#unless some unusual circumstances happen WINK WINK

[janumun]

Filled in a messy ship template for my OG LaDS boy 🫶🏽 @chibamari suggested I should post this for others to try it out too. Old but gold!

Feel free to reblog with your ship and MCs/yumeships. Would love to see it 🥰

Credit for the template belongs to @/gibbarts on tumblr.

[aziraphales-library]

I’m really not sure how to word this, but can you list me some fics with like... a gimmick? Or a trope? As the basis of the plot? That’s not the best way to word it because it doesn’t have to be gimmickey or tropey, but just... You know, a plot that’s interesting... that starts out with a situation... unusual circumstances?? Am I making any sense? Like I’ve read the stuff that’s easily tagged like spells, fake relationship, soul mates, ect, but just fun, different stuff like that?? Sorry...

First of all, I want to apologise for the super later reply to this ask. I found it sitting unanswered in our drafts. To make up for it, here is an extra long list of gimmicky, tropey fics that i absolutely love!...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones. AU based on The Office.

A (not quite) tinder date by NohaIjiachi (M)

“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry—“ A man said, breathless, plopping himself down in the chair. He sounded like he ran a marathon. “Got held up at work— I couldn’t even check my phone! I’m so terribly sorry!”

Aziraphale would’ve beamed, at that. He would’ve immediately declared that it was no problem, these things happened, so no worries at all— Except the guy currently catching his breath in the chair in front of him was definitely not his missing date. That was unless he’d decided to shave his beard, make his hair grow magically, and dye it red.

“I—“ Aziraphale croaked, confused. The man tipped his chin down, glancing at Aziraphale above the rim of his darkened glasses with a surprising set of honey-coloured eyes, and winked at him. Aziraphale closed his mouth. “I— It’s quite alright. I’m glad you, huh— Could make it—“

Win a Date With Anthony J. Crowley! by Caedmon (E)

Crowley is a world-famous rock star who sells out arenas. His name is synonymous with 'rock-n-roll', and he thrives on the spotlight. When he agrees to raffle off a date with himself for charity, he's expecting to meet an overzealous fan that wants to wear his skin and very well might try to roofie him. What he's not expecting is to be instantly attracted to the quiet man with the unusual name who shows up for the date at the Ritz... and he's certainly not expecting for Aziraphale to have no clue who he is...

You’ve Got Kudos by curtaincall (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley both write fanfiction. As it happens, they both write Good Omens fanfiction.

Of course, neither of them would ever admit this to the other.

(A love story told primarily in AO3 comments)

The Best Laid Plans by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Ezra Fell has sworn off romance forever and is perfectly content with his books and his tea and his ugly wardrobe. At least, he is until a handsome stranger hits him with a car.

it’s a new craze by attheborder (T)

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan. AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we? CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all. AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous. CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

***

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast.

But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

happiness, more or less by TheKnittingJedi (M)

Renting a flat is all fun and games until you fall in love with the ghost haunting it.

An adaptation of the 2005 romcom Just Like Heaven.

on the same page by Chekhov (E)

Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less... appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is... until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

The Whole Damn World Seemed Upside Down by WyvernQuill (M)

"I just wish things were different," Crowley says... and the universe happily obliges.

Stuck - perhaps forever - in a reality in which Shadwell is the first Wiccan MP, Pepper's only aspiration in life is to be a dutiful wife to someone, and his beloved Bentley is a rusty VW bus, Crowley is slowly learning that "different" doesn't necessarily mean better...

But how long can he bear to live* in a world where Aziraphale hates him?

*Not that he has any other option. The Death of this world can't see blood...

The Annual Tadfield Cheese-Rolling Festival by summerofspock (T)

Disgruntled newscaster Anthony Crowley is forced to cover the annual Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival...again. Only this year he's accompanied by a new producer who he can't seem to get his mind off of even though he's swiftly realizing he has far bigger problems. Namely, the fact that the Tadfield Cheese Rolling Festival refuses to end.

- Mod D

[captainimprobable]

It had been thirty seven minutes since Luz had taken her hand.   It wasn’t the first time they’d held hands, and Amity hoped it wouldn’t be the last, but something about this time felt...different.  Yes, obviously, the fact that it had lasted this long was unusual (not that Amity was complaining), but what really bothered her was this: Luz’s hand had been shaking in hers the entire time. Amity watched her girlfriend out of the corner of her eye.  Luz was smiling as she drew little figures in her notebook with her left hand, but Amity knew her well enough now to notice that the smile wasn’t quite reaching her eyes. Not to mention the fact that she kept glancing at Amity every so often, like she was checking to make sure she was still there.  Something was wrong, but Amity didn’t want to push it or stick her nose into Luz’s business, so she decided to let it be for now.  She’d watch Luz carefully over the next few minutes, and if Luz looked like she wanted to talk, she’d be all ears.   Being a girlfriend was serious work, but she was more than happy to take on the job.

This strategy worked well over the next twenty minutes.  Amity didn’t say anything when Luz stood up and pulled Amity with her to the kitchen to get a snack.  She didn’t say anything when Luz leaned down to give King head scratches, taking Amity down to the floor with her.  She wasn’t planning on saying anything at all.  Until- “Amity?” “Yeah?” “I have to pee.” Amity raised her eyebrows.  “So...go pee?” she offered.   Luz jumped from foot to foot, the universal dance of “I really have to go to the bathroom”.  “Yeah, but-”  she gestured to their linked hands.  “I don’t want to let go.” Under normal circumstances, Amity would have melted at the idea that Luz couldn’t bear to be away from her for the few minutes it took to go to the bathroom.  But something in Luz’s voice sounded almost...scared, and Amity decided it was time to confront her about it. “Luz,” she said carefully.  “Why don’t you want to let go?” Luz shrugged, looking down at the floor.  “Just don’t.” “Luz.” Luz scuffed the heel of her shoe across the floor, still refusing to look Amity in the eye.  “I’m scared,” she said.  “To let you go.” Amity furrowed her brow.  “You’re scared I’m going to leave while you’re in the bathroom?” “No, I-”  Luz sighed.  “Okay, fine.  Come here.”  Luz unceremoniously plopped down onto the floor, dragging Amity down with her.  For an awkward moment, Amity ended up in Luz’s lap, but she got up quickly, face red.  Sure, they were dating now, but close contact still took some getting used to. Once Amity was comfortably seated next to Luz, she rubbed her thumb across her girlfriend’s knuckles.  “So what’s wrong?” She asked.

“I had this...dream,” Luz replied.  “A nightmare, actually, I guess.  Last night.”  She closed her eyes, steeling herself, and then said “I went to visit you at your house, but before I could get to the door, it just burst into flames.  The whole house just went up, like, whoosh, and before I knew it, it was gone, right before my eyes.”  Luz finally looked up at Amity, tears in her eyes.  “I think you were in the house, too.  You didn’t make it out.  And I know that’s not happening and I know you’re fine, but I can’t help but worry that if I let you go, something bad’s gonna happen and I’m never gonna see you again and-” “Hey,” Amity interrupted, brushing a tear from Luz’s cheek.  “Shh it’s okay, you don’t have to cry.  I’m right here, see?” She gestured to their linked hands.  “And I’m not going anywhere.  Even if something like that really happened, and my house caught fire, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to get trapped in there.  I’m a witch, remember?  And besides.”  She poked Luz’s cheek, and Luz managed a smile through her tears.  “I’ve wanted to date you for so long, I wouldn’t let something stupid like a fire keep me away from you.” Luz sniffled and wiped away her tears with the palm of her free hand.  “Yeah, you’re right, I was being stupid.” “You weren’t being stupid, Luz.  You were being sweet.  I...I like knowing I mean that much to you.”  Both girls flushed red at the admission, still getting used to saying things like that to each other.   Finally, Luz took a deep breath.  “Okay,” she said. “Okay.  I’m good.  I’m fine.  You’re fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine.”  She stood up and Amity followed, their hands still clasped.  Luz squeezed Amity’s hand.  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.   Amity smiled.  “Me too.” “Okay, I like, really need to pee now, so you can let go of my hand.  Unless-” “Luz, I am not going to the bathroom with you!” Luz laughed.  “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”  Slowly, finger by finger, she unclasped their hands.   “Be right back,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom with a wink.  “Don’t miss me too much!” Amity snorted, but then softened. “I’ll be here.”

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

who made you smile again

For @dls-ao3, who wanted Geralt to realise that punching your bard is never okay.

This story can also be found here on my AO3.

- - -

• it doesn't matter who hurt you, or broke you down, what matters is who made you smile again •

Jaskier’s sitting at the biggest table in the tavern when Geralt returns, surrounded by what seems to be half the village. He’s talking animatedly, hands gesturing and pointing wildly, and he’s temptingly flushed down to what Geralt can see of his chest, hair tousled and eyes sparkling with mirth.

He's in his element, nearly as much so as when he’s playing; Jaskier lives to perform, in one way or another.

Geralt allows himself a small, fond quirk of his lips before he schools his face into neutrality, and starts making his way across the crowded room. Jaskier spots him as he approaches, and his own smile somehow, impossibly, grows even wider, making Geralt’s chest feel all warm and tingly.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Jaskier crows as he pats the empty seat next to himself, then tugs at Geralt’s sleeve impatiently until Geralt settles down with a grunt. “Ale and food, for the brave Witcher who, oh so heroically, slew the swarms of nekkers that have been terrorising your humble town!”

Geralt doesn’t roll his eyes, but the urge is definitely there. Instead, he accepts the tankard someone passes him, and mouths, “Six nekkers,” behind Jaskier’s back, much to the amusement of the gathered people.

When Jaskier turns to scowl at him suspiciously, Geralt looks at him blankly, and takes an innocent sip of his ale.

The innkeeper brings him a heaping plate of meats and cheeses soon after—on the house, as a thank you for getting rid of the nekkers—and Geralt eats in silence, letting the rumbling sound of Jaskier’s voice wash away the last traces of adrenaline from the fight. One of Jaskier’s hands lands on Geralt’s knee, a comforting and familiar weight, and when he focuses on it, Geralt can make out the soft buttercups-teak-amber scent that is Jaskier under the more prominent tavern smells.

The conversations going on around him are mere background noise, right up until a barked, “That's gotta be utter horseshit, bard!” has all his senses hone in on a man across the table.

His voice is full of annoyed disbelief aimed at Jaskier, and could easily turn into genuine anger under the wrong circumstances; it happens often enough, with inebriated people spoiling for a good fight. Geralt sits up a little taller, and fixes his gaze on the man, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

But Jaskier merely chuckles, light and disarming, and pours a goblet of wine. He slides it over to the man with a cheeky wink, and a teasing, “Oh, my friend, you greatly underestimate the force of nature that is a Witcher.”

Turning to address the whole table again, he continues grandly, “Armwrestling a half-giant? Not even a challenge! Taking down a troll? Like stealing sweets from a babe!”

Geralt has, in fact, had the misfortune of landing in a brawl or two with trolls. He’s not overly keen on repeating the experience, although he’s not going to point that out right now. The man who’d questioned Jaskier’s words is looking increasingly enraptured, nodding along eagerly now, and everyone else is listening with interest and awe as Jaskier keeps relating some of their more outlandish and peculiar adventures.

“But a Witcher is not only a most formidable creature in battle, oh no,” Jaskier says conspiratorially, quieter, and the people lean in closer, like moths caught by a flame. “Their skills can prove incredibly useful in other, more private endeavours, if you get my meaning.”

A young woman lets out a scandalised giggle, while one man chokes on his ale hard enough that his laughing friend has to clap him on the back.

Under the table, Geralt pinches the inside of Jaskier’s thigh. Jaskier yelps through his own laughter, slanting Geralt a mischievous look.

A little nervously, another woman asks, “So much strength, though, is it not dangerous?”

“A Witcher’s strength is evenly matched by his control,” Jaskier explains, somewhat testily, and leans most of his weight against Geralt, as if to prove a point. “None of us have anything to fear. Well, none of you, I’d wager, unless one amongst you reveals themselves to be even more incessantly talkative than dear old me.”

There are chuckles all around the table, followed by a few more questions, and Jaskier himself is loose and relaxed where he’s pressed to Geralt’s side, but Geralt himself stiffens at the carelessly thrown out words.

A memory niggles at him, old and half-forgotten, though once he manages to pull it to the front of his mind, Geralt suddenly feels sick. Years ago, shortly after they’d met, on the trek up Filavandrel’s mountain; Jaskier’s constant chattering, a passing mention of Geralt’s old, hated moniker, Geralt’s fist in Jaskier’s stomach, Jaskier’s pained coughing and wheezing.

As if burnt, Geralt snatches his hand away from Jaskier’s leg, staring down at his leather-covered fingers in disgust. Geralt would never use his full strength on an innocent human, that much is true, but he’d hurt Jaskier nonetheless. Back then, just now most likely, and how many other times, without even realising?

And why?

Geralt’s had abuse hurled at him for decades, from both strangers and people he’d foolishly allowed himself to trust. Folk have spat at him, thrown rocks and rotten food after him, refused him pay, and chased him out of town with pitchforks and torches. He’s been tricked, betrayed, hated, yet none of that ever made him lash out with violence.

“Geralt,” Jaskier's voice is laced with concern, quiet enough for only Geralt to hear. He peers at Geralt with furrowed brows, but Geralt can't hold his gaze, ducking his head to escape it after a moment.

He keeps his eyes lowered while Jaskier makes their excuses to his disappointed audience, shame and guilt swirling together in his stomach. Even now, when he least deserves it, Jaskier's priority is to take care of Geralt, even when it goes against what he must have planned for the rest of his night.

Jaskier exchanges a few quick words and a handful of coins with the innkeeper, ordering them a bath and some more ale. They climb the stairs to their room in silence, and even while he helps Geralt out of his armour, Jaskier only hums a slow melody under his breath. It's for his comfort, Geralt knows, and it makes the guilt clump and rise, settling as an aching lump in his throat.

When there's a knock at the door, he's almost relieved that Jaskier has to move away to go open it.

Geralt keeps undressing as the buckets of hot water are carried in, and snatches up one of the tankards as soon as they're put down on the table in the corner, downing it in three big gulps. It does nothing to calm his ugly thoughts, but it does provide a distraction, even if a disappointingly temporary one.

Jaskier appears at his side to take it out of his unresisting hand, fingers whispering a caress across Geralt's wrist. “Come on, then, before the water grows cold.”

The heat of the bath does soothe away some of Geralt's tension. But then Jaskier goes to fetch a stool, goes to sit down at Geralt's back, and Geralt finds himself blurting, “Join me.”

Sharing baths is nothing unusual, hasn't been for some time, although it doesn't feel like something Geralt should be allowed to indulge in, right now. The thought of letting Jaskier take care of him, however, makes Geralt feel much worse, all the more as if he's taking advantage.

If Jaskier's surprised, he doesn't let on. He sheds his clothes unselfconsciously, right where he stands, and steps into the tub with an appreciative sigh. Geralt maneuvers him until his back is flush against Geralt's chest, his head tipped back to rest on Geralt's shoulder.

Reaching out over the edge of the tub, Geralt fetches one of the washcloths Jaskier had laid out, lathering it up before he starts to gently run it down Jaskier's arm. He falters briefly, feeling horribly selfish for enjoying the contact, but then Jaskier murmurs, “That's lovely, sweetheart, don’t stop,” and Geralt couldn't refuse even if he wanted to.

His mind drifts while he washes Jaskier, back to that very first day they’d met.

He remembers how irritated he’d been by the aimlessly yapping bard, to begin with, but also how strangely intriguing he’d found him. Coming across a human brave, or foolish, enough not to fear his kind had been rare, back then, and even with Jaskier’s tireless work, even after the countless ballads singing praise to the Witchers and their good deeds, most people are still at least wary of them.

Jaskier had been an anomaly, and Geralt had been curious, otherwise he would have ditched his pesky shadow before they’d ever set foot outside Posada.

For hours of their journey up the mountain, Jaskier had talked with barely enough breaks for breathing, doing his very best to sell himself as a worthy travelling companion. And, to his own astonishment, Geralt had found himself growing amused by Jaskier’s continuously more ridiculous suggestions—”A horse groomer! My flower crowns are things of legendary beauty, Roach would look marvelous in one!”—and actually considering his offer.

And then Jaskier had mentioned Blaviken, and Geralt had come back to himself, wondering what the fuck it was he was doing.

Allowing a human bard to travel with him, smiling to himself at Jaskier’s antics, horsing about with a bard when he should be focused on his task, on his work, on the Path.

And Jaskier’d still been talking, always talking, and suddenly Geralt had been furious, and—

And he’d punched Jaskier.

For daring to make him feel something beside completely fucking miserable for the first time in what had seemed like forever. For not being afraid of him, for trying to befriend him, for being good.

Too good for Geralt.

Hand shaking, Geralt drops the washcloth next to the tub so he can pull at Jaskier’s leg, exposing the inside of his thigh. And there, high up, it is; a small red mark on otherwise unblemished skin, standing out like a stark reminder of all of Geralt’s faults.

A wounded noise tears itself out of Geralt’s throat before he can stop it, and he stands quickly, turning away from Jaskier and his confused, “Geralt?” to climb out of the tub. He’s dripping everywhere, trembling all over as he stalks into the bedroom proper, then stops in the middle of it with no idea what to do.

A tentative hand lands on his back, between his shoulders, and Geralt twitches, but can’t find it in himself to shake it off. Seemingly emboldened, Jaskier pushes him towards the bed, then onto it, following after Geralt to straddle his lap.

Geralt realises his mistake when gentle hands cup his face, and intent blue eyes bore into his, Jaskier murmuring, quiet but determined, “Talk to me, Geralt.”

There’s nowhere for Geralt to look but directly at Jaskier. He clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, but Jaskier doesn’t back off. Instead, he starts rubbing his thumbs over Geralt’s cheeks, slow and soft, eyes firmly locked on Geralt’s.

Barely audible, hoarsely, Geralt grits out, “I hurt you.”

Jaskier frowns at that, moving one hand from Geralt’s face to poke at the bruise on his thigh. “This?” he asks with a disbelieving little chuckle. “Geralt, darling, I’ve hurt myself worse by walking into doors. Or roughhousing with my brothers, as a child. Or tripping over my own clumsy feet. It was in jest, I don’t mind. I like you teasing me, you know I do. And marking me, though I usually prefer your mouth to be doing the actual marking.”

Which Geralt knows, he really does, but it does little to reassure him right now. “Not this,” he forces out, then amends, “Not only this.”

“If this is about the dragon mountain again,” Jaskier begins, tenderly tucking a few strands of damp hair behind Geralt’s ears, “you have to know, by now, that I’ve accepted your apology. And forgiven you, sweetheart.”

Which Geralt also knows, though a reminder of that particular conversation is never a pleasant one. “You always do. Forgive me. And I—I keep hurting you.”

“Geralt, what—”

“When we met,” the words feel like rough gravel in Geralt’s mouth, “the day with the sylvan. I hurt you.”

Understanding flashes across Jaskier’s face. “You punched me. And I reminded you, tonight, didn’t I?”

At Geralt’s terse nod, Jaskier laughs softly. “It was a long time ago—”

“That’s no excuse!” Geralt snaps, then immediately clenches his mouth shut again.

Instead of rearing back, or getting angry, however, Jaskier turns thoughtful. “It isn’t, I suppose,” he allows after a moment. Rubbing at the tense muscles in Geralt’s jaw, he wants to know, “What happened? That day, I mean? Because, Melitele knows, I’ve made you furious since.”

Geralt has to close his eyes. “You showed no fear. You were annoying. You made me feel—” he cuts himself off, gives a helpless shrug. “You made me feel.”

“Oh, you old fool,” Jaskier says, nothing but fondness in his voice and face when Geralt dares to glance at him. He leans in to brush a brief, featherlight kiss over Geralt’s lips, then leans their foreheads together. He huffs a laugh, eyes crinkling in humour. “That would do it, wouldn’t it?”

“Jaskier—” Geralt tries to protest, but is promptly shushed with another kiss.

“Do you regret it?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt nods.

“Of course you do. Would you do it again?”

Geralt shakes his head.

“No, you wouldn’t. Because you’re a good man, Geralt. You have faults, you misstep, as does everyone else. But you learn, from every single mistake, and that is such a precious gift, one that not nearly enough people possess. You try so, so hard to overcome all the prejudice, the disadvantages, the adversities that have been put in your way, and I am so, so incredibly proud of you, my love.”

Geralt genuinely does not know what his face does at that proclamation, but whatever it is, it has Jaskier snort inelegantly. “Yes, yes, I know. We’re done talking, I promise.”

Relieved, in more ways than he can count, Geralt cranes his neck to kiss Jaskier properly.

And when Jaskier demands, murmured hotly against Geralt’s lips, “Show me what that Witcher strength of yours is good for, darling,” Geralt doesn’t hesitate.

[ssixa]

CHANCE ENCOUNTER//MARK TUAN X Y/N

Description: Walking into the night shift at the hospital proves to keep you on your toes. Nights are left to the universe so you can only hope that tonight will be decent. What happens when you find out that one of your patients is THE Mark Tuan from GOT7? how do you try to deal with the chaos erupting from this chance encounter? and how many times do you have to tell yourself that you love your job?

Genre: fluff, slight cringe

Pairing: Black Fem Reader x Mark Tuan (though I will say there isn’t much description of black characteristics)

Word count: 3.5K

Warning: explicit language

A/n: yay finally a long chapter! glad y’all are enjoying this story! The collage sucks for this one, but it was a struggle lol.

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Chapter Six

~Months Later~

I can’t believe the tour has already kicked off! Especially it being a world tour, the poor boys are going to be so excited and yet exhausted. 

“Yo bitch, whatcha doin this weekend?” I text my best friend y/f/n

“Nothin, probs just going to the bar. Wassup?” She replied 

“Guess who scored us some tickets to a very specific concert that we couldn’t get tickets for?” I send with a smirk

“Biittchhhh you dddiiiddnn’ttttt”

“Bbbiiittcchhhh I dddiiiddd” 

“How the hell did you get Got7 tickets when they’re sold out...what organs did you sell?” She questioned suddenly 

“Let’s just say I met a trustworthy person who was selling them for cheap” I reply not wanting to ruin the surprise

“Fuck it, I don’t want to know, just tell me how much they are later” she sends

“Np” 

“Also we better take some cute ass pics when we’re there, but then again, when do we ever not take cute ass pics” I send 

“Bitch you best believe I’ll look cute, don’t you worry” 

I put my phone away after scrolling through my social medias out of boredom. This weekend can’t come fast enough honestly. Just gotta make it through the work week at my other job. Yet again so many Karen’s coming in and doing what Karen’s do, men fully disregarding what I’m saying because I’m a young black woman; so on and so forth. The week was more busy than I thought because at a blink of an eye it was Saturday aka the day of the Got7 concert! I decided to get dressed at y/f/n’s place since it would be more convenient since she lives closer to the venue.

After getting dressed (and lookin fucking cute, but sexy at the same time) we head to the venue. I direct y/f/n that we should walk towards the ticketing booth in order to pick up the tickets. Luckily the tour and this venue had a common agreement on different ways you can have your tickets and luckily buying and picking up the physical ones at the booth was one option. 

“Ugh I seriously need to find out who got you these tickets! They can be our concert ticket dealer hahaha” y/f/n says

“A girl has her secrets” I give her a wink and keep walking.

We head towards the entrance of the venue and wait in line until doors open. As we do for past concerts, we start conversations with other fans in line. A basic convo of “who’s your bias?”, “what other groups do y’all stan?”, etc. Luckily it makes the time go by faster because before we knew it, doors opened and they started scanning tickets and letting everyone in. We found our seats and saw that some of the fans we made friends with in line were sitting right behind us. We continued our conversation about nothing specific really until I felt my phone vibrate. I looked down and see that Mark messaged me, 

“Y/NNNNNNN!!!!” Mark messaged

“MAAARRRKKKK!!!” I replied 

“I see you”

“Can you please not be creepy”

“Awe but it’s fun! ANYWAYS I can’t believe you’re here I can’t wait to see you!” he replied excitedly 

“I can’t wait to see you either! First time I’m getting to see you performing on stage. I seriously can’t” I quickly reply

“OH RIGHT! I remember why I texted you, check under your chair” he messaged

“You’re making me nervous boy”

“First of all, I’m a man. Second of all, stop being a wimp and look under your chair” he replies back with an eye rolling emoji. 

I decide to give in and squeeze myself on the ground between my chair and the chair in front of me. I feel a little bit around until my hand takes hold of something. I pull it out and it’s an envelope so I open it because what harm is there in opening a mysterious envelope from Mark. When I opened it, I shut it just as quickly, I looked side to side to make sure no one saw, shoved it in my bag, and grabbed my phone. 

“Mark Tuan imma kill you” I message adding a crying emoji

“Am I your favorite member now?” he said with a cute emoji

“Nope, still loyal, but Mark you really didn’t have to do this! VIP BACKSTAGE PASSES”

“How could I not?! You’re one of my friends that I cherish and it’s been so long. The fact that you thought that just attending the concert would be the end of it...I’m hurt” he replies almost sounding a little too butthurt. 

“Fine fine, but you know I love you right! I seriously can’t believe I can even call you a friend, let alone a close friend at that!” I message excitedly 

“I-love you too, you’re seriously someone I didn’t expect to show up in the circumstances they did. Thank goodness you did though, I was on the brink of murdering Yug because he was just calling me by my name. That child has no respect”

“Mark, honey, you’re American, I wouldn’t have guessed you were so serious about that type of stuff” I retorted

“Well I’m used to the way things run so I just want to hit him sometimes, what an annoying brat” he sent. I ended up laughing and y/f/n looked at me curious as to what was so funny on my phone. I quickly hid it, but I already knew she knew something was up. That’s why I was grateful when she didn’t push further because she knows I always end up spilling the tea later.

“That makes sense anyways you see where I am right?” I ask

“Yup, you look pretty” he comments as he always does

“Whatever, you see the girl to the right of me?” 

“Kinda, I can’t really see her face though”

“Oh let me help” I replied. 

“Yo y/f/n let’s take a pic” I get her attention. She turned around and agreed seeing that it wasn’t unusual for us to take pics together, especially at concerts. 

“Ooo these are cute” she comments then turns back around to keep talking to our new friends. 

“See now, cute right?” I text Mark

“Oh yeah~ she’s cute I guess, what about her though?” He replies

“That’s the friend I was telling you about and lucky for you she doesn’t have a solid bias in the group yet” I mention knowing that it would peek his interest. 

“Oh she doesn’t now, well now I’m even more excited to meet her” he comments, with easy excitement detected in his message. 

“Well thanks to you, we all get to meet each other!” I message excitedly 

“You’re very welcome sweetheart, but I gtg my turn to get pretty” he sends

“Lol you’ve always been pretty, but see you later!” 

“Lol bye” he texted lastly. 

I spend the rest of the time before the concert trying to devise how I’m going to keep surprising y/f/n until we reach the boys while still talking to our new friends. I decided that I would say I found these badges in one of the bathroom stalls after going in after a staff member and decided that it would be our ticket into the backstage. Perfect, not only is it a crazy idea, but the prize at the end (her reaction) will be the icing on the cake. I decided to text Mark about the plan and to also tell the manager so when we do get back there we don’t get in actual trouble. He saw my message and sent an emoji making sure I understood he got the message. This made the whole experience even better.  

The lights dimmer and we knew the show was starting. The whole place erupted in screams and chants of “Got7” echoing everywhere. The stage lit up and the boys walked out. I screamed and almost busted a lung at how good the boys looked up there. Mark looking exceptionally nice almost made me forget how much of an idiot he really is. It amazes me how humans can deceive each other so easily by just putting on an act. 

The concert was beyond amazing! I almost forgot while in the middle of the concert how I actually know the boys and consider them my friends. My mind went back to just being a simple ahgase and it being just that. It wasn’t until Mark came to my side of the stage and did some weird thing that I recalled that I actually know this fool personally. Then Mark pointed me out to the other members so once they spotted me they made their rounds to come to my side of the stage and do something that made my whole side scream. One girl in front of me thought that the finger heart from Jackson was for her when it was really meant for me. Poor girl.

The concert went on, screams were loud, fanchants were strong, light stick choreo was on point, the BOYS choreo was definitely on point, and honestly everything was just perfect. In the back of my head I couldn’t wait to finally meet the boys and better yet, be able to get this secret off my chest. I still hadn’t told anyone of me knowing the boys so to be able to tell y/f/n was going to be a load off my chest. It was the end of the concert with the boys concluding it with a classic that is “A.” During one of the chorus point dances JB came to my side of the stage like he had done once or twice before. While Youngjae and him sang the chorus JB never stopped looking me during the certain lyrics

“Ei da aneunde wae jakku sumgyeo

Nega nal joahaneunge imi

Ne eolgure sseuyeoisseo

Ei nareul boda wae nuneul dollyeo

Da aneunde ei e...”

(Translated: “Hey I already know everything so why are you hiding

It’s written all over your face that you like me

Hey why do you look away

I know everything”)

Contradictory to the lyrics, more specifically JB’s verse, I couldn’t look away. Was he confessing...to me? There’s now way. My heart sped up at the thought that my bias, my ult bias at that, has feelings for me! It was hard to get immersed in the rest of the concert with my head getting mixed signals of what JB really did was meant for me or just did it to tease me, not like it would be the first time. We talked a lot over messenger and really clicked, that included him reminding me that he knew that he was my favorite. Yeah I grew legit feelings for him, but my brain rationalized that it wouldn’t make sense for that to ever exist beyond that, but if what he did right now on stage was him confessing to me, maybe...there’s a chance.

It’s just the possibility of him liking me from only talking to me, while my feelings have existed. I need to stop thinking about this because there’s no way

“Y/n just enjoy the rest of the concert” I mumbled to myself. Thank goodness it was loud and dark enough that no one could hear me or see me. 

When the concert ended, y/f/n and I just sat there in utter amazement. We couldn’t believe we just had the chance to witness this and not to mention a relief since it had been so long for Got7 to come back to a city near enough that we could travel. After a moment of shock, I looked at her

“Yo bitch” I said to grab her attention

“What bitch?” She replied, such friendship

“This night ain’t over yet” I commented and signaled for her to look down her face of confusion and shock filled her face

“Y/n how the hell did you get these?!” She whispered yelled to not get much attention to us

“Remember when I went to the bathroom earlier? I guess I used a stall after one of the staff members and they misplaced it there” I commented hoping she would believe the lie

“Y/n you don’t do wild shit like that though, it’s always me” she mentions 

“I know but I’m willing to risk it all because what’s the worst that could happen?” I say hoping to convince her

“Well first we could be black listed by JYP, we would be the new face of sasaengs and last I checked there aren’t many or many in general black sasaengs...that should be enough reasons not to do it” she said.

“Yes, but if it works then we have a high chance of meeting Got7 and think about how much staff they have. What’s the likeliness they would know who we are'' I bring up

“Damn, you making me do dumb bitch shit...fine I’m in” she says. Score. 

We made our way out with most everyone just like normal, but snuck away to a secluded area where security wasn’t looking through. We slipped through a door that led through a hallway that led backstage. Getting backstage we were looked at sideways but everyone was rushing everywhere not paying us any mind (thank goodness their staff was pretty diverse), but I’m surprised no one noticed how different we stick out especially with our outfits. . 

We slip passed another door, we turned around getting stopped in our tracks by the boys’ manager. He wore this scowl on his face and both of us freaked. Then I remembered Mark texted me saying the manager would have eyes around the place so when we sneak in he would know where we were. So when running into him and seeing the scowl I knew he was just faking it and yet it was so believable. He stared us down,

“Now I don’t think I recognize you two” he comments 

“Um well you see” y/f/n starts in a slight panic

“We were given these passes by someone higher up in the company so we just decided to let ourselves in instead of waiting for the person they were going to send” I replied back confidently hoping it sounded believable enough...to y/f/n that is.

“‘Someone higher up huh?’ well who might that be exactly?” he questioned 

“I don’t have to say and you can’t make me” I snap back with a bit of attitude 

“Well if it is like that, I can’t allow you to proceed any further” he snarls back. Wow he’s really into this. JYP should really look into an acting career for this man and if not that give him a raise or something.

“Now if you two ladies could follow me to this room and I’ll get security to come deal with you both” he continued. y/f/n was getting visibly overwhelmed, but thankfully she had her inhaler with her. I hated to see that her reaction was getting that intense, but we were so close.

“Fine” I replied back fake angrily. y/f/n and I follow the manager back to a room that was labeled “Security” on the front. Perfect, everything was going to plan. Mark helped give more detail to my plan and thought to get a sheet of paper and put security to make the plan more believable. What we didn’t know though is under that sheet of paper it actually said “Artists Dressing Room.” It also occurred to me how good the manager's english had gotten. I guess it worked out with my Korean also getting much better as well. Luckily, I told y/f/n that I decided to study Korean again so she didn’t question why I was able to speak so well. She is able to speak pretty well herself, but the intensity of the situation caused her brain to freak out not being able to respond.

Once we reached the door, the manager slowly turned around. We briefly made eye contact and a smirk slightly graced his face. This is it, y/f/n looked like her nerves were a bit calmer, but I was sure to stand behind her in case she passed out. The manager opened the door and stepped to the side, he ushered us in and I gasp really loudly, 

“OMG IT’S GOT7” I exclaim. The boys all shot their heads up from different areas of the room, the sense of panic that graced their face for a few seconds made it even better. That stupid Mark, I guess he didn’t tell the boys of the plan so they must have thought that we were crazed fans who actually snuck in. Once the boys stared in shock for a few more seconds, all the sudden I hear

“y/nnnnn!!!” Mark screamed and dashed from the chair he was lounging in for a hug. I start laughing hysterically when I turn to see y/f/n’s hella confused face. It took me all the strength to try and stop laughing, but eventually I was able to calm down enough to talk,

“SURPRISE BITCH!!” I look to y/f/n and yell, her face still in utter shock and confusion. 

“Hey boys” I wave crazily to the boys who finally have the previous shock go away and have faces grazed with the biggest of smiles.

“y/n, how are you here?!” Youngjae questioned. From my peripheral vision I could see the boys look with beaming eyes mentally waiting for the answer to that same exact question they were all sharing. I look to Mark and comment

“You idiot, you didn’t tell them?” I laugh

“Well seeing you were surprising your friend, I wanted to do the same for the boys” he laughed back. 

“Makes sense, this was worth it though to see their faces” we both started laughing. Mark went on to explain in Korean about the plan we concocted and how we were able to execute it along with the help of the manager and other staff members. The boys nod and I turn to y/f/n explaining everything similarly. 

“I hate you so much right now” y/f/n says but with humor

“Awe but I love you so much” I replied back lovingly

“Mark this is my friend y/f/n I was telling you about before” I turn to Mark and say

“Nice to meet you!” Mark said with a bright smile

“Nice to meet you too” y/f/n replied back slightly shyly but still with slight confidence. Mark directs us to go and sit down on the chair that was previously occupied by him and Jackson. We all took a seat while BamBam, Yug, and JB were getting their makeup taken off and getting dressed in more comfier clothing behind a panel. 

“This is crazy that we’re finally getting to meet you y/n though it feels like we’ve been friends for ages’ Jackson speaks up.

“I know right! It’s still surreal that we’re all pretty good friends given we’ve never met physically...well except for Mark that is” 

“Wait how do you even know Mark...like how the hell did that even happen?” y/f/n speaks up. The boys looked at each other surprised that she didn’t know even though Mark and I had been talking for months. I look to Mark to see if it was fine to tell her given that he’s not one of my patients anymore, but still it would be illegal and immoral to start spilling unless allowed. He gives me the go ahead and I turn back to y/f/n and explain to her how it came to be. From all the stupid stuff he said to getting to talk to the boys over facetime, nothing was left unturned. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and how lucky I was to have a chance encounter like this. 

“Wow you really lived the ‘y/n’ life right now huh?” She commented

“I’m just glad I was able to get it off my chest, it was really hard trying to keep this a secret for that long” I laughed 

“But why now, like how long you think you would’ve held it in if they didn’t have a tour?” she questioned

“Honestly I was close to just spilling everything, but luckily the tour was announced. You can also thank Mark for the free tickets and passes by the way” I laughed. y/f/n looked at Mark and had no other way of phrasing words than to say thank you multiple times

“It’s no problem at all, your reaction was priceless though! It made it worth it in the end” he laughed.

I sit there looking at my surroundings amazed this is actually happening. Mark irritatingly asked y/f/n to tell him stories of stupid shit I’ve done in the past because I refused to tell him. y/f/n went along I’m guessing as payback for the stupid stunt I pulled with this whole encounter. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to put those two together because now Jackson is listening in and I guess so is BamBam from the makeup chair because I can hear him laughing along with everyone else at some part of the story that I don’t even remember (I must have been drunk...whoops). Even then, I don’t think anything could top this moment…

Now I have to figure out why JB has been avoiding interactions with me since y/f/n and I walked in. 

Previous/Next

[sanguinesacrament]

🥝🍊🍑[ please infodump about the babe ]

That’s the nicest thing you could have said with your ask--

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒   ♡   𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits, interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?  

Some might consider their interest in divination strange? The Somatics are, by design, unorthodox beings, and Sanguis would be no different. I’ve always thought the way they spoke was a bit archaic and odd (that is, even in Adenfel standards where I try to give an older diction to most people.) Sanguis also likes snakes and crabs, which I can see being strange. 

In general, aside from interests, their mind is habitually in an airy place I don’t think everyone can immediately follow. This is not even touching on the fact of how they behave when it comes to others and their habit of withdrawing from conversations about their personal past. As for their strange body, though, that’s not something that pries at history too much, and they will discuss its unusual features if asked. 

🍊  :    does my muse desire romance?  is it something they would actively seek out,  or prefer to happen more  ‘  naturally?  ’  what is their love life like?  do they have any exes or past flings,  or crushes?  

There’s a lot to unpack here. Yes. Yes and no. Sanguis wants to be loved by someone else. They do not feel lovable but they optimist in them is holding out for that “someday” when they do. Sanguis would never seek it out, they don’t feel ready to, and they wholeheartedly believe it will come their way when it is ready/will develop over time, and they may never expect who it is at first. They’ve submitted to this. 

Love life at present? Absent of one, really. Sanguis usually only has one budding love interest at a time on this blog--not intentionally, it’s just a slow developing process and rare of them to admit. In the past with interactions they tried to play like they loved some people because they cling to whatever rare affection they find. But that was not love, and Sanguis knows when it isn’t. Even in this instance where they think they may actually be in love with someone....if people have been reading those interactions over time...wink wonk...Sanguis has been more daunted than excited. They’re so worried they’ll make a mistake by loving someone and/or they’ll be disappointed.

Honestly, not a lot has changed from this and their pre-war past. Having flings with people just to feel special, but developing few real romances. One...was definitely a huge mistake...but the other wasn’t. They actually had a family at some point with a good person. Sanguis feels like that person too failed them, yes, but moreso that they themself failed their partner and their family.

🍑  :    how meticulously does my muse look after their physical appearance?  do they spend a lot of time on their hair,  makeup,  grooming,  and clothing?  is there a particular reason why they do or don’t?  

Because of their circumstances, Sanguis doesn’t really dress up much unless for special occasions. In the past, they would have always dressed ornately, and would have never known the mask. They do still maintain a good hygiene and wear flattering scents, bathing with fragrant washes. That may also be a case where they reserve better scents for an occasion.

Sanguis’ face is a vantablack-like wash of black, and reflects no contour or shadow. So they don’t wear makeup. Their shadowy hair, however, is similar in composition to their wings and has enough weight where it can be styled. Not every Somatic angel even has hair, but something about showing and decorating their hair strikes me as more a look an unmarried/younger individual may do. It’s typically covered unless they’re undressed. 

For special clothing, they do have some pretty robes and a variety of jewelry.

[minhyunluvr]

look | insouciance

You and Shouto observed the rest of the class as they conversed among themselves, everyone waiting for instruction. Of course, All Might didn't disappoint as his booming voice filled the room a few minutes later. "I see that we're all here now. What we're doing today is indoor anti-personnel battle training, as previously stated. While simple battles are typically occur outside, more heinous villains are known to strike indoors. So, we'll split into pairs for two-on-two battles!"

  "No basic training...?" A small girl resembling a frog spoke up in a croaky voice.

  "Physical experience teaches the basics, young Asui!" He replied in his unusually cheerful voice. Questions sounded throughout the space in curious voices, the oldest male's eyes beginning to bulge. "My power isn't super-hearing! I'll tell you the rules... So, the plan is to have a hero team and a villain team. The villain team will go up to a certain floor and guard a bomb, while the hero team slips into the building and either 'retrieves' said bomb or restrains the villains with a tape." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tan length of adhesive strap, shaking it slightly before continuing. "The villains must either protect the weapon until time is up or capture the heroes. Now, it's time to draw lots!"

  A few complaints about the method resounded throughout the room before you spoke up, arms crossed sassily against your midriff. "Shh, children. The person who's left in the bottom will either sit out or join one of the groups at some point."

  As things turned out, you ended up being the odd one out. 'Well, I guess this is what happens when there are 21 students...'

  "Well, young Yunseo, it's time to make your decision."

  Sighing, you corrected the man. "I go by (Y/n), and I'll accompany who you wish."

  All Might blinked, leaning his head back slightly before nodding. "That's fine. I'll let you know when it's time to go." Before continuing, he reached into the box beside him and grabbed two lettered spheres. "Anyway, it seems that... Team A and Team D will be going first!"

  A horrified whimper, a loud sneer, and two grunts of determination sounded in the room. Chatter started up as the students searched for the aforementioned groups, noting the tightness in the atmosphere. Bakugou and Iida made up Team D, while A comprised of Uraraka and Midoriya. The boy in the latter team swallowed the stone in his throat before rushing out of the room and over to the battle building in an agitated manner. The other three children followed in a much less hurried fashion, preparing for the scrimmage.

  Anticipation was almost tangible in the air as All Might started the timer. You had resumed your place in the back of the room next to your bi-hair colored companion, sliding down to the floor in disinterest. It was clear that there had been some sort of tension between Bakugou and Midoriya. Shouto looked down at you, emotionless, before turning his head back to the front of the room.

  You stared at the screens as the battle began, Midoriya and Uraraka trudging into the building with clear disregard of their surroundings. Bakugou turned the corner, successfully carrying out his ambush that could have easily been fatal had the pair been any less observant. 'That blow would have been so easy to avoid, had it been me...' You sighed at their negligence, almost feeling pity for their lack of training.

  "There's no point in watching. Let's practice hand-to-hand." As you pushed off of the wall to stand, the building tremored harshly.

  Shouto turned over and quirked a brow as you tripped, shaking his head in amusement. "Karma, (Y/n). I think we should watch to get an idea of how people with less experience plan for future reference."

  Your head cocked to the side in confusion, waiting for his clarification. He flopped his head back to look at you, "It's likely that we'll have to work with some of these people in the future. We have to know what their battle plans are so that we can be prepared if they mess up."

  "Oh, he just got fucking bodied!" Kaminari yelled, eyes glittering. The two of you looked back to the front to see a pained Bakugou on the floor, back bent painfully.

  "Why do you talk like a white middle school boy...?" Kirishima blinked slowly in disgust. Kaminari only winked as a response, turning back to the screens with his fist clenched in front of him.

  "Fine, but I still want to practice." You crossed your arms, nodding over at the male.

  Shouto exhaled through his mouth, "You can practice your battle assessing skills by pointing out what they do wrong."

  "You sound like Jinho...." Nevertheless, you turned, once more, back to the CCTVs and watched the battle. The only thing you had approved of so far was the fact that Uraraka had slipped away in search of the weapon while Midoriya payed attention to Bakugou. It may have been better that Midoriya went for the bomb and Uraraka had stayed, but there would have been a higher chance that he would notice him leave and the girl's quirk wasn't strong enough to defend herself. It had been made apparent that he doesn't go easy on girls, either.

  "Why are they just talking." Shouto rolled his eyes as the blond sat on the floor as the other boy yelled at him from his feet. "What a waste of time..."

  Just as he said that, Bakugou stood and launched himself at Midoriya, the latter boy dodging and catching him by his feet with the capture tape. However, Bakugou swung with right fist before Midoriya could get any good leverage. He dodged the explosion, dashing around the corner and down the hall.

  "How did he do that?"

  "He's not even using his quirk against the guy who placed second in the entrance exam!"

  "The only reason he isn't in critical condition at this point in time is because he knows Bakugou's battle patterns." You leaned flush against the wall, hands resting on their respective adjacent elbows.

  "How do you pick this shit up, (Y/n)?" The only response given was a shrug as you concentrated your attention at the battle in front of you. At this point it was more of a personal fight than a simulated battle, but who were you to say anything about that?

  Meanwhile, Uraraka arrived at the weapon's room. Iida stood guard, albeit neglecting to actually pay attention. He stood, incessant, as the small female snuck behind a pillar. He moved in an erratic fashion, almost seeming to chant something.

  "Of course, she had to fucking ruin the ideal opening that literally anyone else in Japan could have nurtured into a victory. Dumb fuck...." You practically yelled the first part, effectively gaining the entire room's attention. Some of the girls glared slightly at the last part, much to your indifference.

  Kaminari snorted. "Chill your bean."

  "Things like this irk me." You breathed in deeply to regain your former composure.

  "There they go again, talking in the midst of a battle where she could tear another opening while he goes on and on about who knows what." Shouto sighed in the same tone that you had, shoulder brushing yours.

  Kirishima and Kaminari walked to the back wall, standing by the two of you. The former male chuckled lightly, "Uraraka looks like she's about to shit herself."

  Shouto nodded his head.

  "Wow, look who has a sense of humor!" Kaminari looked past you and Kirishima to the red and white hair-colored boy with a smile on his face. He leaned away from the wall, seemingly trying to get a better look at the screen, only to end up on the floor as the building shook almost three times as hard as it had previously. A gaping hole had been blown into the side of the training building, the cause likely being Bakugou.

  "So that's what his gauntlets do..." You noted, holding onto Kirishima's arm for support. All Might yelled orders into the microphone that seemed to have been ignored as the fight continued on, stronger than ever.

  You focused your attention on the screen that covered the battle in the middle of the fifth floor between Iida and Uraraka, wanting to see if she can redeem herself rather than watching Midoriya get beaten half to death by explosions.

  Iida buzzed into Bakugou's ear piece, loosing focus on the problem at hand. You flung your hands into the air in exasperation as she, once again, fucked it up by running straight into the male. He nearly grabbed her, but before he could secure his grip, she began to levitate into the air. The girl shakily floated toward the bomb, nearly touching it and securing the victory. But, of course, she failed at something as simple as that. Iida shot in and moved the bomb, ending with your hands yanking at your hair.

  "I will never be able to fathom why they talk through the battles..." Shouto sighed. Again.

  All Might yelled once more into the microphone, your aggravation for his negligence as a teacher beginning to surface. "Young Bakugou, I will have to end this battle with your team's loss if you use that move one more time."

  The boy looked as if he cursed up at the speaker, Midoriya still on the ground, speaking to Uraraka in her receiver. As you looked over to ever more eventful CCTV, your eyes picked up a crazed look in the blond male's eyes. His red hues shone like whirlpools of blood, as if there had been a shark fest inside of his mind just moments before. That type of look cannot go away, not unless it's sedated with closure. What that closure comes from depends on the circumstance, and this one was beating Midoriya no matter the cost.

  As soon as Bakugou took a step toward Midoriya, you shot off of the wall and re-placed yourself at the front of the room. It wasn't the best day to watch someone get murdered, and the teacher didn't seem to know what to do. Mustering up the most assertive voice you had ever used, you grabbed the teacher by the collar and pulled his face close to yours. "All Might, stop being an irresponsible bitch and do your job as a teacher unless you want your reputation as a hero on the line. Do you really want the life of a fifteen year old boy on your shoulders because you didn't end a simple training exercise? Are you oblivious enough to not realize that even after the timer finishes that this fight will not end? Not for years. They have a deep-rooted... something. And it won't go away unless it gets resolved."

  The man gulped slightly before turning away from you, looking conflicted. He sat for a moment as Bakugou continued to charge the smaller boy before coming to a resolution. "Time is up!"

  "What?!" The class chorused. There had been 43 seconds left in their fight, but he decided to cut it short.

  "All Might, if you thought that this win would satisfy him-" You started, only to be cut off.

  "I cut it because it has a better chance of giving him resolve than directly telling them to stop. By the way, no one tell them that the time wasn't actually over, for their own safety." All Might stood from the chair, walking to and out of the door to make sure nothing else happened with the four students.

  "What was that about...?" The three boys walked over, confusion drawn clearly on their faces.

  "He cut it short because it solves the most problems. Midoriya would have gotten hurt further if he let it run on, but if he told them that he was ending it because of the dangers, Bakugou wouldn't stop. There's also a chance that he won't stop even now, which is why he's going down. By telling him that the time is up, that means that the villains win, so he might gain some sort of temporary closure from that. However, by the look in his eyes... the only time he'll be satisfied is if he completely and utterly destroys Midoriya from the outside, in."

  "...That's dark."

[m.list]

[aliceslantern]

Until We Meet Again, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 2

The last thing Ienzo expects is to fall in love during the war. Unfortunately, impulses are much harder to fight when one is human. But then Demyx disappears under mysterious circumstances... and leaves Ienzo in a wholly unexpected and indelicate situation. But how to deal with such a thing when he can barely deal with being human?

Post KH3, during Re:Mind, Zemyx, Ienzo is trans

Chapter summary:  Six months after the war ends, Ienzo realizes something devastating.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Something wasn't right.

Ienzo had felt dizzy all day. The dizziness wasn't new , per se--he'd been having it on and off for a few months--and he usually attributed it to too much screentime, or not enough water or sleep, or any of the other myriad deprivations he put himself through, and especially all his stress. He felt human needs so much more acutely as Ienzo.

The numbers. They weren't right.

Ienzo looked through the data again. If the simulations he'd been running were correct, this should be of use to help them understand Kairi's heart. Had he misplaced some code? He felt sweat running down his face and opened the source, digging through line after line, trying to find the mistake, if there was one, or maybe he should try running it on another OS? Would that help?

Something inside of him twitched.

It was an odd feeling. Gas? He wondered, though he did not usually have those kinds of problems. But Dilan did so love to try questionable recipes, so perhaps--

Something twitched again. It felt odd, like being poked, something nasty like a parasite. Something… alive--

Ienzo paused, backtracking, a finger of panic running down his spine, the numbers blurring further--he considered how he'd felt the past few months--

Dizziness. Fatigue. Strange aches and pains. Fogginess. Little things that were easy to discount on their own, but--

A third twitch. He gasped aloud. His hand shot down to his stomach. He'd thought his pants had been a little tight--

No. God, no. If that were the case that meant he'd have to be--what--

Before the last battle, before Demyx disappeared somewhere beyond reach of his duly-awarded gummiphone. Some… six months. Those days had been a haze of exhaustion, of pain, of more and more time passing, Demyx not coming back despite the fact that he told Ienzo he'd stay. Ienzo should've known better than to throw himself into the arms of the first person who was willing. It was easier than ever to drown himself in his work, in his supposed redemption, but if the one person he’d felt anything for had abandoned him, was he really worth anything?

Ienzo felt faint. Surely if he were…  it would be far more obvious now? There had to be something else wrong with him--

He took a sharp breath, trying to will the blackness away from the corners of his vision. It wasn't like stories of yore, he could not simply go to a pharmacy and buy a test. Radiant Garden, after the war, was not quite up to that level of development. Even might have something that would prove it, chemically at least. But that would mean Ienzo would have to try to find a time when the man wasn’t in his lab, which was hardly ever--he sometimes slept there, on an old camp cot, getting a bare minimum of rest to continue his work, his supposed atonement.

And if Ienzo were… and if he were that far gone… then what?

He almost did faint then, having to catch himself on the counter. Why had he let himself do this? He’d known it was a bad idea at the time. But seeing Demyx again… the pull he’d fought so hard as Zexion had collapsed entirely. Demyx’s willingness to help changed everything about how Ienzo had seen him. Taking him aside… feeling the warmth of his breath near Ienzo’s face… his exhaustion had caught up to him, and he just needed to feel something other than guilt for once. The way his hands had felt on Ienzo’s body, so gentle, so understanding of his… situation there.

But he’d disappeared only a few days later, right as the battle startled. He’d left . And Ienzo found out that despite all he’d learned about the heart, he still did not know his own enough to avoid breaking it.

And if Ienzo really was… ? What then? He couldn’t possibly have a--

“Ienzo? Are you quite alright?”

His head snapped up, and he forced his hand away from his abdomen.

Even took a closer look at him. He also looked pale, washed-out, his eyes bloodshot from too many hours in front of books and screens. “You look positively peaked.”

“I’m afraid I feel a bit unwell.”

He frowned. “Then what are you still doing here? Go on, boy.”

Ienzo left, woozily. His mind was spinning, desperately trying not to think about the reality of the small twitches he’d felt. A thick, cloying anxiety almost made him sick. He needed to check. To be sure, somehow.

Aerith on the restoration committee was a healer; she’d tended to one of Dilan’s wounds a while back that would’ve taken a long time to heal without magic. He hoped he could trust her to be… discreet. So few people knew the reality of his gender, and he was fine with that. Growing up as a Nobody had allowed him quite a few liberties with his appearance--their bodies were more easily influenced by the will, so he could appear more like himself than he ordinarily would’ve, and the changes seemed to have stuck. But he couldn’t change everything, and the only thing about that part he didn’t care for were the periods.

Ienzo took off his lab coat and left it in his bedroom. He tried not to catch sight of himself in the mirror, suddenly hyperfocusing on the feeling in his abdomen. Was it heavier than normal, the skin tighter?

In a haze, he left the castle gates and headed for her house.

---

“Oh, Ienzo! It’s good to see you in town for once.” She winked. “Did you come by for a visit?” The restoration committee--Aerith and Yuffie in particular--seemed eager to befriend him. He’d always been taken aback by their kindness, their willingness to… let things lie. His many, many mistakes. He bit his lip.

“I actually… have a favor to ask you. Of a sort.” He swallowed down the panic. “Would you be able to… prove something, for me?”

“Oh, like a medicine thing?” She cocked her head. “No problem. Come in.”

He followed her through the small apartment. Plants spilled off of almost every surface--flowers, herbs, ferns, full of color and greenery that almost hurt his eyes after the sterility of the lab. There was a small room towards the back that seemed to have been converted to a sort of clinic, with an apothecary chest, a sink, and a small, low exam table.

“Pop a squat,” she said. “What’s going on?”

Ienzo couldn’t help but clutch the rim of the table. Just say it, he tried to will the words past his lips, to her earnest green eyes.

She sat on the stool near him. “Take a deep breath. It’s okay.”

He tried. “I, um. I believe I may be…” He shuddered. “Pregnant?”

She appraised him for a second, but barely missed a beat. “When was the last time you had a period?”

He tried to think. “They’ve always been… irregular…” Light and short during the times he did get them. “But at least… at least six months.”

“Six--” Her eyebrows shot up. “How long have you been symptomatic?”

“About that long, but I… I always attributed it to other things, like… stress, or exhaustion… I know I don’t eat or sleep nearly enough…” His eyes were watering. “I never felt nauseous, I never--”

She touched his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“I think I felt something move, inside me, this afternoon. Otherwise I’m not sure I would’ve put the pieces together--”

“Lay down. That I can figure out.”

He did so. He’d never felt quite so vulnerable, feeling her hands hovering just above his stomach, an odd warmth. Another twitch went through him, and he exhaled. Aerith’s eyes had softened.

“You can sit up now,” she said gently.

He was trembling. He’d never cried in front of a stranger, but he felt like now might be the time. “It’s true, isn’t it.”

“Yeah. It is.” She offered a sad smile. “You’re pregnant.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “Can’t something be--done?” he asked, through his teeth, panic making him vaguely itchy. “Couldn’t I--”

“Well.” Aerith looked awkward. “If you’d… come to me a few months ago, absolutely. But you’re… you’re at roughly six months, Ienzo, nearing third trimester. I couldn’t… get it out of you unless something was really wrong. It’s pretty unusual for the quickening to happen this late.”

“No.” He pressed his face against his hands. He thought of all his sleepless nights, the tons of caffeine, the quick and questionable things he’d been eating. “I’ve been...it must be… so sick.”

She shook her head. “It seemed pretty healthy to me. You might not be showing much, but the fetus is a good size.”

He gasped a breath.

“I know this has to be overwhelming,” she said, taking his hand. “But… you do have some options.”

“Like what? I have to… finish this out, how is that--”

“You don’t have to raise it.”

Ienzo considered what he knew about the orphanage system--now packed with refugees of the darkness, of Radiant Garden’s own Fall. He couldn’t give a child that kind of life. What could he do?

(What about Demyx? This baby was his as well… Was that why he had disappeared? Because of the potential? Had he somehow known before Ienzo, smelled it on him, some weird Nobody instinct they hadn't known about?)

“Is there someone you can talk to about it?” Aerith asked. “Provide some support?”

Ienzo thought of everyone at the castle. Ansem may have forgiven him, and he and Aeleus had little change about their relationship now that they were human. But telling Ansem that he was… pregnant? Disappointing him again and so soon? What about Even? He’d be lectured endlessly for being irresponsible, and god how would they all react if they knew who the child’s father was?

“Yes,” he said woodenly. “Yes, I… shall.”

She smiled. “I’ll send you back with some supplements,” she said. She talked to him for a few minutes about proper diet, about water and rest and sleep , things Ienzo already knew. Then, “I want you to come back in a few weeks. Just to check in. I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yes… thanks.” He swallowed. “Thanks for your help.”

In a haze, Ienzo returned to the castle (not quite “home” yet, in his mind). He could feel the fetus--the baby --moving gently, as though to make up for all the lost time it hadn’t moved before. “You couldn’t have shown yourself sooner?” he murmured. He finally made it back to his bedroom, shut the door behind him, slowly, he crossed back over to the mirror, pulled up his sweater. It wasn’t quite obvious unless one knew what to look for. Even if it weren’t… he still had his power, aside from usage of the dark corridors. Covering it up would be easy. He had to, at least until he could process, at least until he could plan. He was so young, and so broken , to be raising a child. He’d committed so many atrocities; how could he ever be a good parent?

Maybe giving this child up would be for the best.

He took out his phone. Dialed Demyx’s number. But like his last attempts over the past few months, the call didn’t connect, there was just an odd static. Ienzo wondered if he were okay. Hoped. Maybe the idiot just lost his phone, he thought, but it was a hollow notion.

He took a deep breath. Took two. He’d have to tell someone about this eventually. But who? And how?

He couldn’t raise this child here. After all that Even, Dilan, and even Aeleus had put him through… This child deserved a chance at a normal life, a happy life. He wasn’t sure he could provide that. He could barely reckon with the emotions of typical humanity, how could he reckon with fatherhood? How could he give a child what they needed ?

He wasn’t sure he could.

[logansanderslove]

Logan 3.0  (4/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas’s mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus’s love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: No character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 4: Things Are Changing

Patton paced nervously in the common area, Roman's eyes watching him. "Pat, you wearing a path in the carpet isn’t going to help anything."

Patton spun around with worried eyes. "What's going to happen, Ro?! Logan is completely off, and I don’t know what to do, and I can’t think and I'm freaking out and the only way I'm taking my mind off of it is pacing and thinking about puppies so please just tell me WHAT DO WE DO?!" He cried frantically.

"You calm down."

Both Roman and Patton snapped their heads around, eyes widening when they saw Remus and a darker man standing next to him. Roman's eyes doubled in size as he stared at him. 

"L-Logic? Is that you?!" He exclaimed, and Logan chuckled.

"Yes. Although I'm not just 'Logic', anymore." He smirked. "I'm improved."

"You can say that again!" Remus grinned, helpless against the urge to show off Logan. "Sexy Pants is just chock-full of surprises!" Roman winced a little at the term of affection, and Remus counted it as a win.

"Not just Logic," Patton repeated hesitantly, "Does that mean... you're something else now too?"

Logan smirked, a gesture that neither Patton nor Roman was used to. "It does indeed, Patton. Earlier you had questioned whether or not I was becoming a Dark Side. Well, you were somewhat correct."

Roman's fingers twitched, and he forced himself not to call for his sword, despite the danger vibes he was getting from Logan. "Spit it out, Drama Turd." he snarked. "What's going on?"

"Well, perhaps if you asked a bit nicer I would be quite willing to share." Logan retorted with an unusual amount of venom, shocking the other two but only bringing a smile from his lover. 

Roman swallowed hard under Logan's stern gaze, then he nodded. "Logan, could you please explain what you mean?" He forced out, and Logan smiled.

"Of course." He adjusted his glasses, a certain grin on his face. "As you know, yesterday I seemed to be of a bit different nature. I was more volatile and ...I believe 'mischievous' could be the correct word." He sighed after a sexual mutter was given from Remus, then he adjusted his all-black tie. "That was due to the fact that I had begun to transition."

Patton's eyes went wide. "Transition?"

Logan nodded. "Indeed. I had never considered it, but I knew that the feeling that I had manifested had to have some purpose. That's when it finally occurred to me. I was a Neutral Side."

Patton was wringing his hands, "I... I guess that's okay? Logic... should be neutral? But Logan, you were in so much pain! Are you sure you're feeling better now?"

"Yes, Patton. In fact, I have never felt better in my life. Because I now know what two aspects I control." Logan replied.

Roman bit back a groan - this was like pulling teeth. With as pleasant a voice as he could muster, he forced out, "And what aspects are those, praytell?"

"Logic, ....and Anger. Fury."

Patton covered his mouth with one hand in disbelief and took a tiny step back from Logan in fear.

Roman laughed, but the sound had a note of hysteria in it. "Fury? How is Fury remotely neutral?"

Logan sighed. "I'm not quite sure you grasp the idea of what a Neutral Side is. I control one aspect of the Light Sides and one aspect of the Dark Sides. I now have more power to control both, but you needn't worry, Patton, I would never harm any of you." He then bit his lip, glancing at Roman. "Unless you were asking for it."

He then sighed, glancing at Remus, who put his arm around Logan's shoulder. "We sent Virgil and Deceit to check on Thomas. Apparently, Logan can't just become a Neutral on his own. Thomas has to be doing something that requires his aspect to change. However, now that he is a Neutral side, he's gonna stay that way."

Logan glanced around. "Virge and Dee should be back by now."

As if on cue, Virgil rose up, looking worried and fiddling with his hoodie cuffs. "Guys? We've got a problem." Virgil's gaze caught on Logan and he did a doubletake, "Oh, fuck."

Logan sighed. "Oh, dear, what is it? I'm well aware that it has to do with my transition, that goes without saying, but what's happening with Thomas?" He looked around. "And where's Deceit?"

"Dee's keeping an eye on Thomas. He's... it's bad." Virgil shifted uneasily. "Thomas was in a fight. He's sleeping now, but he's got a black eye, a split lip, and his right wrist is broken."

Logan's eyes went wide, followed by everyone else's. "WHAT IN THE HELL DID HE GET IN A FIGHT FOR?! WHO FOUGHT HIM?!" Logan's voice was rising, and Remus had to grab him and hold him gently to calm him down before his furious breathing led to something else.

The others stepped back from him, Roman staring with wide eyes. "Jeez, he really does represent Anger..." he muttered. Logan glared at him, then he took a deep breath and slumped back into Remus' arms, centering himself.

"This is going to take some getting used to..." he muttered, then he shook his head and fixed his tie. "Okay. Virgil, tell me what happened. I'm sure we can find some way to help him."

Virgil had shrunk away from Logan's outburst and Patton quickly hurried over to comfort him. "It'll be okay, kiddo." Patton murmured, hugging Virgil. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Virgil nodded and swallowed hard, clutching Patton's hand for strength. "He ... he was at a Pride event with some friends. He saw some asshole drop something into someone's drink, and the kid swallowed it before Thomas could cross the room and stop him. While Thomas's friends were helping the kid, the asshole slipped outside in the confusion. Thomas followed him and confronted him, and... that's when the fight happened. Thomas was... so angry." Virgil shuddered.

"By the time Dee and I got there, the fight was mostly over, and the police had been called. The asshole ran off, and Thomas's friends escorted both him and the kid to the hospital to get checked out."

Logan's eyes went wide. "What time did this happen? How long ago?"

Virgil shrugged, "Right around the time you and Princey were having your Mega Epic Showdown if I had to wager a guess. The passage of time in the mindscape doesn't always match up perfectly to time in the Real World, but it's a little too much of a coincidence if you ask me."

Logan sighed. "That's what I thought. Even though time doesn’t always match up, sometimes it does when big events are happening. It seems that we may have triggered something." Logan said, meeting Roman's eyes, but instead of the sneer he expected, Roman was met with an apologetic frown. "Now we have hurt Thomas."

He then sighed, taking a deep breath. "But this is a problem that really can only be fixed by me. Logic is the only way to realize your mistakes and determine not to do it in the future."

Patton bit his lip nervously. "But...what if when you're with Thomas...you turn back to Anger?" He asked cautiously, then Logan placed his hand on Patton's shoulder. 

"It is going to be alright, Patton. I will be careful with my self-control." He nodded to them all. "I'm going to join Deceit in watching over Thomas for a while. We shall be back later."

He turned towards Remus and walked over to him, kissing his cheek. "I love you."

Remus smiled, "Love you too. Go help Thomas - I'll keep your bed warm for you." he said with a saucy wink.

"I... I didn't..." Roman was saddened and horrified, "I never wanted to hurt Thomas. I'm..." He stood up, and slowly approached Logan. "I'm sorry, Logan. I was surprised and angry, and I overreacted. I should have never hurt you like that, and I'm so sorry." Roman began to cry, begging forgiveness from the neutral side.

Logan smirked at his boyfriend, then turned to the Prince. From the single look that he had, everyone expected him to send Roman flying. Never did they expect him to embrace in a hug.

"It's okay, Roman. I forgive you. Don't beat yourself up over this. We both played parts, and I was the one who started it all, so I'm going to be the one to finish it." He said, then he rubbed the back of Roman's head as the Prince continued to cry. "Shh...it's okay, Ro. It's okay..."

After a few minutes of comforting the Creative side, Logan bid everyone adieu and sank out. Remus met eyes with his brother, and an awkward silence followed.

Roman was the one to finally break it. "So...so you two truly love each other?" He questioned of Remus.

Remus grinned, slightly manically, but full of genuine happiness. "Truly, Madly, Deeply. You don't have to approve of it, bro-"

"No! No, I-" Roman fidgeted, "I don't disapprove. Not... not anymore."

Patton raised his eyebrow. "Is...is it true that Lo was the one to ask you to be his boyfriend?" He asked quietly.

Remus nodded fondly, "Yeah. I tried to turn him down, but... he's really good at talking people over to his side."

Roman chuckled, "Yeah, he is." The brothers shared a soft smile in appreciation of the brainiac.

The words felt heavy in his throat, but Roman forced them out. This was Important. "Love... is Love. I hate to admit it, but... you two... I can see it, and I think it could be good for you both."

Remus gasped, over-playing his astonishment. "Why, brother! You approve of my boyfriend? I never thought I'd see the day!"

Roman laughed, "Yeah, well... me either. Of course, if you hurt Logan, all bets are off."

"If I hurt Logan," Remus assured him, "You're welcome to collect the bloody chunks of my body after I've torn myself to shreds and put them through a meat grinder before feeding the remains to feral dogs, and then setting their shit on fire."

Patton winced, and Virgil pat him on the back. "Trigger warning, dude." Virgil chided, and Remus shrugged.

"And if Logan ever hurts you..." Roman said, "I'll make him wish he was never formed."

Remus blinked, shocked. "W-what?"

Roman's smile was lopsided, self-deprecating. "You're my brother. I'm allowed to give your boyfriend the Shovel Talk." he shrugged, "Or in my case, the Katana Talk."

"Pretty sure Logan is intimately familiar with your katana." Remus pointed out.

Roman winced, "I said I was sorry! Anyway, not the point. You're my brother, and you deserve to be treated right by your boyfriend. If Logan fucks up, no matter how powerful he is now, he's gonna be on my shit list."

"You love me, you really love me!" Remus teased Roman.

"Shut up." Roman waved him off but was still smiling.

Virgil tried to hide his smirk, but a small snicker brought everyone's attention to him. He shrugged. "What? I just never thought I'd see the day where you two would get along, and especially not when it's talking about a boyfriend."

Patton smiled. "I think it's cute, personally. I'm glad that Lo has someone to make him happy."

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, "I... I'll try." He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky, and he still had trouble understanding what Logan saw in him, but he would do his damndest to make Logan happy for the rest of their lives.

"You're doing pretty well so far, kiddo," Patton said, smiling at Remus. "Keep up the good work."

Remus shivered, and he suddenly realized that he'd never been complimented so much by the Light Sides before. He'd never spent this much time among them without being insulted and shunned and ridiculed. They were talking to him, they were listening to him, they were COMPLIMENTING him... would wonders never cease?

[fireofmyloins19]

Him - Chapter Three

Oh how unfortunate it should be to love an older man. Unless, he was to love you back.

Prologue / Chapter One / Chapter Two

Thomas Shelby - Him.

Under normal circumstances, Rose would have knocked on the door politely before entering the Shelby offices, in case anyone other than Michael was around, but, with last nights events flooding her mind with dread and now also leaving a physical throbbing pain behind, she didn’t have time to consider anything else.

“Jesus Christ Michael” she barged through the door to his office carelessly, catching her shoulder on the frame, unsteady on her feet and wincing at her own voice piercing through her head. She rushed to the seat across from him, quickly collapsing into it. “Why would you let me do that?”

Michael couldn’t shake the smile fixated on his lips from the minute she walked in, finding her unusual vulnerable state to be humorous yet he sympathised with the aftermath she was facing today. She rubbed her eyes numerous times and gave a defeated sigh before reaching for Michael’s cigarettes on the table, helping herself to one and curling up in the chair to get comfy the best she could.

“How did you know I’d be in here?” Michael laughed as he watched her, joining her in having a cigarette as a short but welcomed break from his work.

“When aren’t you here?” Rose huffed, pushing her tousled dark locks away from her eyes with irritation, regretting going straight to the offices from her bed. She caught Michael’s eye with a pout when he continued to laugh, giving him a look that begged for his sympathy which she wasn’t seeming to gain easily.

“Well,” he rest his elbows against the table and lent closer to Rose, speaking lowly as though about to whisper a secret, “don’t let people see you sneaking in here so early, might make things worse.” He teased her with a big smile, her concentration dropping instantly to a scowl when he’d finished speaking.

“God don’t bloody say that Michael, that’s the last thing I need.” she began to puff on her cigarette desperately as the frustration set in, sinking further into the chair. “I don’t know how many times we need to tell them! It’s getting fucking irritating now, well it has been for a long time. Did you hear them all last night? Every time I went near you John was snickering and winking and I’m sure I heard the marriage card being pulled again.” Rose began to rant angrily, now fidgeting in her seat as she lent closer to Michael, attempting to take her jacket off and pulling at the sleeve aggressively with a huff when it wouldn’t budge.

Michael broke into a fit of laughter at the sight of her squirming around, realising her frustration of the harmless situation was increased by already bad mood.

“Rose, calm down.” he laughed. She sighed at his words but knew he was right, a small smile creeping onto her lips as the silent room and Michael’s wide smile now made her realise how dramatic she was being. She dropping her head onto the desk with a mixture of laughter and a groan of despair.

“You know sometimes, I feel like grabbing Tommy and kissing him in front of everyone just to prove there is nothing going on between me and you.” Rose muttered with her lips brushing against the desk, dragging her head from it lazily to be greeted by Michael’s confusion, his eyes were squinted as he stared at her, brows furrowed and lips pursed, considering her words carefully. Rose bit at the inside of her mouth nervously, realising herself how true the words were yet in a sense Michael would not have understood. “Joking” she lied, shaking her head as though his inability to recognise the joke was insulting.

Michael’s face softened and any thought of the previous comment was gone, having no reason to believe it could possibly mean more. He finished his cigarette with a last quick drag, stubbing it out and picking up his pen to continue where he left off but dropping it again just as quickly, relaxing back into his chair. He looked to Rose with a smile, her dishevelled appearance was a hilarious sight yet he found it quite heart warming, the Rose sat before him now was one he had always known, no need for fancy clothes and impeccable appearance. She was one thing from his previous life that he never wanted to change, reminding him of the rolling fields and fresh country air, the few things he did miss.

“Don’t worry about my family” he reassured her, “they’ll realise it’s never going to happen soon enough.” Rose gave him a understanding smile and nodded in agreement.

“I know it’s just irritating.” she straightened up in the chair and brushed off her clothes ready to move on from the conversation until a playful thought ran through her mind, a mischievous grin forming. “Thinking about it, it would be funny if they believed it had finally happened though, wouldn’t it? That we had finally got together.”

Rose beamed at Michael while he began to squint as though physically showing his thinking process, “What are you thinking?”

“Well we just pretend, we pretend we have finally got together, they get on their high horse and say “Oh we told you it would happen” and “we were right” and all that bollocks and then we come clean, if they’re going to play games, so can we” Rose smiled proudly at her idea, sitting up and waiting for approval from Michael, the brightest she had looked all morning. Michael smiled all the while, her words giving him some excitement, like they were kids again sneaking about and playing tricks on people.

“Rose Rose Rose, you are brilliant sometimes” he beamed, her confirmation that he agreed.

“All the time” she corrected him, her attention soon finding itself drifting from Michael to the noises outside the office, the familiar jingle of the key in the lock and the creek of the door, followed by a draft of sharp winter air. “Who will it be?”

“Could be anyone, possibly John, I remember he said he had a lot to get done before the bets began to be placed” Michael said, and as though to confirm his guess, John’s voice could be distinctly heard roaring through the offices, his words followed by side splitting laughter. With no idea whom the other company could be and with no time to consider it, Rose jumped from her seat and began to shake off her coat, pulling at a few of the buttons on her dress a little too hard. “Uh, what are you doing?” Michael’s eyes widened in a panic where he sat, watching Rose begin to rush about.

“Well if we’re gonna do this, we may aswell start now” she giggled quietly, flicking her shoes off in a hurry and stumbling over when she did, “I’m not getting bloody naked for you Michael don’t worry.” She began to clamber over his lap, one leg on either side and her back facing the door.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Michael questioned in between laughter, in disbelief at the unusual situation, holding his arms up at his sides as though touching Rose where she sat on top of him right now would have been a sin.

“If we want to make them believe we’re together, this is a good of a start as any.” She grabbed his hands and wrapped them around her back tightly, Michael allowing her to control his movement. “Right all we need is a lot of moaning and some exaggerated hand movements and we’re sorted.” Rose kicked her feet up behind her, resting them on Michael’s knees as she shuffled forward. She peered over her shoulder eagerly looking for a sign of life on the other side of the windows and giggling under her breath in a giddy state when she saw their shadows. She began to moan loudly, sure that in other circumstances they would have been noticeably fake considering how dramatised they were but it was all part of the fun. She gasped and grew louder, moving up and down in case they were to catch a glimpse of their shadows through the window, wanting it to look realistic. “Come on Michael louder” she snapped at him through gritted teeth, smacking him lightly on the back of the head resulting in some muttered insults from him as the pair began to bicker but he joined in soon enough.

“Yes, yes!” Rose cried exaggeratedly, slamming her hand on the table behind her for added effect and not being able to stifle her laughter any longer when the situation became too hilarious for the pair of them, the few Shelby’s lucky enough to have been opening up that morning thankfully now bursting in the room. Rose and Michael collapsed into a fit of laughter, Rose slipping off Michael’s legs slightly amongst her giggles and gripping onto the table for support. She turned with a wide smile, expecting to see John and who ever else’s face with a look of shock yet amusement knowing they had been tricked, yet finding Tommy stood forefront, an anger contorting his face like no other she had seen before. Her smile began to dissipate when no amount of humour graced his face, not even for a second, clambering off Michael hurriedly.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tommy almost whispered, his voice low and strained turning into a violent cry when he repeated himself, sprays of saliva escaping his lips as his hand met the desk with a thud causing Rose to jump, “What the fuck is going on?! I asked you, a fucking question.” He stepped further into the room with a finger pointing to Michael, whom looked remarkably calm to Rose, considering. His finger soon hovered towards her, the shock of the situation evident on her face as her lips lay slightly ajar. It is said in the bible, that the eyes are considered the windows to the soul, and Rose believed in Tommy’s case this was true. And now she saw it more than ever, his eyes before having been something of beauty, were now something she feared. Full of merciless anger and regret.

“We were just…..it was a joke, Tommy” Rose stumbled on her words.

“A fucking joke? Does it look like I’m fucking laughing?” Tommy’s crazed eyes flickered between both Rose and Michael quickly before he continued, “Fucking childish. So fucking childish!” He slammed his fist against the desk again before walking towards Michael, pointing to one of the many sheets that lay untouched on the desk and lingering over the Shelby Company Limited stamp. “You work for a fucking limited company now Michael, we’re not having this childish messing about in here ey? If your gonna act like a kid, I’ll fucking treat you like one.”

“Won’t happen again Tommy” Michael spoke calmly, picking up his pen.

Tommy straightened up, his eyes staring at Rose long and hard with a sense of intimidation before addressing her. “Same goes for you, fuck off.” he pointed to the door and continued to watch her as she scrambled with her belongings, shoving her coat over her bare arms and scooping her shoes into her hands, not bothering to put them on as she couldn’t bare to stand in the room any longer. She could feel his eyes burning into her as she moved, anger soon soaring through her body at not only herself for being so stupid, but at Tommy for the way he spoke to her. Leaving her slamming the door as hard as she could on her way out, hoping to make her anger known before heading to get rid of it the only way she knew how in Small Heath. Whisky.

[from-a-distant-end]

original short story: Wilt | Chapter 1

The Elder Beaconmire is an elite subterranean society, submerged profoundly beneath the darkened bowels of the Volga River in southwestern Russia. We rest in solitude with towering buildings of stone jutting from the smoothed riverbed roads, our walls and homes, our temples and shrines all sat imbued with veins of natural luminescence, granted silver life by some unknown, worshiped force or entity. Sentient or inanimate, there appeared to be little mind paid in either direction. We are not proud, generous and cheerful citizens of a concealed city-state, nor prisoners unkindly and unjustly fated to live our lives hidden under waves and rocks, kept away from the entirety of the world. We are not spies, despite our secretive location. We are not assassins, nor any other mass produced, trained murder machine. Unless of course, we’re requested to be.

By Elder’s standards, we are and perfectly maintain to be, a large assembly of rigorously refined and forcibly gifted individuals, who not only excel unmatched in nearly any field, profession, and practice anyone could muster into fruition from even eccentric imaginations, but orchestrate the necessary and paramount competencies of said systematically inculcated tasks and actions with utmost decorum and polished skill. We are what we’re asked to be. And we’re better than you.

---

Oxial College, I realized gravely, was vividly bright and lively, endowed with blissful smiles and myriads of laughter from every and all, as though not a single fellow student had ever dealt with a fraction of an ounce of sadness. Even once in their lifetime. Grins were wide, from ear to ear, proud and eager, surely overcompensating for something I had accidentally overlooked. It was fake, they were fake, I pleaded silently with myself as I sauntered across the plush green lawn, books gripped tightly in hand and pressed against my chest this chilled morning en route to the headmistress’s office. The institute itself was structured as though a fortified castle and stretched into the heavens with grey and white walls of rough stone, with cobblestone paths winding from building to building.

It had to be facetious. I couldn’t conjure a single reason these strangers, these stressed, caffeine-driven college students, would discover any logical means to sustain themselves in such damn endless and potent happiness. And experiencing the equivalent of that intense joy was a task I, at least during the time of its presentation to me, thought impossible to mirror. To harbor emotions so deeply and genuinely without fear of an audience and their ever-growing, ever-changing opinion of me? Unthinkable. I was too immensely self-aware and had my emotion’s ease of access bled out of me years ago.

Yet there I stood before a porcelain sink as I straightened my tie, about an hour later, smiling vacantly at my reflection. It wasn’t as though we found or were gifted with something earning us the desire to carry these positive sensations, I determined with almost sickening immediacy. Somewhere inside me, my opinions were staunched, increasingly suffocated, natural reactions discarded absent of my commands. The giddy sentiments were so overbearingly strong, were forcibly commanded to be felt by our mind and hormones, and shared between everyone like a deadly virus — without permitting input from the various additional emotions humans held. Happiness consumed everything in its orbit, allowing itself alone to portray its glory upon our very faces at any and every waking moment.

No. I was nearly certain we were being drugged. My journey, my mission, was to determine why, how, and by whose hands.

The manner in which we could be subjected to any opiates or another drug of the same nature escaped me entirely and I accepted the unyielding weight as it lay resting on my shoulders. Over serving my life in the very hungry belly of Elder Beaconmire, I’d learned my preferences: It was enormously more rewarding to participate in an assignment one desires to witness unravel, one longs to see the result of. Besides, I had reasoned, it was likely due to the drug itself within our bodies that we lacked a reliable ability to recall any dire instances we may have been presented an opportunity to consume it. So where? Where could I have fallen victim to it, keen as I regarded my senses to be? An outsider aware of unusual and dangerous happenings?

Were the students given these drugs at mealtimes, mixed inside their food or drinks? Released through the vents and wafting from room to room, entering their lungs and bodily system like a haunting incubus? Injected with a syringe while they slumbered, unconscious to those awakened and prowling in the night with malicious intent to spread joy?

My chestnut hair rested sleepily unkempt upon my head as I allowed myself to remember the previous morning, a near lifetime ago:

“Priantierre,” my name had been barked sharply, like stinging venom, the bellowing voice drooping down from the Doyen’s balcony overlooking Elder’s hushed mess hall. She bore her stern gaze into me, through me, as murmurs fluttered about and eyes took to me with both bitter jealously and aggravated interest. I elected to, once again as I had for months now, ignore their attempts at evoking a reaction, and rose from the table I had been sitting at alone with just my older brother and sister.

Both were certainly less keen on concealing their worry regarding my summons than our lifelong peers. Sharing your life beside the same young men and women since birth, only to be pitted against one another in a daily battle of skills, decorum, and deftness proved to sever even the strongest of friendships and alliances.

“Hey,” my brother had mumbled dubiously with a wink before I could manage another step, “O Gracious Overlady has been ruthless since that recent accident. Don’t get wise with her today.”

“That had nothing to do with me, Illarion,” I defended.

“Like Hell it didn’t.” He scoffed lightly with a single wave of his hand. “Go, Priantierre, whatever. Trying to be supportive and offer caution. Forget it.”

My sister chimed in, her voice kept quiet. “Good luck, Priantierre. Tell us if it’s another task assignment this time, okay? Please don’t pack your things and disappear. Mother was devastated, you know. She didn’t need that coupled with,” she seemed to struggle for a moment. “Her illness.”

“Of course, Averniria,” I’d vowed hollowly, stalking away and towards our Doyen’s conference chambers. “I won’t leave without a goodbye.”

High walls loomed around me, lined with heavy tapestries. A grand fireplace warmed the room with a sensation differing greatly to that of the cold, blue sunbeams dancing upon the stone ground, distorted in their flow, and permitted entrance by the thick glass ceiling opened to the river above us. I’d be endlessly enraptured by the swaying swaths of light and their mesmerizing motions while within the confines of this space. Somehow, it was equally paired with prickling intimidation and a rising sense of unease that neither waned nor waxed despite my many visits, confrontations, and meetings I would be invited to attend. I had the cracks in the floors memorized, yet I still feared they’d swallow me whole.

Our Doyen then spoke as I stood myself before her, studying the puzzling manner in which she always somehow embraced both tragedy and benisons so intimately close to her. All while she proceeded to manage balancing her wholesome being with each and every person she was expected to portray — divide herself and her morals between the innumerable tasks of questionable ethics and values that befell her. Well, I resigned, she earned her title and position with ease and rusted elegance. And with her auburn hair and sparkling chocolate eyes, she kept most adolescent boys here on their toes, eager and dedicated to answer to her every order.

“Something arrived in our files that might be of preference to you, specifically,” she had been informing me before pressing a thin stack of crinkled papers bound in twine across her wooden desk.

My interest had instantly been piqued at the information they’d reserved the mission with knowledge I’d prefer it, however, needless to say it wasn’t quite a strenuous accomplishment to achieve. I proceeded to leaf through the sweetly scented pages, grinning to myself as I skimmed its contents. My grin fell just a second later.

A large percentage of partially visually impaired students. Professors with medical degrees. Toxins? Drugs? Unknown sources and methods. Students returning home, without having graduated, harmed with no recollection of who or what caused their injuries. Students never returning home whatsoever, and letters from parents, loved ones demanding to know what became of their children. Several lists of varying lengths consisting of those students’ names who fell under either circumstances.

“We’ve located an all-male college centered in the core of the Oxial Gardens. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?” Our Doyen continued as I read. My reply was a single, curt nod, urgency and confusion silently beginning to boil inside me. “We have reason to believe the members of the staff, whether its professors, custodians, or some third party, are somehow harming the attending students. Blinding them,” she clarified, her fists shaking at the disturbing details of the job. “There’s been far too many concerned reports for the abundance of recorded cases on file to be mere coincidence. We task to you the secure operation of infiltration and information gathering. But we stress no action is to be taken without our approval beforehand. If this concludes to be the worst case scenario, it will do you no favors to be caught where you cannot escape. Is that understood?”

“Of course.”

Despite the unfortunate situation surrounding it, my heart swelled at the notion of catching sight of the famous roses growing within the walls of the Garden with my own eyes. They were supposedly breathtaking, the blooms as crimson as blood and as large as a hand, fingers splayed and all. Fields and fields as far as one could see of those beautiful roses stretched across the land, lying just a short distance from the school grounds. Marriages were largely popular there, several hundred a year, I believed I had once studied, and visitors flew by plane or traveled by ship for such a sightly tour. Botanists flourished both in research and vivacity, a faultless vacation destination for lovers of flowers and shrubs and trees, flocked as though it was a holy site of sanctity and redemption for sinners or nonbelievers discovering the warmth and freedom of faith.

“You will have no companion beside you but those you make inside those buildings,” she’d guided me with finality towards the door. “Examine these papers. Know them better than your life. I grant you permission to keep contact with your family during your time away. I doubt it would draw unwanted attention to you. We’re giving you two months, sixty days, to complete this. However, with your history and skills, I expect it solved within half that time.”

Her words dripped from my lips softly as I allowed my finished tie to drop back down to my chest. “Yes,” I spoke to myself as I had to her that day, “your bidding is my blessing.”

—

I meandered my way across the large, plush lawn of the campus once more, enjoying the softness beneath my shoes as opposed to the rough and rigid stone floors of Elder’s main thoroughfares. Students huddled together in small study groups under the shade of tall oak trees or near bushes of sweet smelling rose bushes, or lay splayed with books and papers about them, dozing and relaxing before class. The light grey jackets of our uniform were scattered, mingling dots among one another as distant as I could observe, sharing laughter and smiles and conversation.

I understood then, in a rush of trepidation, I’d been the lone soul wandering without a friend or entourage — a surefire method to gathering that undesired attention to myself the Doyen had warned me against. I had received an abundance of distasteful glances and glares, envy doused remarks and scorns back between the walls and under the waves of my home, and sincerely pleaded not to find myself in the same predicament here. At the moment, I reveled in the knowledge that I was a stranger. A nameless face in the crowd. A single body amongst many.

My schedule lay squished in my classwork folder, and suddenly, like a ton of bricks, my heart slumped heavily at the notion I’d be a student. Regarded as a normal, functioning college freshman, a local boy from a local town, seeking mere education for the upcoming, unknown and terrifying chapters of his life. That was the role I was expected to flawlessly portray for these two months. I was no longer Priantierre of Elder Beaconmire, and had been stripped to simply Prian Chesnokov, a transfer student hailing from the neighboring country of Russia. It had been decided by the Doyens my silvery hair was to be dyed the more natural color of brown, to effortlessly blend in and camouflage with my new peers and I had been reluctant to conform. It was the lone attribute I possessed reflective of my sickly mother.

My absent, unpleasant attempt at a human facial expression must have morphed into some defeated glower, as I appeared to have caught the distressed scrutiny of another boy who’d been hovering over a textbook on a nearby bench. The aerated drug I may have caught a drift of earlier perhaps wore off, I thought, that’s the reason I don’t feel insanely amiable. Assuming, of course, my conjecture was correct on the matter and it was indeed a stimulant of some sort. The informational packet I kept stored away held blank spaces and potholes, and I sincerely began to wonder if I could perfect every piece they were lacking, or if I was merely expected to fill in only the absolutely necessary gaps.

I carried myself a touch more hurriedly as the stranger stood with just as much haste as I had adopted. “Excuse me?” He called out. His voice was sweet, calm, if not rather panicked at the moment, and resonated with me the memory of choir and churches. “Are you doing alright? You seem troubled, is there a way I could maybe assist you?”

Words fought in my throat as I continued swiftly. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine, but your concern is admirable. I really must be heading to class.”

With a world-shattering disappointment, and a dainty wisp of his fingers past mine in an effort to halt my escape, I realized he’d covered the distance I created between us with undying determination. He was hunched over, hands on his knees and breathing deeply as I pivoted to study my relentless pursuer.

“You walked about half the front of the school to catch up to me.” I frowned. “Can I help you with something? I told you I’m alright. I promise. Just a late starter trying to memorize the grounds before I find my way down a sewer grate somewhere.”

The stranger chuckled at this and stood upright, and I was able to analyze him much more closely. Jet black hair with a pair of small, round obsidian earrings, skin kissed with a warm tan, and a build similar to my own with slender shoulders and a fine waist. Yet he was taller than me, grinning wide, and I stood before him growing threatened by his mere forthright and mindlessly considerate manners. The minute stains on his wrist cuffs explained writer, where he favored blue inked pens, his thin calloused fingers suggested he’d mastered the violin or cello some years ago and hasn’t placed it down since.

“My name is Thomas,” he informed me simply, then inhaled slowly to calm himself. “Yes, I was worried about you because of your face and how,” he grappled with himself, then changed his mind. “You looked constipated, I’m sorry. You don’t anymore, which I’m really glad about. But I was nervous when I first saw you, then I thought maybe you were lost and that I could help you find your way. You still look sort of ill. Could I get your name?”

I wanted to die.

Was that a pickup line? I sensed danger, of somewhat homosexual proportions, and I cursed myself for my unique name for what I imagined was the very first time of my entire life. “No,” I blurted.

He was crestfallen, but managed to save his smile. “Okay. I’m sorry. Could I escort you somewhere then? Maybe the nurse, or even your class if you’re having trouble getting there easily. The campus is rather huge, and even took me a week to find my own bedroom. You could imagine how foolish I felt,” he chuckled.

“No. Thank you. I have to know where I’m headed without guidance. You won’t always be there for me,” I attempted lightly, as nausea sprouted inside me. I had to vacate immediately. I’d requested an additional audience with the headmistress, both as an excuse to wander the corridors, and in hopes to gather a second glimpse at her office and the layout I’m expected to have committed to recollection.

“Oh, but I could be,” he offered gently, with a bit too much amorous urgency. “May I just say that you caught my eyes for more than just how nauseated and angry you looked. You…” he allowed himself an entire glance up and down my body at least three times. I felt myself retreat a step. “Well, you’re beautiful, lost stranger.”

A rose, plump and the deepest red of love and adoration, suddenly sat in his grip, outstretched to me. A love confession? “Listen,” I began, and, as tenderly as I could manage, guided the rose back to him. “This isn’t a Western movie, and I appreciate your gesture. Honestly, I do. But I’m a freshman and I can’t subject myself to distractions like love and relationships. I have to focus every moment on school and homework.” I presented a kindhearted smile as well. “My parents would kill me if I get anything less than top grades,” I added for measure, begging with every deity and divinity alive and ruling that Thomas would accept my declination, depart the way he’d come.

His eyes certainly teared at their corners, yet he nodded. “Of course. Please, just at the very least, graciously take the flower to your dorm. Maybe by the window in a vase, so I’ll know where to find you again?”

I’m not interested. “It’d be my pleasure. I’ll do so upon my arrival.”

Thomas beamed at me as though I was the Sun, Moon and Stars. After a shy moment’s hesitation, he tossed me another kind smile and nodded again, slinging his bag back over his shoulder to begin walking, thankfully, away from me. I sighed listlessly as I observed the rose, my upset over the whole ordeal deepening at the perfection he’d gifted to me. With my own eyes and in photographs, computers, television or otherwise, I’d never seen a flower so flawlessly crafted by nature. It would be a heavy crime to discard of it, truly.

A large piece of me yearned to sustain its life as the stranger wished of me to do, never witness its petals shrivel or its stem bend under its own weight. The fragrance was sweet and bold, and I found myself gazing at the place Thomas had been standing patiently mere seconds ago. Guilt slammed into me. I longed for his return so I could express my more sincere gratitude than what I had presented him with. There wasn’t a purpose to my chilled words, how readily I turned from him, turned him from me, as he had only meant the very best.

Well. It’s done, and I could no longer locate him in the scattered sea of grey uniforms even if I agonizingly endeavored to. I dropped the rose to my side, wondering then where I’d come across a vase accessible for student use, and ambled on to the headmistress’s office, allowing myself to regain focus to my original obligation. If I was to gather the information Elder sought, why shouldn’t I begin at the very heavens of this towering totem pole? As far as I was concerned, Thomas wasn’t even a piece of a carving let alone a face on the pillar.

[sickdaysofficial]

Sick Days 4.0 – The Good Samaritan

Story submitted by @Jojowitesstuff

I think this does not need a trigger warning. Contains mentions of injuries but nothing graphic

Characters:  Hazel & Raya (Both my OCs)

I have been struggling with today’s prompt because all my characters either know each other or wouldn’t be interacting with one another. So this is set in the past, when Hazel and Raya first met so they don’t really know each other much for most of the fic. It’s kind of double cheating because of this and because it’s actually an old fic I wrote a while ago. You can find it here

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Hazel was frazzled. In more ways than one, which honestly made sense since ‘stressed’ was her default mode. She’d just started medical school at Stanford, and she had to convince herself every day not to drop out. It had been her dream for years to be a doctor, she’d finished top in her class at Columbia and gotten a near perfect score on her MCAT, but at Stanford, everyone was smart. Everyone was as good as her, and she was constantly fearing she’d fall behind. She’d had her first observation in the hospital- a case so rare that it required surgery, which she then was allowed to sit in on. She’d gotten copies of the patients x-rays, and was rushing to pick them up from the copy shop before settling in for a study marathon. On her way in- reviewing terms on her phone at lightning speed- she almost didn’t see the girl before her, standing near the door. “Sorry,” she said, looking up and pushing the rim of her glasses up, trying not to stare.

“Hm? Oh it’s fine, I was kind of standing in the way,” Raya said as the slightly shorter girl almost bumped into her. She just got her first article published and even provided the photos for it which she was getting printed to keep along with a copy of the article. It was an unusually busy day so there was a bit of a line at the counter. She stepped to the side, allowing the girl a little more room.

“You’re fine,” she smiled, standing behind her, and praying the blush on her cheeks would fade. Her foot tapped impatiently as the line moved slowly, her eyes still reading articles so fast they almost blurred. Raya was glancing back at the girl behind her a few times while the line moved​ slowly. Eventually it was her turn. Giving her order number the store assistant quickly headed to the back, soon returning with her prints. She thanked him and paid before stepping to the side, out of the line to check her prints over.

Hazel gave them her number after Raya was done with her order and got her prints quickly, genuinely smiling for the first time in days when she saw them. The contrast was excellent, the tumors clearly visible, and if she positioned it in light, the careful shading of the x-ray could be seen perfectly. Looking up from her prints Raya could see the x-rays in Hazel’s hands. She squinted slightly, trying to figure out what it was. When she noticed that Hazel caught her staring she looked away for a split second, “That’s definitely not the kind of print I’d expected someone like you to get,” she said with a light chuckle Hazel jumped slightly when Raya spoke. “Oh, they’re just- it was my first case, really rare tumor condition… I just wanted the scans to commemorate it,” she stammered. “Someone like me?”

“Case? So you’re a doctor?” Raya asked, “Makes sense. Why else would you get prints of some strange x-rays? Don’t think they’d make a good wall decor.” “Med student, actually,” Hazel responded  with a light smile, slipping the papers into the large folder. “And I beg to differ- they’ll look great next to my 18th century brain sketches.” “I…m not even going to ask.” Raya shook her head, yet there was clearly some amusement in her voice. “Alright doc, so brains and weird tumors are your thing, hm?”  "That just about sums me up,“ Hazel laughed. “Neurologic oncology, best field there is.”

“So brain tumors, I assume? Sounds tough.” Raya said. “Still, brains on the wall would honestly creep me out.” she joined Hazel’s laughter. “Yeah, it’s a probably the hardest specialty in medicine- which is my cue to hole myself up again and keep studying, I’ve got an exam on Wednesday.” It was just Saturday but Hazel was never one to socialize much, especially now as she was so swamped with preparations for her exam and studying in general.

“Well then, good luck with the brains, doc.” Raya teased with a smile. “Maybe we’ll meet again.” “Maybe,” Hazel smirked before walking out. She was true to her word, and studied rigorously all night. It wasn’t until after the test, that Thursday, when she was working in the hospital again, in the ER.

“I told you it’s nothing, I’m fine.” Raya grumbled, yet she allowed her friend to help her hobble into the waiting area. “Ray, you just called me to come pick you up because a goddamn building crashed above you,” the blonde scolded her with a shake of her head. “Wasn’t a building, the floor just gave away.” “Bad enough.” “Come on, it’s just some cuts and bruises,” Raya tried to reason “And I kept the camera safe, maybe some of the shots even turned out good enough.”

Cassie remained in the waiting area when a nurse led Raya to the examination room. Hazel checked the board, and went to exam room 3. “Hello, I’m Dr. Leventhall, what brings you in today?” She asked, not looking up as she was writing on her clipboard. Seeing the girl, now clad in scrubs enter the room Raya immediately recognized her. “Well, and so we meet again, doc.” she couldn’t help but smirk. She looked up and her face turned scarlet, her mouth open. “Under unfortunate circumstances- what happened?” She asked, her professional air somewhat diminished. “Short version, I crashed - literally,” Raya said, trying to discreetly fix herself up a bit, hiding some evidence of her accident. “Long story, been photographing some old ruin and one of the floors gave away, Took the very direct way down from the second to the first floor.”

Hazel’s eyes widened. “Lie back,” she instructed quickly. “Where does it hurt? You could have gotten concussed or broken bones,” she started. “It’s okay, just some cuts and bruises I think.” Raya cut her off but slowly lay back nonetheless, trying not to wince. “A friend insisted on dragging me here.” “She was right to do so,” Hazel said as she walked over, her hands going to her abdomen, immediately checking for internal injuries. “Tell me if it hurts when I press.” Raya nodded, her eyes still on Hazel when she began to examine her. “Doesn’t really hurt there. I think it was just my shoulder and my hip that got a little beat up during the fall,” she told her

“Okay, let me take a look at them- sit up for me now,” she said, whipping out her stethoscope and checking her breathing. “Deep breath,” she instructed. Raya did as she was told or at least tried to. Trying to take a deep she slightly curled in on herself, sucking in some air. With a muttered “Ow…” she slowly uncurled, apologizing. “Okay, I’m gonna schedule an x-ray, I’m hearing decreased breath sounds,” Hazel said, looping her stethoscope back around her neck. “Nothing major but you might’ve fractured a rib- it would cause referred pain in your shoulder too. Is it okay- I mean, can I see your hip now?”

Raya deflated at the diagnosis. “Great, just what I needed.” she grumbled. “Okay, do I need to get up?” “Just slide the waistband of your pants down- cute jeans, by the way,” she remarked, hoping it would help mask the flame of her face. She knew it must be scarlet, and she was cursing herself silently. “Now, aren’t you trying to take advantage of the situation, doc?“ Raya teased with a light chuckle. “Those jeans were nicer when they weren’t all torn.” she mumbled and carefully pulled her pants down to reveal her hip. “Please, I’m a professional,” Hazel said- that had been the mantra repeating in her head over and over. She felt the tender flesh of the area, already seeing a dark bruise forming. “Sorry for the cold hands,” she apologized.

“With a professional shade of pink on your cheeks.” Raya added with a knowing wink, hissing when Hazel examined her injuries. “It’s hot in here,” she said, a bold lie. “Sure.” Raya nodded, smirking. She immediately saw through the lie.“Anyway, your hip seems fine, bruised and maybe sprained but unless I see broken bones on the X-ray, I can’t do much,” Hazel explained. “I’ll get an orderly to take you to radiology, I’ll be back to check your scans after.” “So just like I said all along, some cuts and bruises but nothing that needs medical attention.” Raya remarked.

Hazel shook her head. “I want to get a full chest x-ray, I don’t think anything is serious but I’d hate to let you walk out of here and have something happen.” She was writing on the chart before looking up. “Can I talk to whoever took you in?” Raya nodded again, sincerely this time. “Blonde girl with a pink fringe in the waiting room, can’t miss her,” she told her. Hazel hummed. “Alright, see you soon,” she said, ducking out as an orderly went to take the girl- Raya, according to the chart- to radiology. She did see her immediately, and went over to talk to her, introducing herself.

“You’re the doctor who checked Raya over, I guess.” Cassie said. “I’m Cassie, the one who dragged her reckless ass in here. How bad is it?” Hazel laughed. “She’s fine, but you were right to bring her in- she may have a fractured rib, I’ve got her getting a chest x-ray now,” she said. “Nothing to really worry about, she looks good to me.” Cassie sighed in relief. “Thank god. I swear one day she’s going to get herself killed.” “Are you her girlfriend or something?” Hazel asked, hoping to be inconspicuous. “Hm? Oh no, she’s my best friend, we’ve been hanging out since we were kids.” Cassie explained. “I can give you her mother’s number if you need a relative to sign any papers or something.” she continued, assuming that’s why she asked “I’m not admitting her at this point, there’s not much to sign,” Hazel replied, shaking her head. “Do you- uh, you know what, nevermind,” she said, backtracking on her thoughts. “I’m gonna go, see if her scans came up- good talking to you.” She shook her hand, internally wincing at how crazy she must seem. Cassie was a little confused about the doctor’s odd behavior but didn’t think much of it, figuring that she probably had a hectic day.

Raya was already waiting for Hazel to come back with the results of her x-rays when she came through the door. “Alright, so I was right- sixth rib has got a hairline fracture,” she said right as she walked in, holding it up to the light. “The good news is it’s so small I can’t really do anything, it’ll heal quickly on its own. Just no straining activities for about three weeks.”

“Good. So that means I am free to go?” Raya asked, hopping off the chair she was sitting in, her body immediately reminding her why she was there in the first place. “Damn!” she grunted through the pain. “Whoa, take it easy,” Hazel said, rushing forward and placing her hands on the other girl’s arms. “I’m writing you something for the pain, just in case Advil isn’t strong enough, and if you have any difficulty breathing, coughing, wheezing, or chest pain, you need to get back here right away,” she said strictly.

Raya nodded and stood up straight, or at least as straight as she could. “Doctor’s orders, hm? I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay. Thanks though.” she paused, a smirk growing on her face. “And uh, you’re not going to put that x-ray on your wall, right?” she teased. Hazel’s face flushed again. “Please, it’s not nearly interesting enough to make the wall,” she quipped back. “I’m sorry to disappoint. But I rather keep my bones in the right place so no wall art from this one.” Raya joked. “Gotta stick to the brains, doc.” “Oh I’ll try. Now, part of me hopes I won’t see you again- or at least not here.”

“Personally I would not mind to see you again but not under such circumstances.” Raya said without really thinking about her words. “I mean… You know” Hazel raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know actually, some elaboration would be appreciated,” she said with a light smirk. “Oh come on, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one, being a doctor and all?” Raya chuckled. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again when I am not a bruised up mess”

Hazel reached into the pocket of her scrubs. “Here’s my card,” she said. “And trust me- you’re the exact opposite of a mess.” She handed the card over, her cell and work numbers printed on it. "Are you trying to hit on me, doc? That’s not very professional.” Raya teased, taking the card. Hazel’s eyes widened momentarily, fearing she’d misinterpreted the girl’s flirting. “I meant that I see patients much worse off than you- the card is if something happens and you’re too stubborn to come in again,” she said quickly, only stammering slightly.

“Chill, it’s okay. I completely understood.” Raya winked. “So get ready for prank calls.” she quipped. Hazel laughed, feeling some of her tension ease. She was just about to respond when her pager beeped, and she took one look at it before bolting. “I gotta-” she paused at the door, unsure of how to leave the situation. “Go save lives, do your thing. I’ll call you” Raya smiled. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why but she felt herself drawn to the girl, curious to get to know more about her. “Thank you,” she managed, before sprinting down the hall, her coat tails flying behind her.

[dimplekyu-archive]

Catch U (Yoon Jisung x Reader) Part 2

Genre: Fluff, College/University!AU, Coffee Shop/Cafe!AU, gender neutral

Word count: 3,154

Warnings: none

Crossposted on AO3 here

Read Part 1 here

Chapter description: You and Jisung meet again over a cup of hot chocolate, but maybe not in the way you would think.

When you met him again in winter, you had honestly given up on ever seeing him again. To him, you thought, meeting you must have just been a fleeting fall moment, a distraction to pass the time. It had been months, and you thought that he probably wouldn’t remember you if you met him now, or that he would but that he wouldn’t remember it with the same dearness you did. To you, the chances of that being the case almost made it better not to see him again, to leave that encounter and that person as a bright spot in your memory, and nothing more.

You had kept the leaf, though, laminating it in the school’s machine so that it wouldn’t fall apart. You told yourself it wasn’t because it was the only evidence you had that that day even happened, but because there was a chance that because he gave the leaf to you, the leaf would grant you happiness the next year anyway, even if that was not how the saying went originally. And it wasn’t like you carried it around or anything like a picture of a long lost sibling. It was just in your drawer in your dorm room. You thought by putting it there you would forget about it, but even though it was now mid-January, you thought of that day often. You had friends, it wasn’t like the interaction was special because you didn’t interact with many people. It was just…there was something about him. You didn’t know what it was, but you wanted to see him again and figure it out.

You also knew that this was a bit ridiculous. It didn’t stop you from spontaneously remembering that day every so often, however, but you were sure that would fade after a few more months, and you would forget him just like he and probably forgotten you. Perhaps if you left the leaf in your drawer, at the end of the year when you were going through your belongings, you would pull it out and look at it wonderingly, not remembering how you acquired it. Perhaps you would remember that someone gave it to you, but not who, or when, or why you kept it. For some reason, the thought of that made you a little sad, and you weren’t sure why.

Late January was the snowiest part of the year where your university was located, but it wasn’t terribly cold, and you liked snow, so it was one of your favorite parts of the year, although you hadn’t seen the spring here yet, so you couldn’t say it was actually your favorite for sure.

Classes had ended for the day, so you began your trek back to your dormitory, shuffling through the snow that came up around your ankles. It had been snowing all day, and the sidewalks hadn’t been cleared since that morning, so it took a bit more effort than you would have liked to make it back to your dormitory, and although it wasn’t terribly cold to go for a short walk, the campus was fairly large and by the time you came to the square of dormitories where yours was located, the tips of your fingers, toes, nose, and ears were all either numb or stinging. Luckily, between your square of dormitories and the next, there was a coffee shop. Eager to hasten the process of warming back up, you headed there.

You swung open the door and were greeted with the soft tinkle of a bell, a rush of lovely warm air, and the smell of freshly-brewed drinks. You smiled in contentment, stepping inside, stamping off the snow from your boots on the entry carpet, removing your gloves and stuffing those in your coat pocket, which you then removed along with your scarf, hanging them up on the hooks by the door before walking over to the counter.

Even though this coffee shop was located close to your dorm, you had never actually been here before. You didn’t really drink coffee, and you kept the cold drinks you liked in your mini fridge so that you weren’t tempted to spend unnecessary money. Normally, you weren’t a big fan of hot drinks besides the tea you could make in your own dormitory, but all this snow and cold had given you an odd craving for hot chocolate, and you had never warmed up to the kind you could make out of a packet.

You scanned the shop’s menu, finding, to your pleasant surprise, a mini-menu composed of just different types of hot chocolate. There was caramel hot chocolate, dark chocolate hot chocolate, milk chocolate hot chocolate, marshmallow swirl hot chocolate, hazelnut hot chocolate…the list went on for longer than you would have expected it to. But then again, you figured enough people came here for hot chocolate for it to be popular enough to deserve a menu of its own.

“Are you ready to order?”

You were snapped out of your hot chocolate-inspired revelry by the voice of the barista working the counter. “Sorry for startling you, first time here? The drink options can be kind of overwhelming if you haven’t been here before. Can I help you choose?”

“Ah, yeah,” your words stumble out. “Which hot chocolate flavor would you recommend? There’s so many…”

The barista chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’re actually the fifth person to ask me that this shift. And which is the best actually depends on who’s making the coffee. Right now, that would be Jisung. I’d say the one he makes the best is the marshmallow swirl hot chocolate, so I’d recommend that one.”

You smile at the barista’s method of recommending drinks. “And which one do you make best then..” You look down at the barista’s name tag. “Sungwoon?”

Sungwoon laughs loudly at your question, obviously surprised. “No one’s ever asked me that before. There’s a reason I work the counter unless there’s no one else to make the drinks, I’m not that great at it.” You look at him expectantly, still wanting an answer to your question. Sungwoon stares back, but breaks first in your little staring contest. “Fine. If you must know, I make a mean hazelnut hot chocolate. If you’re really that curious, you should come back on a Sunday morning. It’s the only regularly scheduled time they let me anywhere near the drinks,” the barista says jokingly. “So what’ll it be then? Sorry, but you’ll have to settle for Jisung’s hot chocolate instead of mine, since he’s making the drinks right now.”

You look back up at the menu, and are overwhelmed once again by the unusually long list, and although you already forgot which type Sungwoon said the guy in the kitchen made best, you just smiled at him over the counter, replying with a “Then I’ll take what you recommended.”

“Good choice!” Sungwoon exclaims with a wink, ringing your order up in the cash register, then looking back at you. You pay, and Sungwoon asks you if you would like it for here or to go. While you were originally planning on getting the drink and returning to your room, this place is nice and warm, has relaxing music, a charming atmosphere, and a perfect view of the gently falling snow. “For here, please,” you reply with a smile.

“Alrighty!” Sungwoon exclaims. “We’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready. For now, just find a place to sit, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, going to sit down by the window.

As you look outside at the falling snow, you are hit suddenly with memories of that day again, the leaves falling around you like snow, swirling in the breeze. A voice calling out to you, you turning around, and then seeing Him. You didn’t believe in love at first sight (after all, love is built on communication, how two personalities interact, and the way people interact with each other, not seeing someone), but you had to admit that moment was like something from a cheesy movie.

And him. It’s not like he was particularly stunning, at least not in a conventional way, but the way his eyes wrinkled when he smiled at you, and the way he helped you after realizing he had caused you to miss your leaf, did tug at your heartstrings a bit, you had to admit that. And it’s not like you would ever see him again (after all, there were thousands of people on this campus), but if you did, or had you met under different circumstances, you would have to admit that he was at least kind of your type, and that you would have given him a chance had he asked you out on a date.

You rest your chin on your palm, staring out at the snow with a sigh. You were becoming hopelessly romantic again. The sort of stuff you were hoping for didn’t happen in real life. People didn’t hear bells when they saw the person they would spend their life with for the first time. Soulmates didn’t exist. If you were hoping for a fairy-tale romance, you weren’t going to get it. While you had heard stories of people who said that their love was like one out of a story, those were the absolute few-and-far-between, exceptions to the rule in a reality where love didn’t always work out, and people ended up being different than you expected them to be. Who knows, you thought to yourself, that guy could be a real douche-bag for all I know. He could be a thief, or anything really. You were with him for literally like half an hour. Let it go. Why won’t you?

“You’re the one that ordered the hot chocolate, right?”

You’re brought to the present by the question. By the blurry reflection in the window, you can tell the person is wearing the coffee shop’s uniform, and is here to bring you your order. You turn around to say that yes, you were indeed the one who ordered the hot chocolate, but the words were taken out of your mouth by the sight before you.

It was him.

You looked at him in wonder, thinking for a brief second that you were in some odd continuation of your daydream before dismissing that as ridiculous. But this was definitely him, the guy from the forest that day. While he had been smiling at you before you turned around, after a second his expression began to match yours. You could see the recognition light up his eyes, his mouth slightly agape like yours. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, then the guy opened his mouth to say something.

Before he could voice whatever he was going to say, and before you could even identify what seeing him again even made you feel, he must have taken his attention away from the drink on the tray balanced in his hand, because it began to tip. Admittedly, you had forgotten about it too, but you weren’t the one holding a hot drink. You watched, almost in slow motion, and the center of balance on the tray tilted too far toward you, and as the hot chocolate tipped over the edge of the tray. The guy saw it too, because he reached out to try to catch it, horror crossing his features, but it was too late. Instead, the hot chocolate spilled all over you, the cup landing in your lap.

You shot up immediately, the mug smashing against the floor, as you tried to get the hot liquid off of you. Letting out a string of oh nos, the guy ran toward the back, presumably to get help or towels or something, leaving you trying to pull your jeans and shirt as far away from your skin as possible, the hot chocolate burning your skin. The boy quickly returned with both Sungwoon and towels and a bucket of water. He frantically dipped the towels in what you could now see was ice water, handing them to you first before pressing some against your legs. The towels felt great on your skin, counteracting the burning hot drink that had been spilled on you. After a few minutes of this, you started feeling normal again, albeit very wet, both from hot chocolate and water.

Sungwoon and the guy who spilled said hot chocolate on you were still fussing over trying to keep you from getting burned, however. “I think I’m okay now,” you muttered, causing the two guys to look up at you from their places on the floor. “Are you sure?” Sungwoon asked worriedly, while the other frantically apologized at the same time. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, “It doesn’t feel hot anymore. I’m just wet,” you say with a soft laugh. It doesn’t seem to help assuage leaf boy’s fears however, as he keeps apologizing. “No, really, it’s okay, mistakes happen,” you try to assure him, but he is not buying it. “You could have been seriously burned! I’m such an idiot! Sungwoon always said to hold the tray with both hands…”

Sungwoon’s gaze immediately turned to the other with piercing intensity. “You weren’t holding the tray with both hands?” When he doesn’t get a reply, he becomes even angrier. “Jisung! Really? This is a coffee shop, not an Italian restaurant!”

So that was his name. Jisung.

“…Right? Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

You realize you had just missed something Sungwoon said. “What?”

“I said you can’t walk back to your dorm like this! It’s crazy cold outside! You’ll freeze to death if you go outside soaking wet!” He glares at Jisung. “How are we supposed to dry her off, huh?”

You don’t really want to get involved in this fight. “No…really…it’s okay, my dorm is just over there, it’s fine if I walk…”

“No it’s not,” Jisung breaks in. “I might not be able to lend you any pants, but you can at least borrow my hoodie I wore to work. I promise it doesn’t smell bad or anything, and it’s better than walking back in a wet shirt.”

He has a point.

“Is it really okay…?” You ask cautiously. “Won’t you be cold instead?”

Jisung waves his hands in a dismissive gesture. “No, no, no, I have a coat too, it’ll be fine. Please, just take it? I can’t let you walk back like this.” He looks really upset, and is making a pouty face that makes you almost feel like you were the one who spilled coffee on him. Honestly, you’d do almost anything to get him to stop making that face.

“Okay, I guess that’s fine…” You trail off, and Jisung stands up. “Okay then, I’ll take you back to the employee area where you can change.”

You follow Jisung to the back, where he unlocks one of the lockers, pulling out a pink sweatshirt and handing it over to you. “I’m gonna go clean up that mess, you can change into this, just come out when you’re done.” He turns to leave, but then stops and turns back to you. “And, um, you can leave your shirt there,” he says, pointing to a chair. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you.” He doesn’t give you time to protest, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

Now that you’re alone, the events of the past fifteen minutes start to sink in, and you can’t help but let out a “What even just happened…” Deciding you don’t have time to process it all right now, you take your wet, coffee-stained shirt off and put Jisung’s pink sweatshirt on. It’s surprisingly soft, and smells like lavender fabric softener. Well, it’s clean, you think to yourself, stepping out of the employee area and back into the main area where you are met with both Jisung and Sungwoon looking at you. Pink dusts Jisung’s cheeks, but you aren’t sure whether it comes from the embarrassment of recent events, the exertion of running across the restaurant, or something else. Maybe it’s because you’re wearing his sweatshirt, an unknown part of your mind whispers to you. You immediately squash the thought, not even sure why you would think that.

You start edging toward the door when Jisung walks up to you. “It’s the end of my shift. Can I walk you back to your room?” You hesitate, not sure what to make of that proposition. “I mean, I just feel really bad, and what if something else happened to you and you got hurt or something? I just want to make sure you get back safe.”

You don’t see any harm in that, so you reluctantly agree. After you have both put on your winter gear, Jisung having retrieved his backpack from the employee room, you both step out into the cold. Jisung, true to his word, follows you back to your dorm. “I live on the fourth floor,” you say once you get to the dorm, and Jisung simply nods.

You walk down the hallway until you reach your room, turning to Jisung. “Well, this is it… Have a good night,” you say, unlocking your door and beginning to step inside, not even thinking of asking the boy you’d been thinking about for months for contact info or even his last name. Luckily, Jisung thinks to, if only for practical reasons. “Wait,” he calls out. “Can I have your phone number?”

You being you, for some reason think this is some kind of flirtation, and blush. “So I can return your shirt to you,” Jisung clarifies, seeing you turn slightly red. “Oh,” you say stupidly. You give him your phone number, then bid him goodnight again. “Thanks for lending me your sweatshirt.”

Jisung blushes again. “No, it’s my fault, I;m the one who spilled hot chocolate all over you, remember?”

“Please don’t keep worrying about that. I’m fine, mistakes happen, and you’ve done more than enough.”

Jisung lets out a sigh. “Okay. I was afraid you’d be angry. Well, I guess I should go…”

“Okay,” you reply awkwardly. “Be careful getting back to your room.”

“Yeah,” Jisung replies, similarly awkwardly. “I will. Have a good night.”

“You too.” You close the door to your room, just standing there for a minute to collect your thoughts. You hadn’t expected to meet him again, and especially not this way. Honestly, you weren’t sure what to make of it. You got ready for bed, putting Jisung’s sweater on top of the dirty clothes to be washed, brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas.

Later that night, as you were about to drift off to sleep, it hit you that in order for Jisung to return your shirt to you, and for you to return his sweater, you would certainly have to meet again.

When you fall asleep, it is with a smile on the edges of your lips.

Author notes: Wow, this chapter was a lot longer than the first. I hope you liked this chapter, and if you did please leave me an ask or a reply to this post, it really helps keep me writing. :)

[jojowritesstuff]

A couple of days ago I got an ask about how Hazel and Raya met, didn’t really give much of an answer because I did not want to give spoilers for this short fic.

Co-written with the original creator of Hazel.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Hazel was frazzled. In more ways than one, which honestly made sense since 'stressed' was her default mode. She'd just started medical school at Stanford, and she had to convince herself every day not to drop out. It had been her dream for years to be a doctor, she'd finished top in her class at Columbia and gotten a near perfect score on her MCAT, but at Stanford, everyone was smart. Everyone was as good as her, and she was constantly fearing she'd fall behind. She'd had her first observation in the hospital- a case so rare that it required surgery, which she then was allowed to sit in on. She'd gotten copies of the patients x-rays, and was rushing to pick them up from the copy shop before settling in for a study marathon. On her way in- reviewing terms on her phone at lightning speed- she almost didn't see the girl before her, standing near the door. "Sorry," she said, looking up and pushing the rim of her glasses up, trying not to stare.

 "Hm? Oh it's fine, I was kind of standing in the way," Raya said as the slightly shorter girl almost bumped into her. She just got her first article published and even provided the photos for it which she was getting printed to keep along with a copy of the article. It was an unusually busy day so there was a bit of a line at the counter. She stepped to the side, allowing the girl a little more room.

 "You're fine," she smiled, standing behind her, and praying the blush on her cheeks would fade. Her foot tapped impatiently as the line moved slowly, her eyes still reading articles so fast they almost blurred. Raya was glancing back at the girl behind her a few times while the line moved​ slowly. Eventually it was her turn. Giving her order number the store assistant quickly headed to the back, soon returning with her prints. She thanked him and paid before stepping to the side, out of the line to check her prints over.

 Hazel gave them her number after Raya was done with her order and got her prints quickly, genuinely smiling for the first time in days when she saw them. The contrast was excellent, the tumors clearly visible, and if she positioned it in light, the careful shading of the x-ray could be seen perfectly. Looking up from her prints Raya could see the x-rays in Hazel's hands. She squinted slightly, trying to figure out what it was. When she noticed that Hazel caught her staring she looked away for a split second, "That's definitely not the kind of print I'd expected someone like you to get," she said with a light chuckle Hazel jumped slightly when Raya spoke. "Oh, they're just- it was my first case, really rare tumor condition... I just wanted the scans to commemorate it," she stammered. "Someone like me?"

 "Case? So you're a doctor?" Raya asked, "Makes sense. Why else would you get prints of some strange x-rays? Don't think they'd make a good wall decor." "Med student, actually," Hazel responded  with a light smile, slipping the papers into the large folder. "And I beg to differ- they'll look great next to my 18th century brain sketches." "I...m not even going to ask." Raya shook her head, yet there was clearly some amusement in her voice. "Alright doc, so brains and weird tumors are your thing, hm?"  "That just about sums me up," Hazel laughed. "Neurologic oncology, best field there is."

 "So brain tumors, I assume? Sounds tough." Raya said. "Still, brains on the wall would honestly creep me out." she joined Hazel's laughter. "Yeah, it's a probably the hardest specialty in medicine- which is my cue to hole myself up again and keep studying, I've got an exam on Wednesday." It was just Saturday but Hazel was never one to socialize much, especially now as she was so swamped with preparations for her exam and studying in general.

 "Well then, good luck with the brains, doc." Raya teased with a smile. "Maybe we'll meet again." "Maybe," Hazel smirked before walking out. She was true to her word, and studied rigorously all night. It wasn't until after the test, that Thursday, when she was working in the hospital again, in the ER.

 "I told you it's nothing, I'm fine." Raya grumbled, yet she allowed her friend to help her hobble into the waiting area. "Ray, you just called me to come pick you up because a goddamn building crashed above you," the blonde scolded her with a shake of her head. "Wasn't a building, the floor just gave away." "Bad enough." "Come on, it's just some cuts and bruises," Raya tried to reason "And I kept the camera safe, maybe some of the shots even turned out good enough."

 Cassie remained in the waiting area when a nurse led Raya to the examination room. Hazel checked the board, and went to exam room 3. "Hello, I'm Dr. Leventhall, what brings you in today?" She asked, not looking up as she was writing on her clipboard. Seeing the girl, now clad in scrubs enter the room Raya immediately recognized her. "Well, and so we meet again, doc." she couldn't help but smirk. She looked up and her face turned scarlet, her mouth open. "Under unfortunate circumstances- what happened?" She asked, her professional air somewhat diminished. "Short version, I crashed - literally," Raya said, trying to discreetly fix herself up a bit, hiding some evidence of her accident. "Long story, been photographing some old ruin and one of the floors gave away, Took the very direct way down from the second to the first floor."

 Hazel’s eyes widened. "Lie back," she instructed quickly. "Where does it hurt? You could have gotten concussed or broken bones," she started. "It's okay, just some cuts and bruises I think." Raya cut her off but slowly lay back nonetheless, trying not to wince. "A friend insisted on dragging me here." "She was right to do so," Hazel said as she walked over, her hands going to her abdomen, immediately checking for internal injuries. "Tell me if it hurts when I press." Raya nodded, her eyes still on Hazel when she began to examine her. "Doesn't really hurt there. I think it was just my shoulder and my hip that got a little beat up during the fall," she told her

 "Okay, let me take a look at them- sit up for me now," she said, whipping out her stethoscope and checking her breathing. "Deep breath," she instructed. Raya did as she was told or at least tried to. Trying to take a deep she slightly curled in on herself, sucking in some air. With a muttered "Ow" she slowly uncurled, apologizing. "Okay, I'm gonna schedule an x-ray, I'm hearing decreased breath sounds," Hazel said, looping her stethoscope back around her neck. "Nothing major but you might've fractured a rib- it would cause referred pain in your shoulder too. Is it okay- I mean, can I see your hip now?"

 Raya deflated at the diagnosis. "Great, just what I needed." she grumbled. "Okay, do I need to get up?" "Just slide the waistband of your pants down- cute jeans, by the way," she remarked, hoping it would help mask the flame of her face. She knew it must be scarlet, and she was cursing herself silently. “Now, aren't you trying to take advantage of the situation, doc?" Raya teased with a light chuckle. "Those jeans were nicer when they weren't all torn." she mumbled and carefully pulled her pants down to reveal her hip. "Please, I'm a professional," Hazel said- that had been the mantra repeating in her head over and over. She felt the tender flesh of the area, already seeing a dark bruise forming. "Sorry for the cold hands," she apologized.

"With a professional shade of pink on your cheeks." Raya added with a knowing wink, hissing when Hazel examined her injuries. "It's hot in here," she said, a bold lie. "Sure." Raya nodded, smirking. She immediately saw through the lie."Anyway, your hip seems fine, bruised and maybe sprained but unless I see broken bones on the X-ray, I can't do much," Hazel explained. "I'll get an orderly to take you to radiology, I'll be back to check your scans after." "So just like I said all along, some cuts and bruises but nothing that needs medical attention." Raya remarked.

 Hazel shook her head. "I want to get a full chest x-ray, I don't think anything is serious but I'd hate to let you walk out of here and have something happen." She was writing on the chart before looking up. "Can I talk to whoever took you in?" Raya nodded again, sincerely this time. "Blonde girl with a pink fringe in the waiting room, can't miss her," she told her. Hazel hummed. "Alright, see you soon," she said, ducking out as an orderly went to take the girl- Raya, according to the chart- to radiology. She did see her immediately, and went over to talk to her, introducing herself.

 "You're the doctor who checked Raya over, I guess." Cassie said. "I'm Cassie, the one who dragged her reckless ass in here. How bad is it?" Hazel laughed. "She's fine, but you were right to bring her in- she may have a fractured rib, I've got her getting a chest x-ray now," she said. "Nothing to really worry about, she looks good to me." Cassie sighed in relief. "Thank god. I swear one day she's going to get herself killed." "Are you her girlfriend or something?" Hazel asked, hoping to be inconspicuous. "Hm? Oh no, she's my best friend, we've been hanging out since we were kids." Cassie explained. "I can give you her mother's number if you need a relative to sign any papers or something." she continued, assuming that's why she asked "I'm not admitting her at this point, there's not much to sign," Hazel replied, shaking her head. "Do you- uh, you know what, nevermind," she said, backtracking on her thoughts. "I'm gonna go, see if her scans came up- good talking to you." She shook her hand, internally wincing at how crazy she must seem. Cassie was a little confused about the doctor's odd behaviour but didn't think much of it, figuring that she probably had a hectic day.

 Raya was already waiting for Hazel to come back with the results of her x-rays when she came through the door. "Alright, so I was right- sixth rib has got a hairline fracture," she said right as she walked in, holding it up to the light. "The good news is it's so small I can't really do anything, it'll heal quickly on it’s own. Just no straining activities for about three weeks."

"Good. So that means I am free to go?" Raya asked, hopping off the chair she was sitting in, her body immediately reminding her why she was there in the first place. "Damn!" she grunted through the pain. "Whoa, take it easy," Hazel said, rushing forward and placing her hands on the other girl's arms. "I'm writing you something for the pain, just in case Advil isn't strong enough, and if you have any difficulty breathing, coughing, wheezing, or chest pain, you need to get back here right away," she said strictly.

Raya nodded and stood up straight, or at least as straight as she could. "Doctor's orders, hm? I'm pretty sure I'll be okay. Thanks though." she paused, a smirk growing on her face. "And uh, you're not going to put that x-ray on your wall, right?" she teased. Hazel’s face flushed again. "Please, it's not nearly interesting enough to make the wall," she quipped back. "I'm sorry to disappoint. But I rather keep my bones in the right place so no wall art from this one." Raya joked. "Gotta stick to the brains, doc." "Oh I'll try. Now, part of me hopes I won't see you again- or at least not here."

 "Personally I would not mind to see you again but not under such circumstances." Raya said without really thinking about her words. "I mean... You know" Hazel raised her eyebrows. "I don't know actually, some elaboration would be appreciated," she said with a light smirk. "Oh come on, aren't you supposed to be the smart one, being a doctor and all?" Raya chuckled. "I mean, I wouldn't mind seeing you again when I am not a bruised up mess"

 Hazel reached into the pocket of her scrubs. "Here's my card," she said. "And trust me- you're the exact opposite of a mess.” She handed the card over, her cell and work numbers printed on it. "Are you trying to hit on me, doc? That's not very professional." Raya teased, taking the card. Hazel’s eyes widened momentarily, fearing she'd misinterpreted the girl's flirting. "I meant that I see patients much worse off than you- the card is if something happens and you're too stubborn to come in again," she said quickly, only stammering slightly.

 "Chill, it's okay. I completely understood." Raya winked. "So get ready for prank calls." she quipped. Hazel laughed, feeling some of her tension ease. She was just about to respond when her pager beeped, and she took one look at it before bolting. "I gotta-" she paused at the door, unsure of how to leave the situation. "Go save lives, do your thing. I'll call you" Raya smiled. She couldn't quite pinpoint why but she felt herself drawn to the girl, curious to get to know more about her. "Thank you," she managed, before sprinting down the hall, her coat tails flying behind her.

[beyondforks]

Tour! My Fair Duchess by Megan Frampton

My Fair Duchess (Dukes Behaving Badly #5) by Megan Frampton Genre: Adult (Historical Romance) Date Published: February 28, 2017 Publisher: Avon

The unexpected duchess

Archibald Salisbury, son of a viscount, war hero, and proficient in the proper ways of aristocratic society, has received orders for his most challenging mission: Genevieve, Duchess of Blakesley. How she inherited a duchy isn’t his problem. Turning her into a perfect duchess is. But how can he keep his mind on business when her beauty entices him toward pleasure?

It was impossible, unprecedented…and undeniably true. Genevieve is now a “duke”, or, rather, a duchess. So what is she to do when the ton eyes her every move, hoping she’ll make a mistake? Genevieve knows she has brains and has sometimes been told she has beauty, but, out of her depth, she calls on an expert. And what an expert, with shoulders broad enough to lean on, and a wit that matches her own. Archie is supposed to teach her to be a lady and run her estate, but what she really wants to do is unladylike—run into his arms. 

My Fair Duchess is the  fifth book in the Dukes Behaving Badly series by Megan Frampton. I'm such a sucker for these Regency Romances, it's pure craziness! And, this author knows just how to write them to keep me thoroughly entranced in her worlds.Genevieve is pretty much tossed into a man's world when she inherits her "Duchess" title. She has no training and has lived in the country her whole life. Someone needs to train this girl. *wink* From the start, Archibald and Genevieve are pretty darn cute. I love their friendship and how they react to one another. Watching them try to fight the attraction is half the fun. Plus, the notes they wrote to each other too?? Whether they sent them or not, they were beyond adorable, and really added that extra something to their story.

The ARC of My Fair Duchess by Megan Frampton was kindly provided to me by publisher through Edelweiss for review. The opinions are my own.

1845, Lady Sophia’s Drawing Room

“There’s only one solution,” Lady Sophia said, passing the letter to Archie as he felt his stomach drop. And his carefully ordered life teeter on the verge of change. “You’ll have to go to London to sort my goddaughter out.” She embellished her point by squeezing her tiny dog Truffles, who emitted a squeak and glared at Archie. As if it was his fault.

He resisted the urge to crumple the paper in his hand. “But the festival is in a few weeks,” Archie said, hearing the desperate tone in his voice. He did not want to ever return to London. That was the purpose of taking a position out here in the country after leaving the Queen’s Own Hussars a year prior. His family was there, and his father, at least, had made it clear he never wanted to see him again. What’s more, he did not want to assist a helpless aristocrat in some sort of desperate attempt to bring order to their lives. Even though that was what he was doing in Lady Sophia’s employ. But working for her had come to have its own kind of satisfactory order, one he did not want to disrupt.

“There is work to be done,” Archie continued, hoping to appeal to his employer’s sensible side.

Although in the course of working for her he had come to realize his employer didn’t really have a sensible side, so what was he hoping to accomplish?

“Didn’t you tell me Mr. McCready could do everything you could?” Lady Sophia asked. “You pointed out that if you were to get ill, or busy with other matters, your assistant steward could handle things just as well as you.”

That was when I was trying to get one of my men work, Archie thought in frustration. To help him get back on his feet after the rigors of war. And Bob had proven himself to be a remarkably able assistant, allowing Archie to dive into Lady Sophia’s woefully neglected accounts and see into her investments, neither of which she paid any attention to.

Lady Sophia placed Truffles on the rug before lifting her head to look at Archie. Who knew, in that moment, that he was doomed. Doomed to return to London to help out a likely far-too- indulged female in the very difficult position of being a powerful and wealthy aristocrat.

Perhaps it would have been easier to just get shot on the battlefield. It certainly would have been quicker.

“It’s settled.” She punctuated her words with a nod of her head, sending a few gray curls flying in the air. “You will go see to the new duchess and take care of her as ably as you do me. Mr. Mc-Cready will assist me while you are away.”

Archie looked at the letter again. “This duchess is your relative?” he asked. That would explain the new duchess’s equally silly mode of communication. An “unexpected duchess,” indeed. What kind of idiot wouldn’t have foreseen this circumstance? And done something to prepare for it?

“She calls me aunt, but she is not my actual niece, you understand,” Lady Sophia explained. “She is my goddaughter; her mother married the duke, the duchess’s father. It is quite unusual for a woman to inherit the duchy.”

“Quite,” Archie echoed.

“But it happened, somehow, and since I don’t know anything about being a duchess . . .” Because I do? Archie wondered. But there wasn’t anybody else. She wouldn’t have asked Lady Sophia, of all people, unless there was nobody else.

Or if she was as flighty and confident as her faux-aunt. A scenario that seemed more and more likely.

“The only thing Mr. McCready can’t do is attract as much feminine interest as you do, Mr. Salisbury.” She sat back up and regarded him. “Which might make him more productive,” she added. She leaned over to offer Truffles the end of her biscuit.

Archie opened his mouth to object, but closed it when he realized she was right. He wasn’t vain, but he did recognize that ladies tended to find his appearance attractive. Lady Sophia received many more visitors, she’d told him in an irritated tone, now that he’d been hired.

Bob, damn his eyes, smirked knowingly every time Archie was summoned to Lady Sophia’s drawing room to answer yet another question about estate management posed by a lady who’d likely never had such a question in her life. 

Archie responded by making Bob personally in charge of the fertilizer. It didn’t stop Bob’s smirking, but it did make Archie feel better.

“And you will return in a month’s time so you can be here for the festival.”

“Sooner if I can, my lady.” If this duchess needed more time than a month, there would be no hope for her anyway. Country life suited him; he liked its quiet and regularity. It was a vast change from life in battle, or even being just on duty, but it was far more interesting than being the third son from a viscount’s family. A viscount who disowned his third boy when said boy was determined to join the army.

Meanwhile, however, he had to pack to head off to a new kind of battle—that of preparing a completely unprepared woman, likely a woman as flighty and often confused as Lady Sophia, to hold a position that she was entirely unsuited for. 

Very much like working with raw recruits, in fact.

Check out my review other books in this series.

Megan Frampton writes historical romance under her own name and romantic women’s fiction as Megan Caldwell. She likes the color black, gin, dark-haired British men, and huge earrings, not in that order. She lives in Brooklyn, NY, with her husband and son. To learn more about Megan Frampton and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter.

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