not only finding them, but dragging them back to that terrible house which became much, much more difficult to escape from after that. and that's all they can think about anytime they're in one of those buildings, be it in a bed or simply visiting.

[lunanheartache]

look. this is porn. non canonical porn, this does not happen. its also not finished bc i lost the thread (read: dont want to show my whole hog). judge me

expect: d/s dynamics, mentions of longterm orgasm denial / cock cages, nippleplay, lactation, silly med kink that's mostly just crossroads being annoying

it's fallow who suggests it.

as with all things, he is upfront and plain and direct. it's more of a question than a suggestion. no expectation behind it. crossroads could say no and it would be that simple: fallow would accept the boundary gracefully without pressuring him or threatening his job or their relationship.

he doesn't think it would even touch fallow's feelings.

the idea is a little far-fetched anyway. fallow didn't sound like he expected it to work. he had a vague sort of plan to try it, but not much in way of confidence. for a few weeks, crossroads could try the draught they commonly provide new mothers who struggle to produce and see what happens. it would probably do nothing. crossroads is not capable of pregnancy, nor does he have the sort of breasts required for milk. his chest is flat, albeit with a fresh softness to it since cahors, since regular, consistent food, but he hardly has tits. tits in pathetic name alone.

so he tried it.

without saying anything to fallow beyond needing a moment to think on it. fallow, as predicted, let it lie without a word: he hasn't mentioned it again, several weeks in.

when fallow brought it up, he rambled off concerns and thoughts and whatever else his steel trap of a mind spat out. he was not convinced it would work. young mothers try the draught at three times daily, though he would lean towards once daily just to see the effects. best case scenario, perhaps his nipple sensitivity would increase. he didn't think it would cause breast development of any significance. if it did work, it would likely be reversible within a few days of no stimulation, as with mothers who wean their young. any production would be minimal if it occurred, given a general lower end of milk ducts in males. he wouldn't have the same worries about leaking or timing then as nursing mothers. it would be simple to hide, and reversible, and it's just something fallow was thinking about admittedly for a short while that he may have gotten off to, but it is a lot to ask of crossroads and he holds no expectation that crossroads is willing or interested in that, and.

poor fallow was so flustered. crossroads grins at the memory.

the doctor means every ounce of his word, though. it's a strange feeling to trust him so deeply, but fallow proves himself repeatedly and without prompting. when crossroads asked for the key to the cage on his cock last month, fallow pressed it into his hand immediately. no complaint, no needling pressure to convince him out of it. the most he asked was if everything was alright, if something hurt or pinched, if they needed a different size. he accepted the key back just as graciously when crossroads gifted it afterwards, no backhanded, snide comments.

because that's.

it's still disorienting. fallow doesn't demand or expect his submission. crossroads is wholly within his power to upend the dynamic should he be so inclined, withdraw his submission entirely, and it would be nothing more than a discussion as to how he would be interested in play going forward.

fallow's control is- sweet. earnestly, honestly comforting, that stupidly heady feeling of /good/ that he chased for so long and kept getting wrong. by submitting, crossroads does not make himself /less/; he is still fallow's equal, as strange as it feels, and his voice carries just as much weight as fallow's. he will not lose his job if he declines. he will not lose his home, his standing, his safety, access to food, whatever good graces cahors has provided him if he says no. when fallow asks if he would be interested in attempting to induce lactation, he means it genuinely and accepts whatever answer crossroads gives.

it's still hard to believe. but crossroads knows it more than he believes, and that's good enough. surprising fallow with this will be fun. gifting him a new act of submission is exciting. he is looking forward to being fucked into oblivion if all goes well.

when he joins fallow in his office after clinic, it's like always. fallow offers a brief acknowledgement but remains focused on his notes. crossroads sits in the chair at the front of his desk patiently, examining his nails. with winter still lingering at the edges of the day, his fur hasn't made the full shift yet. he's shedding more and more, embarrassingly so, but perhaps more annoying is the dry skin revealed underneath.

all those fur oils and his skin is still dry. bastard. this winter was colder than previous. he won't fuck fallow with flaky skin; leaning down to his bag by his feet, he rummages through the miracled interior and chirps happily when his nails clink against familiar glass. he places a few droplets of a shiny gold-tinged in the palm of his hand, abandons the bottle back in the bag, and rubs his hands together. it smells lightly floral like jasmine, specially made. he watches fallow's dark eyes dart to him and linger before they return to work.

cute.

crossroads leans back in the chair, hands folded neatly across his stomach. his loose shirt looks habitual, worn to allow shedding and more air flow given the still-thick coat, but he dragged a vigorous comb through his body fur to get the worst out already. it's been three weeks of sneaking milk draught, and the loose fabric helps immensely; his nipples are swollen and puffy, and every movement of cloth across them chafes or goes right to his head.

neither is good during work.

fallow, somehow, hasn't seemed to notice. he's said nothing so far. there's something sort of hot about that though, crossroads thinks. what is there to notice? of course he's sensitive and needy. he loves his tits played with. he probably just played with them too much and that's why they're so flushed. maybe he was trying to see if he could cum like that again.

god, that's the other thing. he can't cum. he can't normally, chastity cage comfortable and weighty on his cock, but he's not even getting hard in the metal. using his ass feels stupidly good, always does, but he hasn't been able to cum like that in-

two weeks? maybe. he can't quite remember.

all the stimulation in the world and he can't wrench an orgasm from himself. it's different than the cage. the cage is almost more symbolic. he likes presence behind it, the reminder of it. he gets more than enough pleasure from fallow without his cock, whether he gets fucked or fisted or otherwise.

but now it's like he can't get enough. his cock isn't part of the equation, rarely is, and that's good. but fuck, even grinding his ass on his thickest dildo, the wooden one with those glorious fucking bumps massaging his prostate, just brings him vaguely close to an edge and refuses to step him any closer.

it's- hot. desperately hot. god, if the draught makes him this sensitive and dulls - or removes - his ability to cum-

crossroads bites his lip. okay. "doctor, i- hate to interrupt but i.. might need your help," he says.

"can i finish this note?" fallow asks distractedly, pen scratching away. he doesn't acknowledge the teasing title. he might not have noticed.

"i've been taking the draught," says crossroads.

the pen stops immediately. deeply satisfying. fallow doesn't look up from his desk but his ears go dark. "crossroads," he says.

"three weeks, once a day as suggested. i drink it before bed then i massage my tits for an hour until i fall asleep."

fallow closes his eyes, sits back in his chair. he takes a deep breath, keeping his eyes shut. "that's- i thought you looked different."

crossroads grins inwardly. an excited shiver ridges down his spine. fallow's reactions are always fun. breaking his composure can be a challenge, making it all the more thrilling when it works.

crossroads leans forward eagerly, puts on a shy, needy voice, "i might need an exam, doctor. my chest- ah, it's- embarrassing. i don't know what's going on. i'm so sensitive, it's driving me crazy."

"take your shirt off. show me."

with a whine, crossroads obeys. drags the fabric up and over his head, throws it off mindlessly to the side.

he knows what he looks like. fallow opens his eyes and there's an immediate self-conscious want transparent across his face. he's so cute. his gaze sticks to crossroads's chest. helpfully, crossroads cups the faint swell there in his palms, nipples flushed dark against his pale skin. they're puffy, several times more prominent than before and peaked excitedly. they feel more swollen than even the day before. just squeezing his chest is enough to make him squirm. it almost hurts this time, an unfamiliar soreness.

"fuck," fallow breathes.

"please, sir," crossroads says, "can you help? it's tender. what- what can i do?"

"let- let me take a look," he says, winded.

fallow pushes back in his chair and stands, rounds the desk. his arousal is obvious at the front of his doctor's cloth, but he pays it no mind. blindly, he pulls the chair next to crossroads to his front and sits. his fingers tremble slightly when he raises them.

his eyes flick up to crossroads's face. "may i?" he asks.

"please," crossroads whines, lowering his hands. he leans forward, arching his back to push his chest out. "be gentle though. i'm sensitive..."

"fuck. of course. i'll be- tell me if it's too much."

crossroads loses his breath in a shiver when fallow touches him; his hands are cool, fingers calloused and beautifully rough. he starts tentatively. there's a funny sort of curiosity to him; crossroads imagines the cogs whirring in his head, trying to piece together a small dozen bits of biological knowledge into a functioning theory despite the temptation. he nudges crossroads's hands off, flattens his own palms into a c under the curve of his tits. he presses just a little, squeezing. muttering an apology when crossroads winces, fallow shifts his hands up an inch and tries again. he squeezes more gently this time, kneading almost.

crossroads lets his eyes close. as much as he wants to watch, there's something about focusing on the feeling. letting his body narrow down to fallow's hands on his tits and the dull throb in his caged cock. it's an odd relief. arousal warms in his cheeks, but he feels calm, unhurried. a new way to prove his submission, and fallow likes it transparently. he offers needy little noises that feel almost like a show but they aren't, want plain and honest.

fallow's hands massage his chest and it's sore, distinctly, a fuzzy ache that has a furrow settled between his eyebrows, but. it's not exactly bad. like warm pins and needles, an awareness of his body that isn't normally there. crossroads gasps, the breath almost knocked out of him when fallow rolls his nipples, pinches and tugs and teases.

"doctor, please," crossroads whimpers, grabbing fallow's wrists like he means to pull him away, "is- is the exam almost done?"

"not quite. just relax for me. any tenderness when i do this?"

"this feels- hah, inappropriate-"

"you're doing beautifully, don't worry. this is all part of the exam."

biting his lip, crossroads squirms. he can feel his cock drooling against the inside of his thighs. god, if fallow could make him cum just from his tits, edge him stupid by playing with his nipples while his useless little cock dribbles a puddle between his legs. he moans when a warm tongue sweeps over one nipple, a quick thing; yelps when fallow blows on it, cooling the spit on it until it stiffens.

"doctor, i don't-"

"don't worry. i know it's uncomfortable, but i promise it's necessary. have you tried sucking them?"

"um, what does that-"

fallow cuts him off with a rough thumb over his nipples, hands returning to cup and knead the small swell of his chest. "your nipples are just a little swollen and puffier than i'd expect. i don't know how you hid them under your clothes. they're obscene," he says.

crossroads pretends to balk, leaning into fallow's attentions. "doctor-!"

fallow tightens his fingers around his tits again. suddenly, the weight of his hands vanishes with a sharp inhale.

with a whine, crossroads drags his eyes open. he blinks to refocus. "why'd you stop?"

"crossroads," fallow says, winded, "you're, uh. you're leaking."

what.

looking down at his chest, crossroads stares. white slowly beads at his nipples, swelling before it drip down to his lap. after another heartbeat, it starts again, a little droplet forming over several seconds before it's too weighty and spills off.

oh, fuck.

he can't move. his eyes stay fixed. his hands stay at his sides, twitchy with nerves. his ears feel abruptly hot, embarrassment flooding his face until fallow reaches back out and he has to watch as he rolls one of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing a small milky dribble down the side of his hand. fallow exhales shakily.

"i didn't- think it would take," he says.

"fallow," crossroads says desperately, unthinking. he can't look away from his chest; fallow teases his nipple as more milk flows, brings his other hand to its twin to pinch it out. "please."

"is this the first time?"

"i... i don't know," crossroads says. "i- before, i. there was something but i thought- it was just sweat. this. oh, oh, fuck. you're- fuck."

"how do you feel?"

fallows asks this like he can answer. like his mouth works while fallow keeps up his attentions, rough fingers trying to be gentle as he rubs milk from him. it isn't much. but it's something. fallow is milking his tits and there's actually thin rivulets of milk down the sides of his palms and his cock is just soft in its cage and lot above, crossroads's tongue sits useless behind his teeth. his face feels too hot. his ears stay flattened against the sides of his head, embarrassment hiding them away. he can't look at fallow. he can hardly find his voice.

dazed, crossroads giggles. his tail curls self-consciously around his legs and the chair's. it takes a moment to bring the words up. "you're- you're milking me. i can't cum and you're- you're actually- can you- fuck."

"can i what?" asks fallow. his fingers still but don't leave.

"don't stop," crossroads says, whining. "can you- fuck, can i have your cock? i'm so empty. i'll just keep it warm while you milk my tits. please?"

[juyeoniemyhoney]

Die In Your Arms

As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

or

If you could just die in Juyeon's arms, you wouldn't mind.

-pairing: lee juyeon x reader

-genre: idol!juyeon, established relationship, fluff, like SO much fluff

-warnings: oc is having a life crisis and is indecisive af, some mentions of anxiety,

-word count: 1865 words

-A/N: hey guys! this my first ever fanfic for the boyz so i hope you like it! i got into them christmas last year and fell absolutely in love with juyeon. recently, i've been in my feels but juyeon and the boyz have really been keeping me happy so i decided to write this! i will continue to write for bts and start writing for all the other groups i stan so please look out for that!

--------

You know, when you say the world hates you, you really mean it hates you.

The worst part is that it hates you in the most painful way possible, by inflicting you with indecisiveness, with a deep-rooted anxiousness abut everything, with the incessant habit of losing interest in everything you take up within months. And it is not like you can blame the world for the problems you have, since it always looks mostly self-inflicted. So what do you do? You cry, of course. Because if no one will take pity on you, you sure as hell will.

And that is how Juyeon finds you sobbing on his couch over a goddamn piece of paper.

When Juyeon finds that the light in his kitchenette has been turned on, he is not surprised. When he sees your figure lying on the couch, back faced to him, he is not surprised either. When you turn to look at him when he calls your name and he sees the tears spilling from your eyes, however, is when a gasp leaves his lips and he drops everything to rush to your side.

"Y/N," he coos, dropping to his knees so that his face is level with yours, hand immediately coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping at the tears that slip from your pretty eyes.

Through the blur of your tears, you see the way he looks at you, eyes soft and gentle, almost like he can feel the pain you are going through, like he hurts when you do. The hand he has on your cheek is grounding and comforting and warm, and you feel yourself calm down a little. Because Juyeon is here and he is with you and as long as he is here, everything is going to be okay.

"What's wrong, baby," he coos again, both hands now cupping your face, swiping at your cheeks and tucking away wisps of hair that fall into your face. You begin to sit up and Juyeon's hands follow your face with you, chasing after you like if his hands left your cheeks for even a second, the dam would break again and you would burst back into sobs.

"Juyeon," you almost whine, and you hate how your voice sounds, high pitched and annoying and so unlike how it usually is. Juyeon is surprised at how you are whining too but it sparks a protectiveness inside of him and he can't help but smile because you are just the cutest person on earth.

You open up your arms when you sit up properly, gesturing for Juyeon to hug you. He does not.

Instead, he grabs the blanket that has been draped across the back of the couch and swathes you with it, wraps you up all warm and tight until you can barely move. Then, he sits on the couch and carries you so that you sit on his lap and he cradles you like you are a baby, rocking you back and forth and every time you get close to his face, he places a kiss on your cheek or your lips or your forehead and sends you the prettiest, biggest grin that has his eyes smiling and his lips stretching in the prettiest way possible.

"What are you doing," you say with a small laugh, and you suddenly realised that you've stopped crying.

"I'm making you feel better, my big baby," Juyeon replies, eyes glinting with mischief, smile gentle and words soft despite his teasing. And you feel your heart leap in your chest and your lips fall into a admiring pout. You have the best boyfriend in the world and it is not just because he is sweet and comforting and gentle. It's because he's Juyeon. And you have to thank the heavens and every single star that has brought you together because Lord knows that you'd be a mess if it weren't for this tall, sweet boy with the prettiest smile and the kindest eyes.

"Did you read some sad fanfic about me again," he teases, grinning down at you. And for some reason, you are brought back to reality. It is as if you'd miraculously forgotten that your boyfriend has a full time job. As an idol. You forget that he's just come home from a gruelling practice that has left him exhausted and sticky with sweat. And he probably does not want to deal with this; to deal with you when he's just been ground to the bone and all he wants to do is shower and lie in his bed and rest before he has to wake up hours later and do it all over again. He does not, he should not have to deal with you. And yet he does.

"No," you laugh, pausing to consider your words. "Juyeon, why don't you go take a shower first, hmm?" you suggest, wiggling your hand out of the blanket to rake it through his mussed hair, trailing your fingers down to tuck the longer strands behind his ear, then to his jaw, and finally to his chin to pull him down for a peck, to which he indulges you in.

"Why? Do I smell?" he asks a little self-consciously, face dropping into a worried frown. And you laugh because Juyeon may be holding you like you are a newborn baby, but sometimes he is so gullible and innocent you wonder if he is the true child.

"No," you reply. In all honesty, he still smells of his lavender and aloe body wash and his vanilla scented shampoo remains redolent in his otherwise sweaty hair. Juyeon looks at you then, with a questioning look, silently urging you for an explanation.

"I just— Aren't you tired? You can deal with me later," you say, already beginning to lift yourself from his arms. But Juyeon does not allow you so, frowning sternly at you and locking you in his arms.

"No, that can wait. You're sad and I need to know why otherwise I can't help you. I know you don't like depending on people. But depend on me.".

You open your mouth to protest but nothing comes out. You want to say, "I can depend on you later, Juyeon! You come first!" but you know that it will end up to nothing. Juyeon is uncannily stubborn when it comes to things like these. He always puts you first and it frustrates you to no end when you want to do the same for him but he just won't let you.

"I just don't know if I want to become a writer, or a doctor, or a nurse," you tell him instead, sitting up in his lap so that his arm supporting your back does not get tired. But it's so uncomfortable so you shift and shift and shift until you find yourself sitting on the couch, legs thrown over Juyeon's thighs, arms around his waist and head leaning on his shoulder, the blanket now covering both of you.

To be frank, you don't even know if Juyeon can help you with this problem you are facing right now. Juyeon has always known he wanted to become an idol. It has been his dream for years and years and he has never experienced the dilemma you face right now so you're not even sure he can sympathise with you. Sure, he can comfort you and he can give you advice but in the end you'll still have to make the decision yourself and that fact terrifies you down to your very bones.

"Okay, well," Juyeon starts out. You can tell he's unsure about how to go about this. It is evident in the way he picks and chooses his words carefully, scared he'll say something wrong, or something to offend you. And though he is scared, you suppose you aren't, fully trusting in the three more years of wisdom Juyeon has on you.

"Well, I suppose you have to see which one makes your heart flutter the most," he continues, tilting his head so that it rests on top of yours. "You have to figure out which one you'd rather do for the rest of your life."

The one thing that makes my heart flutter most is you, you think. But you quickly dispel those thoughts from your brain with a scolding. Juyeon is trying his best to help you, you should not be thinking these things.

"Well, I suppose writing makes my heart flutter the most," you say with a smile, just the thought of being able to put your imagination into words sparking a sense of motivation within you. But the spark quickly dies out with your smile when you realise and voice out, "But I can totally see myself being a doctor for the rest of my life."

Juyeon hums in thought before saying, "Well, don't you want to help people? Why don't you try for nursing?"

You give it a thought, a long thought that stretches out the silence between the two of you, full of thought and deliberation. In the silence, Juyeon gently moves his arm to your waist, gingerly patting a rhythm into the skin there, waiting patiently as you navigate your maze of thoughts.

"Okay," you finally say after minutes of deliberation. In your silence, Juyeon had unconsciously fallen asleep and your sudden agreement to his suggestion wakes him from his slumber with a jolt.

"You'll try nursing?" he asks, a grin already colouring his voice. You pull away from his shoulder so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-closed and you can tell he is still trying to keep awake. The grin he wears is tired but genuine and you start to feel your heart rap at your ribcage. He looks like an overtired kitten and you can't help but coo as your hands move to cup his cheeks.

"Yeah, I will. I'll still be doing biology, which I love. But I won't be quite as busy as I would be if I was a doctor. So I'd hopefully still have time to write," you explain and his grin widens.

"Okay, Bubs. I'm proud of you," he tells you as he nuzzles into your palms, fizzling something sweet in your chest at the sight. "And even if you hate every second of it, I'll be here with you, okay? And you can always change your decision," he continues.

"Just because I decided I really wanted to become an idol early in my life doesn't mean you have to decide so quickly too. Everyone's different; you're different. So don't worry too much, okay?"

Your chest warms and your heart soars and you feel like you can breathe again, like you were drowning in the ocean and the waves have finally spat you back onto dry land. You crash back into Juyeon's arms, burying your face into his neck as gratitude spills from you in words and the tightness with which you are holding him.

That's right. As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (4/???)

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO FINISH. Honestly I lost a lot of motivation to write after Bloodbound because PB has greatly decreased in the quality of their books. I am still trying to find the time and motivation to write and am forcing myself to finish my series at the very least but if I am being completely honest I feel like the Kamilah fandom has died, PB’s books mostly suck and I don’t even really play choices anymore. Who knows, I’m trying to learn to write the code for episode so maybe I’ll start posting my own stories and choices on that platform with better plot, smut and less diamond focus since it would be a hobby. This chapter is ASS and mostly just moves the plot along - so if you want action I would wait for a different series or later chapter - okay bye!

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (Amy)

Tags: I paused the tag list since it’s been so fucking long but if you want a tag please let me know because I’m pretty sure most people think this series died with me :)

Words: ~1500 (Short because I needed to finish a chapter to motivate me to finish the next)

Kamilah took a deep breath as she knelt on the floor beside Adrian, carefully wrapping her arms around her brother, her heart sinking with every sob that left his lips. She didn’t speak, she knew her words would come off too harshly and she couldn’t blame Adrian for feeling that way, after all she knew how much he loved Amy. 

“Adrian, I’m sorry. I...I truly don’t know what to say.” As their eyes met Kamilah saw exactly how devastated he was, and even in her two thousand years of life, she had never been in his situation. 

“Kamilah, do you think she’ll...well she says we’re just friends but do you think she’ll fall in love with me again?” His lips trembled, his hands shaking and his eyes glistened with tears. 

“I don’t know. As much as I believe love is a silly mortal affair, and a simple chemical reaction, it can’t be forced but I’m sure if you just be yourself and do your best to be her friend that any romantic feelings will follow.” Kamilah moved away as Adrian calmed himself, both of them passing a nod of agreement as he wiped his face clean with tissues. 

“Your wisdom has always guided me well Kamilah.” 

“I suppose that is two thousand sixty three years of experience speaking.” 

“Heh, I guess my two hundred years don’t nearly compare...” 

“You’re still a simple child in my eyes, I just took a liking to you.”

“Well, thank you Kamilah. It seems I owe you quite a bit.”

They both stood from the floor and took seats on Adrian’s office couch, Kamilah folding her legs and crossing her arms and Adrian crossing his ankles and folding his arms. 

“We’re practically siblings - you don’t owe me anything. Just try to take care of yourself and well...don’t expect anything from Amy. I’m sure this is difficult for her, difficult is an understatement. I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing.”

“Maybe I’ve been too selfish Kamilah...I’ve been thinking more about what I want from her instead of focusing on if she’s okay or what she wants.” 

“Sometimes it’s alright to be selfish, and I can understand why you felt that way but you are correct, we need to focus on what Amy wants now, not what she wanted before the accident.”

“You’re absolutely right. I can only hope for the best...I just really...I really wanted...I believed she was the one.” 

“I know you did. I wanted her to be the one for you as well, I still hope she comes back to you Adrian.”

“Me too.” 

Adrian’s phone buzzed at the same time Kamilah’s did, Lily having texted both of them to rendezvous with her and Jax at Amy’s old apartment to talk about the recent events. 

“We should go, but do you feel okay?” Kamilah patted Adrian’s shoulder as they both stood from the couch.

“Yes I think so.” They hurried to the elevator and got into Adrian’s black Mercedes as they navigated towards Lily’s apartment. Once they arrived Lily greeted them before guiding them up to the apartment where Jax waited on the couch with a beer in hand.

“Hey guys...how ya doin?” His words were slurred and he was obviously under the influence to a decent extent. 

“Tell me you have something other than beer Lily.” Kamilah grimaced as Jax took another swig of the beer. She had no problem with beer but she hated that brand and would rather remain sober than allow herself to drink that brand. 

“Yeah, vodka or wine?”

“Vodka.” Kamilah spoke without hesitation while Adrian grabbed a beer from the fridge and took a seat next to Jax on the couch. Lily began to pour Kamilah a shot, and once the glass was full Kamilah took the bottle from her and took two large gulps before sitting on the leather chair and holding the bottle with one hand. 

“So we’re here to get drunk? I thought we were supposed to talk about Amy?” Kamilah’s voice broke the deathly silence that filled the room. Adrian leaned in the door before removing his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and, grabbing three bottles of the cheap beer and sinking into the recliner opposite of Lily and Jax. 

“I didn’t want to drink...well grieve...alone. I mean I can’t do this with Amy anymore...well I could but it wouldn’t be the same... and I have my friend back but it’s really just...it’s not the same. I don’t know I just didn’t...you can leave if you want but I didn’t want to grieve alone…” Lily began to sob, her tears falling into her glass of wine as Jax and Adrian frowned. Kamilah held her stoic expression, but even the alcohol could not erase the ache she felt in her chest.

“I see, well I guess we all process grief differently…” Kamilah spoke calmly, but deep down she felt her own sense of grief. As she gazed around she realized how messy Jax’s hair and clothes were, and how exhausted and drained Lily was. “You guys look a mess…”

“Thanks Kamilah.” Jax drunkenly snickered and Lily sniffled. Adrian remained quiet, taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand before switching to the other glass and downing it just as quickly. 

“Does this not fucking hurt you?” Lily drunkenly scolded as Kamilah flinched ever so slightly. None of them had ever heard Lily so fragile, so devastated. She had every reason to be - she had lost her best friend - even though Amy had survived the accident, the memories were all gone and everything they had once shared was gone. 

“It...does...I was just remarking on-”

“I don’t care about your remarks, at least not now. Don’t you fucking get it? I lost my fucking best friend and I have to watch her find everything again! Do you know how that fucking feels Kamilah? I’m sure you do from all your time as a vampire, but please, for the love of god and for the sake of our friendship just shut the fuck up. I can’t handle this.” Lily’s hand gripped on her bottle as it shattered against her palm, the beer pouring onto the tile floor and seeping into the edges of the carpet. 

“I...apologize Lily…”

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Everything is fine I guess. I don’t know I just...I’m not coping well...and I feel guilty for saying that because Amy has it the hardest of us all and yet here I am getting wasted to be in her position - to forget everything while also being the person who put her in this position in the first fucking place. I don’t think it’ll ever be the same as it was before…”

“Maybe that’s for the best…” Adrian finally joined the conversation. Kamilah, Lily and Jax turned to face him as he swirled the bottle around in his hand - his brown eyes shiny from the tears that had built up. “...we all lost someone...Amy was a different person to each of us...but maybe we have to lose that person for some reason…”

“Adrian, do not try to give me that ‘it’s for the best’ bullshit.” Lily took a deep breath as Adrian shrugged. 

“I’m not. I guess it’s just the alcohol talking, but I was going to propose to Amy that night and maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t have, or maybe the world is punishing me for my sins...but fuck all of that...it’s...it’s a forgotten memory and we need to forget just like Amy...”  

---------------- Amy’s POV ------------------

It was a weird feeling that I couldn’t describe. Having people who seemed like strangers tell me all about the things we’ve done together gave me such comfort and anxiety at the same time. I wanted to believe and trust each of them but at the same time, it would be so easy to lie about it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid about the situation - nobody would really benefit from creating an elaborate story just to mess with my mind. 

God this IV really stings...and now that I’m thinking about it, my ribs really hurt too. I should call the doctor or nurse but it’s nearly midnight. I mean it’s their job but they’re humans and I don’t want to be that super needy patient…

At least that Lily girl seems genuine, I can see why I was her best friend. I appreciate her sincerity more than I can verbalize to her. I’m still wary of Jax though - that man looks like he could kill in an instant and I don’t want to get on his bad side. I’m glad they’re friends with each other though - they seem to get along really well and...Adrian. Poor bastard. I broke his heart. I broke his heart and I can’t even help it. How am I supposed to even really process that whole fucking mess. He’s so sweet and gentle and genuine and I can’t even reciprocate it back to him...but maybe with time I could…? But Kamilah...she makes my heart skip a beat too...but she’s so unlike anyone I’ve even taken interest in - callous and stoic most of the time with very few soft spots. It wouldn’t be any type of understatement to claim my heart is as confused as my head. 

[emmettdixonownsmyheart]

A prompt where Travis and Theo talk about Emmett.

They are both drunk. Travis is annoyed at Emmett for sleeping over Levi’s yet again. And Theo, Theo is so in love that he thinks he’s going crazy. So naturally the two men find themselves at Joes completely wasted.

“He doesn’t get it, I don’t want him sleeping over another dudes house I don’t care if there in a relationship you don’t see me having sleepovers with other dudes.”

“She’s so pretty, everyone eyes are always on her and I’m short man- I’m like not tall and there are buff guys falling at there knees for her and she’s like-

“I want you and I don’t know man. Woman...” Travis takes another sip.

“He thinks that I’m overreacting like I need to trust him and blah blah blah of course I trust him I fucking love him- Theo looks up completely sober

“You what?” Travis in in way too deep.

“I do, I hate that I do but he’s so fucking pretty and soft and he’s so genuinely kind to others, he smells like freaking daisy’s and he’s funny and he helps old people and he brings freaking muffins to the station and he’s so freaking good in bed-“ he slurred interrupted by Theo sing songing,

“Lalalala...I don’t need to hear about you sex life.” Theo says taking another sip of his cherry vodka.

“Did you just say he smells like daisy’s...Dude your “whipped.....she smells like sunflowers though, right when they bloom so fresh and she’s-

“He doesn’t get that I love him- he doesn’t believe me.” Theo laughs actually laughs,

“Dude you did break his heart and then kissed him in a bathroom at your friends wedding, he is cute deserves better.” Travis waives down the waiter and asked for some water and lots of it.

“Listen, you pushed Vic against dirty concrete-

“Brick!”

“Still worse,”

“On the contrary I’m sure nobody pissed or shit on the wall outside.” Travis sighed

“We should probably stop talking about them and go talk to them.” Theo nodded he asked the bartender to split the bill and they both must have drank way to much cause they came to 39.98 each. They sit for an hour after that finishing there waters.

“A word of advice trav?” He looked up much more sober.

“Yeah?” Theo smiled

“Emmetts a good guy, if he says he won’t hurt you he won’t. If he wants to hang out with his short curly headed nurse boy friend let him he’s not a threat.” The older firefighter nods

“Yeah but Levi is a surgical resident best in his class don’t degrade him, and your right, thanks man but I need to go see him.” Theo nods

“Call a cab, see you later.” Travis walks out of the bar a few minutes later and gets into a cab. When he arrives home he sees Emmetts Audi in the drive way and suddenly feels guilty. When he open’s the door he sees two men instead of one. Emmett is not happy to see him it’s obvious but he’s not as mad as he looks.

“You said I can’t hang out with my friends at there homes so I brought them into yours...asshole.” Levi smiles

“As you can see I’m not a threat.” He extends his hand and Travis shakes it

“On the contrary your not an overprotective entitled dick face.” Levi chokes on his drink.

“I’m sorry-“ Travis tries still a little tipsy but Emmett puts his hand up.

“Yeah I bet you are, come meet my friend and apologize for being rude.” Travis chuckles and friends Levi as a very interesting person. He watch’s as Emmetts eyes light up at the talk of surgical cases and thinks he has to convince him to go back to school. He’s young he could be a doctor by the time he’s 35 if he put his mind to it. About half way through the night Emmetts hand finds it way back into his own and he’s pretty sure he’s been forgiving. After another hour Levi’s phone goes off and he says his goodbye. Emmett walks him out and Travis knows he overreacted even if he lost him he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

[whereflowersbloom]

Speechless

The hospital was a great, hulking thing, intimidating, made of dark stone and peppered with unlit windows. Not inviting in the least. A long time ago the patients were forced to try questionable treatments, after his father investing in the new Arkham Hospital, things would changed drastically. His father made sure to pay for it, though not without securing things were under surveillance by his only heir, Damian Wayne. It was the same way Bruce Wayne did anything for his prodigal son, including pulling every string he had to make Damian’s future radiant and glorious. Damian only wished to provide adequate treatment for this hospital, reassemble it into a decent place for those mentally unbalanced people, who clearly needed proper nursing and direct and close attention. He did not give a damn about his father’s approval he told himself. However, this hospital was the new acquisition of Wayne Enterprises and Bruce Wayne expected to see improvements as his son had promised there would be, when he invested in this forsaken hospital. Business as usual. He stepped inside, the place smelled of carbolic acid, alcohol and tobacco smoke.

“I’m doctor Damian Wayne. I’m the new psychiatrist in charge.” He said firmly to the nurse behind the front desk, poised and his presence reflecting authority. She was tall and blonde, around thirty years old he calculated, fussing with a stack of files when he walked up. Without mission a beat at the mention of his name she straightened herself and spoke cautiously, redirecting her attention to him. “Dr. Wayne, we weren’t expecting you until Monday.”

Damian simply nodded sharply, leaning in closer to her, smiling sarcastically to the nurse, his tone remained calm. “Well, I am here now and I have little patience when it come to my professional and intellectual interests.” The way women’s eyes widened let him know that she understood his orders were strict and unquestionable, he was now in charge of running this place. “I’ll show you the way to the director’s office, Dr. Wayne.” She offered kindly, trying her best to be as nice as possible and show him she was competent and qualified to keep her job at Arkham. Good Damian thought there wouldn’t be needless misunderstandings. He was here to reorganize and finally out into order this clinic was in a shambles, every move, every action, anything that happened here will need his approval from this very second.

~~~

Damian wondered at what point the nurses in this damned hospital would finally start doing their jobs. He was aware things were chaotic in this place but to this point? It was ridiculous. Really, it was as if the qualifications for a nursing position at this supposedly capable psychiatric facility consisted of: being insatiable gossip and simply comfortable wearing scrubs. What did he expect from Arkham?

After a long and precise analysis and rigorous inspection of the hospital, Damian concluded the main problems seemed to lie with the rest of the gaggle of merry idiots that occupied the halls of Arkham Hospital. First, there was nurse Stephanie Brown, whose insufferable sarcastic superiority complex masked an even more exasperating, two-faced personality. He’d give her more time to evaluate her work though, he did hear she genuinely cared for a few patients and she was committed to her job. Still he did not like her. Second, there was Jason Todd, whom he had caught several times staring at female patients and that generally flirty attitude of his was not professional at all, he appeared to actively forget how to do his job, openly distracted by feminine attributes. Tsk. Perhaps he could give him a second chance depending on him behaving properly. Then, there was the head nurse, Ms. Quinzel who appeared to him to be calculating a prescription dosage for anyone who required it in her mind every time she made eye contact with a patient.

Lastly, the one who Damian had absolutely no faith in from a professional standpoint was the director of the hospital, John Constantine who he was not entirely sure had any sort of psychiatric background but instead probably came upon the hospital in some sort of gentleman’s wager, considering his pastimes and weakness for raw and strong whisky, he could smell it in his office when he questioned him about the facility and procedures. He had an omnipresent and equally frustrating gleam behind his eye, like he knew something that no one else did and was waiting for the opportune moment to use it. Damian didn’t think he could trust this man.

He was in need of a moment to relax, so he sat in an unoccupied wooden rustic bench, he had only been here for a few hours and he was drained, his mind was restless though elaborating a plan to fix this mess, when a figure caught his attention. Damian couldn’t tear his gaze away once his emerald eyes focused on the feminine figure. He was awestruck at how the simplest sight of a petite woman wearing a white hoodie, with the hood barely on so he could appreciate her dark locks, and grey loose sweatpants could appear to be so alluring and elegant to his orbs. The raven hair stood out without even proposing it and it wasn’t due to the sunlight embracing her body, shinning black hair that reminding him of starlight.

He didn’t know for how long he had been staring but he noticed the woman's face was expressionless, staring into blackness, what the hell happened to her. She was too young to be here. She must have perceived his intense stare because her blank, unblinking gaze fixed on him. Damian felt a shiver running down his spine and not only because they were the most breathtaking pair of stormy eyes he had ever seen, but also because of the hidden message he could read between lines in them. A not so obvious, discreet and minuscule ‘help me’. Not so clear to the eyes of outsiders who didn’t know the overwhelming and heavy affliction, the depths of maddening fear when cornered. This woman had seen true horrors. The question slipped out of his mouth before his Brain commands his body. “Who is that woman?”

“That is Rachel Roth. She’s a special case, hasn’t spoken in years to anyone.” A nurse who was casually walking by observing the patients wandering the facility’s well-kept garden supplied immediately.

Hello madness Old Friend 😂😂😂😂😂🙈🔥🔥🔥🔥❤️

New AU because DAMIRAE IS THE ONE TRUE PAIRING

@ravenfan1242 @chromium7sky @andthendk

[shih-coulda-had-it]

8 and 60 any bnha ship

8 (Hospital AU) & 60 (Poorly Timed Confession) | any bnha ship [Shizenji]

//

A/n: inaccuracies are possible, but not with the tug-of-war over surgeons!Nana and Chiyo’s favorite OR RN: Sorahiko. I’ve been told that surgeons will privately confer with charge nurses to rearrange the roster according to preference.

//

The whole affair could have been avoided if Sorahiko simply did not work at U.A. General Hospital.

Shuuzenji Chiyo, Chief Surgeon in residence, would not be furiously pining after her fellow doctor if Torino Sorahiko did not exist.

“That’s unfair,” said Sorahiko, OR registered nurse. He was seated across from Chiyo in a corner booth of the cafeteria. The contents of his plastic tray resembled hers, except he had produced his own plastic-wrapped taiyaki from seemingly nowhere.

“It’s not unfair. Any time I think I’ve got an opening to ask her out for a date, you’re in the background silently judging me!”

“Because you suck,” he responded eloquently. “At pick-up lines, specifically. We all worship you at the operating table, Shuuzenji-hakase.”

“I have more game in my pinky finger than you do in your entire body,” Chiyo shot back.

“Then why haven’t you asked her out yet?”

“Ugh!” Chiyo popped open the lid of her bento and retrieved her chopsticks from their paper wrapping. She did not have a good answer for Sorahiko, who politely did not gloat over his victory. This was the real trial, she thought glumly. Because while she and Sorahiko were bosom break-buddies, Sorahiko and Shimura Nana were childhood best friends.

One would think that with Sorahiko as a mutual friend, Chiyo wouldn’t be having a communication issue.

“If you asked me,” said Sorahiko modestly.

“I haven’t.”

Silence fell between them, save for the crackle of Sorahiko opening his beloved treat and the soft murmured conversations of other people in the cafeteria. Chiyo gritted her teeth. She would not be the first to give in; the potential result of Sorahiko’s smug face at her tacit concession was too aggravating to bear.

She poked at her bento’s serving of cold chicken breast, caught a glimpse of the pallid vegetables beneath, and resigned herself to a terrible lunch.

“See,” Sorahiko said, “this is the first problem.”

“Is this your patronizing voice?”

He ignored her acerbic tone, if only because Chiyo hadn’t explicitly told him to shut up and change the subject. “You’re not letting yourself cool off. You need to take a step back and re-evaluate the situation, and then try and ask Shimura out on a date.”

“If I take a step back,” Chiyo complained, “then she’ll never respect me as a fellow surgeon who can go toe-to-toe! She already towers over me! I need my monumental stubborn streak to be unquestionably present!”

“Trust me, it’s undeniable,” he muttered.

Chiyo decided she had to let that comment slide, because Sorahiko was the unfortunate victim of a tug-of-war between her and Shimura. It started months ago, when Shimura was first hired by U.A. General and reunited in the workforce with her best friend. Chiyo hadn’t known anything about it, other than ‘new surgeon, likely capable,’ and wouldn’t have cared if it wasn’t for the sudden absence of Sorahiko from her operating room.

Sorahiko was a good intra-op nurse; he lent a certain focused calm to any surgery, and could always be trusted to provide a helping hand without panicking.

Chiyo hadn’t liked the fact that some uppity new hire had snatched Sorahiko from her hours, so she got him back. Without doing Shimura the polite courtesy of a head’s up. Chiyo had justified this rude action to Nezu, the Dean of Medicine, as: Shimura did it first.

They had yanked Sorahiko back and forth between their teams for a straight week before Chiyo finally got her first glimpse of Shimura.

Blatantly! Talking! To the charge nurse about rotating Sorahiko’s hours yet again!

She bitterly resented Shimura for all of three seconds, because by the fourth second, Chiyo had intruded on her personal space and been overwhelmed by the woman’s sheer presence. Shimura had said, with a toothy smile, “Ah, Shuuzenji-senpai. I was just asking Futaba-san about switching Torino-san’s placement for the next week. You don’t mind, do you?”

Inwardly, Chiyo had screeched about losing Sorahiko from Mr. Morimoto’s heart surgery.

Inwardly, Chiyo’s breath had caught in her lungs, her heart had stuttered, and the very unprofessional thought about wanting to be pinned down and ravished by her fellow surgeon crossed her mind.

That’s my favorite nurse, you can’t just yank him out of rotation and shuffle him where you will, Chiyo wanted to say.

“For a surgeon like you?” she said instead. “By all means.”

It was an unintended slight. A double-edged compliment. One that hinged on vague implications of flattery and insult.

It didn’t help that Chiyo had to tip her chin back to stare Shimura in the eye; it didn’t help that Chiyo had visibly registered Shimura’s generously-endowed figure before yanking her eyes up and up and up--

Of course, rather than accept this graciously, Shimura’s smile had widened into a triumphant grin. As Chief Surgeon, Chiyo couldn’t accept that, so the tug-of-war continued. Futaba became accustomed to being accosted to adjust Torino’s hours, and Sorahiko tried pretending nothing was happening. Occasionally, Chiyo saw Shimura chatting with Sorahiko and laughing, and Chiyo had to pretend she wasn’t a gremlin.

All this to say, now Sorahiko was attempting to give Chiyo dating advice, as though Chiyo hadn’t been trawling the sea for fish since she graduated medical school.

“Just say you like her to her face,” said Sorahiko.

“Where’s the art in that?” she demanded.

“Because,” he opined, “you two are in some serious miscommunication troubles, and it’s in the hospital’s best interests that you aren’t feuding anymore.”

“It’s not a feud.”

“The other nurses think you two are fighting to date me, you know.”

“Would you be open to a threesome?” Chiyo gave Sorahiko a critical once-over, just to cement her views of her favorite nurse. He was tall, like Shimura, and he was crabby and crotchety when he wasn’t forced to be professional, like Chiyo. She didn’t feel any intense desire. Just a certain fondness, cultivated over the inevitable losses in the OR and their shared gallows humor.

Sorahiko considered her right back. Then he said, “No, I think we’d be a nightmare for HR to deal with.”

“HR,” Chiyo grieved. As Chief Surgeon, Chiyo had to maintain certain boundaries between herself and her colleagues. Dating your technical underlings was highly discouraged, and Chiyo’s stance was that she had to be untouchable in order to maintain respect.

There was a reason the other nurses were in awe of Sorahiko.

“Maybe you should leave it alone,” he suggested. “It being, trying to date her.”

“Sorahiko, genuinely, I will beat you over the head with my lunch if you cockblock me,” said Chiyo. “You’ve seen your best friend, right? I have been keeping my nails clipped short ever since I entered medical school, but now I’m this close to asking her if she owns a strap.”

“Don’t,” said Sorahiko, pained by receiving too much information.

“What? What? Are you losing all your respect for me?”

“Keep using me as an outlet for your failed flirtations, and I really will,” he threatened.

“Maybe I should send you back to Shimura’s team, with a note that says, ‘Do you like me? Check yes or yes.’ You can be the peace offering. Is it pimping you out if you manage to sweet-talk her into having lunch with us?”

“Pimp me out?”

“You’re very high-value,” Chiyo reassured him. “You’re worth a cease-fire.”

“I should be the one filing a complaint to HR,” Sorahiko muttered to his bento. “No compensation is worth bearing witness to this.”

[curiousconch]

Two Old Friends

Chapter 3 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU).

Catch up here: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter Synopsis: As Bryce takes Heather in, a facade that he has blocked out for several months begins to disintegrate.

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 2.3k+ | Genre: Crime, Mystery, Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: None for this chapter, it's pure fluff! (Yay!)

Author’s Notes: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I was listening to Maybe this Time on repeat when I wrote this chapter, I think that song encapsulates it perfectly.

8 months ago

Bryce Lahela was stoked to have been assigned the Ed Farrugia case. He dreamt up of an opportunity like this ever since he graduated top of class from Stanford Law School. It wasn't out of self-ambition, it was part of his grand plan - to go opposite the direction of his white-collar criminal parents.

At first, Bryce's parents was overjoyed when he told them he's pursuing a law degree. It never occurred to them that it was all part of his scheme.

He soldiered on through law school, bagging an internship in the San Francisco DA. When his efforts to build his network provided an opportunity in Boston, he didn't hesitate to pack up his bags and fly across the country, farther away from Hawaii than ever. It was a big risk, but it eventually paid off given how his career imploded once he got the job.

But perhaps the most memorable experience was when he told his parents that he was to become Boston's newest ADA. They were nothing but furious, there were no counting the amount of expletives he heard that day.

No turning back, mom and dad.

The timing to tell them couldn't be more perfect, because it was only a week after they turned over his trust fund, a "graduation gift". He knew it was just a bribe for him to do the dirty legal work to keep them away from prison for free.

After toiling for so many years, he was more than ready to abandon his past behind and start his life over. More than it was revenge, it was Bryce's sweet and merciful justice. No more crosses behind his back, marking him as his parents' criminal son.

That wasn't his reality anymore. So he focused on work and did his best to shine. And shine he did. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was no longer a criminal. In an ironic twist of fate, he was the one putting people behind bars. And he relished in every win.

However, being the Chief DA's golden boy wasn't providing him the opportunity to build new friendships. Although he tried to make friends with his colleagues, he began to be seen as a threat. So for the first year in the big city, he spent his free time partying hard. With his quick rise to fame, everyone wanted a taste of the majestic Bryce Lahela. He didn't hesitate to throw himself into the throng.

And in that fateful sunny morning, he felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. He built the foundations of the State versus Perry case over the weekend, not even taking a single drop of alcohol. With the help of Agent Aveiro, he collected mountains of evidence for his breakthrough day at court. He knew his case was airtight. Today, he plans to put the cherry on top.

Pulling off his sunglasses and tightening his slick striped blue tie, he grabbed his suitcase from the passenger seat and got out of his car.

He strode into Edenbrook Hospital with confidence, getting glances from several attendings and nurses as he walked the hallways. He smirked at each of them back, wondering which one he should make of a mission after he wraps up this case. God, these doctors are hot, he thought, as he slid into one of the elevators. He punched 7, and the button lighted up.

Once he arrived at the right floor, he followed the directions pasted on the walls and eventually found the diagnostics team's office. As he neared the sliding glass doors, he heard an exchange of voices in rapid succession, as if they were discussing something important. As he raised his gaze through the glass, he saw two female doctors and two males. His eyes automatically landed to the young brunette, whose hand is on her waist as she listened intently as the others debated.

His brow quirked a little, a fit of curiosity fleeted through him. She was prettier in personal. Television didn't do her justice.

Immediately shaking off the unnerving attraction, he tapped gently on the glass door. All doctors turned to him. One of the male doctors with piercing blue eyes let him in, he later found out that he was the world-renowned diagnostician, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, the head of the team.

"ADA Bryce Lahela, I'm here for Dr. Heather Song?" he walked into the room exuding confidence, burying the distracted innuendos he was currently having.

In response, she moved forward and offered her hand, smiling brightly at him. "Dr. Heather Song, at your service. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Oh, I bet you do.

He answered mentally, stepping closer to look at her soft features. He took her hand and shook it, returning the warm welcome with a smug look in his face. He couldn't stop thinking about her ever since.

He spent almost the whole day with her, going through her testimony in detail. She spoke in a very confident manner, ascertaining every small observation she made about Travis Perry, and how he raised her suspicions. She also walked him through how she confirmed her theories, and how she decided to report this to the hospital's chief. He was amazed with the way how she mapped out every step, and acknowledged how her actions made the case straightforward and uncomplicated. Certainly controversial and sensational, given that it was involving one of Massachusetts' senators. But getting up close and personal with her that day made him realize that like him, she was at the top of her game.

She was professional and insightful. Bryce was also impressed with how she carried herself. Graceful and poised, yet fierce and tenacious. There were a lot of times that he thought he was hearing himself in the way she talked. And for that reason, he like spending time with her.

Over the course of the next few months, he spent more time with her. It was the perfect opportunity to keep in touch, as she was the star witness after all.

Beyond work, it was easy for him to befriend her. She was warm and open, sensitive and caring. Eventually, she introduced him to her exclusive group of doctors, who readily welcome him.

But he admired her more when she made it her mission to help him with his runaway sister. She went out of her way to spend time with her, bridging the gap between the siblings.

That was when he irreversibly opened up to her, telling her about his past. Making her see through him, who he really was.

And the way that she embraced it without inhibitions was a breathe of fresh air. He never knew he needed someone like her in his life, the one thing to complete his do-over.

It didn't take much for him to he admit to himself that he adored Heather. He felt a deep connection to her, something he never felt for someone else.

But in a sudden turn of events, the hopefulness he had turned out to be just a mere figment of his imagination.

He learned about her relationship with Rafael. Once he saw the way she looked at him, he knew it was time to draw the line.

Ever since, that was all he thought it would be between them - an unexplored and faraway frontier.

Gradually, his presence in her life became nothing more but group hangouts in the form of brunches or night outs in Donahues. He learned to withdraw whenever she and Rafael was around, cautious to not let others know about the way he felt. He himself went back to his string of one night stands.

He kept her at arm's length, repeating to himself that he was contented with the friendship that they had. Yet when he was finally learning to ease her out of his mind, she came crashing back in.

***

Present Day

With warm bowls of noodles in front of them, they caught up with each other's life. Bryce poured them both a glass of white wine to chase down the saltiness off of their taste buds.

"Hm, this certainly is an upgrade from that cheap bottle you had the last time," her mocking voice freed him from his thoughts. He grinned at her, leaning towards her.

"Oooh, I'm not liking your arrogance. Being junior fellow got in your head already?" he teased her, sipping from his own glass. "Has all of your student loans been paid off so you have spare money to buy your own fancy wine?"

"Certainly not. I think you're the one getting ahead of yourself, hotshot. That plaque hit you in the head and made you forgot that you're a just a noob?" Heather quipped back, her index finger pointing to the square-shaped glass on one of the living room shelves.

"Psh. It's not like my colleagues skip a day to remind me of 'my place'," his one hand mimicked air quotes, feigning a look of disgust, invoking a genuine laughter from her, her skin illuminated by the late afternoon sun as she glowed in delight.

They went at it as they ate, exchanging insulting banters, trying to one up each other as they went. It was just the way they were, at ease. Two old friends who loved their careers first, always putting their self in second place.

It was the first time in months that they were together alone, Bryce realized now how much he missed spending time with her.

He didn't want to spoil the mood, but he couldn't shake off his interest on what went down between Rafael and her. He waited a few more moments as they settled into a comfortable silence, running out of casual jokes to throw at the other. He drew a deep breathe, taking up the courage he needed to raise the sore subject.

"So, you and Raf huh?"

He saw her flinch and his heart irked a little. Her hand shivered as she set down the empty glass and grabbed the bottle of wine to refill it.

"He wasn't what I thought he was," she swirled the contents of her glass once it was full, looking distracted. "Apparently, it only took him less than a month to reveal his true self." Bryce nodded opposite her, as she shrugged casually. He saw her bite her lower lip, and instantly felt the hurt she was going through.

Without second thoughts, he approached her and opened his arms, inviting her in.

After a few excruciating seconds of hesitation, she finally leaned in and received his embrace, tears falling. She didn't think there was any left, but Bryce's offer of solace was a comfort she didn't think she needed. Her dams of pain overflowed once again, and with the horrible scare that happened this morning, her resolve to put up a brave face in front of everyone crumbled.

"You know I'll always be here for you, Heath," he whispered to her, his senses being flooded by the familiar jasmine scent of her perfume.

"I know, thank you for that," she replied in a hushed voice. "I'm just... just tired of it all, Bryce, I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't be. I got you."

He just held her, wishing so hard that one embrace can take all of her fears away. He closed his eyes, letting his beating heart speak for the rest of his unspoken emotions.

He tried to soothe her as he brushed her hair, rubbing the palm of his hand on her shuddering back. His grip tightened with her every sigh, pulling her ever closer.

For the first time in months of keeping his distance, the feelings he had for her, those he tried to bury deep within his heart, started to resurface. He was feeling the way he felt way back then.

In between her deep sighs and sobs, a flood of regrets raced through his mind. His chest constricted, as his thoughts lingered on what could have been.

If I hadn't left her alone. If I just fought for her the first time. If I just have been brave enough to let her know...

But he knew he couldn't what already happened define what should be and what it will be. Just like he dealt with his past, Bryce knew that with enough willpower, he can turn it all around.

He focused forward. A rush of possibilities, a promise of a future, it overwhelmed him.

Maybe this time, it'll be more. She's free now. Maybe now is a better time than before. Maybe now, it won't have to end. Maybe this time, he wouldn't need to let her go.

His heart burned with a fiery resolve and determination.

That late afternoon, when the setting sun's light began to shine upon his face, he decided.

Even the smallest of maybes was more than enough for him. Bryce was willing to risk it for her.

TAGS: @choicesficwriterscreations @ramsey-lahela

@eleanorbloom - I hope I'm doing Bryce justice 😬

[fierceweebadger]

While The Band Played On  (Moodboard Challenge Oneshot)

This is my one shot for the Moodboard Challenge. Thanks again for organising, @iamnottrisha​ and @outlanderlush​!

The gorgeous and highly inspiring moodboard is by @yogini_koo! I just hope I have done it justice.

And thanks also to my betas Danielle, Saba, Britt & Katie. (Yes, I need four, don't judge me!) If this story is any good at all, it's because of you.

This is the first piece of writing I have ever shared publicly, so I hope you enjoy it. *runs & hides*

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

The strains of a saxophone floated through the cool night air to where I waited in the rainswept alley behind the club. Waited for a man I wasn’t sure would come.

He was late.

Maybe he hadn’t found the note slipped discreetly in his pocket. Perhaps he thought the whole thing was a trap to be avoided. The death toll in the War on Booze was ever mounting, and Black Jack and his gang played the game more viciously than most; a Federal Agent couldn’t afford to be careless in times like these, or he’d soon find himself on the wrong end of a Tommy gun.

I lit another cigarette, foot tapping nervously on the wet pavement. While I normally eschewed smoking, it was a convenient excuse for my presence here, should I be missed. It was also a handy way to mark the passage of time; if he didn’t arrive by the time I finished this one, I would have to go back inside and think up another plan.

But one way or another, I was determined to escape.

My bruises were almost gone now — the last remnants of the black eye covered with an extra thick layer of foundation — and I swore they would be my last at the hands of Jonathan Randall. That monster might own my body, but my soul was still mine; a bit battered perhaps, hidden away deep down where no one could see, but whole for all that. And never accepting of the gilded cage in which I was currently trapped.

---

10 days earlier

“That smart mouth is going to get you killed one of these days, my dear.”

Those words were the last thing I could recall upon waking in the hospital bed, feeling the starched white linen of the sheets, uncomfortable against my skin.

I hadn’t even seen the first blow coming; had been insensible for those which followed.

For every cloud, a silver lining.

Laying there in the quiet, dawn light peeking through the cracks in the blinds, I wondered how I had gotten here. It must have been one of the other girls, I decided upon reflection; Jack would never have sought out medical help, unwanted attention from the establishment being high on his list of things to avoid.

A soft rap on the door snapped me back to the present.

“Come in,” I managed to croak out, my throat raw and painful — the ghost of his hand around my neck lingering still.

I had expected a nurse or a doctor — or even an orderly bringing around some terrible hospital food — but the man who entered was clearly none of those things. He was tall, handsome, clad in a well-tailored suit, and held himself with a confident bearing. His hair was a distinctive shade of auburn and his eyes shockingly blue when they met mine, making me forget to breathe for a moment.

When he spoke, it was yet another surprise; his warm Scottish brogue wrapped around me like a blanket on a cold day.

“Morning, Mrs. Randall,” he greeted me with a slight nod of the head. “My name is James Fraser and I’m an agent with the Prohibition Bureau. Sorry for bothering ye sae early. How are ye feeling this morning, lass?”

His eyes and tone seemed to hold a genuine kindness and concern, but I didn’t trust so easily as I used to. I had learned the importance of caution and compartmentalisation over the last three years — a hard and painful lesson, that — and my slip of the previous evening was obviously still fresh in my mind.

“And what possible interest could the Prohibition Bureau have in me, sir?” I replied, doing my best to compose my face into something resembling a brick wall. “I’m just a woman who slipped and fell down the stairs.”

I had thought that might get a rise out of him, but he maintained his composure. He obviously didn’t think the situation humorous in the slightest.

“Yer name is Randall, ma’am. And ye canna live long with a name like that unless ye’re a canny bird. How might ye be related to Jonathan Randall, may I ask?”

I averted my gaze, trying to keep my voice steady and neutral. “He was my late husband’s cousin. Frank died in a car accident several years ago.”

“Ah. I see. I’m sorry for yer loss, Mrs. Randall.”

A faint “ yes, well, me too” was all I could manage in reply. I turned my head away, pretending to look out the window, though the blinds were still drawn.

Damn you, Frank, I thought, wiping an angry tear from my eye. This is all your bloody fault!

I hadn’t heard him approach the bed, so I was startled when a large hand enveloped mine, offering a quick squeeze of reassurance that sent shivers down my spine. It was the first time in a very long time that I had been touched by a man with kindness — not with cruelty or desire — and the realisation shook me to the core.

“Ye dinna have to be scairt of him, Claire. Let me help ye.”

Before I could even contemplate a response, the door suddenly opened and Jamie jerked his hand away as if scalded. A nurse bustled in, clipboard and blood-pressure cuff in her hands.

“Oh, so sorry to interrupt, but I need to do a few checks on Mrs Randall now. If you wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a few minutes, sir.”

“Aye, I’ll be back in a bit,” he said with a nod, quietly closing the door behind him.

My mind was racing. This could be it, my chance to get out from under Black Jack’s control. Had I finally found an ally who would help me? Someone who wasn’t as terrified of the boss and his goons as everyone else in New York seemed to be?

There was only one way to find out. It was risky but, looking down at the bruises that covered my arms, I found I suddenly didn’t care anymore.

I was going to get out or die trying.

But as I still strongly preferred the option of not dying, I needed to be smart about this. Jack would have someone watching the hospital. I had to get the agent out of my room as quickly as possible or they’d suspect I told him something. I needed to arrange a meeting of my own choosing; one when I wouldn’t be watched.

“Do you have anything to write with, by any chance?” I turned to ask the nurse, the outline of a plan quickly forming in my mind.

“Of course, ma’am,” she said, handing me a piece of blank paper off the chart and a yellow pencil with teeth marks on it. As she went about her work, I scrawled a short note.

The alley behind Dragoon’s

10 days from now

1130pm sharp

Come alone

Please

I quickly folded the paper into a tiny square, tucking it under a fold of my hospital gown.

Continue reading...

[catgluue]

The Price of Life Chapter Three

So I’ve sent this to be Beta’d but I’m frankly too excited to wait so happy birthday to you, tumblr. I reserve the right to make changes, such as when I discover tumblr formatting has eaten all my italics. 

Anyway this was fun to write and I hope you all enjoy it.

Read on A03

----

“I'm bored.”

“Well that makes two of us,” Havoc deadpanned, scrubbing at his eyes with one hand. It was a little after three in the morning and they were situated outside Rebecca's hospital room. It was a fairly unconventional birth plan, with he and Riza taking it in turns to sit with Rebecca, ostensibly so they each could rest but realistically so they could switch out before she got too annoyed with either of them. Their five year old, Marcus, was at Mustang's for the night, but wherever Riza went her shadow was sure to follow. And her shadow happened to be twelve and mouthy.

“Did I take this long to be born?” Mae wanted to know, yawning hugely. She had, of course, been given the choice to stay home but true to form she wanted to be where the action was. Havoc loved the kid to death but he'd forgotten how abysmally obnoxious tweens could be. A while back he'd joked to Mustang that Mae was now the same age that Edward Elric has been when he'd been recruited into the military. Far from finding this funny, the General had gone white as a sheet and spent half an hour locked in his office on the phone with his head in his hands and Riza glaring daggers at Jean.

It had not been a pleasant afternoon.

“No idea,” he said. “I mean, I wasn't there. I know you also decided to show up sometime after midnight and your Aunt Rebecca was up all night waiting for you, so you definitely owe her one.”

“What about-” she began, sitting straighter in her chair, before pausing as though thinking through what she was about to say. “Was anyone else there apart from Aunt Becca?”

He grinned tiredly. “Oh I think someone else might have showed up,” he said, a hand on his chin. “What was that guy's name? Troy?”

“Ha ha.”

“I think you maybe met him once or twice. Dark-haired fellow, lots of stars on his jacket? Thinks you're cool for some reason?”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”

They were quiet for a moment under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Havoc knew well that hospitals were places apart from time; the lights and people were unchanging. Well, mostly unchanging, he thought, as he spied Breda walking up the hall juggling three styrofoam cups.

“I told you to stay home,” Jean said, accepting the cup which turned out to be full of coffee.

“Yeah well,” Breda said with a shrug. “There was nothing good on the radio.” He handed a cup to Mae, who sniffed it suspiciously. “Black coffee's your drink, right?”

“Yeah but hot chocolate is fine too,” Mae told him, taking a sip. “Uncle Breda were you there when I was born?” Breda shook his head no, settling into a chair on her other side.

“Nah we missed the action. I got to see you a little while after though, you were all pink and tiny and cute. I wonder what happened?” Mae made a face at him, and he nudged her with an elbow playfully. She wasn’t spoiled exactly - Hawkeye would never let that happen - but she had grown up with an abundance of Uncles who were inclined to indulge her every whim until such a time as they’d been sat down by their commanding officer and ordered to desist. (Mae’s Aunt Becca flatly refused a similar order.)

Mustang, for all that he clearly loved the little girl, could be surprisingly stern when he had to, a surprising aspect of their odd arrangement that Jean found made him respect the man even more. It was easy to be a kid’s pal, to take them to the zoo and buy them gifts. It was harder to make them do their homework, or their chores, or  eat their vegetables.

“Uncle Breda was almost as afraid of you as he is of dogs,” Havoc confided. “Remember when we sat you down with a pillow and made you hold her?”

“One of the more terrifying experiences of my life, and I helped stage a coup,” Haymans remarked. “You hated me, wouldn't stop screaming until Havoc here took you back. Same thing with Fuery. I think babies can smell fear or something.”

“Maybe you just took some getting used to,” Mae remarked primly, setting her cup down and stretching. The door opened and a tired-looking Riza emerged, amid what sounded like Rebecca threatening the doctor with surprising vigor and creativity for a woman who had been in labor for something like six hours already.

“You're up, Jean,” Hawkeye told him, hauling him to his feet before he had the chance to process what she meant. “I think it's finally time for the big event.” he froze, unbelieving that their long wait was about to pay off and he was about to become a father for the second time. Hawkeye saw his dazed expression and chuckled softly.

“It helps if you open the door,” Mae supplied helpfully, reaching over to pluck the coffee from his hands before he spilled it.

“Can it, squirt,” he said without any real venom, and walked past Riza into the delivery room.

Rebecca looked beautiful: even sweaty and frizzy and tired as she was, Jean didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so radiant. Of course she was also screaming a string of curses so apart from being beautiful she was also terrifying . Like a vengeful goddess or something, he mused. She caught him looking and beckoned him over with the hand not clutching one of the nurses’ arms.

“JEAN HAVOC STOP STARING AT ME AND GET OVER HERE SO I CAN BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR FING-AAAGH!!”

He did as he was told, offering a hand that she clung to painfully.

“You’re doing so well,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice.

“I,” she panted, “am doing a FANTASTIC job.”

“That’s what I meant to say,” he told her. “Can’t be long now right?” He directed this at the doctor, though Rebecca’s ensuing yell of expletives let him know she’d taken it personally.

“All right, Rebecca,” the nurse said after a glance under the sheet that covered her. “It’s time to push.” Havoc felt himself go clammy at the thought, and he brushed a hand across Rebecca’s forehead tenderly.

“You,” he told her, “Are the best baby-haver in history. Nobody pops em out like you can. You’re crushing it.” She grinned wearily, and despite her myriad of threats he could see the genuine affection in her eyes as she squeezed his hand more gently this time.  

“This kind of blind adoration is exactly why I keep you around. Now don’t you dare look away, if I have to witness this then so do you.”

It was a boy.

-x-

“Good boy, Taisa! Here, you throw it this time, Mae, you can throw further than I can.” The bushy-haired boy handed the frisbee to the dark-haired girl, who turned, aimed, and threw in one smooth motion.

Jean watched them fondly. He’d been out with Marcus, since Riza and Rebecca had a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons, and Becca had brought the baby. They’d gotten ice cream and were walking through the park when they’d run into Mustang and Mae, who coincidentally alsohad a standing appointment to have lunch together on Saturday afternoons. He’d just assumed she tagged along with her mom and Becca on those occasions but he had to admit it was the perfect opportunity for Mustang to have some quality time with his bodyguard’s kid. It had been Marcus to point them out first, and Havoc had looked to see the General seated on a park bench, chuckling at normally reserved Mae animatedly telling a story that seemed to involve an explosion.

Seeing them side by side really highlighted the passing of time; he remembered when Mae was seven and would play in this same park with Black Hayate, before he passed on to Good Boy Heaven. Mae and Riza had both been inconsolable, and the General had made sure that Hayate was promoted two ranks posthumously and given a proper sendoff befitting his station. Now Mae was fourteen, long-limbed and getting taller almost by the minute.

“I can't believe how big they're getting,” Havoc remarked, watching Mae and Marcus take turns throwing the frisbee for Taisa, one of the late great Black Hayate’s children.

“Do you know she came to me the other day and asked me how to get a boy in her class to notice her?” Roy said, pushing his hair off his face in an exasperated gesture while Havoc barked out a laugh.

“Oh man, I'm guessing you weren't ready for that kind of a talk, huh boss?”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So what did you tell her?” Now he thought about it, Jean realized that even in his capacity as favorite uncle (or so he liked to believe) he wasn't ready for Mae to start dating either. She’d always been the bookish type, on the quiet side with people she didn’t know well. He had just assumed they wouldn’t have to worry about boys for years yet. Mustang shrugged.

“I was so surprised I just told her to be herself and that any boy who didn't notice her wasn't worth her time.”

“Well that seems like solid advice to me,” Jean told him. A little boring, but he doubted he’d have been able to come up with anything better when put on the spot like that.

“I'm glad you think so; Mae rolled her eyes and said never mind, she'd just go look through Aunt Becca's magazines for actual advice and thanks for nothing,” Roy said bitterly, though he was clearly amused.

Now that he thought about it, Havoc could recall a day last week when Mae had come over and talked to her aunt in hushed tones. At a certain point there had been a peal of laughter and his wife crowing that finally a Hawkeye wanted to look through trashy periodicals with her. He had avoided the kitchen after that and so didn’t hear anything else.

“Ouch. Did you tell Hawkeye?” Roy looked at him in surprise.

“Well no, Mae asked me not to.”

“So you're more afraid of the wrath of a teenage girl than the wrath of Riza Hawkeye, your trusted adjutant and infamous sharpshooter,” he said flatly. “Interesting perspective.”

“It's not like that. If I want Mae to continue trusting me, I need to prove myself worthy of that trust. She should be able to come to me with questions, or things she might not want to talk to her mother about. The Captain understands this.” Of course , Havoc thought. As usual, he was three steps and a nonverbal conversation behind Mustang and Hawkeye. They would have talked about this, probably years ago – probably before Mae herself was even able to talk. They were as much of one mind about Mae's upbringing as they were about anything else.

“Sounds like solid reasoning to me.”

“Besides, if I told Hawkeye there was a boy at school not giving her daughter the time of day you know she’d find a way to show up and ‘accidentally’ let slip how many guns she keeps on her person,” he said cheerfully and Havoc had to admit that he was probably not all that far from the truth.

-x-

The office was filled with the sound of last minute paperwork being gathered up, and Mae's soft begging at the General's desk. It was almost quitting time on a Friday and Hawkeye was delivering some documents while her daughter did her best to cajole her mother's senior officer.

“Please, please please please,

“I can't sign this; I'm not your legal guardian,” Mustang deadpanned, glancing at the final paper she had placed on his desk.

“But you're practically the most important man in Amestris, after the Fuhrer,” Mae reasoned, trying to hand him a pen as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Go try this on him, then: you'll probably have better luck.” Mae rolled her eyes at the suggestion.

“He'll make me play him for it and I can never beat him.”

“Well, I can't help you either. Have you even asked your mother?” the General asked with a shrug.

“You know she'll never say yes, she always changes the subject when I ask about alchemy. It's just a short term course and I'm doing really well in school this year,” she explained. “I thought you'd understand.” This child of the military really was getting to be a master manipulator, Havoc thought, watching as she batted large amber eyes at Mustang. Sure she lacked subtlety but she knew how to play Roy like a fiddle. She could ask for the moon and he'd find a way to bring it down for her.

“Look Mae,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words carefully, “I know you might think that alchemy is a glamorous profession, but it's not easy. It's a lot of hard work. Most alchemists aren't up to the task of working for the state and there's not much money without government funding.” This was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Mae's eyes flashed and she squared her shoulders.

“I know I'm not some kind of prodigy like you or Uncle Ed but I don't want to do anything flashy. I want to go to Xing and study with Uncle Al and Aunt May,” she explained. “I've been reading through some of your books and medical alchemy is really cool.”

“When the hell did you read any of my books?” he demanded, and she shrugged, looking slightly guilty.

“Sometimes I borrow them. I always bring them back though. I've been looking through them for years, and I've done a few transmutations. Little ones,” she admitted. Mustang leaned his chin on his hand lazily, regarding Mae as he might look at a fascinating equation.

“Have you? That's actually pretty advanced, you know.”

She blinked, obviously not expecting praise. “Really?”

“You must have an aptitude for it.”

“I know,” she looked around before lowering her voice. “I know mom's father was an alchemist. I think that's maybe why she doesn't want me learning it.”

“Could be,” he said in his most bland, I-know-nothing-whatsoever-about-this-matter voice.

“But I thought you might understand why... why I'm so interested in it.”

“I can't sign the permission slip for you,” he repeated. “Do you know what would happen to me if your mom found out? Terrible things, unspeakable things. Remember the time I got you roller skates before she thought you were ready?” Havoc winced – he was sure none of them would ever forget the roller skate incident.

“Will you – will you talk to her then?”

“And what makes you think that would help?” Mae rolled her eyes.

“She listens to you, Sir. She might not act like it but you should hear her sometimes, it's all “General this” and “General that”, I think she really respects your opinion.” Flattery would get her everywhere, it seemed, as Mustang sat up straighter and ran a hand through his hair, as the Captain reentered the room.

“Follow my lead,” he muttered, and she nodded. “Evening Major, what do you have planned on this beautiful Friday night?” Riza lifted an eyebrow at his flowery tone, a smile playing around her mouth.

“Well it’s Mae’s turn to cook, so I thought I might do some reading,” she answered lightly.

“Oh that's unfortunate, you see I was planning on sweeping her off her feet for a night on the town. Since you seem to be delighted by the prospect of not cooking I suppose you could join us, if that's all right with you of course madam,” this was directed at Mae, who pretended to consider. Havoc started slowly gathering his things, interested to see how this would play out.

“I guess she can come, if she promises not to talk too much.”

“Yes of course, leave those chatterbox tendencies at home and we've got a deal,” Roy said, gazing at Riza evenly over his hands, steepled before him on the desk.

“I think I can agree to that,” Riza said, with another of her barely perceivable smiles that nonetheless seemed to light up her whole face.

“Great,” the General said. “It's a date.”

“Oh shoot!” Mae exclaimed, snatching up her school book - without the form, which she swept into the General's lap seemingly by accident. “I forgot I told Aunt Rebecca I would babysit for her tonight! Oh how terrible, I suppose you'll have to just go without me.” Jean thought that should he want to, he could have knocked Roy over with a feather, while Riza just gave her daughter a small wave, face almost suspiciously bland.

“Well if you promised. We'll miss you though.”

“You'll manage. By mom, bye Sir,” Mae chirped, turning to fall into step with Havoc, who had paused after donning his jacket.

“You realize we're not actually going anywhere,” he said quietly as she took one of his massive binders filled with cases he needed to review before Monday without being asked.

“Keep walking, Uncle Havoc,” she hissed.

“What's in it for me?”

“Free babysitting for a month.”

“Two.”

“One and I'll throw in an overnight trip.”

“Deal,” he said. They'd been wanting to take a weekend off to see Falman in Briggs for a while. “And well played,” he added with a nod.

“Thank you, I learn from the best. What's for dinner?” Hardened con artist and all, she was still a teenager who was somehow constantly hungry. He reached out and ruffled her shoulder length black hair and she responded by ducking away from him and smoothing it back down with a motion that he’d seen his superior officer make a million times.

-x-

BANG BANG BANG

Havoc almost jumped out of his seat at the knocking at the door. It was sometime after eight and dark outside. He picked up his sidearm off the mantle and inched towards the door carefully, before snatching the handle and wrenching it open. Springing back, he brought the gun up and then back down almost as quickly when he saw who it was. Mae Hawkeye, face red and wet with tears, was standing on his doorstep with wide eyes on his gun.

“You scared me,” he explained, dropping his weapon and clicking the safety back on. “What's up, kiddo? Everything ok?” Everything was clearly not okay but everything he knew about teenagers and this teenager in particularly told him to tread lightly. She looked like a frightened animal, and he kept his distance lest she bolt.

“Hey,” she sniffed, looking around him into the empty living room. “Is Aunt Rebecca here?” Great, he thought, girl stuff. Perfect. This was much better than the quiet hour alone with a book and a scotch he'd been anticipating. He poured the scotch anyway, thinking he'd need it.

“She took the boys for ice cream,” he said. “Can, uh, can I make you some tea?” Mae swept by him, dropping a suspiciously large bag on the floor near the coat rack with a thunk . Sounded like a couple changes of clothes and about five books, he estimated. This was serious.

“Sure,” she said, sinking into one of the armchairs and putting her head in her hands. Jean closed the door and headed to the kitchen to switch the kettle on, and by the time he came back she was sitting upright, having dried her face and smoothed her hair back. She looked young, and she was wearing an expression he knew all too well.

“You wanna talk about it?” he asked, and she gave him a withering stare that was ironically all Hawkeye, considering what she was probably mad about.

“I can't,” she said in a long-suffering tone. “I mean, I just, I had a fight with mom and I needed to get out.”

“Right,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip of scotch. “Let me guess, girl stuff?” Mae snorted.

“You couldn't even begin to imagine.”

“Right, of course not,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. When did she get so needlessly dramatic? She certainly didn't get that particular trait from her mother.

She sat on the edge of the couch, arms tightly crossed. He sat next to her and playfully bumped her elbow with one of his.

“Hey come on, you guys usually get along great. Whatever you were fighting about can’t have been that bad.”

“Oh yes it can,” Mae hissed.

“Did she return a book to the library you weren’t finished with yet?” He asked, recalling the source of a previous rift. Mae had a habit of not using bookmarks, claiming to always remember her page, and Riza had a habit of fastidiously following rules, such as the rule that library books could only be borrowed for a fortnight at a time. It was surprising the mistake didn’t happen more often, when you thought about it.

“She’s a liar,” Mae said softly and Havoc blinked at this. Riza Hawkeye was honest to the point of (always tactful) bluntness at times. Sure she could keep a secret when she had to but usually only … when she had to…

He kept his expression carefully neutral.

“It’s not my business,” he told her, hoping this would discourage her from fully revealing the cause of their argument, “But if you caught her in a fib it was probably for good reason.”

“It wasn’t a fib, she’s been lying to me since I was born,” Mae spat bitterly. “And I gave her the chance to finally come clean but she just kept up the lie, like I’m stupid —“

“No one could ever accuse you of being stupid,” he told her. And it was true, she had taken to her alchemy lessons like a fish to water. At fifteen she was at the top of her class and rapidly outpacing the curriculum available. He’d once heard Mustang quietly say to Hawkeye that he’d been looking into finding a private tutor in Central, but he had been immediately shut down by one of her withering stares that seemed to speak volumes to Roy. Havoc couldn’t see why - the girl was a natural, let her do the thing she was clearly great at. “You know how protective your mom can be. Maybe this lie, that I have no knowledge of and is not my business, was for your own good when you were younger. She doesn’t realize how fast you’ve grown up.”

“She still should tell me the truth.”

“You know, your mom’s a person too,” he told her gently, well aware that he was divulging one of the biggest secrets of parentkind. “Have you considered that maybe, uh, whatever it is, is a sensitive topic for her too? It’s probably not a fun secret to keep. I bet you she wishes she doesn’t have to.”

Mae scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Thank you, Uncle Havoc. I’m gonna go wash my face.” She headed off down the hall and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad that playing dumb had worked. He reached for his scotch and took a long drink.

Another knock, and Havoc set down his glass in annoyance, before opening the door. It was Riza, of course, looking world-weary and almost like she'd been crying. Jean had known Riza for, geez, at least twenty years now. He didn't think he'd ever seen her cry.

“Hey. Is my daughter here?”

Wordlessly, Havoc opened the door and she walked past him, setting her purse on the coffee table heavily. The tea kettle started to sing in the kitchen and he hastened to take if off the heat, bringing Riza a cup of chamomile without asking.

“Just wait until yours are teenagers,” she said wryly, accepting the mug from him.

“Well when they are, and they run out during an argument, I'll know to go look for them at your place,” he said, and found that despite his joking tone he meant it. This earned him a sad little smile.

“It'll be nice to be the fun aunt for once,” she said softly. “People always say parenting is hard, but no one ever tells you it can be so heartbreaking.” She shook her head slowly. “I didn't mean that. Not exactly.”

“I know what you mean,” Havoc assured her. He hated having arguments with his kids, even if it was just little stuff right now, like whether or not one should jump on the bed. Mae hadn't come out with it, but he could guess what they'd been fighting about.

“I'm the one who ran out,” she confessed. Havoc inched closer to the couch and put what he hoped was a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Not now, but this morning. I was going in to work early and she kept asking me about – well it doesn't matter what. I owe her an answer but I brushed her off.”

“Whatever it is, I'm sure it's ...complicated,” Jean said delicately. Her hand came up briefly to rest on his.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Mom?” came a small voice from the hallway. It was of course Mae, face freshly scrubbed, looking remorseful, yet with a familiar glint of determination in her eyes. “Let's go home,” she said. Riza took a deep breath, and stood up.

“Good idea.”

He’d thought about using Rebecca as a go between to find out the result of this argument, but in the end decided against it. As he’d told Mae, it really wasn’t his business, even though he was desperately curious to find out whether she’d been told of her true parentage. But as it happened, there was no espionage necessary; Hawkeye approached him the next day while he was making coffee in the office.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “For whatever you said to Mae about me.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” he said. “I just ah, told her that whatever it was, the situation isn’t ideal for you either.”

“She said that whenever I was ready to … discuss the subject we were arguing over, she would like to hear it.” Riza shrugged. “Sometimes being a parent is a wretch, but then they do something mature and it was all worth it.”

“She’s a great kid,” Jean told Riza solemnly. “You did a good job there.” She smiled a little sadly and he thought he saw her eyes flick to the front of the room, just for a second.

“Oh, you know,” she said softly. “It takes a village.”

-x-

With Grumman retiring and General Mustang moving into his old office, their team was all but disbanded. It meant promotions and pay raises all around, of course, and Havoc was pleased to finally be given his own unit, but this last afternoon lazily packing up the office was bittersweet. He, Breda, and Fuery lingered, chatting and arguing over pens, while Roy finished some paperwork. Colonel Hawkeye had been conspicuously absent, a fact none of them had mentioned due to the stormclouds that had immediately gathered over the Flame Alchemist’s head when one of the subordinates had asked.

The door flew open, and sixteen-year-old Mae stormed in and directly up to the large desk, the spitting image of her mother in a rage. Roy looked up, did a double take, and sighed.

“Oh hell,” he began. “Mae-”

“Don’t you even-” she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. “You fired my mother - how could you possibly-”

Jean exchanged panicked glances with Breda and Fuery. This was a situation he could never have foreseen - even in his paperwork-induced stress dreams he was the one being fired, never Hawkeye. He couldn’t say he really blamed Mae for being upset; he personally was going to be having a word with his superior officer the moment the kid left, insubordination be damned. Fire Hawkeye? Had the General lost his mind, he wouldn’t last two weeks without her watching his back! Mustang was massaging his temples as though he felt a headache coming on.

“She shouldn’t be telling you that kind of thing,” he muttered, which was of course the wrong thing to say.

“She didn’t tell me anything, I know what termination paperwork is, and I know your signature!”

Havoc found himself in the unique position of both wanting to stay and see the pending Fuhrer of Amestris be torn a new one by a teenaged girl and simultaneously wanting to be nowhere near the impending firestorm that was undoubtedly going to take place. From Fuery and Breda’s shell-shocked expressions they were also frozen to where they stood.

“You know believe it or not I do have my reasons,” the General said, voice quiet. “And I am planning to enlighten you, despite the fact that I do not have to, but this is neither the time nor the place.”

“Oh save it,” Mae snapped, though the shaking in her voice told Jean that she was close to tears. He had no idea how Roy was still staring at her levelly; he would have crumbled if she’d used that tone on him. “You’re just a snake - all this time you’ve been pretending to care about us but now you’re getting promoted you’re suddenly too good-”

Behind the desk, Mustang’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” he said carefully.

“Well then tell me!” She demanded, fists clenched at her side. None of them had ever seen her this upset with Roy before, and Havoc suddenly recalled Mustang, holding a baby while Edward Elric angrily asked him what Mae would think of him when she was older. He had never given it a second thought, assuming that Mae’s affection for the General meant that she didn’t harbor any resentment.

The tears in her eyes told him he’d been wrong.

From across the room Havoc noticed a few MPs peering into the office, looking for the source of the yelling, and he locked eyes with Fuery, who casually picked up one of his boxes and headed for the door, closing it behind him. Neither of the two at the desk seemed to notice.

“Look,” he said, changing tacks, “I’m almost done here, go wait outside and I’ll-”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Mae hissed, “You’re not my father, remember?” The dam broke. She dropped her head into her hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Roy reached out in what seemed to be an automatic gesture, pulling her into a hug, rubbing small circles into her back while she cried on his epaulets. When she finally pulled away, sniffling, he handed her a handkerchief and regarded her seriously.

“There’s a set of rules the military has in place,” he began, and Havoc and Breda were suddenly both very busy placing stacks of documents and books into the boxes, “that forbids romantic relationships between officers.”

“Oh,” was all Mae said.

“If evidence of fraternization is discovered, then depending on the rank of the officers involved and the seriousness of the infraction, then at the very least those officers don’t remain stationed in the same city. At worst they could be court-martialed.”

“I didn’t think-“

“I meant to discuss this with you,” he told her, rifling around in his desk. “Clearly I didn’t think you would find out when you did.” Whatever he’d pulled out of his desk elicited a gasp from Mae, and her whole demeanor suddenly shifted. Havoc was too busy minding his own business to catch a glimpse of the object, but he had a guess at what it could be, and why it meant Hawkeye couldn’t continue to work in the military.

“You know most people would start by asking someone on a date first,” Mae told him shakily. “How do you even know if she likes you?” she teased. Mustang had the grace to keep his expression neutral.

“I think she does. I could be wrong.”

Mae had taken the small box and was turning it over in her hands. “She’s pretty upset right now. Even if she didn’t tell me why, I could tell she was mad.”

“I jumped the gun,” he explained. “I was supposed to wait until after the inauguration. She’ll forgive me though. Will you?” Havoc fought the strong urge to run out of the large office, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, or do anything else to break the spell of the moment. He just continued to crouch, rifling aimlessly through the open drawer of his desk. Roy was clearly not asking for forgiveness for what had happened today and Mae, ever the clever one, could tell. It was a tense few moments before she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, choking back a sob.

“Of course,” she murmured, and pulled away with a grin. “You know if mom says yes then you’ll be my stepfather.”

There’s a long moment where Havoc realized he’d somehow gotten dust in his eye and it was wildly uncomfortable.

“No,” Roy said, considering. “I’ll be your dad.”

[quxntumvandyne]

48 Hours (Scott Lang x fem!Reader)

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: none, its just dramatic and cute lol

Summary: An accident happened that ends you up in the hospital, just around the same time as a stranger that you become very close with very quickly. But when disaster strikes, you are the only one who can help Scott. Do you trust him or is it too soon?

A/N: omg guys i’m alive!!!!!! back with a scott x reader fix that i’m proud of and i love this prompt i came up with. i have never seen it anywhere else if it has already been done, i’m super sorry and all the credit to you! and i tried to go through it the best i could so i apologize now for any mistakes. thank you for your support and i’ll have much out later! jump into my asks if you’d like to be added to my taglist, scott lang taglist or give me a prompt to write! i hope you love it. much love, lena

MASTERLIST

. . . . .

Bright lights.

That was the only thing that crossed your mind the moment you woke up in a hospital bed on Saturday morning. You blinked several times trying to see more clearly and rubbed your eyes, not knowing how long you had been asleep. You saw your best friend, Natasha, sitting across in the room asleep in a chair and you had a white blanket and a sheet covering your body up until your arms. You had a hospital gown on and the blinds in your room were wide open to let the sunshine in.

You tried to sit up and immediately felt a sharp pain in your torso, send you straight back on to the bed.

“What the hell??” you said, trying not to wake Natasha but she immediately snapped her eyes open in panic and came straight over to your side.

“Hey Y/N, slow down. Might not want to sit up that fast after surgery.”

“Surgery? Nat, what happened?” You just realized how little you remember about where you were and how you got there.

“You’re in a hospital,” Natasha reminded you. “Last night you really weren’t feeling well and passed out back in the apartment. I had to call an ambulance and they said your appendix burst. I was just glad it wasn’t anything worse but they fixed you up.”

It felt like a gut punch to the stomach, thinking about how scared this must have made her but so thankful you had the best best friend in the whole world.

“Did I ever tell you are the best person ever?” you told her, wincing while laying back down.

“Don’t need to, you know I’ll watch your six if you watch mine.”

“Duh,” you said smiling.

“Doc says you can go home tomorrow but they want to monitor you today. Apparently, they have a big case today but they’ll be by later to check on you.”

Natasha sits on your bed while she tells you about who brought you flowers, your friends Bucky, Sam and Steve. You and Natasha became friends when you met at a gym and became workout buddies and she introduced you to the rest of the gang, slowly becoming one of them. Thankfully you weren’t alone when this happened and you knew that your friends would always have your back.

“Do you know what big case they had today?”

Nat shook her head, “Not sure but I think he’s down the hall. All I know is it must be serious because he’s been here forever and has a ton of doctors on his case.”

This only made you more curious and wanted to find out what all the commotion was about. Just then, your doctor walked in.

“Good morning, Y/N. How are feeling this morning?”

“Better than ever, doc,” you said, pretending to not feel the aching in your side.

“Sounds great. We’d like to keep you overnight for observation just to make sure everything is alright and you can go home first thing tomorrow morning.”

Dr. Coulson went on explaining about at home care but all you could think about was this big case. Then you noticed the look on Dr. Coulson’s face. Something of nervousness.

“Hey Dr. Coulson, are you okay?”

“Oh yes, just a big day on the job.”

“Can I know about it?” you asked genuinely curious.

“I can’t disclose patient information, but you’re welcome to walk over and introduce yourself to our VIP today. Scott never minds new visitors and will make you feel right at home here. And bound to make you laugh, he’s quite the jokester.”

You decided that you would take a nap and visit later, interested to meet this Scott.

2 hours later

You sat into your wheelchair as Sam pushed you over to this mysterious man’s room to meet him.

“So why are we meeting this guy again?” Bucky asked.

“I’m not really sure, I just figured if I was here today I could meet some other patients and keep myself busy. Today seems to be his big day.”

You made it to his room and as you went in, it was filled with balloons and flowers with a man around your age sitting in the hospital bed, looking frail but happy. He had dark hair with green eyes and a big smile, instantly making you feel warm and welcomed.

Dr. Coulson wasn’t lying.

“Um, hi. Are you Scott?”

“Yes-“

“This sure is my best friend Scotty. And who is the beautiful lady rolling into his room that we have the pleasure of meeting?” said a man who must have been a friend of his.

“I’m Y/N,” you said laughing at his friend's quick response to your question.

“I’m Luis. Me and Scotty go way back, back to like-“

“Hey man, she just got here. Give her at least ten minutes before explaining the entire story of our friendship again,” Scott said with a smile.

“Scott Lang, at your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine. So, you seem to be a popular guy around this floor?” you asked.

Scott chuckled, “Well when you’ve been here as long as I have, you’re bound to make some friends.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, how long?”

“Well, this is my fourth and longest visit in the last two years. I have renal cancer and I have my second transplant today. First one didn’t work out so well, so I’ve got high hopes for the new guy but I also have to realistic. I like to come off as a person who isn’t dying of cancer as best I can.”

You smiled. “Well, you won me over.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Well, you’re a better actor than you think.”

“It’s never acting when a girl like you happens to roll into my room.”

This made you blush and then laugh as Luis hit his shoulder and said “Oooo damn Scotty! You smooth!”

That earned a chuckle from the whole room and an eye roll from Scott.

“Oh trust me, Lang, you’ve never met a girl like me.”

“Oh really? Prove it.”

“My pleasure,” you smirked with a new found confidence.

Nat walked up from behind and said that her and the boys were going to get some food, while you requested to stay with Scott and chat some more. Luis decided to go with them and that left the two of you alone.

“So, what’s got you here?”

“Appendix burst last night and I passed out. Thankfully, Nat, my roommate was with me and rushed me here last night.”

“But you’re alright?” Scott asked, curious about your condition.

“Oh yeah, I leave tomorrow morning. But now that I’ve made a new friend, I kinda don’t want to leave.”

Scott’s eyes widen slightly and he blushes a bit, “Well I enjoy the company, Luis is here frequently but he’s about it besides nurses and doctors.”

“And they’re obviously a joy.”

“Always bringing such happy news and thrilled to poke me with needles.”

You laughed and kept on laughing for the next two hours as you shared stories together, learning about how Scott and Luis work together and how much you actually had in common. Little things, like how you like your coffee or tea and what goes on your pizza. It felt like you’ve known each other for forever and you could easily see you and Scott becoming close some day.

Dr. Coulson enters and is surprised to see you in the room.

“Well Y/N seems you found your way to Scott’s room. Hope you two have been keeping each other company before the surgery today. Speaking of which, we need to prepare you for.”

“Sounds good Dr. Coulson. And she’s been great company, hopefully, we’ll still see each other after this is all over.”

You looked at him and smiled, “Let’s make it a date.” You weren’t one to make the first move but something about Scott made you more confident that you have ever been about someone.

“Sounds like a plan to me, sweet cheeks. I’d say I’d pick you up but that might be difficult after the big procedure today.”

Steve, Natasha, Bucky, and Luis all came back to the room with ice cream, making Scott frown in jealous as you ate your first spoonful.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than at your side feeding you dinner,” you said, smirking while eating your ice cream.

“Oh, I am so getting revenge on you for this,” Scott said jokingly.

“Can’t wait!” you yelled, wheeling out of his room with Natasha pushing you.

“So,” Natasha said suspiciously, “sweet cheeks?”

“Someone made a new friend,” Sam said, nudging your arm.

You ate another scoop of your ice cream while blushing madly. “I don’t know what it is about him, he was just so easy to talk to. And even for him having cancer, we relate to each other in a lot of ways. It’s like I’ve known him my whole life but we only met a couple of hours ago.”

Steve chuckled, “You really like this guy huh? Doesn’t seem that bad.”

You smiled, looking down. “He’s kinda perfect.”

About 1 hour into Scott’s kidney transplant surgery, you see Dr. a Coulson running down the hall, followed by nurses with several bags in their hands. You look at your friends and start to think the worst. Natasha and Steve run after to see what’s going on and bring back the news, which made your heart leap into your throat.

“The new kidney had a tumor on it. Dr. Coulson is trying to find another one but nobody seems to have one close by.”

You feel your eyes water slightly and the only thought in your head is of his daughter, Cassie.

Steve continues with the worst news yet, which you didn’t think was possible. “He says if Scott doesn’t get a new kidney in the next 48 hours, he could die.”

“Let him test me.”

All eyes go to you in shock.

“I’m serious. Let them test me. Even if there is a chance I could help him, I want to try.”

Steve nods his head and runs down the hall to find Dr. Coulson again.

Natasha walks over to your bed. “Are you insane? You just met him. And now you want to give him your kidney?”

For a split second, you questioned it. Why were you doing this? You did just meet him. Maybe someone else would match and give him a kidney. But then you shoved those thoughts aside.

“I know what I’m getting myself into Nat. I don’t know why but I feel this connection to him. I’ve never felt this way before. And somehow I know that if it were roles reversed, he would do the same for me.”

Dr. Coulson then walked in with his team of nurses and doctors and looked at you with intense eyes with a hint of desperation. You could tell he was on his last straw of luck.

“Do the test,” you said.

And at that moment, the room erupted into chaos. You don’t remember much other than people telling you things and others running around but the only thing you could thing about was Scott lying open on that table.

And you wanted nothing more than to help him.

“Oh my god. She’s a match.”

The room fell silent. And all eyes went to you.

Dr. Coulson walked forward and said, “You were the last patient who let us test them and you are the only match. Do not feel pressure what so ever to do this and I can give you time to think abo-“

“I’m ready. No second guessing, no time to think, I’m sure. Scott needs that kidney and I can give him one.” You had never seen so many smiles at once.  

You had never felt so sure and unsure of anything in your whole life. But your gut was telling you this was the right thing to do. And what you wanted to do.

“Alright people, let's get ready for this kidney transplant!”

12 hours later

Could they really not have left the blinds closed? Sunlight is great and everything but after giving up a kidney, the last thing you wanted was to be awake this early in the morning.

Oh my god. You gave up a kidney last night.

You opened your eyes very slowly to a different room from the morning before and realized you weren’t breathing on your own.

You had a moment of deja vu when Natasha came over and requested a nurse who removed the tube from your throat. Your throat was very sore and it hurt to talk but you managed to speak.

“Nat? How did it go?”

She looked at you with tears in her eyes and began to cry.

Oh no. This can’t be happening, I did not just give a kidney to this man for him to die on me.

“No, no no no Nat. He can’t be dead. Tell me isn’t dead. NAT! TELL ME HE ISNT DEAD!” you started to yell with a rasp in your voice. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you couldn’t bear the thought of losing this man you’d barely met 24 hours ago.

“Natasha, please,” you begged her.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Hey sweet cheeks, would you mind keeping it down over there? Some of us are adjusting to living with another person’s kidney.”

Your eyes widened at the realization of who else was in the room with you. You look over to your right and see a drowsy yet goofy smiling Scott Lang laying in a bed next to yours. Tears of sadness then turned to tears of joy knowing that Scott was alive and so were you.

“Scott.”

“Y/N,” Scott said, looking at you from his bed, “I... don’t know how to repay you for what you did for me. I could’ve died on that table. But you... you barely know me and you saved my life. Why? Why would you do such a risky and unpredictable thing?”

You were quiet for a moment and then replied, “I told you, Scott. You’ve never met a girl like me before.”

Scott smiled so wide you thought his face would be stuck like that forever. “You proved me wrong.”

You both smiled then at each other and you could’ve stayed in that moment for eternity.

A week had gone by and it was time for you both to leave the hospital, and recover at home from the surgeries. You would miss lying next to Scott but we’re excited to leave the hospital and see what life on the outside was like with him by your side, proving him wrong time and time again.

“You know, I don’t think I can ever repay you for this,” Scott said, as you were wheeled out of the hospital together.

Just then, Cassie, Maggie, and Paxton pulled up and Cassie shot out of the car like a bullet straight for her dad.

“Well I can think of one way, and that is Cassie hugs.”

“Daddy!” Cassie yelled, running to Scott and giving him a gentle but loving hug.

“Hey Peanut! Oh, I missed you so much.”

“Are you all better now Daddy?”

“Much better. But I had some help. This is my new friend, Y/N. She helped Daddy get all better.”

Cassie looked at you and leaped off her dad’s lap to hug you. Her little arms wrapped around your neck as she smiled and said, “Thank you for saving my Daddy’s life.”

You hugged her back and said, “Your Daddy is somebody very special. Do you know that?”

“I do,” Cassie replied, sitting on your lap. “My daddy is my hero and I love him so much.”

You looked over at Scott to see his face beaming with pride at the picture of you two together. You looked back at Cassie.

“I think he’s my hero too.”

permanent taglist: @magic-marvel @celestialparker @galaxy-parker @signed-potato@ @lokiisragnarok @0captain-marvel0 @hedwigthelegend @highlady-ofthe-summercourt@minnie-marvel @vodkaqueensstuff @ms-marveleous @propertyofmarvel

[fanficshiddles]

Seeking control, Chapter 1

Doctor Hiddleston is well known in his field for being one of the best. His patients all adore him and fall under his charm, so don't question his slightly odd ways of practice... But he becomes obsessed with a new patient, Ellie. Determined that she needs saving. 

Unfortunately for her, she ends up in a mental hospital, claiming that she isn't crazy. But what she can't quite figure out, is she truly meant to be there or not? Or has her Doctor had something to do with it?

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: Rape/Non-con, stalking, psychotic behaviour, control issues, mentions of attempted suicide, pervy doctor. 

-

Ellie screamed hysterically and threw herself against the padded wall.

This was wrong, all wrong.

She wasn’t crazy.

She shouldn’t be in here.

‘I DON’T BELONG IN HERE! THERE’S BEEN A MISTAKE. PLEASE LET ME OUT!’ She sobbed.

Giving up, she put her back against the wall and slid down into a heap, face in her hands. Never in her life had she felt so terrified, so lost and alone.

She was left in the padded room for the night, when morning finally arrived two nurses came to let her out. They both guided her through the hospital with firm grips on her upper arms to an appointment room.

Ellie’s eyes widened when she was pushed into the room, she saw Doctor Hiddleston stood there. She couldn’t believe it. She was so relieved to see someone she knew. Not entirely sure what came over her, she ran over and hugged him tightly, crying.

‘Woah, hey. It’s alright, Ellie.’ He soothed, putting his arms around her and rubbing her back.

‘I’m so relieved to see you.’ She sobbed, holding on tightly to him and never wanting to let go.

‘Shh, shh. It will be alright.’ Tom stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, a big grin on his face hidden from her. He managed to eventually prise her arms from around his waist and got her to sit down on the sofa next to him, his face turning to concern.

He handed her a tissue to wipe her tears. ‘I must say, I was surprised when I got the call that one of my patients had been admitted here. Even more surprised when I learned it was you.’ He kept his tone low and calm whilst rubbing her back in a soothing manner, because she was still incredibly upset and distressed.

‘You have to get me out of here. I don’t belong here. I’m not insane!’ She begged and clutched at his shirt.

‘Calm down, Ellie.’ He said firmly, but gently. ‘You wouldn’t have been admitted here without reason. You tried to kill yourself, darling. You need the help that can be offered here.’

‘I… I didn’t.’ She frowned, confused and scared.

Tom gently gripped her wrist and slid her sleeve up, revealing a huge cut on her forearm that had been stitched. Ellie’s eyes widened, she never noticed it in all her panic and fear. Did she really do that to herself?

‘It would’ve been a lot worse if I hadn’t found you when I did three days ago. You were bleeding, badly. I thought there had been a robbery gone wrong. But then I got the call from the manager here. You attempted to harm the nurses and doctors at the hospital who stitched you up. Then you tried to jump out of the window of the fifth floor.’ Tom’s voice went shaky at the last part, he looked truly worried and concerned for his patient. He wrapped her hands in his large ones. ‘You’re in the right place, Ellie. I had no idea that things were this bad. I feel I have failed you as your doctor. But I am going to help you get better.’

His tone was soft and caring. She could see by his eyes that he genuinely cared about her. But she was in shock, not only could she not remember anything of what he said, it just seemed totally out of character for her.

The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in her own bed, happy and content with her life. How could she not remember harming herself and then ending up here? Three days was missing from her memory.

But Ellie trusted her Doctor and neighbour, why wouldn’t she? Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they all were...

Maybe she was going crazy.

 5 months earlier Ellie heaved the last of the boxes out of the lift and over towards her new flat. She was exhausted and starting to regret renting a flat on the top floor.

She was in the middle of dragging the box across the floor, when she suddenly heard the most intoxicating, panty dropping voice she had ever heard.

‘Would you like some help, darling?’

Feeling a tingle run down her spine, she shot upwards and turned around to look at the owner of that voice. And the voice certainly matched the person. She had no idea how she was still standing. He was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. Extremely tall, long curly hair with a scruffy beard that the man suited so well. He had gorgeous eyes to match. He was wearing a blue shirt with black trousers, which looked perfect on him.

‘Oh, uh… It’s alright, thanks. This is my last box.’ She stammered quickly.

‘It’s no trouble, as you look like you’re struggling.’ Tom said knowingly, he rolled his sleeves up his forearms and walked over to pick up the box with ease, making Ellie feel rather deflated with how weak she was in comparison.

‘Thank you, it’s very kind of you.’ Ellie led the way into her flat, which was more like a jumble sale at the moment with all the boxes lying around.

‘Where do you want it?’ Tom asked, glancing around for a spot.

‘Just anywhere, thank you.’

‘No worries.’ He put the box down and turned to face her again.

‘Geez, you’re tall!’ She blurted out, covering her mouth quickly because she had meant for it to be in her head.

Tom threw his head back and laughed. Ellie felt something stir inside of her, even his laugh was unique and hot.

‘I am often referred to as a bit of a giant.’ He grinned, showing off his pearly white teeth. ‘I’m Tom, by the way.’ He held his hand out towards her.

‘Ellie. Nice to meet you.’ She shook his hand and marvelled at how soft his large hands were.

‘If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be more than happy to help.’ Tom said with a lovely smile.

‘Thank you. I think I’m all sorted, for now anyway.’ Ellie said. She found herself unable to stop blushing, he was just so ridiculously handsome. She felt like a teenager again, crushing over a celebrity or something.

‘No problem, darling. Enjoy the rest of your day, and I hope you settle in well here.’

Tom left her flat and Ellie shut the door behind him. She let out a sigh, my god he was gorgeous. Things just got a lot more interesting… even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to openly flirt with him or anything, maybe he already had a girlfriend, but he was certainly nice eye candy that was for sure.

‘He can borrow my milk any day.’ She muttered to herself, then made a start unpacking her boxes.

A few days later, Tom was reading a book in his flat one evening when he heard screaming from next door. He frowned, that was from Ellie’s flat.

He rushed round and knocked on her door, worried in-case she was hurt. But he heard movement and was relieved when she opened the door. But his eyes widened slightly and he couldn’t stop a grin forming on his face.

Ellie’s blouse was soaked through, making her bra visible. Her eyes widened upon seeing Tom and her cheeks turned bright red.

‘Tom!’

‘Are you alright, love? I heard a scream.’ He frowned, concerned.

‘There’s a leak under my sink. I was trying to fix it, but it broke even more and water sprayed, well, everywhere.’ She sheepishly folded her arms over her chest to try and hide herself, but it was a bit too late.

‘Would you like me to take a look?’ Tom offered, already rolling his sleeves up his forearms in a rather erotic way. Again.

‘If you’re… sure.’ She gulped and stepped backwards to let him in.

Tom went to the kitchen with her and found the spanner she’d been using. He grabbed a towel that was at the side of the counter and put it down for him to kneel on. Ellie watched in awe while he went to work fixing the leak.

She briefly went away to change into a dry top, when she returned Tom was finished and drying his hands. ‘There, that’s it fixed now.’ He grinned.

‘Thank you so much. You’re a life saver!’

‘Not at all. That’s what neighbours do.’ He glanced down at her body, slightly disappointed that she had changed her top. But he still licked his lips and Ellie noticed that, but she tried not to think much about it, brushing it off.

‘Uhm, do you like whiskey? It’s the least I can give you as a thanks for this and for helping me with the boxes the other day.’ She rambled quickly, turning to her cupboards she had a quick search then grabbed the bottle and held it out to him. ‘Or, perhaps you’d prefer vodka?’

‘Whiskey would be lovely, thank you very much. But there’s no need, honestly. You can come to me for anything, anything at all.’ He said warmly, making her heart flutter.

‘Thanks. I really appreciate it. I’d offer the same, but I don’t think there’s much I’d be any help with. Unless you run out of bread or milk perhaps.’ She shrugged.

Tom laughed, his tongue poking out between his lips as he did so. ‘I will bear that in mind, thank you.’ He winked at her.

After showing Tom out, and thanking him once again, Ellie was relieved that her leak problem was sorted. But she was feeling even more flustered than ever after having the help from her hot neighbour.

Perhaps I should have leaks more often. She thought with a smile.

[ruserious-hi]

180: Chapter II

Summary: You’re entire life you had felt that you were special, like you were mean’t for something greater. You weren’t ordinary. You had a mother, friends. You were even at the top of your class. It wasn’t until your eighteenth birthday that you discovered you were right all along and yet wrong in so many ways.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader ? 

A/N: Friend or foe?

Light. That was the first thing you were greeted with. Real natural and beautiful light.

You were certain. You died and this was heaven. 

Looking down you noticed the battered grey t-shirt and shorts you were taken in were replaced with the whitest t-shirt you had ever seen and grey sweatpants. You felt as if you were laying on a cloud. Maybe it was just because you were used to cold concrete floors, but this was no ordinary bed. You began to feel the plushness of the bed when you noticed your left hand, the one HYDRA had broken while trying to restrain you, was wrapped in a hard red cast. You began to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that,” warned a voice from the corner of the room.

The voice caused you to turn in the direction of the sound. As you turned a searing pain in your abdomen brought you back down to the comfort of the bed. You could feel your heart begin to race. They didn’t tie you down. Maybe you were saved. Was this the man to whom the shadow belonged too?

Before you could analyze the situation, the man took his chair from the corner of the room and plopped it right next to your bed.

“Hello Jane Doe.”

You couldn’t think of response, so you just stared into his brown eyes. He wasn’t familiar. You don’t remember seeing him in the HYDRA facility they had kept you in. Although the eye contact was uncomfortable, it was the only way for you to get a read on his emotions without physical contact.

“Not much of a speaker are you,” he said breaking eye contact to gaze outside of a large window you just realized was there. The view literally took your breathe away. You had never been this high up before. Glancing back at you he continued, curiousity flowing through him,  “Do you know who I am?”

Eyes glued to the view you shook your head.

“Really? Have you heard of Iron Man?”

You shook your head.

“Tony Stark? the billionaire, playboy and philanthropist?”

You shook your head again.

“Damn. Thats a first,” he said. “Anyway, the real question is who are you?”

Breaking eye contact with the view, you looked back at this ‘Tony Stark’ before staring at your hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“You see. We ran some tests,” uh oh. You thought. Do they know about your powers? 

“Your not on any missing persons file. HYDRA burned all their files before Nat could extract them. Your a ghost. Your entire existence has been erased. So let me ask you again, who are you?”

You looked back at him. HYDRA never asked. They took. There was no malice or anger with his words. You could tell if he were lying. He wasn’t HYDRA. You could trust him.

Clearing your throat you replied, “I - I am Y/N Y/LN. I was taken by HYDRA on June 13, 2011. It was my eighteenth birthday.”

You sensed a shift in his emotions as he sat folded his hands in front of him. Sadness. Pity. 

Tony tilted his head to the side, “Y/N, what did HYDRA want from you? Why did they take you?”

“A weapon,” you sighed. Glancing down at your hands, “Thats all they ever want. I was just an ordinary high school student. I didn’t even know I had powers until the day they took me. It all happened so fast.”

“What powers do you have?” Tony asked.

“If I concentrate hard enough, I can summon and move any object. See,” Closing your eyes, you pictured the lucky black ball-point pen you always used on every test. Sure enough the pen appeared in your right hand. Tossing it into the air, with a slight move of your fingers began drawing stars on the clean white walls. 

Looking over at Tony you noticed the way his eyes followed the smooth movements of your pen as it stroked against the wall. Snapping your fingers, you clicked the pen and it disappeared. The look of amusement brought a brief smile to your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you had smiled even if it was just for a second.

“I can also pick up on people’s emotions when I am close to them. Although it works better through physical contact. I can also read other people’s thoughts.”

“Hmm, what am I thinking now?”

You were hesitant. Who the hell is confident enough to let you gaze into their minds. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Well, I guess Tony Stark is. Taking a deep breathe you tried to focus on the man sitting beside you. There were multiple different frequencies around you, it sounded mostly like doctors and nurses discussing patients. Anxiety and stress. Someone was wondering whether there were any plums in the food court. Another was singing some tune you had never heard before. Then you heard it. Tony’s voice. He was wondering what your favorite flavor of ice cream was.

“Chocolate,” you replied zoning out all the noises. 

“Hmm.” he said.

“Chocolate. It’s my favorite ice cream flavor.”

“Wow. Your good,” he said genuinely impressed. “Are there any other special powers I should know about?”

Shyly you looked down at your hands, tracing the outline of your cast, “No, not that I know of.”

“I’m going to call in one of the doctors. She is the best in the business. Once she just has to check your vitals and then you should be good to go. Is there anyone I can call to come get you?”

“My mom. Y/MN Y/MLN. She’s all I have.” 

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. did you get that?” he shouted into the air. You were confused, who was he yelling to. No one else was in the room.

Suddenly a voice came out of nowhere, “Yes, Mr. Stark.”

“Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y. Let me know as soon as possible when you get a hit.”

“Will do Mr. Stark.” replied the voice.

“Alright kid, I will be back as soon as I can. The doctor will be in shortly,” putting his chair back in the corner he got up and started walking toward the door.

Before he could exit the room, “Mr. Stark?” you asked.

Turning swiftly around he said, “Yeah kid?”

“What year is it?” you already knew, but a part of you just wanted to hear it from an actual person.

Glancing at his wrist, he said, “April 14, 2019. And you can call me Tony.”

On that note he walked out of the room. 

You blinked a few times. It has been seven years. You missed seven birthdays. You were 25 years old. You weren’t a kid anymore. You were a full blown adult. Those thoughts repeated in your head. On an endless cycle. It was all you could think about. 

As Tony promised the doctor came in. You weren’t really paying attention to what she was saying or doing. Something about a couple bruised, but not broken ribs and that in a few months the cast would be removed.

When the doctor left the room, you were tired of lying stuck in the bed unable to move. Against doctors orders ad the pain in your ribs, you willed yourself onto your feet. With baby steps, you made your way to the window taking in the landscape hoping to take your mind off the shit storm that was reality. 

When the sun began to set over the city skyline, the door opened. Earlier one of the nurses came in and saw you standing, so he forced you to sit in the chair Tony had sat in earlier since you refused to return to the bed.

“I’ve got good news and bad news kid.” It was Tony. Joining you by the window he said, “which do you want first.”

“Bad.” You were used to bad news. Might as well start with what was familiar.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. couldn’t find any record of your mom anywhere... I’m sorry.”

“And the good news?” you said. 

“Well since you haven’t even heard of me I am assuming you haven’t heard of the avengers. Am I correct?”

You nodded.

“All you really need to know is that its a group of enhanced people, like you. They’re actually the people that went on the mission to the HYDRA facility where we rescued you from. We have a facility in upstate New York where we live and train. Since we couldn’t find your mom, you can stay there with us until we locate her. I know its not ideal,  but its free and we can even help you learn more about your powers. Although you do seem to have a good handle on them. And if you don’t want to thats completely fine-

“Yes.” You interrupted. “I would like that.”

[truthfulrebellion-blog]

Hysterectomy

Let’s call it what it is. No pussy footing around it. A necessary evil on the way to the end game: phalloplasty. I had been waiting almost six months to hear back about my approval for phalloplasty. I currently have health insurance through Kaiser Permanente, and they had a laundry list of things for me to do in order to present my file to the medical board. I had to transfer my files over from the organization I was seeking healthcare through, as it was cheaper than paying out of pocket for an endocrinologist, to Kaiser. I also had to obtain letters from two medical professionals confirming my need for bottom surgery. The whole process took nearly a year and several trips to medical facilities nearly thirty miles away from my home. My case manager finally called and said in order for the final review to occur, I had to get a hysterectomy.

At the time, I thought that was done by the surgeon performing the phalloplasty at the time of the phalloplasty. With Kaiser, that is not the case. They want anything and everything they have the capability of doing done within their facility. Likely to keep costs down. I didn’t mind. My hysterectomy was scheduled for December 15th, 2018. I had to get blood tests done and watch several videos that didn’t pertain to my situation regarding the procedure. The videos are, obviously, geared towards women. I did what I needed to do and prepared myself for the surgery date. I got a call to move my surgery up about 10 days, even better. Then not 24 hours before the surgery, I received a call stating that it was being delayed for a week. My new date was the 11th. This was terribly inconvenient as my care giver for after my surgery had already taken off work for the original surgery date.

I walked into the facility to check in about an hour early. I had yet another interesting surprise. The surgery was going to cost me money. $475, or close to it. Luckily, I had the money. I was very upset that I wasn’t told about this ahead of time, however. I am paying for the most expensive coverage this company offers so I had as little to pay out of pocket as possible. In the grand scheme of things, $475 is better than $10k. It still would have been nice to know before I showed up. If you have Kaiser, please make sure you know exactly what the costs are before you walk in the door.

I got checked in. I had to remove all of my clothing, put on a hospital gown & surgery cap, and take one final per break. I also forgot to mention I had to stop eating at midnight the day of and wipe my body down with these pre-surgery wipes. I was hungry and my skin smelled weird. They hooked up my IV, fed me my “lunch”, and several doctors came in to ask me questions and verify information. My surgery was supposed to occur at 3pm, but was delayed until closer to 5/530. My surgeon came in to make sure I knew what was about to take place. He also talked to me about a surgeon for bottom surgery in Arizona or New Mexico he was going to refer me to. He had given me the name in our prior consultation. When I looked that surgeon up, I was horrified. The man was fired from the California region Kaiser Permanente for botching transwomens vaginoplasties. The guy didn’t even specialize in phalloplasty. I expressed these concerns to him and told him it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to partner with him for any trans surgeries. Hopefully he heeds my advice. He confirmed that after the surgery, he would stick to the decision to refer me to Dr. Jens Berli of Portland, OR.

I knew nothing of Dr. Berli. There are no results to been seen online, barely anyone who has undergone his procedure even talks about their results, and I couldn’t find any other information besides his starting point in Maryland. I found his Facebook page and did some pretty intense research on him. He seems to genuinely care about his patients and has a passion for what he does. His only negative review is from someone who never had surgery with him because of a communication issue with his staff. Everyone else gave him five stars. So, I figured why the hell not. Hopefully my progress will help others who may be going to Dr. Berli for their phalloplasty be more comfortable with moving forward with him or the surgery itself. I am flying as blind in this moment as some of those who might read this in the future might feel. Trust me. I feel your pain.

I finally went in for my surgery. This time I wasn’t put under until I was on the surgery table. For my top surgery, I was out before I turned the corner on the way to the operating room. The next thing I remember is waking up several hours later and in pain. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was very disoriented. I’m not surprised considering I was on anesthesia. Apparently I wasn’t breathing enough either since my O2 alarm kept going off. I had to stay for an extra hour until I could get my breathing going regularly. Which is hard because I believe I have sleep apnea, and when I sleep I breathe much slower than I do when I’m awake. So I would fall back asleep, stop breathing, and be woken up by the nurses to get me to breathe. I didn’t feel any different than I usually do. I was actually quite comfy. But I’m sure it was uncomfortable for others around me to see me breathe 1-2 times a minute while asleep.

I was in so much pain. The pain meds hadn’t kicked in yet. I had had a total hysterectomy, oophorectomy, and partial vaginectomy. Let me tell you. When your genitals are covered in stitches, sitting fucking hurts. I couldn’t get comfortable. Then I had to go to the bathroom. Lord, that was an adventure in of itself. Once I was done, I had to have the nurse help me pull my maternity disposable underwear and extra absorbent pad on. And to help me get dressed. The was a humbling experience. But those disposable underwear are comfortable AF. I wish I had had more of them. I was only sent home with the 1 extra pair. After I got dressed, they sent my care giver to get the car. They sat me in a wheel chair and wheeled me to the pick up area. Wheel chairs are super uncomfortable. I begged the nurse to let me sit on the plushy waiting area seat, but she told me no. I couldn’t wait to get out of that chair. It hurt so bad.

I’ll spare additional details about the trip home. I was basically in pain in the seat, it took over an hour to get home, and I got right in the couch seat I’d be in for the next week and fell asleep. I had to wake up every 1-2 hours to pee and every 4 hours to take my pain meds. Compared to my chest surgery, the pain of the hysterectomy actually wasn’t too bad. I barely needed any medicine. The worst pain came when I peed. It burned like the surface of the sun, and I could barely get the urine out. This lasted for about 2-3 days. I was bleeding pretty regularly for 1-2 weeks and spotting until the 6th week. I had horrible colored discharge the entire recovery. I actually had to go get adult diapers when my last pair of those comfy underwear got worn out. I couldn’t find any of those huge puffy pads or anything without adhesive.

I think the worst part was not being able to poop. I could feel the poop in my back. I really could. But I could not get my bowels to work. Apparently, this is normal. I ended up pooping on day 5. Best advice? Take stool softeners religiously. I would go so far as to say take a laxative on day 3 or 4 because that poop is going to be quite solid. TMI alert, my first poop after surgery tore a little bit of the inside. Like a hemorrhoid. I’m getting into these details because I wish I had had them. It’s not rainbows and butterflies. It’s bleeding and inability to poop. I also could barely sleep as I had to sleep on my back, and I can’t sleep on my back. I get so unfortable. By day 3 I was sleeping on my side on the other couch. I’m also a bigger guy, so I had to hold my stomach when I got up since there was a lot of pain from my belly hanging. I’m not 300+ pounds or anything, but I do have a beer belly. If you are the same, just be prepared for tummy pain when getting up.

I slept on the couch for 3 weeks. It was so much more comfortable than my bed. And it was easy access to everything. I am almost 8 weeks post op and still get tummy pain. But for the most part, pain and blood free. I do still have discharge coming out. I’ll probably continue to wear the diapers until I run out just in case. I had already ruined a pair of pants when I thought the discharge was done. But after about 7-10 days, I was walking around and driving and doing what I needed to do. It was uncomfortable to sit and bend over, so my roommate had to help with a lot of things. My final observation is to leave the scabs alone. I accidentally picked at my belly scab and one of the dissolvable stitches came loose from my incision. I had that stitch hanging out for at least 2 weeks until it finally dissolved at the base and popped off. My scars look great and my hair has finally grown back on my stomach.

I’m doing all of this well after my surgery, so I am sure I have missed a thing or two. If you have any questions, please give me a comment or a message. I will answer anything.

[dxmedstudent]

What is your impression/impression of your colleagues towards physician associates, particularly American PAs that come to work in the UK? I'm currently exploring options as my husband can transfer to the UK for his work. We've both always wanted to live abroad for a time. However, as I look more deeply into the interwebs, I get the feeling that PAs, particularly American, aren't well received. Thoughts?

Hello! Long time no see. Sorry for the late reply. I actually went back to forums and had a re-read after getting this ask because I wanted to present the arguments (whether wrong or right) that I saw. I hope it helps, though I want you to remember that not everyone feels this way; people who don’t have any strong feelings just don’t bother debating things like this online. In real life, I’ve heard very little negativity about PAs from other doctors. I think most feel pretty neutral about the whole thing. But I don’t want to sweep things under the carpet. Personally, I’ve only ever worked with doctors’ assistants (more limited duties, mostly helping out with odd jobs, bloods etc, no clerking) but I have no problem with the idea of PAs, as long as their role is clearly defined so that everyone gets what they need. One of my good friends from biomed went to PA school after graduating, and I think she’s having great fun. So I want to approach this with the attitude that PAs are our people, too.  I’ll be honest, the topic of PAs seems to still be pretty be divisive amongst the medical community, from what I’ve seen on the big junior doctor forums. I’d say that there are people who are very pro-PAs, and others who are less enthusiastic. Though the reasons why are complex.

I don’t think the reception is anything to do with people being American, in the sense that i’ve never seen PAs’  nationalities be described as an issue. Despite occasional jibes, Americans are generally well liked here, and I’ve never overheard negative comments about a colleague’s Americanness. Is that a word? Feels like it should be. I’m actually sure US PAs might even be assumed to recevie a more comprehensive one than our own, if only because our own PA profession is very recent; we didn’t have PAs at all when I was younger. US-based training tends to be well-respected, as far as I know. The reasons for tensions between doctors and PAs here are many. First of all, PAs are a very recent invention. They have only been around for several years in the NHS. As such, we have a system that was built without their role, meaning that in order to have PAs at all, we need to make sure to carve out a role that does justice to what PAs can do, without taking away important opportunities from senior nurses/nurse prescribers/ANPs and junior doctors.This means that a lot of hospitals structure the role very differently, hence what a PA at one hospital does might not be the same as what a PA at another hospital does. This means if anyone wants to be a PA in the UK, it’s worth really shopping around, if you can, to see if you can get the most support and best role for you. I’d be really careful to make sure that the role made it clear what support is available for decisionmaking. PAs should have oversight from at least a registrar, ideally. I’ll come back to this later, but if anyone is making clinical decisions, it’s important that they are supported appropriately; I’m against giving nurses or paramedics or PAs or pharmacists prescribing privileges, just enough responsibiltiy to get them into trouble, but not giving people the right support for if they aren’t sure what to do. As a doc, having senior support is a big part of my job, and I think any one of my clinical colleagues deserves this, particularly if the government are trying to save money by getting them to do more doctors’ jobs so they don’t have to hire as many docs. And where PAs have in theory to get more junior docs to sign off on their decisions, lots of juniors aren’t comfortble with that idea. Because you generally have to be a bit more experienced before you can take repsonsibiltiy for others and their work. An FY1 or FY2 ‘supervising’ a PA wouldn’t be appropriate for either. And deep down msot of us docs feel that bringing in more ANPs, bringing in PAs, allowing pharmacists and paramedics and nurses to prescribe, a lot of it isn’t ultimately created with the interests of the clinician in mind. Ultimately the government does everything it does to save itself money, and given what they put junior doctors through in recent years, we are very, very bitter and wary with ANY government scheme. A lot of people worry  that bringing in PAs is just a way of the government trying to provide people to do doctor jobs on the cheap, without supporting them or training them up properly. And given that they’ve structured nurse training in such a way that trusts try to get by with as few senior nurses as possible, because it’s cheaper to have lots of HCAs and lower band nurses, I think all NHS workers have reason to be wary.   I’m going to spend most of this post outlining some of the issues that people have brought up in various threads, which aren’t necessarily issues I myself share, but I feel I have to discuss why some people are still adjusting to PAs cropping up. Not all doctors like the way having PAs works in practice, at least where they have worked. Some people grouse about the pay, because some of the PA slots advertised give a higher salary than you get for the frist several years of being a junior doctor, whilst most of them don’t do nights or oncalls, and have to take less clinical responsibility.  On the surface, it doesn’t seem fair; why should someone working better hours, and taking less legal responsibility be paid more? But I don’t believe in bringing everything down to the lowest common denominator; if anything, it should be an argument for better pay for nurses, doctors, physios, pharmacists etc.  In reality, I suspect they have made a few posts that pay unusually well to entice senior nurses to train up as PAs, and sort of get the ball rolling. The numbers are much smaller than the number of docs and nurses, so they can afford to pay more. Also, my colleagues have a point that that’s a PA’s final salary and that the job role is more limited, whereas junior docs (in our system, at least), get to train up to do different things, and eventually earn more.  Some act like PAs get a bad deal, others are envious; I think both jobs can be good if you’re the right person for that job. I’m sure it’s a better role for some people. Now, a small part of me can see why my colleagues are concerned. When you’re stressing about fulfilling the things you NEED for training, because otherwise your deanery and seniors will totally make out that you’re an inadequate doctor, it puts a lot of pressure on you to get your procedures and cases signed off.  I’ll be honest; medical training as a doctor once you graduate in the UK is minimal; we do our own exams. We have to arrange our own attendance at clinics (which is compulsory), we have to make sure we can get to compulsory teaching. We have to make our own opportunities to do the procedures we need to do to get signed off, see the cases we need, etc. We need to mke our own opportunities for audits, publications, etc. Apart from the occasional nice senior, literally nobody helps you to get all the things you absolutely need to do done. And that’s on top of the usual ward rounds, saving lives, dealing with pts and relatives thing, whilst often being extremely busy and understaffed. And rotating around every few months, so that nobody in the hospitals you work at Junior doctors are genuinely exhausted, overworked, and scrabbling around to get the opportunities they need to get by. Some of my colleagues report working in hospitals where because the PAs were permanent (not rotating) staff, they were given preference for audits, projects, research, procedures, surgery etc to the point where junior doctors felt sidelined and unable to get the training they need. Where they felt that rather than PAs taking on some of the “jobs everyone doesn’t like doing”  on top of clerking, they were given preference for the things both they and docs like doing, but also that docs NEED to do. And I’ve been in situations where I’m tired, struggling to get what I nee to do done, and I can see where they are coming from; I remember having an unpleasant evening, and wondering they were giving a GP trainee a chance to do a lumbar puncture when they’ll never need to do one in their line of work, when there are trainees in the dept that will need to do these procedures independently soon, but never get the opportunity. Of course, I reined in my childish brain, but the reason I felt that way wasn’t really because of my lovely colleague, but because of my stress at the lack of opportunities I got, which the system dictated I needed, but didn’t help me with. I’d never begrudged or been jealous of a colleague before so it was a low moment for me. But I’m sharing it because even generally nice people can feel jealous or let down if the system pits people against each other. And in scenarios like that, it’s not the fault of PAs at all; it should be up to hospitals planning their rota to ensure not only that staffing is well covered, but that trainee docs get enough opportunity to do what they need to do. And that PAs aren’t screwed over. I think blaming other employees is wrong, when the real culprit is a system that pits people against each other or doesn’t give people what they need to get things done. Now, there’s also a bit of rivalry between PA students and med students, more so than grads. Some PA students seem to go into it with the attitude that “It’ll be just like being a doctor, but you graduate faster”, and med students being med students, some of them will treat other clinicians with smug, unearned superiority. I have no time for either of these imposters, personally. Med students who think they are better than everyone don’t make good doctors until they get taken down a peg or two. We’re part of a team, and we can’t do what we do without nurses, physios, pharmacists etc, even PAs if they are part of our team. And people choosing beteeen the two courses shouldn’t think, wrongly that PA school is just the easy way into medicine, or “basically makes me a doctor”, because it’s dangerous to assume a level of competence or practice you don’t have. And because if you don’t understand the role you’re getting into, you may well be disappointed if it doesn’t meet your expectation. I think med students and PA students like this let both sides down, but I hope that real life will knock them into shape. The good news is that a lot of my colleagues on the group report that they’ve worked in places where having PAs worked really well. I think a lot of people would love having more people on the team to help. I’m certainly not against PAs if they are well supported. I think it has a lot of potential, and I’d like to see hospitals develop it properly. Where there were enough opportunities for both, and where PAs . I saw a lot of people say wonderful things about PAs, and defend them when things on the thread got more negative. I have hope for what our PA colleagues will do, I just think we’re still going through a transitional period with its own teething problems. We work well with nurse prescribers, with ANPs and with pharmacist prescribers; I believe we can work well with PAs. I just hope that trusts and the govt will do well by both docs and PAs, and that the relationship we eventually build will be fair to both sides. I suggest doing your research to see the kinds of jobs beingoffered, because they might not be as varied as they are in the US; some places definitely seem to offer jobs for PAs that are mainly paperwork, minor jobs with some phlebotomy, whereas other trusts have scope for clerking or more varied practice. And I would want to make sure that there’s an appropriate level of senior support for decisionmaking.

[ellanainthetardis]

Sorry for the delay, ff wasn’t working yesterday so I had to wait until they fixed it to post. I hope you enjoy this chapter! We have a guest star today! Let me know!

[ff] or [ao3]

52. 5 Months & 11 Weeks

“Haymitch!” Effie snapped as she crammed April’s rag doll in the diaper bag. She looked around the living-room to spot anything useful she might have forgotten. There was no answer from upstairs and her irritation increased. “Haymitch, we are going to be late!”

She rubbed her now slightly round stomach over her loose woolen sweatshirt. She always wore loose clothes nowadays because she was starting to show. The children were puzzled by that because she had always favored curve-hugging outfits but she had passed it off by claiming it was fashionable. Eileen was less fooled by her excuses and deflections, she believed, but her friend was good enough not to bring up the obvious symptoms.

She grabbed a plastic toy as an afterthought and tossed it in the bag, running a hand in her disheveled hair. The living-room was a mess and she felt the urge to give it a good scrubbing but she pushed it down. There was no time for this. They were in a hurry.

Snowball must have sensed her temper wasn’t at its best because he was hiding behind the armchair, almost out of sight, and was munching on his purple monkey while tracking her every move.

“Haymitch!” she shouted, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Yeah, I’m here. Hold your horses.” he grumbled, finally coming back downstairs with April bundled in a weather-appropriate outfit and her darling red coat. He was also waving a few diapers in his free hand. “Here.”

She snatched them from him and forced them into the diaper bag, so annoyed tears were burning her eyes. She blamed the hormones and the last few nights of not enough sleep.

“We already had to push it back once.” she muttered under her breath. “And now we will be late.”

“We’re still in time.” he sighed in a pacifying tone that did nothing for her ill mood. She didn’t like being patronized. “And it ain’t my fault, sweetheart, don’t go blaming it on me.”

She pursed her lips. He was right, of course. It wasn’t his fault. They had been forced to reschedule the ultrasound appointment because April’s teeth were starting to come out and the girl was in so much pain it had given her a light fever. Their attention had been on the baby and there had been no time to go trudging around the District – barely enough to catch a blink of sleep here and there. April had cried all night for four days straight, leaving them ragged and herself exhausted. It had been hell.

And now, when she was supposed to babysit for them so they could go to the clinic – not that she knew that, to be fair – Katniss had just cancelled on them because there had been sighting of a wild boar coming a little too close to the habitation area and the mayor needed her help to track it before it hurt someone or, more likely, because she was still somehow at odds with Haymitch. Peeta was swamped at the bakery and Eileen had her arms full with the coffee shop and her own daughters.

“I wanted this to be just us.” she sulked. She wasn’t thrilled about going to the clinic to begin with. She didn’t like bringing April there if she didn’t have to. And she had really wanted the first ultrasound to be something between Haymitch and her, without the baby to distract them.

“I know.” he offered, rubbing her shoulder. “Come on. Open the door, I’m gonna get the pram.”

The pram her mother had bought was difficult to get out of the house and for good reasons: it was the size of a small yacht. She relieved him from their daughter so he could have free hands to get the pram out and went to open the door…

… only to find her father on the other side of it, hand raised as if about to knock and luggage at his feet.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is this inconvenient?”

“Father!” she exclaimed in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

Haymitch quitted trying to maneuver the pram to join her, automatically placing a hand on her hip before utering a greeting. “Tadius.”

“I hope you will forgive me for not calling first.” her father winced. “I was in Ten and I thought I would come and see how things are progressing here. It was all last minute. I was hoping you would not mind hosting me for a night. The study will do just fine.”

Effie was torn between pleasure at the unexpected visit and annoyance at not having been warned. Her house so wasn’t in any state to receive anyone – never mind someone from her family. It would go back to her mother who would insist on sending her a housekeeper…

“Come in.” Haymitch said when she remained mute. “It’s cold outside.” It wasn’t that cold, she wanted to protest. It was only October and it would get colder before long. “You can stay, of course, but we’ve got to go right now.”

“Oh.” Tadius frowned, a bit uncertain. “I would not want to impose. I could stay at the inn and…”

“Do not be ridiculous, Father, you are welcomed.” she cut in.

He searched her eyes for a moment before giving her a tentative smile and finally reaching for the baby in her arms. He stroke April’s cheek, his face softening. “She is so big now. She grew up a lot since the last time I saw her.”

“How about you two get some catch up time?” Haymitch suddenly suggested. “We could use a babysitter.” He plucked April from her arms before she could protest. “How about that, sweetheart? You want some grandpa time? Yeah? Awesome.”

Before either Effie or Tadius could protest, April was in her grandfather’s arms and Haymitch was giving him a short but to the point summary of what to do, not to do and how to calm her down if she started crying.

“I am not sure…” Effie panicked, right at the same time as her father protested with a “I cannot be left alone with a baby.”

Haymitch wrinkled his nose. “Look. She’s been fed, she shouldn’t need changing for a while yet and the house’s been baby-proofed. Just put her on the playing mat and make sure she doesn’t swallow anything she’s not supposed to. And she crawls away faster than you think if you don’t pay attention so keep your eyes on her all the time. We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Haymitch.” Effie insisted, not at all reassured by the terror on Tadius’ face. Clearly it hadn’t been the welcome the man had hoped for.

“It’s gonna be fine.” Haymitch promised, dropping a kiss on April’s head before snatching the pink coat from the rack and wrapping it around Effie’s shoulders. “Come on, Princess. Now we’re gonna be late.”

She wanted to protest some more, to grab her daughter and hold her close, but before she could tell what had happened, she was out the door and Haymitch was steering her down the street to the Village’s gates. She put her coat on properly, stealing glances behind her every two seconds.

“My father has never taken care of a baby, you realize.” she hissed. “It is one thing to leave her with one of the children where she will be safe but my father…”

“I trust him.” Haymitch shrugged. “April will be fine. And it’s like fate anyway. We needed a babysitter and there he was.”

“Which, of course, brings up the question: what is he doing here?” she sighed, looping her arm around his. She wasn’t quite reassured to know her father was alone with her daughter but she supposed an hour wasn’t enough time for disaster to occur. With any luck, April would fall asleep.

“He said he was checking on the building progress, yeah?” he frowned. “You think there’s more than that?”

He had people for that and Effie was well aware of it. Certainly, Tadius had seemed very keen on traveling since the end of the war. The company was expanding to the Districts and she supposed, for someone who had never left the Capitol before, seeing Panem was an opportunity that was hard to resist. However, she highly doubted he would check on construction sites himself. He never had in the past.

Although to be fair, she had stopped helping him out with contracts deliveries and in person negotiation. She hadn’t been out of the house much since the incident with the Peacekeeper and she had stayed well away from the work crew and its foreman. The man seemed to judge her for what had happened, as if it was somehow her fault that he had lost an employee, as if she had made a fuss over nothing.

The story had gone all the way up to the hierarchical top, naturally. And her father had been incensed when he had learned what had happened. But… Effie wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole thing. She didn’t blame him naturally but she had been a bit reluctant to call home ever since.

The fact that she was hiding something and that her mother had a gift to smell secrets wasn’t exactly helping.  

“With my parents, there is always more than that.” she countered grimly.

Now Haymitch didn’t look that happy with his quick decision making. By the time they reached the Village’s gates, they had looked back so many times Effie was sure one of them would suggest going back to fetch their daughter.

“We’re being stupid.” Haymitch mumbled. “She’s fine.”

She wasn’t that confident. In her opinion, her daughter would only be fine with either of them there.

Still, she let him convince her to move along. She spent the whole trip to the clinic thinking up scenarios of what could go awry and then convincing herself she was being ridiculous. They were late in the end and, even though she apologized profusely, the nurse didn’t look entirely happy.

Effie felt mortified. She had always been a punctual person but having a baby had taught her that it was difficult to be on time with an almost six months old child.

They were ushered into the examination room and she was asked to lie down. Haymitch had barely helped her on the table when Larcher showed up, waving away all her apologies. The doctor asked about April and her teeth and he looked so genuinely interested that Effie gradually relaxed. She would never be comfortable in the clinic but Larcher was making it easier to be there.

“Any problems?” the doctor asked as he got everything ready.

Effie shook her head. “I am still a bit dizzy and nauseous at odd times of days. And I am still starving the rest of the time. It wasn’t like this with April.”

“Every pregnancy is different.” Larcher explained, smearing gel all over her stomach.

Haymitch grabbed her hand, perching himself on a nearby stool with obvious excitement. She grinned at him and he smirked right back, eyes sparkling in pure happiness. It wasn’t something she had ever thought she would see and she felt a pang for a second, because this, right then, was perfect.

Sometimes, she wished she could talk to the woman who had been cowering in a corner of a cell for months. She wished she could tell her to hold on because this was coming, because she would be happy, so happy she would think it would make her burst.

They exchanged a long stare and she knew he felt the exact same way. They didn’t need words to understand each other. She didn’t need to tell him she loved him and he didn’t need to hear it. Just like she didn’t need him to tell her. She knew.

“Here we go.” Larcher murmured for himself, placing the probe on her stomach and moving it around.

She listened to the familiar whooshing sounds with some anxiety, desperate to hear that the baby was right as rain but dreading a little that he wouldn’t be. She wanted to hope. She hoped. She didn’t let herself think about possible miscarriages or how difficult it would be to jungle two babies. She had carried April, her daughter had survived, and so would this one. She couldn’t let herself think differently.

“Sweetheart.” Haymitch breathed in just as the sound of small hooves started echoing in the room. The heartbeat was strong and steady and she laughed in relief, wiping the tears that ran down her cheeks. Haymitch’s jaw was clenched, he looked so emotional she squeezed his hand but he didn’t seem to be able to glance away from the screen. “Look.” he chided her a little.

So, she did.

Ten weeks ultrasounds were always difficult to make out but once Larcher helpfully pointed the baby out, she couldn’t tear her gaze away either.

“Hello, jellyfish.” she whispered.

“You have very aquatic nicknames.” the doctor teased, tapping on a few keys. To print pictures, probably. “Everything looks perfectly normal, Effie.”

“You’re sure?” Haymitch worried. “They’re both alright?”

“Perfectly so.” Larcher smiled, placing the probe back on its cradle and handing her some paper towel to clean the gel out. “We will have to run some tests, the same as last time. It is just routine so there is no need to be alarmed.”

“I remember.” she nodded, still smiling. As soon as she had gotten as much of the gel off as she could, she placed her hands on her stomach, simply feeling it. It wasn’t long before Haymitch’s hand joined her there. She looked up at him, beaming. “We are having a baby.”

The first ultrasound was always magical in her opinion. That was when it became… real.

“I noticed.” he smirked, his thumb rubbing soothing circle on her skin. “We’re starting to have quite the collection of them, you know.”

She laughed again, feeling a little high on happiness.

“I will print you a picture.” Larcher offered, tactfully retreating to the other room to give them some privacy.

Haymitch helped her straighten her clothes and stole a kiss once it was done. He rested his forehead against hers as he brushed his hand over her stomach again. “We’re having a baby.”

“I noticed.” she echoed, still grinning so hard it was starting to hurt.

The doctor made enough noise coming back that they moved apart but not quite enough that they weren’t still touching. Larcher gave them the picture that Haymitch immediately stashed in the inside pocket of his coat where hopefully nobody would come snooping.

“As far as term goes, I think we are looking at another April baby.” the doctor told them.

They were redefining the concept of April showers, Effie decided.

She was walking on a cloud by the time they were on their way back to the house. She almost forgot to worry about April. At least, until she spotted the Village’s gates. At that point she stopped prattling about how they should sort out April’s old clothes to see what they could reuse and what they should box to put in the attic to start asking Haymitch without pause if he thought their daughter was alright. Haymitch, who had humored her all the way back by nodding and humming at appropriate points without listening to a single word, seemed torn between prompting her to quicken the pace and making sure she didn’t overtax herself.

They had been wrong to worry.

While Tadius looked in over his head, obviously terrified of doing the wrong thing, April seemed just as happy as she had been lately – which was not a lot because her gums hurt. The first thing Effie did was scoop her daughter up from the playing mat to cuddle her close to her chest. She wanted to tell her about her little sibling but with her father there, she kept silent.

Haymitch outright laughed at Tadius’ exhausted face. “Need some coffee?”

“Coffee would not be amiss.” her father answered, a little stiff. “Thank you.”

Effie hid her smile in her daughter’s hair and took a seat on the couch, covering April’s face with kisses to make up for her short absence. Haymitch’s fingers combed her own hair, ending on her nape. The possessive but gentle squeeze made her look up in question.

“Tea for you?” he asked. “And something to eat, yeah? You’re a bit pale.”

She checked the clock on the wall and made a small face. If habits were to be trusted, morning sickness – that weren’t just in the morning – would hit in a half hour or so and she really didn’t want to throw up. “Crackers perhaps. And lemon in the tea, please.”

“Sure.” he smiled and dropped a kiss on her forehead, stroking April’s hand once before disappearing in the kitchen, followed by Snowball. The dog would want to be let out, she supposed.  

She blushed when she realized her father was staring.

“Thank you for watching April.” she offered after clearing her throat. “And, please, accept my apologies for the hectic welcome. If I had known you were coming…”

She let her voice trail off. If she had known he was coming she would have made sure the house was spotless and she would have cleared her schedule.

“No apologies needed. It was rude of me to come unannounced.” Tadius dismissed, studying her. “Is everything alright with you, Euphemia? You have not been… Well, you have not called as often. Your mother is worried you are somehow crossed with her.”

“Not at all.” she denied, fishing the stuffed elephant abandoned further down the couch to hold it in front of April to keep her occupied. Of course, as soon as her daughter spotted it, she tried to put it in her mouth. “I have been busy lately. April hasn’t been well and I had some work with… I told Mother about my professional projects.”

“Yes, she mentioned them.” her father hummed, not sounding very impressed. Elindra hadn’t been either. “I could help you with that if you so wished.”

“Thank you, no.” she replied quickly. “I do not need your money.” She would never accept money from her parents. Never. It always came with strings attached and more complications than she cared to deal with. Tadius looked hurt though so she hurried in clarifying. “It is something I want to do by myself. You do understand, don’t you?”

Her father was proud of the family company so he could certainly understand wanting to make one’s own way. At least, she hoped so.

“I wish you the best.” Tadius smiled and even though it was tense it also seemed genuine. “Effie…”

Haymitch came back with a tray and her father fell silent which he couldn’t help but notice. There was some awkwardness for a few seconds. Haymitch studied Tadius, Tadius avoided his eyes, then he looked at Effie who shrugged her ignorance… In the end, he shrugged back and lifted April up.

“Guess someone needs to be changed.” he mumbled, giving Effie a long stare. “You shout if you need anything, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes at his overprotective act. “I am not an invalid, you know.”

“You had a big day, you need to take it easy.” he countered firmly.

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at him. “You are walking a very thin line telling me what I should or should not do.”

“Doctor’s orders.” he reminded her with an innocent shrug that made her roll her eyes again. He grabbed the mug he had obviously prepared for himself and disappeared upstairs. She could hear him talking to April all the way up and she smiled despite her annoyance.

“Is everything alright with you?” Tadius asked as soon as he was out of earshot. “You do seem a little pale, Effie. And what is this about a doctor? Have you been ill?”

That was a lot of questions and she made a small face, grabbing her mug and a couple of crackers, hoping that it would be enough to quell her sure to come nausea. “Not at all, do not concern yourself. Haymitch is simply… overprotective. I am fine. More than fine, really.”

She toyed with the idea of telling her father. After all… She was in the middle of the third month and everything was fine. They should start telling people…

“Are you quite certain?” Tadius frowned, taking a sip of his cup of coffee. “I doubt the medical technology is up to par in this part of the country. Perhaps you should go somewhere else to get checked if you are feeling out of sort. Perhaps not to the Capitol if you are still avert to the thought but I heard Four has excellent hospitals.”

She forced a smile. “I am fine. Truly.”

Her father studied her for a moment and then looked down at the cup of coffee in his hands. “Does it have to do with… the incident? I read a lot about your condition, Effie. All experts agree that such an event could trigger a setback and…”

“What condition is this exactly?” she cut him off, a little cold.

She knew what he was talking about naturally – or avoided talking about rather. The Peacekeeper he had unknowingly sent to Twelve to build himself another portion to his empire.

It was unfair to think like that, she knew, but…

“Post traumatic stress disorder.” Tadius said plainly. “It is completely natural for you to experience…”

“I know what it is natural for me to experience.” she interrupted again before he could launch himself into a recitation of various symptoms. Her father had always been a researcher. He could spend hours reading about something. She took a deep calming breath because Tadius looked uneasy and she didn’t think his aim was to cause her pain. He was just worried. “Father, I am… touched you are taking such an interest in me and what happened to me but…”

“Of course I take an interest.” he scoffed. “You are my daughter, Effie. And what was done to you was wrong. The fact that the Districts are refusing to acknowledge that Capitols were tortured too is…”

“But.” she insisted, clenching her teeth at the torture word. “I do not like being forced to talk about it or think about it just to satisfy your curiosity. You took it upon yourself to ask Haymitch about it… Unless I directly address the subject, I would thank you not to mention it. I would rather you didn’t but ask Haymitch if you must.”

She gulped down a few mouthfuls of tea, placing her free hand over her stomach as if to better protect her jellyfish from such conversations. She was glad April wasn’t in the room anymore. She didn’t want that sort of things discussed in front of her babies.

She felt a bit light-headed but that could have been the topic just as much as her pregnancy and she allowed herself to be proud that she had managed to talk about it without working herself into a panic.

“My apologies.” Tadius sighed sadly. “It is just… I do not want you to think for one second I knowingly sent that man here. The Peacekeepers were pardoned, as you know, and it is within their rights not to mention their past job on their resume. We have put more screening processes in place now.” He shook his head. “I like to believe we… mended our relationship. Your recent distance… Your Mother and I are concerned you are angry with us because…”

“I am not.” she denied. “Honestly, Father, I am not. There simply has been a lot going on and…” She rubbed small circles on her stomach, coming to a decision. Perhaps it was the wrong one but… She was so happy about it anyway. When she thought back to earlier, to the strong sound of the baby’s heartbeat… She could have burst with joy. “I will tell you what is going on but you have to swear to me you won’t tell Mother yet. Or anyone. I would like to wait a couple of weeks more before it becomes public knowledge.”

Tadius frowned in concern, clutching his cup of coffee hard between his fingers. “You are not ill, are you? You just said…”

“I am expecting.” she smiled.

She watched as a myriad of emotions washed over her father’s face and she was glad she had chosen to tell him right there and then just for this. Telling her parents on the phone wouldn’t have been the same at all. Perhaps she needed to invest in one of those phones with a screen that Elindra assured her were the latest rage and that would allow them to see April more often. Haymitch was reluctant but he might be convinced. And it would be worth it just to see that sort of things.

“Congratulations.” he offered at last, soberly but with enough suppressed emotions in his voice that she decided he was genuine. “That is marvelous news.” His face softened. “I am glad it is not something direr, we have been so worried, Euphemia… Your mother…”

“You cannot tell her yet.” she insisted. “We haven’t told anyone and I want to do it myself this time. Properly.”

Not because the newspapers had gotten a hint of the gossip but on her terms. With the drama between the children occupying the press, they had that luxury.

“My lips are sealed.” he promised, placing his cup of coffee back on the table to stand up. She stood up too, not quite knowing why or what was going on, and remained frozen in surprise for a moment when she was treated to a rare hug. The war had brought its lot of surprises but the deep changes in her parents’ behavior were the more astonishing to her. “I am happy for you, my dear. I am happy to see you so happy and I am happy you found a good man.” It was more than she had ever expected and she was grinning hard when he drew back from the hug. “Of course, now we can pretend what I brought you is a congratulation gift rather than a forgive me for my company’s shortcomings present.”

Her face lit up. “You brought me a present?”

She felt like a little girl suddenly. Her father had always bowed to Elindra’s wishes and had often granted his daughters’ requests but it had been rare for him to go and buy them something they hadn’t asked for first. Spontaneous gifts were special and they were the best.

“Of sort.” he smiled smugly with the apparent certainty that she would be delighted. “Actually, it is what decided me to visit you. I went to an auction while I was in Ten and… Well, it is easier to show you.”

She sat back down while he went to the hallway to rummage in his luggage. She nibbled on a few crackers, wondering how long Haymitch would hide upstairs and if he would be mad that she had told her father without him there.

Any thought of that flew out of her head when her father came back in the living-room with a violin case.

“You bought me a violin?” she asked, her mouth suddenly parched.

She finished her tea in a long mouthful, pretending she didn’t notice how shaky the mug was in her hand. She didn’t know how she felt about that. It was a thoughtful gift certainly but violins weren’t something she had contemplated in a long time. Her grandfather had taught her when she was still a little girl and she had kept up the practice after his death up to the Quell. After that… Well, her apartment had been ransacked so many times… She hadn’t been surprised to be unable to find her grandfather’s violin in the mess. It was expensive, probably the most expensive thing he had owned. A luxury for a man of his means. A precious one to be treasured and taken care of. Thinking about it was enough to make a lump appear in her throat. There were very few things she had truly been attached to: the violin, a music box full of mementos, some pieces of jewelries… The loss of them… She had always regretted having lost them to the war.

“Not just a violin, dear.” he protested, lying it out on the couch next to her. “The case is new but the instrument… I recognized it as soon as I saw it.”

She gasped when she saw it. So familiar… “Impossible.”

“And yet…” Tadius chuckled gently. “It had been sold quite a few times since the war, not always to its true value. Why, I had it for half its price. It hasn’t always been well cared for but I had it tuned. Cords are new and it has been polished… The bow is new too. I am afraid the original was lost.”

She laid a tentative hand on the gleaming wood, feeling her eyes well up with tears she didn’t try to blink away. There were so many memories attached to that violin… So many hours spent with her grandfather… So many carefree afternoons… So many lonely nights after she had become an escort and the music had seemed like a worthy escape for a while…

The violin hadn’t indeed been well-cared for. She cradled it on her lap, ran her fingers along the deep scratches…

“They could not erase them.” her father winced. “I am sorry. I would buy you another but I know how much this one means to you. When I saw it… Well, truth be told, I am not one to believe in such nonsense but it felt like destiny.”

“No.” she whispered, her sight getting blurry. A few tears fell on the wood and she hastily wiped her cheek. “It is perfect. So perfect… Thank you.”

And then she was sobbing. Openly grossly sobbing. She clutched the violin to her chest and gasped for air, not even looking up when she heard Haymitch’s hurrying down the stairs or her father’s panicked clumsy attempts at comforting her. She was vaguely aware Tadius was explaining the situation to a bemused Haymitch and ended up with his arms full of his granddaughter for his trouble. April was wailing too, that much she knew, but she still couldn’t stop crying.

“You need to calm down, sweetheart.” Haymitch chided her firmly, wrapping his arms around her until she relaxed against him. He pressed a kiss against her temple and another against her forehead. “It’s no good for the baby to get that upset.” He looked up hastily at her father, clearly realizing his blunder. “I mean… The shrimp.”

“I told him.” she stuttered between two sobs.

“Oh.” he frowned. “Good then. Alright. Still need to calm down, Princess.”

“I can’t help it.” she gasped. “Hormones.”

She distinctly heard him roll his eyes.

It took a few minutes before she finally managed to stop crying. Time enough for her father to offer congratulations and for Haymitch to accept them. Time enough also for April to calm down and start munching on her cat rag doll.

She laid her violin back on her lap when Haymitch let her go to fetch her a glass of water. She stroke the wood lovingly under her father’s watchful eyes. She took a few sips of water and muttered an apology, a bit embarrassed by her behavior. Being so emotional wasn’t something about being pregnant she had missed.

Haymitch shrugged it off and handed the cold plastic ring he had fetched from the freezer to April. The baby was much happier with that in her mouth. It soothed the pain in her gums. It was left to Tadius to pick it up every time she tossed it on the couch. One of her favorite games. She liked to do that with all her toys, Effie suspected that had a lot to do with Snowball always carrying them back to her.

“Well, let’s hear it then.” Haymitch demanded, dropping in the corner of the L shaped couch, between her and her father – close enough that he could reach April if need be. “Never knew you played.”

“Oh, no!” she protested, shaking her head. “I haven’t practiced in years and…” She looked at her hands and winced. “I broke a few fingers since then. I wouldn’t remember.”

They had broken a few fingers, she meant. Perhaps they had known her hobbies included music, perhaps it had been another form of torture. Or perhaps they hadn’t known and it had just been a lucky guess for them.

“Muscle memories, sweetheart.” Haymitch insisted. “Try it out. Nobody said you have to play like Mozart.”

She placed the violin under her chin all the same, the position so familiar it hurt. The pain wasn’t all emotional though. The shoulder that had been so badly injured it had needed surgery ached and she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep playing long. The angle was too awkward for it.

The moment the bow hit the cords, she closed her eyes and let her memories guide her.

It was odd at first. Clumsy. Out of practice. It took almost two whole minutes before she managed to get something smoother out of the instrument, before she managed to make it sing like she wanted it to.

It left her exhausted and she gently placed it back in its new case, rolling her shoulder a few times, blushing under the praises she didn’t deserve. Still, watching her father make April clap was a cute sight – not one she would ever have thought she would see – and it made up for her lack of skills.

She let herself be persuaded to play again after dinner that night, because the children could be convincing – and because she was desperate to put an end to the bickering between Katniss and Haymitch.

She played something light and quick that didn’t sound as good as it was supposed to. Yet everyone was laughing and clapping and she let herself forget about imperfections.

The violin was scratched beyond repairs.

So was she.

But they could still produce music all the same.