#Medical Entrance Question Papers

[rajeshullal]

All medical students are worthy of our appreciation. They know their medical entrance exams are likely to be extremely taxing. Becoming a doctor takes an immense amount of dedication and hard work. Yet, medical students are not only up to the task of beating the challenges, but they set themselves high goals to achieve top-notch success.

Aiming for high ranks and scores enables students to then get into the finest medical colleges in the country and study the subjects of greatest personal interest. To have the benefit of such a choice, though, the first critical step is to pass those medical entrance exams and be in the top percentile of rankers from around the country.

DocTutorials, among the premier medical entrance coaching institutes in India, knows well what students aspire for regarding their medical entrance exams. The goal of DocTutorials is aligned totally with that of its enrolled students. DocTutorials too wants its students to get across the thresholds of the best colleges and into the best courses of medical study.

How exactly does DocTutorials prepare its students to handle the learning challenges and capitalise on success factors? Its methods are worth a review here.

Before all else, this is the question to ask about dealing with challenges and success factors

How would medical students know which coaching institute can best help them convert challenges into success factors?

There is a simple and fail-proof way to tell which coaching institute students should ideally choose. The medical entrance tests' top-rankers and high scorers list published in the news each year should show which institute has a consistently great track record. DocTutorials, for instance, is well known for regularly producing students with enviable All-India ranks and scores.

The 2 principal challenges that medical students must face to ace their entrance exams

There are two key challenges that students enrolled in medical coaching institutes need to be prepared to face.

Regardless of the medical exam students want to pass, they have to cover the syllabus comprehensively

There are five reputed medical exams that students generally aim for, but find most difficult to conquer. These are the NEET PG, NEET SS, FMGE, INICET and INISS. In choosing a coaching institute, it is wise to select one that trains students thoroughly for any of these exams. The curricula of such institutes, as well as the standards, processes and formats of teaching, are likely to be robust and all-rounded. DocTutorials coaching covers the complete syllabus for all of these important entrance tests.

Expenses of medical education need to be minimised by passing entrance exams on the first try

Passing the entrance exams for medical learning is just the first of many subsequent milestones to cross. At every stage of progress, students will need to make more investments in their qualifications. With education costs being what they are today, a coaching institute that can help students pass their entrance exams on the first attempt would enable great savings of money and time. DocTutorials' students, from the word go, are given the self-belief to make their first exam attempts successful.

The 2 main success factors that medical students must maximise for triumph in exams

There are two success factors that students must aim to make the most of to sail admirably through their medical entrance exams.

Students need to quickly get onto a wavelength with faculty to raise their own knowledge levels

DocTutorials, as a top-grade medical coaching institute, has empanelled its teaching faculty with great diligence. The teachers and mentors at DocTutorials have distinguished themselves in both medical teaching as well as medical practice. The organisational culture at DocTutorials encourages a greater degree of student-teacher engagement. Students are given several opportunities to interact with faculty to avail themselves of higher knowledge.

Students have to be ready for a multi-disciplinary approach to manage the complexity of topics

Medicine is an area of study that requires a multi-disciplinary approach. That's why this approach is the bedrock of all coaching at DocTutorials.

DocTutorials' Multi-Disciplinary Approach (MDA) emphasizes the use of diverse teaching formats and methods, judiciously combined, to create the best subject comprehension, memorisation and understanding in students.

For example, there is textual learning, image-and-video-based learning, discussion-based learning and a series of periodic tests of different complexities throughout the coaching programme. Plus, there is a vast learning library of resources (including past question papers) and animated 2D/3D videos that use the latest instructional technologies.

The driving concept behind such a multi-disciplinary approach is to enhance the 360-degree absorption of complex medical topics by students. The many facets of this approach are described in greater detail below.

How DocTutorials' Multi-Disciplinary Approach reduces challenges and increases success

There are several plus points embedded into the DocTutorials' Multi-Disciplinary Approach (MDA).

1. To enhance theoretical knowledge Doctutorials has Integrated MCQ Discussion Videos (IMDVs)

The DocTutorials curriculum has hours of lecture videos, including 70+ Integrated MCQ Discussion Videos (IMDVs). In these videos, faculty members discuss threadbare the many nuances of the subjects and topics of study.

Students who watch top-class debates and discussions between faculty members add layers of extra learning to their theoretical knowledge.

2. To offer holistic learning Doctutorials has System-Based Integrated Tests (SBITs)

DocTutorials' has incorporated its SBIT Test Series as a key part of its programme. Since the human body is composed of several different systems that work in sync, the teaching pattern matches this system-based structure.

Memorising concepts and grasping complexities becomes easier for students.

3. To make learning more experiential Doctutorials has hours of valuable Video Lectures

As part of the Multi-Disciplinary Approach (MDA), DocTutorials' students also go through subjects via clinical case scenario-based questions. The Video Lectures which include 2D/3D animations help enormously in making learning immersive.

4. To help students feel familiar with exam environments Doctutorials has its Test Series

Periodically, DocTutorials makes students go through an array of tests - including subject tests, revision tests, grand tests and elite tests. This makes students lose exam anxiety and gain self-assurance.

5. To give students an idea of where they stand in their preparations Doctutorials has its Leaderboard

DocTutorials' Leaderboard shows an up-to-date ranking of students as they attempt their periodic quizzes and test series. Students can evaluate how well they're performing in comparison to their classmates and identify their weak and strong areas.

6. To assist students with stronger exam preparation Doctutorials has its Test & Discussion format

DocTutorials' plethora of Test & Discussion (T&D) videos and Quick Revision Programmes (QRPs) facilitate the revision of high-yield topics and previous years' questions. The tests have a variety of questions, often supported by images or videos. DocTutorials also has a useful format of bookmarked questions with explanations.

7. To create opportunities for the classroom experience Doctutorials has several Live Classes

DocTutorials' live classes, where students are taught complex clinical concepts with soft copy notes, are also great opportunities for checking with faculty on previous years' exam questions, clearing doubts, asking queries or going through the Quick Revision Programmes (QRPs).

8. To give students a thorough idea of questions they'll encounter Doctutorials has its QBank

DocTutorials' QBank (Question Bank) is an ever-expanding storehouse of questions that students should be prepared to answer in their entrance exams. These include Image Based Questions (IBQs), Video Based Questions (VBQs) and 17,000+ Multiple Choice Questions (MCQs).

DocTutorials' Coaching App Version 2.023 is about to be launched

Students who download, sign up and subscribe to this app will surely be able to turn the challenges of medical study into success factors.

DocTutorials' upgraded Coaching App Version 2.023, for the year 2023, will include more immersive content and add to the current curriculum with a greater number of Subject Videos, Live Sessions, 70+ Integrated MCQ Discussion Videos, DocTutorials' QBank 2nd Edition and diverse podcasts.

The app announcements will hit the headlines soon!

#medical entrance coaching #syllabus #challenges #success factors #All-India ranks #top percentile of rankers #becoming a doctor #past students #curriculum #curricula #exam preparation #previous question papers #faculty #institute #coaching #programme

[fatkish]

Aizawa and Class 1A x Student Alchemist Reader

In this, the reader has the same tattoos as scar. The reader’s left arm deconstructs molecules and their right arm reconstructs molecules.

The reader is quirkless so they use Alchemy to even the odds and are good at combat.

The reader took the entrance exam and has similar grade to Momo. Momo and the Reader share the 1/20 place amongst their peers

The reader aced the written test and destroyed the robots by using their alchemy to disassemble them. They got 45 villain points and 45 rescue points

When the teachers were looking over the students papers, Aizawa and Nedzu were amazed and skeptical of the reader being quirkless

Aizawa didn’t believe that you were quirkless so he used his quirk on you during his quirk apprehension test. Obviously it failed and he realized your were being honest on your paperwork. Still grilled you about it

Aizawa is ever so slightly more protective and stricter on you than other students. He worries all the time so he is a little harsher on you but you know that he just wants to push you a little more

You’re currently studying both flame and medical alchemy. You tend to study with recovery girl and help her out whenever you get the chance

During All Might’s hero vs villain training you were paired with Momo (Mineta didn’t get into the hero course) against Jirou and Kaminari. You won by creating a sleeping gas and put them to sleep whilst you and Momo wore gas masks she made

Bakugou refuses to admit your strength but has a secret respect for you since you beat him by altering his sweat’s molecules so it wasn’t explosive

Izuku has so many notes on you and has asked to draw your tattoos and you even began to teach him basic alchemy, although he sucks at it

When questioning you, you told Izuku that you were quirkless which he accidentally let it slip to his friends who then let the class know

After that you explained to the class that alchemy can be performed by anyone, it just take years of study and practice to perform and understand the basic rules and applications

Some didn’t believe you so you removed your shoe to show them all your second joint in your pinky toe as proof

Some still have a hard time believing it but most of the class accepted it

Kirishima, Sero, Iida, Jirou and Uraraka think you’re (manly) incredible and ambitious for dedicating yourself to something and making yourself strong despite the odds

Ashido, Kaminari and Hagakure still don’t believe that you’re quirkless

Tokoyami and Shoji both admire your strength and perseverance in trying to become a hero despite lacking a power and having been ridiculed and criticized for your dreams

Ojiro and you train in martial arts often as a means to strengthen one another

Tsuyu and you get along just fine as you both are some of the more mature students in classs

You tend to hang out with the quiet kids like Shoji, Tokoyami and Koda

You and Momo both bond over and help each other study the molecular make up of certain items

During the USJ attack, you used your flame alchemy on the Nomu. You used your conductive gloves to create the flames and tried to roast the Nomu

You took Hatsume’s place on Midoriya’s team in the Calvary battle

You fought Iida in the first rounds and won by creating a rugged and difficult terrain to run in as a means to slow him down, then you used your alchemy to seal his engines and managed to hit him in a pressure point that immobilized him

Todoroki was amazed when you were able to beat him in the sports festival. You turned his ice into water and then changed the arrangement of the stage’s molecular structure to that of quicksand and used the ground to swallow him up, winning your match.

Bakugou was pissed off when you altered your body’s carbon to be on the outside creating a skin of diamond like armor that his explosions couldn’t beat

You got 1st place in the festival but All Might accidentally let it slip during the award ceremony that you were quirkless

You got the third most offers from pros for internships out of the class

You ended up going with Best Jeanist and had a rather good time compared to Bakugou

After the Internships were over, you had mastered your flame alchemy and used it against All Might in your practical exam

Bonus: Todoroki learned that you can’t use flame alchemy when it’s raining or if your wet and accidentally started the ‘useless when wet’ shtick.

Now Bakugou makes fun of you whenever you get your gloves wet and acts like you need protection and enjoys babying you.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa sensei #dadzawa #dad might #all might x reader #platonic class 1a #class 1a x reader #mha #bnha #best jeanist

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 3)

Word Count - 3.7k

Summary - It’s been a couple months since you last had contact with Lt. Simon Ghost Riley. While you are repairing your tarnished reputation, Simon is on the other side working from the shadows and doing everything he can to take back his words. It isn’t until the three-month marker that you finally face him again, this time you’re willing to hear him out. If only because you guys are going to be team members.               

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - as we near the end of this storyline I would like to thank everyone for their love and support and I appreciate every one of you guys 🤍🤍🤍  I am also going to post a brief POV from Ghost later, and one more part, two at tops.   

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2   

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form   

It had been a month since you last spoke with Ghost and since then you learned three things. The first was that he truly was a ghost. He haunted hallways and existed only in rumors and whispers. He made himself seen only when he wanted to be. For the rest of his assignment, he kept his distance. You figured since you have yet to see him it was because he was better at spotting you first and turning in the other direction. Soap would still drop by and fill you in on the latest 141 gossip. It didn’t go over your head that Soap never had any gossip about Ghost. Never once did Soap mention him. Whether Soap figured out that something had gone down on his own or forced it out of Ghost himself was a mystery. You didn’t have the energy or care to ask. 

The second is that whatever he had been previously telling the higher up was either rescinded or someone had put in a good word about you. If it was Ghost or not, you also didn’t know. Nor did it matter if it was him, the damage was done. You put your hand up for every opportunity, followed every rule, and every patient that came to you left you with positive feedback. You were an HR dream.     

The third was that you missed his company. Even a month after you were still fuming, still ready to rip his tongue out should you see him again. Still heartbroken and yet some part of you still missed Ghost. You kept a very tight leash on that part of you and squashed it beneath your boot. How was it fair that his fuck up, and his selfishness resulted in you losing a friend. It wasn’t, and that’s what you were most bitter about. 

After two months, you have decided to let go of the anger and hurt. It wasn’t going to help you now. You kept yourself preoccupied with work and more work. You were still based in the new camp, now dubbed Fort Cardinal, which has since become one of the biggest bases.     

You were just leaving the mess hall after breakfast when you were intercepted in the hallway. 

“L/n?” the private asked.

“Yes?” your brows furrowed. 

“Crawford wants to speak to you. He’s in his office.”

Crawford was the commanding officer, and when he summoned someone to his office it could mean only a few things. Most of them were bad. You pivoted and headed towards HQ. You might have taken the scenic route too. Pausing at the entrance to Crawfords office.  “Sir,” you stood by the doorway waiting for your CO to acknowledge you, “you requested I come to see you.” 

He looked up from the files splayed out on his desk, “Take a seat.”

You pulled out a chair opposite him, your palms began to sweat and you wiped them on your pants. Racking your brain to try and remember if you had done something wrong, or inappropriate, but came up blank. 

“How many years have you been with us?” he questioned, folding his hands over the papers.

“Four, Sir,” you straightened your back and squared your shoulders.    

He stared at you for a second, his face hard, before nodding and looking back to the papers. They were your files. A collection of reports and logs and records, “It’s of my understanding that you’ve voiced your desire for a transfer.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Since your enlistment, your peers and superiors have had nothing but good things to say about you. Your records show that you excelled in both the field and the classroom. Never missed a work day, never late,” he began listing things off from the note in front of him. You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or irritated, and it was psyching you out. He paused as he flipped through, “Have you fully recovered from your injury?” 

“Healed like a dream,” you offered him a tight-lipped smile. It did, after the first couple of weeks you were back at work in full force. 

“Good to hear,” he flipped a page back so it was facing you, “Any idea what this might have been for?” It would have looked the same as any other report aside from the fact that it was entirely redacted. Whatever was written beneath had been obscured by a thick black line. 

You leaned forward, your smile fading into a frown. You shook your head, “I have no idea. No.” This was the first time you saw your files all laid out like this, so you were just as lost as him. Whoever redacted it must have been of higher status than him if even he didn’t know. Then again, you weren’t sure about what happened behind closed doors. You met his eyes, trying to read what he was thinking and when you couldn’t you wanted to melt into your seat. 

“There’s been an opening,” he leaned back in his chair, “Aerospace medicine has requested a combat medic. It’ll be a one year contract. Should you take this position you will be sent out for a three week training program and your first assignment will be right after that. ”

If it weren’t for those four years of service and learning that people like your CO didn’t like a show of emotions you would have hopped around his office. So, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue. 

“The captain of Special Task Forces 141 has requested you himself for their next mission.”

Your heart dropped.  

“Captain Price?” you echoed. Maybe it was a different 141. 

“Correct,” he waved a hand, his patience shortening, “Yes or no?” 

“Yes,” you answered before you could think it over, and he excused you before you could process your answer. This was what you had been asking for, what you were working towards, and now that it had been offered to you you were left uneasy. Working with the 141 was an honour and a nod to your capabilities. It also meant working with Lt. Simon Riley. You couldn’t unscramble your feelings about the implications. 

You determined that professionalism would yield the best outcome.  

You were packed and heading out for your training by lunch.    

When you entered the briefing room, it was as relaxed as you expected from the 141. Which was not at all. The air was thick and sober. You were half an hour early and still the last to arrive.

“Morning,” Price stepped around the table everyone was surrounding. 

“Good morning,”  you replied, making your way to the table. Laswell met up with you during your training to give you a rundown on what to expect. You were going to be their combat medic, yes, but you could fight and shoot just as well as any other soldier. You even had the grounds to brag about your close combat skills. Laswell was visibly pleased when you told her your dad forced you into mixed martial arts when you were ten years old, and could take down a full-grown man like he was a bag of flour. 

You scanned the table and the map splayed out was a replica of the one Laswell had provided. You tried to hide the smile and pointed to the empty medicine vial on the map, “Is that supposed to be me?” 

“Aye,” Soap puffed his chest out, “that was my doing.” 

When you looked up at Soap, you purposefully ignored the large burly man dressed in all black beside him, “Creative,” you noted how Ghost seemed to shrink back into the shadows at your indifference towards him. 

Soap had actually picked everyone's avatar, a sniper bullet, a lighter, a toy skeleton, and an angel wing that looked like it used to be a necklace, and a battery. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh at the figurines or the fact that everyone accepted them. 

Price ran through the plan, the target, and his expectations of everyone. He revealed that the target was going to be “Cameron Rowe” , a former sergeant turned rogue. His headshot was stabbed into the table with a knife. You recognized it as Ghosts, the blade usually fixed to his thigh. 

“Since we have no real idea as to where Rowe will be we’ll be splitting off into teams.”         You had to suck your lips into your mouth to keep from making an argument when Price moved your vial next to the skeleton on the map.  “Soap and Laswell with nest at the top of these two buildings,” he pointed to the two highrises in front and behind Rowe’s apartment building. “Doc and Ghost will take watch at the port,” he dragged his finger to the loading docs, which was usually Rowe’s meeting place. “Gaz and I will be tailing his informers and hopefully, catch them in the act.” 

You had a sneaking suspicion they stuck you with Ghost was to balance out the teams. Ghost was a one man army, you were basically going to keep him company. Or so they thought. You didn’t plan on sharing a single conversation with him, and you knew you could easily hold your own. The 141 had plans of not only taking down Rowe but finding out whoever he was working with. So, they couldn’t just pick him off in his apartment building. 

After the briefing and everyone knew their role people started to filter back out. You stayed behind to speak with Price, having a few questions of your own.

“Captain,” you started and he turned back around, “Why ask for me?” This assignment was only temporary, you weren’t a part of the 141, but Price could have picked anyone in the world to help with this job. 

“I read your file,” he closed the door behind him, coming to meet you by the table again, “You have an impressive background, and it makes me wonder why you chose the medical field.”

You were at the top of your class for both basics and medical school, so it was a genuine curiosity. He also probably had access to your life before enlistment, “It’s what I wanted,” was the only answer you could give him, and it’s the only one you had.

He hummed, his eyes turning to slits, “Then why agree?” 

“I’ve been waiting for something like this since day one. How was I supposed to say no?” You’ve been waiting for an opportunity to show your versatility. This mission might have been overkill but it was what you wanted. Beggars can’t be choosers. 

“You’re a strange one,” Price crossed his arms over his chest, “You’ll fit in great,” he looked like he had something else to say but changed his mind. He tilted his head towards the door, “Better go and get some rest, we leave at 0400 tomorrow.”   

You nodded, parting off with a “Thank you,” before heading to the door.

“Can we talk?” Ghost was waiting outside the door when you left the room. 

You shot him a blank look, “About?” you kept walking down the hall not waiting to hear his answer. 

He followed after you, “I want to apologize.” 

You exited the building and met with a blast of the hot sticky air of summer, the sun was getting low in the sky, “Go ahead, Judas” you turned to him, making eye contact with his chest. You gritted your teeth when you had to look up at him, “I’ll keep it civil for the sake of the mission but I don’t want to be your friend.”

His shoulders loosened as if he had just received the best news, “I understand,” he shifted back on his feet, his tired eyes scanning the area, before returning to you, “I was out of line. I was mixing private affairs with work, I see that now. And I’m sorry. I was being selfish and I wasn’t taking your needs and wants into consideration. So, if you’ll give me some grace and let me show you how good I can be.”  

“Keep your fingers out of my business and I’ll think about it,” you quipped. 

He lifted his hands before him, splaying his fingers out before curling them into a fist, “They’re put away,” he might have broken your trust and crossed you but he was still the friend you lost and missed. He was going to have to work for it either way. This was a start.    

“We can talk more later,” where there were fewer listening ears and watchful eyes. “I’ll come to you when I’m good and ready. For now, just stay away from me,” you’d think after 3 months you’d have figured out what you’d say to him, but you didn’t. And tomorrow you were going to be trapped in a room with him, so you were going to have to cross your t's and dot your i’s tonight to present them to him for tomorrow. 

He physically flinched at the dismissal, but he took a step back, providing you with space, “Of course.”  

Your chest twisted at the sight, you didn’t like treating him like a disease, but you refused to let it blind you of the truth. Still. You sighed, cursing yourself for what you were about to say, “Thank you, for apologizing.” 

His eyes crinkled in the corners and you could have sworn they gave way to a smile. The awe-worthy occurrence was sadly hidden underneath his mask. You rolled your eyes at him before pivoting and walking towards the barracks.      

You sat with Laswell on a stray crate on the tarmac while you waited for the rest of the team to arrive. The two of you just people watched, with her occasionally pointing someone out and telling you a little about them. This guy was grounded a couple of weeks ago because he arrived at work still drunk from the night before. That guy had a crazy, entitled wife. 

The chopper started its engine and was ready for lift-off at exactly 0359.   

“Doc, about our talk yesterday. I also figured you want to take part and get some revenge for yourself,” Price bellowed over the sound of the chopper, and he ducked below the propellers. Realization sprung to life in your chest. Price had asked for you to be on this mission because you had something to gain from it. This Rowe guy, this squealer had been the one to rat out the convoy to the enemy. He was the reason you were injured, and the reason Butters was dead. This wasn’t the sleight of hand of Ghost but Price. It put your nerves at ease and allowed you to be a little less angry with the former.      

“I appreciate it, Sir,” you nodded at Price.  He clapped a hand over your shoulder and hopped into the helicopter after you. Being squished between Price and Soap made you feel a little safer with the fact that there were no doors on the heli. Ghost took his spot on the side of the heli, letting his legs hang out the side, his gun at the ready. Gaz sat opposite him and Laswell adjacent to you. Her pack and gun took up an entire seat. She reached into her front pouch as the heli lifted off the ground, pulling out a chocolate bar. Your mouth watered. Chocolate was hard to come back at base, people traded whole MREs for one bar. Soap handed you a headset for the chopper just as she noticed your drooling expression. 

“If you promise you can get an appointment with the chiro, I’ll give you some,” she waggled the bar in front of her, a trade.

“I know both the chiropractor and the masseuse,” you countered. She made a look of delight, before reaching into her pack and tossing you your own bar. 

Oh, you liked her.    

You stuffed the back into the small day pack at your feet, saving it for later. Acutely aware that if you opened it here at least two people on this aircraft would put their hand out for a piece. You eyed Gaz and Soap. 

The helicopter had been an hour's flight, and they had landed on a field. Without permission, you might add so you had to be quick on the exit. A line of blacked-out SUVs and trucks was waiting for a quick escape. Price ordered everyone to join up with their duo, and head to their discussed position. 

Ghost strode for one of the SUVs, opening the back to place his pack and guns. He stepped to the side to allow you to do the same and closed it after you. He was spinning the keys around his finger when he turned to you, “Who’s driving?” 

You didn’t respond, instead, you opened the passenger door and slid in. From the side mirror, you could see him look up at the sky, take a couple of deep breaths, then clasp his hands together before moving to enter the car. He was silent the rest of the way, his attention on the road. Even through the mask, you could see his jaw tighten and flex. 

He parked the SUVs at the back of the building, between the wall and another vehicle. He lead you into the building, a warehouse or collection center of some sort into the offices on the second floor. He pointed out exit routes and potential areas to hold our position. The gravity of his pointing stuff out like that said a lot about how he thought this mission was going to pan out. The thought should have frightened you but knowing that the Ghost was fighting on the same side as you had the opposite effect. The office he brought you into was already vacant, with nothing but an empty desk and a chair on each side. He locked the door and placed his gun on the desk, and informed Price over the radio that we were in place. You made your way to the window, pulling one of the vanes down to peek outside. The window gave a good view of the entrance of the port and a decent view of the sea cans.       

“How long will he have to camp out here?” you asked, letting go of the blinds. 

“The day. Maybe into tomorrow,” he shrugged, as he started pulling things from his pack, “Depends on Rowe, really. Price and Gaz have the biggest probability of catching him. Laswell is going to be our eyes in the sky, and Soap already has access to the cameras in Rowe’s apartment, and a couple in this harbour.” 

You took a seat in one of the swivel chairs, “And you?” 

He paused, his eyes refusing to meet yours, “I’m more for after we catch him,” he cleared his throat. The question made him awkward, he didn’t want you to know what exactly it was that he did. You had your ideas and presumptions already but his hesitation had you second guessing.   

“You the one who’s going to get the information out of him?” he picked up one of the blades he had laid out on the desk, turning it over in your hand. He watched you, following your movements with predatory grace. 

“Is that why I’m here?” you continued, “To make sure he stays alive long enough to give you that information?” He was the butcher and you were the surgeon. A strange dichotomy. 

He stilled, “I don’t want you to see it.”      

“It”, being what he was going to do. What he was trained to do. What he was good at. You placed the knife back on the table, pushing away with the wheels on the chair. You prepared yourself for the upcoming confession. Playing this out in your head last night was way easier than actually doing it.  

“You know, I think you and I have very similar pasts,” you looked down at your hands, at the lines and curves etched into them.

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, and his shoulders rolled forward. 

“I also think we took very different paths, though,” you saw it in his eyes the moment you met, the wounds that were too deep to see on the surface. It was why you understood him, and why you were going to forgive him, “You don’t have to hide it from me, Riley. I’ve seen the worst in humanity, and I know that you are nothing like them”  

You didn’t think he was breathing, didn’t think he was in his body. When you met his stare, his eyes were wide, and his pupils were pinpricks. You stood up from the chair and walked to his side of the table, “Can I touch you?” 

It was barely noticeable but he nodded. You wrapped your arms underneath his arm and pressed your cheek to his shoulder. He immediately returned the gesture, his arms encircling your shoulders, his one hand reaching up to cradle your head to him. He released a shuddering breath, and if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could hear his heart hammering against his chest. 

“There isn’t anything you can do that will make me think you're a monster,” you whispered into his shoulder, “Aside from maybe sabotaging my career,” it was almost a joke. 

“Noted,” you could hear the smile in between his words. Feel the relief thawing his muscles. You pulled back just as Soap and Laswell confirmed their position. Ghost took a step back himself, “We should get set up.”  

He pushed the desk so it was against the same wall as the window, propping his gun onto and looked down the scope to the entrance of the port. 

You settled down and at the end of the desk, it was going to be a long, boring wait. You set to counting the bullets in the magazine Ghost pulled from his pack if only to find something to distract yourself. You were elated when he pulled a deck of cards from his pack and the two of you played a couple of rounds of poker, then switched to go fish. There was also the occasional chatter about what each other did in the three months you were separated. The both of you had become incredibly busy. 

It was nearing dusk by the time anything of importance aired over the radio. 

Price’s eager voice came through, “Ghost, Doc, we’re following the informants to the port. Be at the ready.”    

Part 3.5, Part 4

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form   

A/N - the sniper bullet is Soap, the lighter is Price, the toy skeleton is Ghost, the angel wing is Gaz, and the battery is Laswell. Also, also, Price is definitely playing Cupid.

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @marytvirgin​ ❤︎ @stickygumchewer​ ❤︎ @lauraliisa​ ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy​ ❤︎ @lululandd​ ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy​ ❤︎ @naxxsstuff​ ❤︎@sididakra-jo,   @yukisawer​ ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @kat-nee

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #MW2 #cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #mw2019 #mw2022 #call of duty #MistyGhosties

[countrymusiclover]

2 - Coffee Thank You

Part 3

Detective Stabler's Daughter

Tag list - send an ask to be added @hiireadstuff

It had been a few weeks since I started my classes and I was doing fairly well in them except for the newest assignment in Professor Reid’s class. Kathleen wasn’t really concerned with the class like I was. Re-reading over the notes I had taken I had zoned out the fact that he had ended class for the afternoon and everyone else was leaving until my sister shakes my shoulder. “Hey! Hey Y/n. Class is over.” 

“It is. Uh sorry.” I looked at her, noticing that she had her backpack on her shoulders standing in front of me. 

I glanced back down at my messy notebook. “Hey, I'll meet you later. I have some questions to ask the professor.” 

“Okay. Hopefully you won’t come off as a serious college student in your last year.”

I sent her a glare. “Kathleen.”

“I just want to have some fun with my sister.” She walked down the aisle and out the large door. 

Walking down the rows until I reached his desk he was putting his notebook away in his bag getting ready to leave. “Professor Reid, could I ask you some questions about our newest assignment?” 

“Of course.” He set his bag down back on the large desk. “What are your questions?” 

Sitting my bag down on the ground tile I scanned over the questions I had written down. “I’ve been looking over the assignment but I don’t understand how we are supposed to profile these past cases.” 

“Being a profile isn’t easy. But let’s look at the situation I gave you.” He suggested eyeing my papers. 

I nervously nodded, handing him my papers. “Okay.” 

“The situation reads : A man abducted three blonde girls and held them captive in a basement. He forced these girls to have sex with him and if they refused he held them down and he used a medication to make them go blind as punishment.” He read over the assignment description. “Tell me your thoughts on why this guy chose this punishment or what type of pattern this would fall under.” 

I clicked my tongue avoiding his gaze since I was nervous that I might be wrong. “The reason for punishment was that he wanted to be in control of the girls and if they didn’t find attraction towards him then - he used it to make them feel the pain he felt.” 

“And what do you think the trigger was?” Professor Reid asked me. 

Brushing hair out of my face I paused for a few minutes before answering him. “The trigger likely could have been that he had a girlfriend or a girl he was interested in that looked like the girls. And she rejected him, not finding him attractive.” 

“Exactly. You’re exactly right.” He smiled at me. 

I raised a brow. “Really?” 

“Yes. Now if you just write all that down and bring it on the day it’s due. You’ll get a good grade.” He cheered me on handing my notes back to me. 

I took it from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Professor Reid.” 

“You’re welcome, Ms. Stabler.” He swings his bag over his left shoulder heading towards the doors. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Wait. Professor Reid, how can I thank you - um more properly.” 

He paused in his steps. “Oh I don’t think that is necessary.” 

“Well I think I should do something. Considering most of the professor's that I've had aren't always open to questions and have told me that I should be able to figure it out on my own.” I explained to him putting my notebook back up and shrugging my bag over my shoulders. 

My professor clicked his tongue. “Well I suppose it's okay. Just nothing too serious.” 

“How about going for coffee near campus?” I suggested with a slight smirk on my face. 

He finally agreed to that idea. “That's good.” 

We made our way across the campus just silently walking until we passed the entrance sign of the campus. His class was my last one on Thursday’s so I was done for the evening. It was a nice day when we reached the nearest shop where he held the door open for me to go in first like a gentleman. “Thank you.” 

“No problem. Ms. Stabler.” He replied following behind me where we sat down at the nearest round table. 

“One Strawberry Creme Frappuccino for you, Ms. Stabler. And a White Chocolate Mocha for me.” Spencer came back with two drinks in hand since I had told him what I wanted. He sat back down in his chair across from mine. 

I sat across from him hanging my bag on the back part, correcting him in the nicest way possible. “You should call - can call me Y/n if we go out for coffee like this again. I mean only if you want to.” 

“You’d want to go out for coffee again?” 

I sipped my coffee cup. “Maybe. Unless that’s super unprofessional in our situation.” 

“It’s more than that.” He tapped his fingers on the sides of the plastic cup. 

Taking a long sip from my coffee I wasn’t sure what had come over me. Yet I didn’t feel that nervous around him. “What do you mean?” 

“I can’t entirely understand how I feel about you. But I just - I think that I want to know more about you.”

Tilting my head to the side my curiosity came over me. “Like wanting to go on a date type of thing?” 

“Y-yeah. Only if you’re up for it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hmm let’s see. Tell me something most people wouldn’t know about you just by looking at you.” 

Spencer thought briefly for a second tapping his fingers on the table before snapping his fingers at me. “I’m banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability.” 

“Woah. You really must be a genius.” 

He sent me a shy smile. “I graduated high school at the age of 12.” 

“That is incredible. And please don’t take offense to this but how do you not have a girlfriend or wife already?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, finishing the rest of his drink in his cup before sitting it down on the table avoiding my gaze waiting for my response. “Typically I haven’t been the best at talking to other people. I um - I feel like I always come off as weird or awkward talking to women  - which is way too personal when we haven’t even been on a date yet.” 

“One thing about me is that I am a Detective’s daughter.” I clasped my hands together resting my chin on the palms of my hands. 

Spencer raised a brow at me. “Can I know the detective's name? Unless that’s too invasive.” 

“Pfft it’s totally fine. My father’s name is Detective Elliot Stabler. He works for the Special Victims Unit here in the city.” 

He chuckled softly. “I already told you this in class but I do work for the FBI. Specifically the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” 

“That’s pretty impressive.” I smiled back at him. 

Spencer met my gaze with his brown eyes that deeply looked into mine when he asked the question that popped into his head and was making him super nervous on the inside. “At the risk of overstepping you can decline. But uh - would you maybe wanna go out with me tonight?” 

“We’d have to go off campus. But yes that sounds like fun.” I finished off my coffee throwing both of our drinks away then we headed back to the campus. 

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#detective stabler’s daughter #elliot stabler #olivia benson #mathew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x stabler reader #college student #professor #love story #law and order fic #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #crossover fic #christopher meloni #svu fic #svu fanfiction #svu x cm crossover #wattpad fanfiction #ask box is open for feedback #comments really appreciated #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #kathleen stabler #maureen stabler

[joanquill]

"Wanna go dance?"

May you make this with Mycroft, please? romantic relationship fluff)

Mycroft Holmes

"(Y/N), do you remember the favor you owe me?" Mycroft asked as you entered his home office, making you look at him skeptically across the desk.

"Yeah...? Why?" you questioned as he gave you an open letter.

"I believe I will be using it for this," he explained as you read the letter.

"You're going to a Valentine's dance?" you questioned with a chuckle, scanning the letter invitation addressed to Mycroft as he wryly smiled and stood up from his seat.

"Yes... And they require us to bring a plus one," he added, taking the invitation from your hands and sitting back down.

"Great! I'm sure we can find someone in no time," you supported, earning a raised brow from Mycroft as he looked at you.

"I already have," he smirked, making you furrow your brows as he gave you a knowing look.

"...No,"

"It will be quick,"

"No,"

"You won't even need to do anything,"

"No!" you kept rejecting, but Mycroft ignored your replies as he fixed his papers.

"I'm sure there's a lot of noble ladies waiting for you to ask them to the dance," you reasoned, making him sigh.

"And yet, you're the only one I'm asking," he replied, making you huff.

"Why...?" Mycroft breathed out a smile at your question,

"Because you owe me, remember?" he deadpanned with a sarcastic smile, making you groan.

"Yeah, yeah..." you sighed, scratching your head as you tried to think of an alternative solution.

As Mycroft watched you ponder, he let out a sigh.

"I understand this is not your usual scene, but I do not understand why-"

"-I don't know how to dance..." you sheepishly said, avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah... So," you clapped your hands, "Why don't we try looking for-"

"-I can teach you," Mycroft smiled, making you freeze.

"What?"

"I can teach you," he repeated, getting up from his seat and walking towards you.

"We should be done in... two weeks or so," he muttered, observing you.

"Wouldn't it be easier to find someone else suitable?"

"And who would that be?" he challenged, making you purse your lips as no name came to mind.

"...Why is your social circle so small?" you sighed, making him chuckle.

"All the more precious you are to me, my dear," he teased as he gently pulled your chin to face him, making your face burn red as you pulled away.

"Use those words to woo some woman instead of me! Honestly, your mother has been asking me when you and Sherlock are gonna give her grandchildren..." you scolded as you walked off, making him lightly laugh as he followed you out.

"How are they? Mother and father," he asked as he followed you to the entrance.

"They're good... Been waiting for you and Sherlock to visit, though," you added, making him chuckle.

"Duly noted,"

"Oh, and do me a favor," you tapped your shoes as you grabbed your coat, "Tell Mrs. Holmes we're just friends? She doesn't believe me when I say so," you tiredly sighed, making Mycroft sadly smile.

"...I'll see what I can do," he replied, putting on your hat and patting your head.

"Then, when do you wanna go dance? For practice," you asked as you adjusted your hat.

"You can come visit here whenever you are free to practice," he reassured, making you huff.

"All right... But don't go crying to me when your toes are bleeding after," you warned as you walked out, waving goodbye to Mycroft.

"I will mail you the medical bill," he retorted, waving goodbye as he watched you walk home, letting out a breath.

"Perhaps confirming Mother's suspicions was a mistake..."

#yuukoku no moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #valentines #mycroft holmes x reader #ynm mycroft #mycroft holmes #jq valentines event

[qveerthe0ry]

hi! i just read misfire & omfg?😭😭 pathetic dieter is top 2!! i was wondering if you would consider doing an alternative to where the reader does engage??

Sweet anon, what a wonderful question.

The answer is absolutely, and I have, and also I may have written the bulk of this earlier today instead of doing my job.

Thank you so much for reading Misfire and your kind words! Without further adieu I present you: Misfire (Anon's Version)

Summary: Dieter gets waxed for a role and is way too into it.

Word Count: 1,494

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x GN! Reader

Rating: 18+ explicit

Warnings: 18+ mdni, body hair waxing, pain kink, humiliation kink, degredation kink, praise kink, sub!Dieter, dom!Reader, anal fingering, prostate orgasm, coming untouched, minimal aftercare, no use of y/n

It isn’t the stickiest situation Dieter’s ever been in, but it is still quite sticky. 

The last thing he expected for a Tuesday at 8am was to be ass naked on a cold esthetician table, hard as a rock. All for a stupid role about stupid Olympic divers.

Because your hands are so gentle, which is the sexiest fucking contrast to the sting your wax leaves as you rip it from his fuzzy asscheeks. 

His breath leaves him in little whimpers as your wax stick gets closer and closer to his entrance, and he’s drooling from his mouth and his cock at this point. 

Which is fine, since he’s on his stomach. And maybe he’s grinding into the medical grade sanitary paper that covers your waxing table, and trying to disguise his squirming as discomfort. 

It would’ve worked, too, if he didn’t have to wax every inch of the front of his body as well.

But now you’re telling him to flip over, and he doesn’t want to move. Any other time he’d be dying to get his cock out and swing it around. But you’re just trying to do your job, and here he is, leaking onto your poor little waxing table, soiling it.

With a heaved sigh, he rolls onto his back, clambering all awkwardly on the small space. You’re turned away from him, preparing the next glob of hot wax, and his cock throbs. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, quiet and shameful, and you barely hear him.

“What’s that?”

Dieter can’t say it again. He just grumbles and covers his eyes with his arm. 

“Oh. Look at you, you poor thing.”

Dieter’s blood runs cold at the sound of your teasing voice. Well, all the blood that isn’t in his dick. The dick that’s now dribbling another stream of pre-cum as it jerks in the air. 

“I didn’t mean to,” he tells you.

And he looks so pretty, with his wide brown eyes and his flushed face. But he’s anything but innocent, and you know it. 

“Did you not, Mr.Bravo? Was I just imagining you humping my table like a bitch in heat, then?” 

You watch his chest expand with a gasp, see the wheels in his head turning for a desperate attempt at getting him out of this unscathed. 

He’s going to be fun to play with, you think. 

“I’m so sorry. I’ll uh, I’ll go, and I’ll make sure you’re paid triple for the trouble— I can do this myself at home.”

He starts to move to climb down from the table, but you don’t let him. Your gloved hands press down firmly on each of his thighs respectively. His prick bobs and sputters at the contact, and you’re sure your grin is devious.

“Nuh-uh, you aren’t going anywhere, Dieter. You want to act like a needy whore, then I’ll treat you like one.”

There’s a split second where apprehension gets the best of you, and Dieter freezes up, and you think maybe all the debauched tabloid entries you’ve read about him aren’t true at all. Maybe you’ve made a horrible mistake, and he isn’t a completely unhinged, freaky sex fiend at all. 

But then his body goes lax and his eyes close as he whimpers. 

“Yes, yes please.”

You huff out a sigh of relief and let your hands smooth up and down his thighs. 

“There you are, good boy. You know your place, don’t you?” 

“Mmm-hmm!” 

He nods his head and looks back at you with not a sliver of an iris to be found. 

“Get on your hands and knees for me, then.” 

He’s so eager to comply, crinkling up the paper on your table as he flips to his stomach, then eases up onto his hands and knees. 

His back arches as he hangs his head between his shoulders, and his freshly waxed ass is gorgeously on display, all for you. 

“For such a naughty thing, you’re being awfully good for me now,” you say, swiping your gloved fingers along the back of his thigh. 

He shivers, and goosebumps break out all over his smooth skin, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life.

“I’ll be so good, promise,” he whispers. 

You hum and squeeze the meat of his asscheek. He pushes into your hand and keens, and you watch another clear bead pour from his straining cock onto the crumpled paper underneath. 

Your other hand reaches up to grab him and spread, and you’re filled with awe as his puckered hole flutters at the attention. 

“Oh god,” he sighs, slumping slightly, balancing himself on one hand as the other makes a valiant effort to wrap around his own prick. 

It falls just short, though, when you grab his wrist and pin it behind him. 

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” 

The noise that works from his throat is pitiful, defeated and impatient and pleading. 

“N—no, no, you didn’t. I’m sorry.” 

You squeeze his wrist harder, and watch his dick bounce wildly between his legs, begging silently for any friction at all. 

“That’s what I thought,” you coo. 

His breaths are coming in more ragged, now, and his hips wiggle with desperation. Having such an influential, powerful man reduced to a puddle under you rministrations sends you reeling. Mad with power. 

So, you throw caution to the wind, and hawk a mouthful of spit directly onto his hole. 

He jolts and gasps and his face falls against the table as his arm gives out on him. His ass tilts up even more, and he spreads his legs farther apart and whimpers as your saliva drips down past his taint and onto his heavy sac. 

“Please let me come,” he begs, “I need to come.”

“Aww,” you mutter, “so eager.” 

He gulps another lungful of air, stuttered and wet, and you realize he’s crying, little droplets streaming from the corners of his eyes and wetting your table. All of a sudden, you find sympathy. 

“You can come,” you say. 

He tries valiantly to reach for his aching prick, but your grip on his wrist doesn’t waver. 

“Ah-ah,” you tut, “you can come, but you’re not touching your cock.”

He groans, and at first you think he’s defeated, but his dick throbs between his legs and sputters another few dribbles. The paper below him is transparent now, soaked and soiled from pre-come and drool and tears and your own spit. You want to see him come so badly, make an even bigger mess, and he doesn’t seem very far off. 

His legs are shaking and his hips rock back and forth absentmindedly, searching for anything he can get and coming up short. 

So you relent, and you help him along. Your gloved finger presses against his hole and it damn near sucks you in, greedy and ready. 

“Oh god, oh shit.” 

You feel the warmth of him draw in the tip of your finger as the ring of muscle spasms and relaxes. You enter so easily, a smooth, slow slide until you’re knuckle deep and Dieter is rocking his hips back and forth to urge you to move. You press in and out in minute motions, barely drawing back before diving in again. 

And then you curl your finger, and he yelps, and his legs tense up. 

“Have I– have I been good?” 

His little hiccup of breath is sweet, pathetic music to your ears and you let out a satisfied hum. 

“You’ve been very good for me, Dieter.”

“Yeah– fuck. Please–”

“Come for me, make a mess for me. Be a good boy and come.”

You can feel it before you’re even done speaking, his tight hole clenching around your finger. His legs tremble with the force, pulled taught and strained, and his groan almost sounds pained as he finally releases. 

His cock jerks against nothing as rope after rope of his seed sprays your table, each streak just a little less forceful than the last, until the final few drops weakly ooze from his spent cock. 

He whines when you slowly slip your finger from him, and curls into himself when your hands leave his body. 

You round the table to look him in the eyes, sleepy and sated and red from the tears. 

“Okay?” you ask, disposing of your soiled gloves. 

He sighs, and you thread your fingers through his sweaty curls. 

“I’m good,” he tells you with a hoarse voice, “thank you. For uh– For all of that.”

You give him a sweet smile, and he returns it, so vulnerable here, curled up into a ball, shivering from his cooling sweat, and lax. 

You find your handy box of tissues behind you, and set the on the table beside him. 

“Now clean yourself up and we can finish your wax.” 

Dieter watches in disbelief as you leave the room with a nonchalance that makes him burn.

He aches with the hope that you'll let him return the favor next time.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #sub!dieter bravo #dieter bravo whimpering #I love you anon thank you for this motivation <3 #pedro pascal request #dieter bravo request #prompt fill

[homeheroine]

Spider Medic Pt 1

Becoming Spiderman’s medic was not something you imagined for yourself when you started school at Visions Academy. Not to say you didn’t like the “job”, in fact you appreciated it. As a student who’s class schedule aimed for a future career in medicine, you accepted any type of hands-on practice you could get. Your fated first meeting with the new Spiderman was what thrust the job into your hands. 

——

“Hey uh… what did you get for the fourth question on the frq?” Miles asked leaning over to look at your free response packet. 

You and Miles were studying together for an upcoming physics test in a cafe near Visions. 

“Onnne sec.” You were lost in calculations trying to piece together a formula that would work for this specific problem. Humming to yourself as you scribbled, erased and typed in numbers and calculated variables. “Ah hah! I got it finally!” 

“Wait seriously?? The answer is correct? What constant did you use? How many variables were there?” Miles bombarded you with questions while trying to get a look at your scribbles and eraser marks. 

“Woah woah dude who said I was gonna give it to you?” You jokingly asked while snatching the paper away.

Miles gave you a sarcastic but a little defeated look. “You’re really gonna hold out on me like that? I thought we were studying together!” 

“We are studying together, this is not me giving you the answers.”

“You really like making this hard for me don’t you?” 

You smile at him, “I do my best.” You caved, picking up your pencil and moving toward his packet. “Here let me show you the equation.” Miles smiled and enjoyed the subtle invasion of his personal space as you leaned in to write on his paper. 

You and Miles have become instant friends when you started at Visions. You two often shared higher level science classes, given you both wanted to pursue a science related career, and you were often partners together for labs. It wasn’t too long until you became close friends and eventually began developing hints of romantic feelings for each other. It was only a touch of these feelings for a time, but as time went on and as more labs were assigned and more homework and more tests and more papers these feelings grew for the both of you. You were totally his type, he often thought to himself. Smart, witty, funny, super kind and always willing to help someone out. You even liked the same music! Miles enjoyed spending his time with you; he only wished there was a way to spend it with you outside of school related stuff. He had flaked out on plans you made together because of Spiderman stuff and he honestly didn’t want to endanger you. It’s almost as if trouble follows him wherever he goes. A sudden loud crash on the outside of the left cafe window only cemented this idea. You jumped at the sound looking through the window to your left and across the street. Had a van driven into a building? All the people walking had stopped for a moment to take in the view of this van that had embedded itself into the bank's glass entrance. Oh god was anyone hurt? You felt Miles stand up. What’s he doing? You didn’t take your eyes off the building, it seemed as though the whole cafe was watching to see what would happen next. Suddenly there was a loud bang and a crack of light blurred your vision and you turned away to shield your eyes. Turning back you saw smoke beginning to pillow out of the bank's windows. “Oh my god…” you murmured, “they’re blowing up the vaults!”. You watched as civilians began clambering out of the broken windows. I have to go help! You stood up and ran out the door without a second thought. Running and dodging between honking cars you crouched to the closest individual who ran out. They were covered in soot and were coughing. “Hey! Are you alright, have you been burned?” They shook their head. “Let me help you out of the way.” Easing them to a location a few meters away from the building you then took out your phone and called 911. As you spoke you approached the burning building. If someone else was trapped inside they wouldn’t be able to make it out in time for the ambulance. Ignoring all self preservation screaming in your mind you entered the building. This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is a TERRIBLE idea. You continued on.  

Miles on the other hand had left the cafe the moment you noticed him stand up, his spidey sense already alerting him. He cursed at himself for not leaving the cafe the moment he felt something off. I left without saying anything to Y/N. I hope they aren’t mad, he thinks, What the hell Miles?? Keep your head in the game! Swinging onto the top of the cafe he glanced over the scene. Wait, is that Y/N? Are they going into the bank!? Shit! Not wasting another second he swung onto the scene. 

The front room was painted in black soot and furniture burned from the embers of the explosion. The ceiling had a gaping hole in it revealing the second floor. Debris from the ceiling had already fallen before you entered and the second floor was soon to come down too. You helped civilians as they passed by and as you got deeper into the wreckage you heard a cry. Quickly turning you saw the producer of the cry. A small child had their leg trapped under fallen debris. “I’m coming to help you don’t worry!” You hopped over a few debris obstacles and landed on your knees next to the child. They cried and hoisted their arms in your direction. “Help!”

Lodging your hands under the fallen structure you lifted with all your might. The structure made a cracking sound and more debris rained down behind you. With the little extra space you created the child was able to scoot their way out. They clung to you, trembling. By now the fire had spread significantly, you were surrounded by black smoke by the time you got the child free. You tossed them into your arms in an effort to make a quick escape from the building but as you ran forward sudden debris had fallen over the exit. “We’re trapped!” The child cried. “No we’re not. I’ll find us a way out.” Head on a swivel you found the only open path. Deeper into the bank. You coughed, the smoke invading your lungs. You had to move quickly. You ran the only way you could. There had to be a back door right? A fire escape or something?? Entering deeper into the building you heard voices up ahead. Others trying to escape? You ran toward them only to stop dead in your tracks. Up ahead were men with gas masks and possibly fire proof clothing, large bags and guns. They planned to use the fire as a way to keep law enforcement out while they stole any of the money that wasn’t burned. You guessed. What do they plan to do if someone is still in the building to witness their crime? Loose ends. You gulped, fearing what their use of firearms was for. You turned to run instantly only to be stopped once again but this time by the end of the barrel of a gun. The child shrieked and buried their face into the crook of your neck. You shielded the child. The dark clouds of smoke mirrored your dark predictions. Was this where you died? You coughed again. “Please let us pass.” Your voice brittle. The grunt turned and looked to his peers. He was met with a sideways glance and the grunt cocked the gun and fired. The child screamed. You closed your eyes anticipating pain or shock but nothing came. Peeking an eye open you looked to find you were swinging through the air?? “Don’t worry! Your friendly neighborhood Spiderman’s got you!” Relief washed over you as Spiderman swung you and the child out through the roof of the building and then bringing you to the sidewalk in front of the cafe. Placing your feet on the ground you brought the child to their feet. “Thank you Spiderman!” The child yelled looking excitedly up at the hero. You wrapped the hero in a quick embrace, one too quick for him to reciprocate, then quickly pulled away, “Yes thank you.”. He stood for a moment eyes wide. Surprised maybe? Shocked? Oh god should I not have done that?, you thought to yourself suddenly panicked again. “O-of course! That’s my job! Uhh saving the day and all that.” He laughed sheepishly. “I should uh get back to that job now… ” He turned toward the pillowing smoke of the building and looked back, almost hesitantly? “bye”. “Bye” you waved. A little awestruck. That was terrifying! But also really cool? What am I thinking! That was terrifying, period! You shook your head attempting to clear your mind. Crouching down next to the child you asked “are you ok? No burns no scrapes?” The child gave you an excited thumbs up. “Nope!” Clearly seeing the hero cured them of their previous fear, “Spiderman was so cool!!”. You smiled, at least they won’t be traumatized I suppose. “Let's find your parents shall we?”

Not too long after that did law enforcement, firefighters and medical teams arrive. By then spidey had successfully captured the burglars in some webs, leaving them for law enforcement to handle. After delivering the child back to their parents was when you decided to help any of the injured people get to the medical crew. Spidey also helped, running in and out of the building to find the rest who still remained inside. It was when you watched him carry a man who had injured both his legs to an ambulance did you notice the large gash that ran diagonally down across the outside of his arm. You squinted at it realizing it was a graze wound from the bullet that he saved you and the child from. “Thank you Spiderman.” The man shook Spidey’s hand. Shooting a web to depart from the scene, Spiderman waved goodbye. Before you could say anything to him he was already bounding between buildings really to leave. 

“Spiderman!” You called after him, catching his attention before he departed. 

“Oh hey it's you.” He dropped down in front of you. “Are you ok? Did you need anything? Have you seen an emt yet?” He bombarded you with questions reminding you of a friend from earlier that day.

“Me? I’m fine thanks to you. And so is that little kid.” He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled. 

“Like I said, it’s my job. But what you did…that was really dumb you know. Running into a smoking building like that.”

You smiled, embarrassed. “Yeah I guess so. I don’t know why I did it. I was worried if someone had gotten hurt and I didn’t want to just stand around and— ha well… it doesn’t matter. It was stupid you’re right.” You looked down, the concrete in the alley suddenly becoming oh so interesting. 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t brave though.” You peeked an eye up at him. He made a gesture with his hands “Still dumb, but brave. Don’t do it again.” You two laughed lightly at his father like scolding. 

You changed the subject, not being able to promise you wouldn’t put yourself in danger again to help someone else. “Did you see an emt? That gash on your arm is pretty bad. I think its from the bullet you saved me from.” His eyes widened and he quickly glanced over both of his arms. 

“Huh, I didn’t even notice.” He shrugged and glanced over at the emts a few meters away, “I don’t want to busy the emts. The people who were injured need more attention than I do.” You let out a frustrated breath at his nonchalant attitude. 

“Dude, that gash is gonna need to be stitched so deep.”

“I’ll be finnne.” He coos, “I’m Spiderman, I heal like super quick and stuff.”

“Clearly you don’t know anything about infection. And the scar that that gash will give you will be nasty.” Your face lit up as an idea crossed your mind. “What if I patch you up?” 

He laughed, “You?”

“Yeah I’m on the medical track at my school, I had to do a suture for a cut deeper than that for my midterm. And I’ll have you know I got an A on that.” He eyed you, cocking a brow, evident by the way the eyes of his mask moved.

“Ok an A minus, but that’s besides the point.” You confessed. 

He put his hands on his hips casually and laughed. “You’re funny, man.”

“Oh! and I owe you for saving my life. So there.” You smiled wider, happy you could make the hero laugh.  “Come please? Let me do this for you. You’re always helping everyone out, all of New York, all the time! Let one of us help you for a change ok?” 

Miles stared into your eyes, speechless. He was so touched. God why are you so nice Y/N? He thought. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Ok fine.” You fist bumped the air, cheering. “But only because you’re so nice.” 

“Hey I’m just paying you back, I take no joy in repaying the savior of New York. Not one bit.” You both smiled. 

——

What you thought would be a one time, “hey thanks for saving my life” kinda favor turned into regular appearances from the Spiderman. He would knock on your dorm window, followed by a “hey uh so something happened.” Or a “I maybe have gotten a little bit hurt.” Or even “not to bother you or anything buuuut…”. First a funny little favor became a ritual for you two. It was strange to you why Spiderman would put so much trust into a stranger, but Miles, he savored every moment. He loved the intimacy that came from the moments you two shared while you patched him up. Did he feel just a tad bit guilty for basically lying to you about who he is as well as essentially listening to private conversations that aren’t really meant for him? Pfft… yeah, like a lot. The light conversation slowly became deeper and more vulnerable as time went on and frankly he couldn’t stop coming to see you, even if the injury wasn’t that severe. 

You were seated behind him carefully taking the stitches out of his healed back while you conversed. 

“This healed up well Spidey. Seems you listened to my directions.” You smiled, happy with the work you had done.

“Yeah I guess, don’t wanna upset my favorite doc.” He quipped. “It’s hella itchy though, have anything to make it a little more bearable?”

“Sure thing, stop squirming so much so I can remove the stitches faster and apply something to help you with that.” You fake scolded. Miles ducked his head. “Sorry.” He murmured, feeling guilty suddenly. It had been a while of you helping him out and his guilt was beginning to take over. He wanted to tell you his identity so badly, to tell you how thankful he was of you. How he loved your intimate conversations and your caring touches as you patched him up. But most of all he wanted to tell you how he felt, the real feelings he’s been harboring for so long now.

“Hey Y/N-“ 

“All done!” Miles was suddenly interrupted by your cheer.

“Great. I’m glad the wound healed up so nice.” You chirped as you resterilized your tools. “You’ve really helped me improve my suturing skills. My teachers have even taken notice.”

“Haha yeah sure but I wanted to ask you-“

“Patching you up actually reminds me a lot of my study sessions with my friend Miles.” He sputters at your comment. Dramatically making hand gestures.

“O-oh-oh haha that’s really funny— ha, imagine that.” His voice dipped low towards the end in an attempt to cover up his actual voice. “So uh, what do you think of this Miles?” He tried to ask causally.

You raised an eyebrow at his reaction, confused but you didn’t press him about it. “Miles? Well he’s great! Super funny and really smart. He’s such a great guy to be around but he’s changed since we first met.”

His face warms hearing you speak so fondly of him. “Changed? What’d you mean?”

You sighed, “We used to hang out and study together all the time but lately I feel like he’s been avoiding me. He leaves early on our study sessions, he gives me lame excuses for flaking out on plans and honestly I’ve just been seeing him less.” You sighed again, a little sad now. “I just think— I’d know maybe… maybe he doesn’t like me anymore—.”

“NO.” Miles’s voice sounds boldly into the room. Both his and your eyes widen at his sudden unfiltered reaction, he backtracks. “N-NO WAAAY, no way! I can’t believe he would do something like that! He’s crazy!” He’s sweating now. 

“Right…” You answer, really confused now. 

Fuck! That was so weird Miles! He berates himself mentally. There’s a pregnant pause before you declare you’ve finished removing the stitches. Getting up from behind him, you head to your desk where you begin sterilizing and putting away your tools. “It’s probably be best if you get going, it’s pretty late and its school night.” He hums something you figured to be a “yes” while zipping the top half of his suit back up. Heading over to your window preparing to open it he hesitates, looking over his shoulder to you. You see him do this, confused by his strange demeanor today you question him. 

“Is everything alright? You seem… off.” 

Miles pauses, debating on throwing his worries at you or just straight up leaving and never coming back. The concern on your face eating at him. Growing his guilt even more. I don’t deserve their worry or their care. And they don’t deserve to be lied to. He rubs the bridge of his nose through his mask. “Ouch.” 

You raise an eyebrow. Miles takes one glove off and reaches under his mask touching the bridge then pulling his hand back out. Blood? 

“Ok, now I really need you to tell me if you are alright.” You say, stepping closer to him. “Did you break your nose Spidey?” You are very close now, so much so Miles’ back begins to touch the cold window. He sucks in a breath, watching you with wide eyes. You reach out to touch his nose. Lightly tracing the bridge with your finger over his mask. “Hmm.” You barely notice the closeness, being so concentrated on diagnosing him through his mask. 

Spidey grabs your wrist gently. “You can uh.. “ he gulps, “you can look at it if you’d like.” Your eyes shoot up to his widening in surprise slightly. “Well I mean— if-if you have the time that is. You said it yourself, it’s late and it’s a school night. For you! Definitely not for me, I totally don’t go to school. Wait, no. I do go to school. I’m a teen like you. I have to. I mean, just not at Visions… I mean— not your school, ya know? Ha ha.”

You roll your eyes playfully and step back, pulling him to the same places you sat moments ago. Only now he faced the opposite direction. He faced you. You gathered your things and plopped down in front of him. Setting the things to the side you look at him, face morphing into a thoughtful but concerned one. “i’m happy to help Spidey but are you sure you're ok with this?, are you sure you… you trust me enough?” You muttered the last bit, “i don’t have any malicious intent, you know that, i hope, but i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“I could never feel uncomfortable with you.” Miles answers a little too quickly, he back tracks “w-well i mean, i-“ he bites his tongue. Why is he like this with you? “I trust you. completely. you wouldn’t do any of this if you weren’t a good person and we’ve been doing this for a while.” he smiles at the last bit.

You smile too, hardly able to look at him. It felt so good to hear that. Not only because you felt the same but because it quelled your insecurities about being a bad friend born from Miles’ avoidance of you. 

You look back up at him still smiling. “Before this gets too mushy, let your friendly neighborhood medic patch you up, again.” You chirp

Spidey chuckles, “sure thing doc.” You can hear his snarky expression through his voice. Though you tingled at the notion of finally being able to see, at least half, of that expression. 

Miles stares at you, soaking in your smile. You stare back, cocking a brow. “Should I take it off or should you?” 

Miles blushes hard, right my mask, “oh! Right! Sorry!” He fumbles with the bottom trying to get his gloved fingers under. Why is this so difficult all of sudden?? 

You gently grab his wrists, the same way he did to you earlier. “I got it.” You whisper, leaning in. You reach under his chin, fingers grazing his neck lightly. Miles’ skin lights up at the action. He swears you do it on purpose too, especially with the way you bite your lip in concentration. Slowly lifting the mask, you give him time to back out, revealing his face inch by inch. First his chin, lightly bruised but that’s to be expected. His lips, which he quickly wets before thinning out in a straight line, nervous probably, you assume. Then his nose, yup broken, swollen with a large bruise and a bloody scab. “It’s definitely broken pretty boy.” You muse turning to grab the damp and dry cotton swabs you prepared. 

He smiles. Oh god, his smile. You swoon, suddenly very aware of how handsome Spidey really was. Does he really smile like that under the mask every time? God that’s so unfair, covering such a great smile— wait…. his smile seems really familiar.  

Pretty boy… They called me pretty… They think I’m pretty? Miles is lost in a daze, heat coming to his face again while he relishes in the adjective.

You place the end of his mask just above the break so you can work on his nose. Scotching your knees against his you take a swab to his face and begin cleaning the bloodied cuts. 

Miles is highly aware of how close to two are and it’s driving him crazy. Do you even understand what you're doing to him right now? His crush, going on a year now, is sitting not even centimeters from his face and is fifty percent away from revealing his secret identity! He takes in a long breath attempting to calm himself down. That doesn’t help since the smell of your perfume wafts into his nose. His whole body stiffens up. There’s no mask to hide your face Miles! Don’t be weird!

You’re quiet as you work which is highly unusual to Miles. Usually you take a moment to assess the damage and you happily converse while you work. He’s worried, is this too weird for you?

If it’s possible for his body to get anymore tense, it does when you place a palm on the side of his face to steady him? Was he really moving so much that you had to put your hand on him? No… maybe they just wanted to touch me… Miles can’t handle such information nor how close your face got when you did that, you speak before he can. 

“This is probably a stupid request but… can I pull off your mask entirely?” You ask hesitantly. “It’s just, if I’m gonna do the rest.. I need to see more. W-well not see more of your face specifically, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, I mean see more of your nose… so I can work on it.” You stumble through your explanation, not even sure if you actually need more off or if you just wanted to see who he was. He was so familiar it was killing you. Who is this guy?

There’s a silent lull again. They need to know, I can’t hide myself from them anymore. Miles breathes out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and reaches for the rest of his mask. You watch silently. 

“Just don’t be too disappointed, okay?” He half jokes, adding the last statement more quietly, “or mad.” 

The mask comes off. An symbol so valued and loved or hated and feared suddenly forgotten. Revealing the person behind it all.

That hair, his eyes, the rest of his broken nose. Of course!

“Surprise?” 

“Miles!?”

#miles morales #miles morales x reader #1610 miles morales x reader #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #x reader #Hero'sCafe

[celtic-crossbow]

Hand in Hand, to Hell and Back, I Will Follow You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Carol Peletier

Setting: France

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood and injury; poorly written smut

Summary: Finally.

A/N: This can stand alone or be the third part following Two Sinners Can’t Atone from a Lone Prayer and You Wanna Shut Away the Pieces of a Broken Heart

©celtic-crossbow 2024. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.

“Here! In here!” Carol held open the door, watching the surrounding area nervously while the people she had led away from the battle filed into the small room. Three men. One woman. And a boy. She made sure they weren’t followed and closed the door, pulling down the yellowing shades before pushing a desk in front of the entrance. The papers, letters long forgotten, scattered onto the floor. She took but a moment to consider if they were meant for a loved one who would never read the words. 

“Qui es-tu?” The blonde woman was shielding the child behind her, as if Carol meant them harm after running into the fray and leading them to safety. Well, at least some form of temporary safety. 

Regardless, she had no time for questions. 

Her focus was on the man hanging between the other two. The reason she had crossed an ocean and fought her way through an unfamiliar land on just a single thread of hope she would find him. 

“Daryl?” Carol took his face in her hands, lifting his head, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. She had hoped her voice would have been enough to rouse him. “Shit.” Frantic blue eyes took stock of the room, filled to the brim with books and documents, everything coated in a thick layer of dust and entirely useless. 

“Who are you?” The woman spoke again and was once again ignored. 

Moving quickly, Carol swept her arms across a table, sending everything onto the floor to be forgotten. “Put him here.” The men took a moment to regard one another. “Now!” She barked, reluctant but not unwilling to pull her gun. Daryl obviously knew these people if he was willing to fight with—for—them, but she didn’t. 

“How do you know him?”

Carol gritted her teeth. She wasn’t out to make enemies but she wasn’t striving for friends either. Placing Daryl’s crossbow on the desk, she unshouldered her bag and dug through it for the medical supplies she had gathered along her journey. 

“It’s okay, Isa.” Carol spared a glance toward the boy, but then gathered her supplies, all she could carry, and returned to the table where Daryl lay prone, pressing two fingers to his neck just to reassure herself he was still there. “She’s his lady Carol. She isn’t here to hurt us.”

She froze for a moment, knife in one hand and the other hovering over the bullet wound in Daryl’s thigh. Focus. Cutting through the trousers and wiping away the blood with a piece of fabric torn from her own shirt and several alcohol prep squares, she could get a better look at what she was dealing with. Through and through. There was no way of knowing if it had hit the bone but it had definitely missed the artery or she would be putting him down rather than patching him up. With any luck, it had gone through the muscle alone. His limp would likely be more profound but it was preferable to a shattered femur. 

“Bullet went through.” She sniffed, holding back the tears that so desperately fought to fall. He was there, alive and breathing, and she was going to make sure he stayed that way. Carol unbuckled her belt, granting the room’s other occupants a moment’s worth of her full attention before she slipped the leather through the loops and worked it beneath Daryl’s leg. 

“My name is Fallou.” One man offered, stepping closer while she secured the belt as a tourniquet. She didn’t respond and wouldn’t. Daryl may have been less than truthful about his life and family in order to protect the ones he’d left. Without him awake, she wouldn’t risk unweaving the tale he may have told. “This is Losang.” Her eyes flitted up from the gauze she was applying, following Fallou’s gesture toward the other man. 

“I’m Laurent. This is Isabelle.” 

Carol couldn’t help but nod and give the kid a tight-lipped smile. 

“And you’re his Carol.”

His. “Yeah? And how do you know that?” She was genuinely curious. Winding the bandage around Daryl’s thigh didn’t take much focus aside from trying to do so without cutting off the entire pant leg. The wound would need stitched whenever they could find the supplies necessary. 

“I can just tell. Monsieur Daryl spoke of you.” She chuckled quietly but said nothing else. She should have been wondering what he had said about her but all she could think about was his facial expression at being called a monsieur. Carol froze again when the boy continued. “You have the same look on your face as he does when he speaks of you.”

Everyone else in the room disappeared and there was only Daryl, peaceful behind the blood and bruises in a way she wished she could see without injury. Finally able to relax, she pulled over the office chair and collapsed into it, leaning forward with one elbow on the table, the opposite hand smoothing the hair away from his face. 

“Everyone rest. We have to wait this out.” She instructed, words given on autopilot that she wouldn’t remember later. 

He came to gradually and then all at once, a burning, jolting pain in his left thigh that radiated down to his toes and back up to his hip in a hot gasoline trail. “Fuck.” He rasped before even opening his eyes. He was disoriented, feeling everything spin behind closed lids. Where was he? Had they lost? Had the Nest been taken?

“Easy.” Isabelle’s voice broke through the barrier of pain, a relief enveloping him to know she was alive. The steadiness in her tone told him that Laurent was safe, but there was a hesitance there as well, a heaviness that was out of place. 

Daryl turned his head toward the soft call of his name and blinked open tired eyes. They had been outnumbered, that much he could recall. Codron has switched sides, offering them knowledge of the attack and thus time to at least form a line of defense. He remembered the blinding pain when the bullet struck his leg. He had only just struggled to his feet after a blow to the head, taken right back down in a cocoon of agony. Then there was nothing. 

Almost nothing. 

He’d heard Carol’s voice. It wasn’t unusual. He always heard her when he slept. Her soft syllables reminded him of why he continued fighting to keep the boy safe. He needed to finish what he’d started and then get home to her. France could never be home. Not without Carol. 

He’d be lying to them and himself if he promised to stay, even when the mission wasn’t complete, when any opportunity to make it back to the Commonwealth might present itself. He’d leave them behind the tide and never look back. 

So he never promised. 

He had promised Carol he’d make it home. And he’d never lie to her. He didn’t intend to start now. 

An electric current of pain snaked out from the wound, and he jerked, attempting to shake it, somehow grasp it and hold it at bay. 

“We will return soon and you can rest and heal.” Isabelle was holding his hand and though he didn’t pull away, the touch felt wrong. 

“Did—is anythin’ still there to go back to?” Her blurry silhouette shrugged, distant shouts and gunshots muffled behind a closed door. 

“We had to run. You were injured and the hungry ones came. She came then too. She led us here and we’ve been safe.”

She? “Who?” Isabelle didn’t answer, forcing him to wait until his vision cleared before trying again. “Who?” She smiled sadly with a distinct jerk of her chin, indicating the other side of him. Daryl rolled his head and his breath hitched before stopping completely. He’d know that crown of silver hair anywhere. “Carol?” Her head was on the table, rested atop her arms just beside his elbow. If he was going crazy, he was taking Isabelle with him. She could see the woman too. It was all enough to have him ignoring the pain and scrambling upright. “Carol? Carol!” 

She jerked awake, finding his gaze with ease, her own eyes wide as her hands began to flail in ill fated attempts to subdue him. “Daryl, wait! Calm down, you’re hurt—stop it!” 

He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Carol didn’t resist when he found her upper arms, damn near pulling her onto the table with him to crush her against his chest. He was crying, pride be damned. She was there and whole and there and he couldn’t let go. “Carol.” His voice shook and cracked as he held onto her, not realizing nor caring that she was returning the embrace. He just needed to feel her there. The shame of being so desperate for her would come later. 

“I’m here. I’m here.” She soothed, petting the back of his head. She was shaking, sobbing softly into his shoulder. 

It wasn’t long before his body reminded him of his injuries, his energy waning, but he refused to let go and sagged against her, clumsily holding on and adjusting his grip on her jacket each time it failed him. 

“It’s okay, Daryl. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.” Her voice was fading as he was left no choice but to give in to the pull of exhaustion and blood loss, still clinging to her with weak fingers while she eased him onto his back. “Rest now. I’m here.”

“Carol.” He croaked, hands falling away, one thudded against the table while the other fell right into her waiting palm. He was so tired, overwhelmed by the strong notion that she could still be just a dream. As darkness crept into the edges of his vision, he whispered the same words he always did when he’d seen her while he slept. “I love you. Don’t go.” 

He was no longer on a hard table the next time he clawed his way into the waking world. Though the mattress wasn’t much of an improvement, it still eased the ache in his muscles and the throbbing pulse in his leg. She was his first thought, his hand squeezing the soft weight of fingers curled around it. 

“Easy, Daryl.” 

He let out a sob, uncaring of the weakness he displayed. Carol was really there. His eyes found hers, tired and red-rimmed. “You’re here.” He breathed, struggling to sit up. She didn’t stop him but slipped an arm behind his neck to assist his efforts. “How?”

Once he was upright, still holding tightly to her hand, Carol rubbed at her eyes with her free forearm. Her jacket, he noticed, was discarded on the undisturbed bedroll behind her. “I found a clue and followed your trail.” She smirked and placed a palm against his cheek, rubbing her thumb over the stubble there. “Getting sloppy in your old age.” She chuckled and he blushed, feeling the burn of it all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Glad I was this time.” He admitted.  

Carol gave him that gentle smile that always turned his heart inside out. “Your color is better. You were cold as ice when we got you here. I stitched up your leg. Everyone was worried but I know you. It’d take way more than this to take you down.” She gestured toward his leg. 

Daryl nodded, grateful for that bit of praise when he truly felt as if a strong breeze could knock him over. He hadn’t had the presence of mind until that moment to look around. The room was unfamiliar but definitely one found within the walls of the Nest. It still stood. 

He had grown accustomed to a thin mattress or bedroll on the floor of the shared sleeping area. This room was nice, private and bright with a balcony. One of the upper rooms he’d never been curious enough to explore during his time there. He’d never wanted to, not even in brief stints of boredom. The unfamiliarity of the place had kept him centered, focused on going home. 

“I have a way back home. Back to the Commonwealth.” He turned back to her and she flinched, eliciting a tilt of his head. “That’s if you wanna go.”

“Course I wanna go.” He stated firmly but not unkindly. He was confused. “Why wouldn’t I wanna go?”

“Seems like you’ve got something here.” Carol released his hand. He thought he caught the shine of a tear as she turned away and stood, approaching the door to the balcony. Arms crossed, she looked out over the place. “Like you have someone.”

Now he was beyond confused. “What the hell’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, the sun warming the side of her face in a way that made her look unreal, like a painting that belonged in a museum before the end of the world. She smiled, that same know-it-all grin she had given him when she had suggested he settle down with Connie. “Isabelle. She loves you, you know?” 

“Nah, I don’t know.” He was having trouble keeping his tone level in the face of her assumptions. She turned away again. 

“I could see it back in that office. The way she watched over you, held your hand.” A beat of silence before she sighed heavily. “You told her you loved her.”

Daryl’s face twisted into a grimace, trying to pull together any recollection. He remembered going down, the pain. He remembered Isabelle when he woke. He remembered being consumed by Carol, nothing but her once he had set his eyes on her. 

I love you. Don’t go. 

Shit. “Carol, I—”

She chuckled. “You’ve got nothing to explain to me, Daryl. I’m glad you’ve found happiness.” Her shoulders slumped a little, and he could see the defeat in that posture. “I said I wouldn’t leave without you, but I only meant that if you wanted to leave. You don’t have to leave her. Or the boy.”

He hated letting his silence linger but he needed a moment to get himself off that damn bed. Everything hurt. His body had been given one taste of proper rest and had then decided it liked it and didn’t want to cooperate. Finally, finally, he made it to his feet and limped his way across the distance, stopping just behind her. 

He didn’t touch her even though his body was being drawn to her like a painful magnet. “Wasn’t sayin’ that to her, Carol.” Her back straightened, but she didn’t move. “Look at me.” He wanted to sound sure of himself, had really tried. It still came out as a weak request. Regardless, she turned around, her head bowed. Daryl hooked a finger beneath her chin and guided her up to where his gaze waited, hoped she could read the honesty on his face, the naked longing. “Not to her.”

“Daryl.” The way she said his name both broke his heart and made him shiver, the combination sparking a flame to life beneath the desire that morphed into courage he wasn’t sure he’d ever gather again if he didn’t tell her right that moment. 

“I love you, Carol. S’always been you.” His knuckle caressed her jaw before his palm opened just below it, his large hand cradling the side of her neck while his thumb stroked her cheek. “Wasted so much time, made so many mistakes when I could’a told ya so many years ago. Maybe could’a saved ya some’a the pain ya’ve been through. M’sorry. I was a coward.”

Carol gasped, and even though he’d never taken his eyes off her face, it was as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Daryl Dixon, you are anything but a coward.” She said it with such conviction that he had no choice but to believe it. “You’ve done more for me, for everyone, than any of us ever deserved from you.”

“You deserved it.” He said more forcefully than intended but Carol never even blinked. “Ya deserve everythin’, Carol.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Do I deserve you, Daryl?” 

He snorted weakly. It wasn’t funny but the very idea that she didn’t deserve the entire fucking world was ludicrous to him. “Better than me.”

Carol took that last step forward, pressing them chest to chest, forcing her head back to look at him properly. “There is no better than you.” Her eyes followed her hand as she cupped his cheek, fingers trailing over the stubble and gliding to brush his hair behind his ear before stilling on the side of his neck, almost mirroring the way his hand still laid against her. “I’ve had my man of honor all along.”

It was instantaneous, the way he bowed his head and she tilted hers, their lips coming together in a kiss that was way overdue. It felt electric, the hairs rising on the back of his neck beneath her fingertips. She shivered and sighed into his mouth when his lips parted in invitation, her tongue delving inside with no further prompting. They were moving before he’d even realized it, his limp playing a substantial role in the unsteady course toward the bed. 

Carol fell first, her hold on his biceps dragging him along with her. Daryl caught himself easily enough, keeping his weight off of her but failing miserably in protecting his leg from bumping the mattress. He hissed a breath through his teeth and arched upward to favor the injury while she overflowed with apologies. “M’fine.” He grumbled, taking a moment to allow the ache to subside. When he opened his eyes, crystal blues were trained on him. Her mouth was turned down, worry and disappointment visible enough in the lines. “Said m’fine, Carol.”

“Maybe we should wait.” She hadn’t made a move to shift from beneath but her body was rigid and ready to spring the moment he gave the word.

Daryl shook his head before jerking his chin toward the area above her, silently demanding that she move more onto the mattress. “Waited long enough.” With a curt nod, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and complied, watching him with such intensity as he gingerly followed that it made him slightly uncomfortable. Tilting and holding his weight more on his right side, he lowered to his forearms—his hips settled between her thighs— to press his mouth back against hers. He knew he was already hard, his poor body trying to figure out whether his pulse should be in his injured leg or his throbbing erection. His hopes that she hadn’t noticed were quickly dashed.

He pulled back, breathless, to find her smirking at him. “What?”

“I think we’re entirely overdressed for this occasion.” Rubbing her lips together behind that same smug smile, she snapped one of the suspenders and he dropped his head. He was never living that one down. “We’re going to talk about these later. And by talk, I mean I’m going to tease you until the end of time and you’re going to say stahp on repeat.”

“Shuddup.” He griped through a lopsided smile while pulling up the bottom of her shirt.

Getting undressed was more challenging than it should have been. The wound in his thigh made moving difficult, several colorful words finding their way past his lips. He was pale and sweating, leaning heavily on the wooden nightstand by the time he was down to his underwear. 

“You sure you’re up for this?” Daryl’s eyes lifted to find Carol sitting on her knees, bare save for the modest, mismatched bra and panties hiding the things he wanted to see most. Her eyes skirted down for a moment and then back to his face, that smirk firmly back in place. “Well, parts of you are definitely up for it.”

“You’re killin’ me with the commentary.”

“Sorry, Pookie. Come over here.” She moved back to give him room. “Lie on your back.” Her hands were out, ready to assist if he needed but he wasn’t a fucking invalid. He could manage getting onto a damn mattress.

Maybe.

He groaned once his head hit the pillow, physically and sexually frustrated. He was quite literally aching for her but his body was one giant ball of pain. She noticed his plight. Of course she did. Daryl opened his eyes when he felt her moving beside him and then her hand on his ribs, just over a deep bruise. She had some contusions and lacerations of her own, each with a story he wanted to hear but knew it was not something to ask about at that moment. She was about to give him an out and he wasn’t having it.

“Nah, don’t even.” He shook his head. “Want this, have wanted this. Not willin’ to wait if its what ya want too.” Carol seemed to mull over the words, eyes narrowed but not arguing. He took that as a good sign.

“Fine, but you let me do all the work.” 

His mouth fell open to retort but clicked shut when she leaned over him to press a kiss to the skin above where his pulse raced and then to the front of his throat, dipping her tongue into the hollow between his collarbones. When she shifted to circle the wet muscle around his right nipple, he drew in an unsteady breath, the adrenaline flowing from her attentions giving him both the will and the energy to push her onto her back. Goddamn, that hurt. 

Worth it. 

“I said to let me do all the work!” He was already sitting back, balancing awkwardly on his right knee, and pulling her panties down her slender but strong legs. 

“I didn’t agree to nothin’.” He smirked, hooking a finger beneath the material of the bra, just over her sternum. “Take it off.” He had no idea where this confidence was stemming from but he rode with it, would until it fizzled out. 

“When did you get so bossy?” She quipped, opting to pull the garment over her head in lieu of wasting the time unfastening it. The sight of her breasts had his mouth damn near watering but he had an agenda to keep before his leg gave out completely. 

He fell forward to catch himself with a hand on either side of her hips, wrapped an arm around each thigh to spread her open. 

“You don’t have to do—oh.” Carol collapsed back, her protest forgotten once his mouth descended on her. His tongue pushed through her folds, trusting her reactions more than fearing his own lack of experience. He was nothing if not adaptable. He made note of her cues; each twitch, each sigh. The places that made her hips jolt and the motions that made her keen. When his tongue flicked across a stiff little nub, her hands shot up to twist into his hair. He repeated the action, over and over until her thighs were shaking and his name was a broken prayer from her lips. He had originally planned to bring his fingers into the mix but when she arched off the mattress, singing his praises in a chorus of sounds and words that made no sense, he was almost disappointed not to have the opportunity. 

Well, that time anyway. As long as she was willing, he wanted to explore every inch of her, inside and out. 

He lapped at her languidly, helping her ride out the aftershocks while drinking down her nectar, an exquisite offering he would gladly indulge in as often as she’d allow. He didn’t stop until she pushed him away and pressed her thighs together to smother the sensitivity he’d left behind. 

Balancing just as he had before, he grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Told ya I’d go down first.” The way her eyes widened and her mouth fell open was plenty enough reward for his lame attempt at a joke. 

“You are unbelievable.” She laughed, actually covered her flushed face with both hands and laughed. He could only watch her with a fond smile for a moment longer before his leg waved the white flag. 

“Ah, fuck.” His tumble to the pillow beside her was anything but graceful. His arm was thrown over his eyes, his way of shielding himself from what would likely be disappointment on her face. That, and if he looked at the pale skin of her breasts with those dusty rose nipples, he thought he just might really embarrass himself. 

“Are you okay?” There was residual laughter in her voice. The mattress moved as she shifted next to him, her curves pressed to his side in a way that made him groan. 

“No.” He sighed. After years of skirting around their love for one another, he was finally where he was meant to be and he couldn’t perform for her. Not for the reasons some men his age couldn’t, no, he was definitely not inept in that department. His cock was painfully hard and with very little persuasion. He was injured and it was just too painful to give her everything he wanted to, show her exactly how she made him feel. 

Carol’s small, warm hand came to rest on his stomach, her fingers kneading the skin there, softened by time but still covering strong, capable muscles. The contact was nice, a balm to the fresh burns of his own self-deprecation. 

“Daryl.”

“Hmm?”

“Stop that.”

He lifted his arm to peer from beneath it, not moving it away entirely. “Stop what?” Carol ducked below that same arm for a chaste kiss, hovering there with her thumb stroking his bottom lip. 

“Doubting that you can please me.” God, she could read him like a book. “You just did something no one else has been able to do. Ever.” He let the barrier between them fall away completely then, his hand coming to rest on her bare hip. 

“No one’s ever—?” His eyes flickered down in broad indication of their lower halves. Carol chuckled. 

“No, that’s happened.” She clarified. Daryl waited, arching a scarred brow while his fingers drummed on her skin when she simply remained silent. 

“You’re usually ‘bout as subtle as a shotgun. Can ya at least pretend to acknowledge that m’clueless here an’ throw me a bone?” The second the words left his mouth, he knew he’d opened himself up for another teasing retort and shut her down before the smirk could even fully form. “Not one word.”

Carol ran her pinched fingers across her lips as if closing a zipper, that same hand then finding its way to his forehead to brush back his unruly hair. “No one’s ever—got me there without my—” Daryl squinted and followed her hand as she made a vague gesture while trying to find the right word, “participation.” And then she waited while his head tilted and he pieced together what she was trying to say, nodding with a smile the moment she saw it click. 

“Well, least I did somethin’ right.” He shrugged a single shoulder.

“You do a lot of things right, Daryl. They may not be in the category of sexually intimate but they’re just as important, if not more so.” Before he could object or even move to stop her, Carol was straddling his shins and pulling down his faded boxer-briefs. 

She knew what she was doing. He was much too focused on the damp heat he could feel hovering above his skin to realize that she was stripping him bare. When his brain finally caught up, Daryl fisted the duvet to avoid the strong urge to cover himself. He had never really worried about his size before, never had a reason to feel inferior. Now he was on display in front of the woman he loved and he couldn’t get it out of his mind that he wasn’t enough for her in absolutely every way.

“Daryl.” That was a warning tone if he’d ever heard one. He forced himself to relax. If Carol had a problem, she’d tell him. He trusted her to do that. Swallowing hard, he watched her crawl back up to sit beside his hip, her gaze not on his obvious need for her but on the square of gauze taped to his left thigh. “Always giving for everyone else.” Her tone was distant, laced with sadness as her fingertips hovered over the bandage. Just like that, her focus was back on him, the smile back on her face. “Now will you let me do all the heavy lifting?”

Daryl snorted at the phrasing, earning an arched brow. “Fine.” He grunted. Blue eyes shot wide when Carol wasted not a single second in throwing her leg over him to straddle his hips. He wasn’t sure when he had grabbed hold of her thighs but he was squeezing for dear life to keep himself in check. She was holding herself over him in a way that he could see the slick glistening on the tuft of hair just above where his cock was hovering over his lower abdomen. If she touched him at the moment, he was coming apart and he knew it. “Won’t—ain’t gonna last, Carol.”

“I know.” Her voice was soft, her eyes overflowing with a million emotions that he couldn’t name but the ones he could calmed his anxiety almost instantaneously: love and acceptance. He knew both to be true already. She had always loved him in some way from the moment he had handed her that pickaxe, just as he had loved her. They had accepted one another, faults and strengths, broken pieces and methods of mending. It’s why he was always drawn to her; why he trusted her when he was hurting.

The moment her fingers touched the velvety skin of his cock, Daryl went rigid, wound tighter than an eight day clock. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to cum before he even had the chance to be inside of her. It was unnerving, the effect she had on him. 

“Relax.” Carol cooed. Easier said than done. She didn’t tease him, though it was quite apparent she wanted to, a frustrated restraint in the beautiful lines on her face. His hand was on her cheek before he realized he had even lifted his arm. 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, watching in awe as she bowed over him to bring their mouths together, entrancing him with a kiss while shifting his cock to notch against her entrance. His gasp was swallowed eagerly, his tip stretching her open, his hands fumbling for her hips. “Fuck. Fuck.” Every word brushed against her lips while he filled his mind with anything and everything to keep from filling her that very moment. Walkers. Saviors. Fuck, even Mercer made an appearance with that expression of disappointment that was followed up with a reprimand. 

She sank another inch, then another, and another until she was flush against his pelvis, her ass tilted to keep any pressure off his injured thigh. 

“Gimme—goddamn, gimme a minute.” And she did, occupying herself with tracing the lines on his face, his scars, his collarbones. It was barely working for her, the fluttering of her walls around him making his hips jerk. 

She bent down to nuzzle her cheek against his, the shift in angle prompting a sound from him that he wasn’t aware he could even make. “Please,” was all she said and he couldn’t deny her, he had spent too many years doing that trying to keep her safe, to try and choose her path for her when the easiest one would have led them to each other all along. 

Fingers flexing on her hips, he encouraged her to begin rocking, the groans leaving both their throats were sinful. If any sisters overheard, they had surely fallen to their knees in prayer. It didn’t take long for him to pull her higher, closer, allowing his lips to finally indulge in a pale pink nipple while his hips lifted to meet each of her downward pushes. Sucking and flicking his tongue over the pebbled nub, his other hand massaging the otherwise neglected breast with movements somewhere between desperate and tender. 

The breathy call of his name was enough to assure him that he was doing things right. Still, the sudden buzz at the base of his spine brought everything to a level of urgency. There was no time to revel in how beautiful she looked bouncing over him, her head thrown back with breathy gasps of ah ah ah yes oh my god. He was close and by fuck, he was taking her there first. 

Finding her swollen clit was simple from this position, the angle of her hips and his cock splitting her open had the little bundle of nerves pushed out. A large hand splayed over her lower abdomen, his thumb flicked over her and then pressed firmly to rub tight circles. “Need ya to let go, Carol. Need to feel ya.” He was barely hanging on, his hips already losing any rhythm. 

“Oh god, Daryl, I—” She clung to him, nails biting into his chest as her body spasmed.  Her cunt hugged him tight, squeezing and milking until he shouted hoarsely, his single grasp on her hip, holding her still through the initial waves, the contractions of her inner walls pulling each warm rope of him deeper and deeper inside. 

Urgency softened into lazy thrusts and gentle rocking, his hands on her sides squeezing with reach aftershock. He knew the shame and embarrassment would come soon enough but for that moment, he simply watched her with hooded eyes. Her breaths were shallow but quick though the slightest partition of her pouty lips. Her eyes were closed, brows raised ever so slightly. The agonizingly slow rhythm of rising up and sinking back down as she continued to pulse around his softening cock was mesmerizing. Overstimulated as he was, each movement making him fight a jolt, he couldn’t tell her to stop. He wouldn’t. She was too beautiful soaking up that pleasure, the limited bliss he was able to give her. 

“Daryl.” She breathed with a smile, eyes still closed. He slipped out of her when she fell to his chest, her face immediately burying in his neck. Just as the shame began to crest, her lips pressed against his pulse point. “I want to do that again and again. You made me feel so good. God, it’s never been like that.”

He reared back and angled his head to see her, content and smiling into his skin. “You shittin’ me?”

“Nope.” She still straddled him, wiggling and slithering her arms underneath his back to press herself closer. “You make me feel new again.”

“Was like—a minute an’ a half at best.”

Carol chuckled. “This time. Next time, you’ll give me a run for my money. Unless you’ve been making the French women say oui oh mon Dieu, it’s been years for you.”

“Don’t wanna know what that means but I ain’t made ‘em say nothin’.” He wasn’t offended, knew she was jesting, but he still felt bad. Still felt like she could do better. He could only offer her a broken man who was mediocre in bed. He had made her wait until they were older and worn. 

“If I have to say stop that one more time, I swear, Daryl Dixon—”

“Ya threatening me?” He shot back playfully, out of reflex. “Just—Carol, ya—”

“Do you know what a refractory period is, Daryl?” Carol folded her arms on his chest, rested her chin on them. 

“Pfft, course I do.” He didn’t. 

She smirked, pushing her ass back against his cock. He was half hard in an instant. His fingers pressed into her ribs, a groan pressing eagerly against the back of his teeth. “Well, yours is impressive.”

“Thank you?” Carol laughed, Daryl sighed. He was just lost in her joyful sounds, the lines on her face that came with age and not pain. “Are ya mine, Carol?” He blurted out, it was unintentional but he didn’t want to take it back, even when he tasted her tears as she kissed him. 

“I’m yours. Are you mine?” 

“Always have been.” She was laughing when she buried her face in his shoulder again but it was different. It was relief, a gratefulness for something desired for too long, regret for time wasted, and excitement for things to come. Daryl pressed his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of home. His heart echoed all that she was expressing and then some. He didn’t believe in god, not even after his time with nuns and prophets, but something or someone had given him his Carol, and he silently thanked them. 

When she finally pulled away and sat up wiping at her red rimmed eyes, he lifted a hand to help, swiping his thumb over her cheek. Of course, Carol being Carol, she wiggled her ass on top of his cock, bringing him to fully hard in no time flat. “Let’s spend a little more time making the nuns blush.”

Daryl chuckled. “Alright. After that,” he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, each syllable a whisper against her lips, “an’ then we fuckin’ go home.”

Carol nodded. “Then we fuckin’ go home.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #carol peletier #caryl #caryl fanfiction #caryl is endgame #twd caryl #caryl positivity #caryl fandom #caryl spinoff #daryl x carol #carol x daryl #daryl dixon x carol peletier #carol peletier x daryl dixon #daryl loves carol #carol loves daryl #Spotify

[forgetminot]

Stay With Me.

♡ Rick Grimes x gn reader ♡

[ Warnings : Reader gets bit, blood, gore, violence, amputation, angst, angst, angst, profanities, tiny tiny bit of fluff if you squint, late prison era before the governor attack ]

Author's Note : My first Rick fic of many because I'm an older man simp. Should i write part two, with some fluff? O.o

Prompt/Story Idea : "I think I'd look cute as a walker, don't you?"

You had been on many supply runs since the world fell apart, planning ahead; making sure you had a simple way in and out of whatever building you were looting. You started off alone, that's how you preferred it, it was easier that way- at least that's what you thought. Days turned into weeks and then into months and running alone just wasn't an option anymore. The dead roamed the street more than ever and you needed safety in numbers; so you found yourself a group, a family.

"If you stick to the back entrance, you should get in and out quick and easy." You nod. Taking the crumpled map from Glenn's hand, folding it up and placing it in your ragged bag. "Rick should be here any minute."

"Rick?" You question. "I thought it was Daryl and I doing this one."

"Rick thought it was best that he went out on a hunt, to get the food supply up more."

"I thought it was the better option." You turn in the direction of Rick's voice, as he jogs down the hill towards you and Glenn.

"Well, okay then." Smiling, you open the passenger side door and glance over your shoulder at Rick. "You can drive." You wink throwing the car keys at Rick and he catches them with ease. Raising your eyebrow in approval you hop into the car, throwing your bag on the back seat; Rick does the same.

It's about an hour drive to the location. Rick and you spend the time talking back and forth about how you would pull this run off quick but efficiently. You reach and grab your bag from the back seat, pulling out the map Glenn gave you. Your eyes scan across the old paper, red pen scattered across it from where Glenn had marked. "It's just up here." You point to the road on your left and Rick turns in, pulling up and switching off the engine.

"Ready?" Rick asks, you nod and open the car door, stepping out onto the gravel floor. You throw your bag over your shoulders walking towards the run down pharmacy with Rick following you close behind. "I take it your leading the way on this one?" You stop, turning to face Rick.

"If that's okay with you?"

"Course it is." You take your machete out from its holster, gripping the handle tightly in your hand. Tapping on the window, you and Rick wait patiently. "Nothing?" He asks.

"Nothing." You state. Opening the door you enter the pharmacy, it's a complete mess; shelves knocked over, old medical supplies and glass shattered all over the floor. "Watch your step." You whisper. Rick nods, heading over to one of the fallen shelves and he lifts it slowly; standing it back up on its base. "Anything?" You ask as you scavenge what you can from the shelves and drawers.

"Some filthy bandages. 'will need a good clean." He shoves them into his bag and continues to search the aisle.

"Keep an eye out for condoms!" You shout. Rick stands up, staring at you from over the shelves; a confused look on his face. "Glenn wanted some." You state, Rick rolls his eyes as you laugh and he returns to the box he was looking through. you head towards a separate door with the word 'office' signed above it. Placing your hand on the door handle you turn it- but it doesn't budge. ''Must be blocked'' you whisper to yourself. Turning to your left you position yourself at the door and ram your right shoulder against it, once, twice and then a third time. "Third time's the charm." You smile to yourself as the door flies open from the force.

"Fuck!" You shout, placing your arms against the body in front of you, you force the walker back and sink your machete into its skull, blood splashing against the walls. It falls to the ground with a thud.

"Y/n!" Rick rushes into the room, his knife raised. "Shit! Are you okay?" He asks, glancing down at the now dead walker.

"I- I think so." You're out of breath, chest heaving up and down with every word you say. You take a seat in the office chair and place your machete down on the desk. " I didn't even hear it." You state, shock covering your face. You freeze. Staring down at your forearm; it's drenched in blood, both from you and the walker. "No! No, Fuck! No!" Sunk into your arm is a bite mark, fresh and dripping with blood; you turn pale just from looking at the bite. Rick takes slow steps towards you, lifting your arm up to his height and gently rubbing the blood away.

"We need to amputate it." He's calm as he speaks, but you can see the panic written on his face.

"What?" You gasp, standing up and stepping back from Rick. "Yeah, no." You laugh quietly to yourself. "I think I'd look cute as a walker, don't you?" So many thoughts are running through your head. Maybe you would prefer to be a walker? Is it worth the amputation if you bleed out anyway? What if it doesn't work? What if we're too late? Rick's eyes are pleading with you, staring you down and you don't know what to do. You are an hour away from the prison, there's no way you'd make it back in time. It needs to be done now, while there's still time. "Okay." You say, your voice barely a whisper. "Do it." You sit back down, placing your arm firmly on the office table. Rick quickly removes his belt and ties it around your arm. Taking your machete, he raises it above him and looks you straight in the eyes.

"Ready? On three." You take a deep breath looking away and staring at the bloody wall. "One-" He brings the machete down with force and you scream out as it slashes your skin, tears streaming down your cheeks as he continues to cut through your bone, blood and flesh covering the table. "Stay with me." He whispers as he takes one last swing with the machete, cutting your arm completely from your body. You can't move, you can't talk. You sit frozen in fear, staring down at the bloody stump where your arm once was. Shaking you look up at Rick as he rips the bottom of his shirt and wraps it around your amputation. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the room from spinning. Your head feels extremely light as you shake it back and forth. "Stay with me." Rick repeats as he scoops you up in his arms, rushing through the pharmacy and out to the car. He pulls the back door open and lays you down on the back seat, before rushing to the drivers seat and turning on the engine. "Keep those eyes open!" You barely hear anything he's saying, your whole world feels like it's closing in on you. "Please, don't die on me" Rick says to himself, fingers tapping against the stearing wheel. Those are the last words you hear as you fade into the darkness.

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #twd rick #the walking dead #angst #the walking dead angst #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fanfiction #ricky dicky doo da grimes #reader insert #y/n #fanfic #fanfiction #gn reader #how many hashtags is too many? #this man is gonna be the death of me #twd #twd x reader #glenn rhee #fluff if you squint

[fictionfixations]

i had a thought

spoilers for up to book 6 (i thought dump. A LOT.)

remember the prologue

i have a thought so im sharing it

question: what does he think we can even do to stop. well. anyone??? nobody really listened to us (considering we're magicless too a bunch of ppl would look down on us) until we became like friends to them n stuff?? well ace and deuce listened to us i think but we were united under a goal that at all costs had to be reached. to not get expelled. (except us i forgot what was going to happen to us. ..cause we're not actually students ??. ACTUALLY where the fuck are our papers? did crowley just. make them up? cause if you need papers to expel someone then you need some written form of proof then. which means each student probably has files for them, like. say. proof of 'hey this person goes to this school' etc etc. what did he do with us? did he just not admit we existed to the government? but literally everyone in the school knows we exist so surely one of them blabbed like. idk. maybe some stereotypical rich brat whose like 'EWW THERES sOME' uh 'MAGIcLESs PERSON COMMON fOLK wHAtever the fuck IN THIS prestigious SCHOOL!' and like idfk like how ig maybe some of the rich think the poor will give them a disease just by breathing the same air as them [actually maybe they could though but like YKNOW what i mean] but like. if we're just completely undocumented, excluding the unexplainable shift of some funds for ramshackle i IMAGINE so we can pay for shit and live then are we not really. documented anywhere else? styx probably has something but uhh. also theres probably a bunch of law violations attached that i cant even be bothered to touch at the moment. also there are magic diseases right? but so they also have immunities to stuff. but we're from a completely different world so we've never had contact with their sicknesses. so like. ...yknow how theres a ban around like this one island i cant remember the name of because if you interact with them you'll spread stuff to them theyve never been in contact before with that you might not even realize u have cause ur immune and they'll die? like its illegal to go there at all, they're living entirely without technology. also they're hostile. you will die if you go there [if you dont get caught by the people patrolling to make sure they stay without contact]. ..i mean stuff has happened outside of canon we can see. its canonical that the overblot peeps have gone to counseling and medical mages. so maybe im making a big deal out of nothing)

im. sorry. i got really distracted i didnt intend to spiral down to papers i meant to talk about something else

so just. listen.

actually about the expelling ^ three as in Grim, Ace, and Deuce. oh (so wait if they got in trouble would we just. ..still be able to stay?? ?? he doesnt even address us?? well actually grim isnt a student yet but theres FOUR of us not three then so ????)

wait sorry how did we get here ?? (why are we involved? i dont think crowley spoke to us at all when he was angry at the others with the chandelier 😭)

the wiki might be outdated a little because it doesnt update itself when dialogue changes, people have to notice it and then take the time to add it if anything changed so this is from

so if anything changed since then well huh

(if he blamed us for not being able to stop two teenagers with magic while im magicless though i wouldve been throwing hands but im glad crowley hasnt gone that far. ..he still put a firebreathing cat into our custody though. ramshackle dorm is very flammable isnt it? is dust flammable? idk. a lot of wood also i dont think they know what fire extinguishers are. youd think someone would deal with the flames during the entrance ceremony besides riddle and azul trying to catch the flame setter. or if we have one its very unmentioned.)

but so considering grim is our responsibility.. i have to ask how we're meant to stop him..?

like so this is before we really bond with him (aka we find him annoying. unless u got attached to him right away which good for you, i dont know when he wormed his way into my heart but he did at one point and i realized it at the end of i think book 5 aka ignihyde teaser) so grim wouldnt really listen to us (looks down on us)

also i dont know about you but burns HURT. ive burned myself a few times but they're not like the really bad ones (i dont know the difference between degrees and i feel like googling it will haunt me in my nightmares). i imagine grim cant shoot fire too far? maybe a little more shorter/mid range? what even is mid range idk (and the reason it lasted to hit the statue was because of ace's wind magic imo)

well either he can control the range or he can only shoot it out so far. so then. we'd be really close trying to catch him. maybe its in one of the twistunes where he's running away. he turns around and shoots fire at you. fucking OW (also its BLUE. i dont know how colored fire works, but assuming its blue because its even hotter than normal fire. um. ow.)

like SIR im new to this world i dont know how things work

its like... like being saddled with a baby after being suddenly kicked out of the house with no warning (and thus without any of your stuff besides the clothes youre wearing. ..but youve also been isolated from the world youre whole life so WHAT theres MAGIC? whats this about strange laws i dont know about-- wait THIS IS A BOYS ONLY SCHOOL? .........THERES FURRIES?) and the baby is VIOLENT

like HOLD on a second let me at least get a source of income first before giving me a being that utterly depends on me to survive (well. grim can probably survive on his own if we assume he's lived on his own for a bit until NRC. but um. ...well theres a reason there probably needs to be a bunch of childproofing for grim.) when i can barely figure out how to survive here

so. i feel i got very sidetracked. but its also nearing the time i sleep so my brain is slowing down on me and my thoughts have veered off the train tracks enough that this is just a whole mess of thoughts spewing out

i hope im making sense but im probably not

wanted to crowley bash because why are you putting me in charge of people probably the same age as me (minus grim) but with an advantage against me considering they have magic and i dont (not to say that people who know how to fight cant beat their asses but like. ...i dont know how to fight so.)

but he also hasnt given me reason to in canon i guess (if anythings happened outside of prologue i have no recollection of it. i just went through the wiki searching for every page with 'bill' or 'expense' in it)

surprisingly fanfiction either turns to 'crowley is an asshole' (and also actually pays attention to yuu and blames them like oh) or 'parent crowley' which speaks for itself (and is very cute in its own right but i also dont like him regardless as i dislike all adults that put responsibilities on children to be fucking idk child soldiers or to fight shit or deal with shit. i mean crowley doesnt go that far but i still dont like him)

those fics though start from prologue and go in order (some include vignettes and events) so i assumed that it followed it close enough to be a recreation but [so and so] but i was wrong apparently

still tho

#thoughts #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #dire crowley #twst yuu #twst mc #twst grim #twst spoilers

[aledethanlast]

Neil Josten arrives at Palmetto on the first week of August. The air is so thick with moisture it threatens to drown him right here in the middle of the parking lot, where the sun can bake him for the carrion.

He wants to hate this place. If he weren't sent here to play exy, he probably would. As it is, he has to settle for bone-deep suspicion, because this is too much of a good thing for his handlers to give him with no strings attached.

Neil's trolley glides smoothly across the tarmac, still black from a recent recoating. There's an expensive looking car parked right by the entrance, probably belonging to the team's coach, and Neil feels a small pang of longing for his bike. His handlers confiscated it, claiming it's "too flashy". He's pretty sure they just took it to have a hostage, in the absence of any family they could threaten.

The large door is unlocked, and the lounge within well lit. He can hear sounds from the direction of the inner court, but for now his attention comes to the large tattooed man who's face he was shown just two days ago.

Neil's considers stammering, then decides to change tacks. "Coach Wymack," he says in an American Midwest accent. Confidently, but with relief, like a lost lamb happy to find something familiar.

"You must be Neil Josten," Wymack says, pushing himself off the arm of the couch. He'd been waiting for Neil, otherwise he would have been with his players further inside. Neil meets him halfway for a handshake and overcompensates on the grip. "Haven't been to the dorms yet, then?" Neil shakes his head. "That's fine. After this I'm heading over anyway to help the rest of the team move in. You can leave the trolley here if you like."

"I'd rather it stay with me," Neil says, and gives the words an edge. Makes his gaze a dare. Wymack doesn't so much as lift an eyebrow. He just leads Neil down the hall to his office and let the desk split them apart as they sit. It's cluttered but not messy. The paper tag on the back of Wymack's swivel chair says Ikea, and Neil has a hunch it was bought on the same day as the desk.

"Was the flight in alright?" Wymack asks.

Softball question. "Oh, I didn't fly in. I was already in North Carolina so Dave just dropped me off here."

"Dave being David Browning, your parole officer."

Neil nods. "He said you've met already?"

"Briefly." He sits back, considering Neil. Unsure what the man is looking for, he considers Wymack back. "What's your story, kid?"

Neil doesn't hesitate. He didn't spend the past two days hammering out his cover story to stumble right out the gate. Step one: don't actually tell him the story. "How do you mean?"

Wymack reaches past his computer speakers to slap a thin file between them. "There are three pages in this file. One has your description and basic the medical history from your time in juvenile detention. Attached to that is your audition CD. The next two pages are instructions for your parole and what allowances I can give you within them."

He pushes the file aside. "Needless to say, there's absolutely nothing in here I can work with."

"They could've sent you more."

"Yes, but they can also lie to me."

"I can lie to you."

"But if you lie to me first I can choose to believe you anyway."

The basis of a good cover is to mix it in with enough facts that the answers feel natural. So when Neil rolls his eyes like he thinks this whole thing is stupid, it's because he really does think this whole thing is stupid.

Nevertheless. "Parents were assholes so I left home. Got caught burning some shit—"

"What kind of shit?"

"I think it was a bank. Anyways, went to juvie in Arizona, warden was a bitch so I got transferred to Colorado, warden got sick of me so I transferred to North Carolina, warden figured giving me parole is easier than transferring me to prison when I hit 18."

Technically, all of those points were true. The lie lay in the omission.

The bank he'd burned down was in Belize, but when the British caught him getting off the boat in Honduras they were actually expecting someone else.

Arizona and Colorado were little more than couple-week bookends on a two-year string of assignments in the Balkans. Then it was Singapore, which he'd turned into Israel, and THEN he got shipped off to North Carolina.

Wymack nods along. "So why are you really here?"

"To play exy," Neil says sarcastically.

"Alright, let's try again: what is the FBI looking for, that you think is minor enough to be worth playing snitch?"

"They think there's a tie between exy and organized crime." Which is true, and Nathaniel is living proof. "Which is obviously the dumbest thing I've ever—"

"No, it's true," Wymack says, flipping a cool penny into the rails of Neil's train of thought. The crash is magnificent.

"You can...prove this?" His mind splits down two tracks: one, how quickly can he get this assignment over with and get the hell out of here. Two, how long can he drag this assignment out before his handlers become overbearing.

#aftg #neil josten #tfc #one day ill write the rest of this

[amaretigris]

Knock-down, Drag-out

Taglist: @hopeisrising @daydreamerwithnohobbies @mylittlemermaid221 @notagreekgal28 @freyagallileaevans @justagirlthatlovedtoread @luna2034

A/n: Hi! New series cause I wanted to explore this idea. My aim is for a slow burn. I feel like my stories are always a little rushed. Enjoy 🫶💖

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Ch. 1 | 1.6k words | Angst

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It was a cold and rainy night when you ran into the doors of Triton's Arena to escape the downpour. Your muscles already ached from your tiring EMT shift. The last thing you wanted to do was sit here and watch cage fighting from 10 p.m. until 2 a.m., yet here you were.

Tearing down your dripping hood once inside the door, you shook the water off your hands and the sleeves of your flimsy rain jacket. You glanced from left to right at the hallways stretching out from either side of the entrance. TVs showing the cage were positioned at each end of the halls. Exhaling a sigh, you fixed your gaze on the front desk. You walked up to it calmly, unzipping your jacket. You met eyes with the pretty, young redhead behind the counter.

"Hi, my name is (F/N) (L/N). I'm here as the EMT tonight," you huffed, setting down your medical bag on the counter.

The redhead grimaced at the water dripping from your bag onto the desk.

"Uh, right. Here's your badge so that you can stay down by the cage," she passed you the card with the badge clip.

"They already took your emergency contact information, right?"

She questioned you with those piercing blue eyes. If you weren't so tired, you might be intimidated by her beauty.

"No, not yet. They told me I could do that tonight," you replied.

The girl handed you a clipboard from the side of her desk at your response. The slip of paper on it had a spot for the name, number, and relation of your emergency contact. Quickly scribbling down your mother's information, you sighed, and handed the clipboard back to the young woman. You shook your head.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I'm pretty tired already after my day shift. What's your name?"

You smiled politely. The redhead smiled back with pearly whites.

"My name's Ariel," she said excitedly.

You smiled in return.

"Nice to meet you Ariel. Thanks for your help. Can I just go sit down by the cage?"

You asked, clipping the badge on your pants pocket.

"Yes! There's a chair down there ready for you," Ariel smiled and waved as you turned from the desk.

"Thanks again," you waved over your shoulder.

Pushing through the double doors, the smell of leather and sweat assaulted your nostrils. You descended the stairs, past the rows of seating, down to the cage in the center of the viewing arena. There were no spectators here yet, only staff setting up. A long narrow table with microphones and equipment was set up for what you assumed would be the judges of tonight's brawl. Beside it, a single chair with a small table positioned next to it was labeled 'EMT Services'.

You let out a sigh of relief, lowering your medical bag on the provided table, and plopping down in your seat. There were no armrests, but you stretched out your legs, and folded your hands over your torso. Leaning back in the chair, you were able to see the glass roof above. Watching the rain drench the roof of the building and roll down the glass, you couldn't help but get a little sleepy.

You might have snoozed for about ten minutes before you were startled awake by the sound of the buzzer. You sat yourself up in your chair, and looked to your left to see a man messing with the control panel on the farther side of the judge's table. He met your eyes and grimaced.

"I'm sorry," he walked towards you, extending his hand.

"I didn't mean to wake you, but it's required that I test the buzzers before the fights. My name is Sebastian; people call me Seb," he said coolly.

You thought you detected a hint of a Jamaican accent, but Seb tried to mask it. You took his hand, shaking it briefly before letting go. You never liked handshakes.

"It's okay. I got here early, and I'm just tired from my shift before coming here for the night," you sighed and rubbed the back of your neck.

Seb smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I'm sure you're tired, miss."

"Oh," you immediately responded, snapping out of your gaze.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me. My name's (Y/N)."

Seb's smile widened.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, (Y/N). Hopefully the fights tonight will go off without a hitch, and you can head home as soon as they're over."

"Yes, well, I hope so, too," you clasped your hands in front of you awkwardly.

You were a little nervous.

"Do these fights normally get very nasty? I've seen MMA and cage fighting on tv before, I just didn't know if it ever got that crazy here," you admitted.

"It depends," Seb shrugged.

"There are some guys that fight dirty every time they come. But, generally, most of our fighters try to keep it as clean as possible. It's about respect. Respect for their opponents, and the sport. Without that, it can get ugly very quickly."

You gulped and nodded. Sure, you'd been an EMT for close to a year now, and you'd seen your fair share of horrible accidents and injuries. But the thought of people inflicting that upon each other on purpose was what unsettled you. You hoped that Seb was telling the truth about most of the fighters trying to keep it clean.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). You came highly recommended by your company. I'm sure that whatever's thrown your way, you'll be able to handle it," Seb nudged your shoulder, and gave you another toothy grin.

"I have to finish setting up. I'll see you soon," he waved as he headed back up the stairs.

You nodded and waved back, huffing in a breath, and taking your seat again. Seb was right, you could handle this. It would just be a bunch of sweaty men pummeling each other. Nothing to be alarmed about. You tried to coax your anxiety down, and reached into the side pocket of your medical bag for your coffee drink you'd packed. It was going to be a long night.

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After hearing the initial bell for the fight to start, you watched on edge as two men grappled with one another on the ground. Blood flew across the cage with some of the blows. When the bell rang again for the end of the round, the men would separate, and return to their corners. You were told that their corner crew could tend to small cuts and knicks. You watched as they toweled blood from the men's brows. Anything more than a superficial wound, and obviously anything major, you would be called to tend to.

Having gulped down your whole energy drink, you waited with baited breath through the whole fight. The three rounds went by astonishingly fast. The judges, one of the three being Seb, calculated the fighters' scores. A winner was announced, and he held his fist up in victory. The two sweaty, bloody men left the cage, and the staff quickly worked to wipe down the floor. You clicked your tongue, dismayed at the thought of these men rolling around in all of that bodily fluid every night. Gross.

You relaxed your back a bit, giving your spine some relief, until you heard the next fighters announced. You watched as the two men came out, bouncing on their toes, and putting on a show for the crowd. You rolled your eyes. Of course these guys would have to put on a show for their fans, but some of their adopted personas erred on the ridiculous side. The second fight went on much like the first. The men were sweating, grumbling, and wrestling each other on the ground. You yawned during the third round.

After the second fight, there were two more cage fights, with the judges announcing that there would be an intermission before the last two fights of the night. Taking the opportunity to run to the restroom, you washed your hands in the sink, grabbed some paper towels, and looked up at your tired reflection in the mirror. You sighed and tried to tame some of your unruly hair sticking out of your ponytail. Bags were under your eyes, and you tried to wipe them away (in vain) as you turned to leave the bathroom. Back in your seat for the last round of fights, you were relieved when the last bell finally rang. Standing up from your chair and shouldering your bag, you approached Seb at the judges table.

"Hi, thank you. Great fights tonight. Am I free to go?"

You asked, clasping you strap with one hand. Sebastian chuckled.

"Yes, girl. Thanks for being here tonight. Luckily nothing crazy happened on your first night. We wouldn't want to scare you away first thing, huh?"

At your unamused expression, Seb clapped his hands, making you jump slightly.

"Right. Sorry. Yes, you're tired, and you're free to go. Pick up your payment from Ariel at the front desk on your way out. See you next weekend, (Y/N)."

Nodding and attempting a smile, you booked it out of the arena. Waiting patiently behind guests questioning Ariel about the next event, you were relieved when she handed you the envelope with your payment as soon as you got to the counter.

"Here you are. Three hundred dollars cash. Thanks, (Y/N)!"

She smiled at you. You smiled back, both out of relief, and excitement.

"Thanks Ariel. I'll see you next week," you waved.

You couldn't wait to get home to your bed.

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #prince eric #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king fanfiction #jonah hauer king x fem reader #jonah hauer king x you #jonah hauer king smut #my stuff

[blacklister214]

Honesty and Codology: Chapter 1 (Eejit)

I've had Scarnash on the brain since 4x06 and a strong hankering to write a POV fic for Patrick. This one takes place in the middle of 2x06 while Patrick is recovering in the hospital. I may do more chapters, but I have to warn you, my muses are fickle. Replies, questions, and reblogs are always appreciated! Apologies in advance for the typos I'm certain I missed. Enjoy!

___________________________________________________________

Patrick shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. There had been times when he’d slept on much worse, but the feathered bed he'd used for the past five years had spoiled him.

The nurse had administered the pain medication, so his leg was no longer leaving him in constant agony, but the ache was still there. Perhaps it was better to focus on that, than the disquiet of being alone in the hospital room. Patrick never liked silence. It gave him too much time with his thoughts.

He’d had his men stake out every entrance to the building, so he could, theoretically, go to sleep without endangering his own life. Unfortunately, some instincts were harder to overcome than others. How much did he really trust his men? If the bribe were right, would one of them allow his would be killer chance to finish the job? Such contemplations made it rather hard to relax. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and willed the medicine to send him into a peaceful slumber.     

“Hello Patrick.” Patrick’s hand immediately dove beneath his sheets to where he’d hidden his pistol. He tried to blink the blurriness from his vision as he aimed his weapon at the figure in the visitor’s chair. 

Black bowler hat. Worn green waistcoat. Pocket watch. Fond, but vaguely disapproving expression on his face. It was Michael, exactly as he’d been the last time Patrick had seen him alive. 

"That laudanum must have been strong.” He’d been warned about the possible side effects of the drug, but he didn’t recall seeing spirits as being one of them. 

“Interesting way to greet your brother.” Patrick realized that he was still pointing the gun at Michael…no not Michael…at the empty chair where he was imagining Michael to be. Still, best to return the gun to its hiding spot before a nurse returned and caught him with it. Strictly speaking patients weren’t allowed weapons, but he’d gotten Clarence to smuggle one in. 

“You’re not my brother. Just a hallucination, brought on by painkillers.” It was important for Patrick to state it out loud. He’d enjoyed reading A Christmas Carol as much as anyone, but he did not believe in ghosts. 

“Does that mean you’re not pleased to see me?” The vision raised one eyebrow in a manner that was so familiar, so perfectly Michael, that Patrick had to swallow hard to keep tears from welling in his eyes. To see a memory animated before him was a miracle he’d never dreamed he’d witness.  

“Nice to have visitors of any sort, I suppose.” Patrick frowned. He’d been aiming for nonchalant, but that had come out a bit self-pitying. He didn’t need a constant stream of people bothering him while was trying to rest. 

“Clarence stopped by.” 

Patrick almost asked about how Michael knew about Clarence, since he’d been hired after Michael’s death. Then he remembered he’d already decided that “Michael” was a product of his own brain. Whatever Patrick knew, Michael would as well. 

“He needed me to sign some papers. God forbid my being shot interferes with the running of the accounts.” Clarence was a good employee. Loyal, hardworking. Certainly one of Patrick’s shrewder hires. Still, it wasn’t like they had a friendship. Employer and employee was a difficult line to cross and frankly they didn’t have much in common beyond a desire to see Nash and Sons succeed. 

“Maggie would be here, if you’d bother telling her what happened. Eamonn, as well I suspect.”

The tone of gentle chastiment was all too familiar to Patrick’s ears. Whenever Patrick has caused mischief, and he had quite frequently, it was always the same. Why Patrick? Why did you leave a dead mouse in your teacher’s desk drawer? Why did you throw Liam O’Toole’s fishing pole in the river? Why did you steal the tart off Ma’s tray, when she told you to wait until after supper? 

“No point in worrying them.” He’d gotten to know the witnesses to his brother’s murder over the years, and Patrick liked them both. Still, the dark history that bound them all together made him reluctant to form any tighter bonds. He was convinced he’d only survived his brother’s death because of Nash and Sons. He poured everything he had into the business, into making Michael’s dream a reality. Patrick couldn’t have done that with regular reminders of what he’d lost. 

“True. What are a few bullets in a leg in the grand scheme of things? You have two, after all.” 

Patrick has a strong impulse to cross his arms over his chest. He was no longer a child attempting to stand his ground with his much older brother. Patrick realized with a jolt that they were the same age now. Good god, seven years had flown quickly. What once seemed an impossibly large chasm was no more.   

“The situation is well in hand. I have the best investigator in London working the case.” He considered qualifying that statement, with “outside himself”, but rejected it. “Michael” was in his head, and Patrick had no illusions about how he rated against Eliza Scarlet.  

“The lady detective.” 

There was something odd in Michael’s inflection when he used the sobriquet. Perhaps a slight emphasis on the word “lady”? Patrick doubted that even a Michael of his imagination would take issue with a female PI. Their own mother, God rest her, had had a commanding presence that generals would envy. 

Perhaps it was the poshness the title implied. Patrick himself had made the mistake of dismissing the “Lady Detective” for that very reason. Women of the middle and upper classes, as a rule, hadn’t much in the way of grit. The only ambitions they were encouraged to nurture were of a matrimonial bent.  

“She’s very good. Tenacious. Ambitious. Clever. Hoodwinked me, more than once.” St. Clair had been furious when he’d shown up at the office, ranting about “that woman” making fools of them both. Patrick had agreed to buy up every available copy of the circular just to calm him down. Months later and Patrick was still using the story of his humiliation as tinder for his fires.  

“That must have been quite the experience for you.”  

Patrick looked down, smiling to himself at the memory of surprising her at her home. She had been confused by his smile and words of congratulations. She had a right to be. By her own admission her trick had hurt his relationship with St. Clair, embarrassed him in the eyes of the public, and potentially stuck him with a lawsuit. By rights he should have been furious with her…but he wasn’t. 

The fact was, he couldn’t remember a case where he’d enjoyed himself more. As he’d told her, he loved a challenge, and Eliza Scarlet was nothing if not challenging. Any anger he felt at the outcome was overpowered by the swell of admiration for her and the intense desire to make her a part of his agency. 

Patrick, glanced back up, suddenly aware he’d been musing to himself for over a minute. That was rude, even to a figment of his own imagination. Michael did not seem at all perturbed at being ignored. On the contrary, he was smirking at Patrick in a disconcerting manner, as though he were enjoying a joke at Patrick’s expense. 

“The point is, she’ll find out who was behind it.” Who had shot him, and why? A difficult question to answer. Someone he’d put away? A source of information he’d squeezed one time too many? A jealous husband? Not, of course, that Patrick would deliberately dally with a married woman. Too much trouble. But it wouldn’t be the first time a woman claimed widowhood a bit prematurely. Then, of course, there was always the possibility it was O’Driscoll. He had received no word from Eamonn or Maggie, but ships came in and out of the docks every day. It was possible his brother’s killer had avoided them, choosing to have Patrick removed before eliminating the more vulnerable targets. 

“Does it trouble you that you’ve angered so many people, you haven’t a clue who wants you dead?”

Patrick looked at Michael sharply, the memory of O’Driscoll coating his tongue with bitterness. 

“You’re a fine one to talk.” An old anger blossomed in Patrick’s chest as he returned to that night in his mind. Michael had gone to the docks alone that night, rather than wait for Patrick. If Patrick had ever done something so foolish, Michael would have tanned his hide.  

“That’s unfair.” 

“You should have taken me with you.” They were supposed to stick together. That was the deal they’d made. Michael, for the first time in his life, had broken his word, and he’d left Patrick all alone. 

“You weren’t there when the tip came in.” 

A fact continued to haunt Patrick to this day. He hadn’t been there. He’d been down at the tavern drinking and flirting with lasses.  

“We’d worked for two weeks straight on the case for next to nothing. I needed a break!” The words felt hollow, even as he said them. Selfish. As hard as Patrick worked, Michael had worked double. He never complained either. He had been so good. He’d always been so good. Patrick sometimes wondered if his being born was the universe balancing things out. 

“I never said you didn’t. I told you to go, remember?” 

Of course he did. Michael had forever been Patrick’s greatest advocate. Smallpox took both their parents when Patrick was only 8 years old. Michael had kept them both housed, fed, and clothed, working odd jobs until he was old enough to join the Royal Irish Constabulary. When Patrick was old enough, Michael had given him a recommendation. Patrick had been drummed out for insubordination, and Michael had immediately resigned his post. He’d gotten them passage to London and worked menial jobs until they’d saved enough to open Nash & Sons.      

“You should have come with me.” Just once, couldn’t Michael have been selfish? Ignored responsibility for a single evening? 

“I couldn’t. I’d made a promise.” Patrick briefly closed his eyes. He remembered the look on the faces of Maggie’s family, desperate for their daughter’s return. Did he really blame Michael for not wanting to waste time tracking Patrick down? No. Not with Maggie’s life on the line. In his heart of hearts, he knew where the blame truly lay.

“You and your honesty.”

“You and your codology.” 

Their old refrain. He remembered returning to their very first office with a small sign engraved “Nash and Sons.” When Michael had pointed out neither of them actually HAD sons, Patrick had explained that they were the “Sons.” The name implied that business was inherited, with a legacy of success, rather than an upstart agency. Michael had shaken his head in exasperation, but allowed Patrick’s his way.

Patrick had often joked that if it bothered him so much, he could find himself a wife and have some children. Michael had always smiled and said, “Or you could.” Then they’d both laugh at the likelihood of that happening.   

“You’ll be pleased to know I have been a bit more truthful of late.” The look on Michael’s face was skeptical.

“Oh really?”

“Miss Scarlett. I offered her a fair rate for referring cases to her, rather than just taking my finder’s fee off the top.” 

Today had actually been something of a success, bullets in his leg notwithstanding. His months of careful planning had paid off. Sending cases her way. Paying Detective Phelps for news regarding Inspector Wellington. He’d waited for the perfect moment, then struck. 

At first his proposal had not had the warmest of receptions, but in the end she had capitulated. Not totally, of course. Not yet. And naturally she’d managed to rest a small victory of her own from the encounter. Still, being out an extra month’s pay was more than worth the exhilaration that came with going toe to toe with a worthy opponent.  

“A noble gesture, I am sure. Not in the least self-serving.” Patrick rolled his eyes at the rebuke. 

“I didn’t grow our business to what it is today by being altruistic. Besides, Eliza despises charity. I would have mortally wounded her pride.” 

Her disgruntled tone when she decried needing his help told him everything he needed to know on that score. She could accept a business exchange, but under no circumstances did she want his pity. She was a unique woman, who was more offended by chivalry than chicanery.

“Eliza?” Patrick realized that he’d unintentionally used her first name. Odd, that.   

“I meant Miss Scarlett. A slip of the tongue.” 

“That would be a first.” Michael wasn’t wrong. Patrick's words were his best weapons and he usually wielded them with great care. Patrick shook his head and attempted to shrug it off.

“I am, as I mentioned, on rather strong medication.” 

Michael made a non-committal sound and rose. 

“Perhaps it's best I leave you to rest then.” He turned toward the door, as though he were a flesh and blood visitor, not a phantom of Patrick’s mind. Phantom or no though, Patrick wasn’t quite ready for him to disappear.

“Michael?” His brother paused and glanced back at him,  “Why now? After all these years, why am I dreaming of you now?”

Michael scratched his beard.

“I thought you said it was the laudenum. That I’m just in your imagination.” Patrick supposed Michael had a point. Any answer Michael gave would ultimately come from himself. Still, he wanted a response.

“I’m curious about what I’d imagine you to say.” That same mysterious smile from earlier returned to his brother’s face.

“You’re the detective. Has something changed in your life lately? Something you’d want to talk to me about? Or someone?” Patrick’s eyes widened as Michael's implication suddenly dawned on him. Eliza Scarlet. Somehow she had triggered this…encounter. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Michael. What exactly was he saying? That he fancied her? She was strong and clever and funny and pretty and a man would be mad not to be drawn toward that. And yes, she had a disturbing tendency to make him want to be more fair and honest, at least with her. All that though, was besides the point.

His affairs with women were uncomplicated things. He was interested in experienced women who enjoyed occasional companionship, but didn’t want the burden of a husband. That suited him perfectly. He didn’t have time for anything else. Besides, it was clear to anyone with eyes she had her heart set on Inspector William Wellington. Not that the fool deserved her, but that wasn't the main issue either. The issue was that she was going to be an excellent asset to his business, and he would never do anything to compromise that. Nash and Sons came first. Always.

Though he had to admit, it had been nice, when he’d opened his eyes and found that she’d stayed with him from his transportation to the hospital through the surgery. It was nice to have someone who cared, at least a little. Feck.   

Patrick glared up at his brother.

“Eejit.” Since when had Michael been the one to stir up unnecessary trouble? That was Patrick’s role and he’d thank his brother to remember it.  The corners of Michaels’ lips tilted up at the insult.

“According to you, you’re only talking to yourself. Now, get some sleep.” Patrick’s eyelids suddenly felt impossibly heavy and began to close. Fighting against his stupor, he managed to get out the words he hadn’t been able to say all those years ago. 

“Good bye, Michael.”

“Good night, Patrick.”

#patrick nash #miss scarlet and the duke #fanfiction #eliza scarlet #michael nash #scarnash #eliza x patrick

[theshowliveontour]

Niall Horan‘s inaugural Melbourne show on The Show tour at Rod Laver Arena marked a monumental milestone in his solo career journey. Having risen from his One Direction roots, Niall has solidified himself as a formidable solo artist with three studio albums to his name, amassing a dedicated and loyal fanbase.

This concert, selling out two nights at Melbourne’s iconic venue, Rod Laver Arena, was not just a musical event but a testament to Niall’s connection with Melbourne, a city he considers a second home. The diverse demographic, comprising seasoned Directioners and newer enthusiasts who may not have witnessed the band’s glory days, contributed to an atmosphere charged with excitement and anticipation. As someone who still has a strong case of One Direction Infection, missing this show was out of the question.

British singer-songwriter Birdy opened the night, creating an incredible pairing with her timeless talent. I’ve been a fan of Birdy since her 2011 cover of Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love” went viral when she was just fourteen years old. Her elegant stage presence and brief yet sweet set, although mostly covers including her breakout hit “Skinny Love,” were still a beautiful addition to the evening.

The pre-concert setlist set the perfect vibe, getting the crowd hyped for the main event. The energy was infectious, with everyone radiating joy and happiness. The stage design, featuring old-fashioned curtains and retro graphics in line with his album The Show, added a nostalgic touch to the experience. Niall’s entrance with the hit single “Nice To Meet Ya” was very fitting, and had the crowd moving and grooving.

Seeing Niall take the stage at a venue where I once stood front row during One Direction’s prime was incredibly special. He expressed his heartfelt gratitude for his Melbourne fans, emphasising the city’s significance to him. Having briefly lived in Melbourne post-One Direction’s breakup in 2015, and frequently visiting for extended periods due to family ties, he shared a candid moment saying, “I’ve seen many an Aus Open Grand Final in this very arena – just over there.” He admitted to feeling nervous before the show, attributing it to a sense of homecoming. Reflecting on his boyband days, he briefly mentioned, “Ah, the memories we’ve had in this city, the shows we played, the stadiums we filled…” That moment struck an emotional chord with me, to say the least!

Niall’s band were stellar, and brought a unique folky rock element to the night, especially shining during the acoustic set with “Put A Little Love On Me” and “This Town.”

“You Could Start A Cult” saw Niall take to the stage alone with his guitar- a truly raw and lovely moment. Noticing that a fan needed medical attention, he stopped the show and ensured they got help. When it was safe to do so, he restarted the song and the magic was still there- a testament to the incredible performer he is.

It is well-known that each former One Direction member usually sings one or two One Direction tracks. With the hit single “Night Changes” on his setlist for this tour, fans were shocked and over the moon when the familiar sound of the deep cut “Stockholm Syndrome” started instead. For a moment, I forgot what year it was and fully embraced my sixteen year-old self. He absolutely did the track justice, and Melbourne was treated to a really beautiful moment!

He also treated the Melbourne audience to “Paper Houses” a fan-favourite from his debut solo album, and the first time playing it live in Australia on this tour.

After engaging with fans, reading signs, and even accepting gifts, Niall returned for an electrifying encore. “Save My Life” and the hit single “Slow Hands” wrapped up the night on a high note, leaving everyone buzzing with excitement and euphoria.

The Show was a perfect blend of nostalgia, musical brilliance, and Niall’s genuine appreciation for his fans. His vocals were outstanding, stage presence was infectious and his band was next-level. Whether you’re a longtime Directioner or a new fan of Horan’s solo hits, there’s a little something for everyone at The Show.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

FIVE STARS (OUT OF FIVE)

Niall’s latest album, The Show, is out now through Capitol Records.

#niall horan #the show live on tour #tslot:melbourne1 #review

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue- Ch. 48- Dr. Feelgood

Summary: Dr. Dave goes on a scavenger hunt. Josie tries to talk him out of it but the good doctor must uphold his Hippocratic oath. Josie turns to a trusted friend for help. Megan is in a bad way and Dave races against time to save her. Josie's anxiety taunts her to a breaking point and Orlando's arms help her through it. Lee and Jo simultaneously share the same memory. He later hears a heartbreaking truth about himself. Dave comforts momma March. He later whisks Jo away to comfort her. Lee medicates.

*Chapter Warnings* language, angst, injury, graphic depictions, alcohol and drug use

Chapter characters: David, Josie, Megan, Orlando, Lee, Margaret

Chapter word count: 6,099

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist:

Salem, Massachusetts

March 21, 2022

After the 3 minute drive to the nearest state park entrance, Dr. Dave, the 6 foot tall, dark and handsome healer of Grandview, MA, population 3,666, brought his GMC Sierra Hybrid to a screeching stop. In his 5 years of residing there, the born and raised Pittsburgh native who loved nature, hiking and bicycling, had never entertained himself in the vast forest full of infinite trails and seductive scenery due to his shared hectic schedules between Grandview and Salem University hospitals, so his geographical knowledge of the area was about slim to none and that included the nearby forsaken Train Town. For this reason, he rushed to compare his paper map to the billboard map at the park because Jacob was nowhere to be seen and from what the anxious doc could decipher, he was way off course.

After pinpointing his exact location on the map, Dave turned and scoured the woods with perplexed eyes. He knew his destination was on the far side and if he drove, it would take him at least another half an hour to reach it with the main route circling out too far and with traffic, but if he cut through the monstrous maze of pines, oaks, maples and hemlocks, he could cut that time nearly in half. The problem with that though was that he could become lost, so he decided to call upon his tour guide.

"Jacob, need some help little man. Now is not the time to hide! I know you can hear my voice......damn it." he snapped and was just about to make the drive when he caught sight of something shiny near the trees.

After a short jog to the object, he picked up a toy train car and it was then that he knew Jacob was showing him the way as he said he would do, although Dave was frustrated that Jake didn't just make an appearance and show him personally, for it wasn't like anyone else would see him.

Before he went into the arborical labyrinth, he tried to call you again so someone would know where he was and because... you were the only one that would believe him.

You had just woken up from a 2 hour power nap and with groggy eyes, you picked up your phone to see if you had any texts or calls, specifically from Lee, but all there was, was a missed call from Dave while you had slept. Just as you flung up to call him back, he was calling you again.

"Dave!! Oh my god, where the hell are you??"

"Josie, I'm alright and I will explain later but..."

"No?!! You're going to explain right now because I was picturing you lying in a ditch somewhere!"

"Ok, look. I just needed some space. A break from all the chaos and..."

"A break from me you mean?? because that's when you disappeared. Right after our argument about Elizabeth at Lee's hearing and now she's dead! Do you know how that makes you look?? The cops are all over this shit Dave, questioning me and Lee too. How could you just vanish on me without a word??!!! Were you THAT mad??"

"If anyone sounds mad, it's you and you said in your voicemail you wouldn't be mad if I called.

"I'm not mad!!!" you shouted and then began to sob. "I...I'm scared and hurt. I was so scared something had happened to you too and I can't lose you of all people Dave. Not you."

Hearing you become emotional was something that always brought out Dave's emotions as well, especially now when he didn't think you would be that worried since you had Lee.

"Josie...I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you sweetheart, I swear."

And now, hearing Dave become somewhat choked up, softened you to him.

"I...I know you didn't. I never meant to hurt you either. Can you just come over so we can talk and make up in person? I miss your face."

"About that, umm. Can you just stay on the phone with me for awhile longer? I...I'm looking for something and I'll explain all of it on the way."

"Okaaay? What are you looking for?"

Dave sighed as he disappeared into the trees. "Your sister."

Dave continued to find a trail of toy trains cars as he ventured through an eternity of aromatic pines while simultaneously filling you in about Jacob's visit.

"Oh my god Dave...Lee...he's seen Jake too. Ok, listen to me. Turn around and go straight back to your truck and call 911. Let them handle this. IF my sister is out there and she's hurt, you're alone and you don't know what you're walking into Dave!"

"That's the thing Josie. We don't even know if she's out here, so how do I explain my suspicions to them without the risk of being involuntarily placed on a 72 hour psych hold for evaluation??"

"Well you're going to have to when you find her!"

"You...you said when."

"Yeah? Cuz I believe you David and I know Jake is real. Why would he lie? He didn't even know me or my sister when he was alive."

"Ok, ok. So...when I find her, there's also the risk of becoming a person of interest. I mean, I know her Josie and let's not forget that Jacob told me that she's where Liz was attacked and I knew her too. So what? I just happened to stumble upon Megs while trekking through the forest in my casual clothes and shoes and with a phone that has only 20 percent battery left?"

"Jesus Dave. That's just another reason for you to re-fucking-treat. How will you call for help if your phone is dead??? I...I can call Gerry or something and he can go look, cuz like I said, you don't know if anyone is with her! You know, like Liz's murderer?! Whom I wholeheartedly believe is Ethan."

"Do you even want Megan to be found? I'm close and she needs help. It will take Gerry a long time to get out here since he's back in Salem and then there's the little fact that you can't trust him after what he did Josie."

"Ok, first of all, no matter what he did, I DO trust him for this. He's a damn good detective and second, I know Megan and I don't get along, but...she's still my sister and I don't want her to die. With that said, I still care about you a hell of a lot more and this happens to be one of the many reasons why. You have such compassion for people that don't deserve it."

"That's what doctors are supposed to do and just what are you going to tell the dashing detective? That a dead kid is showing me the w....hold up, there's another train piece up ahead."

Dave crouched down and picked up the metal toy, looking it over.

"Josie, it's the locomotive to the train set. Train town must be up ahead somewhere. This kid sure likes games."

"Of course he does. He's 5 and he has this obsession with trains. Do you even know where you are??? I feel like I should come there to hel..."

"No way Jo. Stay put. Let me check the map."

Dave stood up and retrieved the folded drawing from his back pocket.

"Well??" you intensely asked when you heard him mumbling as he looked it over.

"Jo, it's just over the hill. I gotta go so my phone don't die." he rambled, then hung up and ran off.

"Wait no! David!" you shouted but the call had ended. "Damn it!!!"

Immediately, you called Gerry, not knowing what the hell you were going to tell him, but you had to help your best guy friend. AND of course, once again, no answer, so you called the hospital to see if he was there visiting his dad. He wasn't, so now what? Craig was useless to you since he was passed out drunk in his bed, not to mention, you were not his favorite person at the moment and there was no way in hell you were calling Luke. You absolutely could not call Jason or Britt and even if you did, they were probably long gone from Salem by now. Should you call Lee?? No...no nooo noooo. Not this time. Not after all that had recently happened between the two of you. A smile then came to your face as you thought of the one person you knew you could count on and could trust. Orlando.

Just as it started to rain, Dave made it to Train Town and ran inside the monumental warehouse that reminded him of a hangar, for it was big enough to fit an Airbus A380 inside, the world's largest passenger airliner....and under the massive tin roof that eerily echoed from the pummeling rain, it was as dark as if it were night.

As Dave pulled out the one thing he knew to bring, his flashlight, he scoured his surroundings of real train cars galore only to soon realize he had forgotten the one thing he also knew to bring. His medical bag that still sat on the seat of his truck.

"Megan! Can you hear me??" he called out while gripping his opened pocket knife in his other hand, but all he could hear was the haunting downpour above him, so he cautiously continued on through the giant graveyard of antique railcars.

"Jacob, are you here buddy?? I need to know where she is. Is she in here or out there somewhere in the 10 freaking acres of this old tourist ghost town???"

Running footsteps pitter pattered in the distance and a child's laughter was heard. Dave sprinted off, following the ghostly giggles and soon came to a dead end at a dirty wooden door with a broken lock hanging from the handle.

When he pushed it open, the freezing cold air took his breath away and once he shone his light inside, Dave soon realized it led down to the old underground tunnels. Once he was further inside the depths, he gathered just how old the passageways were and possibly even unstable, for each bout of rumbling thunder shook a good dusting of dirt loose from the ceiling of tree roots where rain water also made it's way through, drip after drip after drip.

"Megan??!" he called out again. "Come on honey, if you're down here, you gotta give me a sign so I can find you."

This time he got a response, although it was faint.

"H...here...I...I'm...here."

Dave rushed forward and rounded the corner to find a battered, bruised and very weak Megan on the ground, propped against the wall with a bloodied knee.

"Megs, hey sweetie. Look at me. It's Dave. I'm going to get you out of here ok?" he assured her as he patted her chilled cheek in an attempt to keep her alert.

"I...I can't feel my body..so...c...c..cold...my leg..it's...b...broken." she stammered through chattering teeth.

Dave quickly assessed her leg to find she had a compound fracture and quite a bit of blood loss.

"Alright, Megan. This might hurt a little ok? I need to stop the bleeding before anything else because you're in shock."

Dave wriggled out of his jacket and ripped off his overshirt, then tied it around her leg for a tourniquet.

"K." Megan flinched as he did so. "Am...am I going t..t..to die?"

"Not if I can help it. Do you hurt anywhere else? I need to know because I have to carry you out of here."

"Dave...I literally f...feel...nothing ex...except the p..pressure on my leg."

"Ok. Well, at least you know my name. I'm going to put my jacket on you ok? You're on the verge of hypothermia. Alright, there. All done. Now, I need you to hold on to me the best you can. I'm going to lift you up. If something hurts besides your leg, tell me immediately."

Dave helped Megan place her arms around his neck and then he scooped her up and eventually made his way back to the light of day. By the time he got back to his truck, he noticed Megan was unconscious. After checking her pulse, he carefully placed her on the passenger seat, buckled her in and took out his phone which was now at 10 percent battery life and he didn't have his charger.

"FUCK." he loudly whispered and quickly called you as he took off.

"Dave! Thank god! Where are you?? Did you find her??"

"I've got her Josie and she's in bad shape. I'm heading to Salem Hospital now. It's closer from where I am than Grandview's."

"Oh my god. Ok. I'm with Landy. We were heading to you but turn around and meet you there!"

"You called Dr. Bloom??"

"Yes. I figured another doctor wouldn't hurt and I trust him Dave."

"So you told him. About...how I found her...didn't you?"

"Dave...I had to. I won't lie to him and he won't say anything or judge you if that's what you're worried about. Besides, you're going to have to come up with some story anyways, for both the hospital and the cops and..."

"I don't need a story. I have nothing to hide. I did nothing wrong but find her and we have yet to hear what really matters. Megan's side. That's what the cops are going to care about more than anything. I've seen it all too many times and...."

"M..momma." Megan mumbled.

"Jo...you need to call your mom. Just in case Mega..."

"Just in case Megan what? Dave??? Hello!!"

"Josie?? You there? Fuck!" Dave shouted as he tossed his dead phone on the seat and glanced at a very still and pale Megan. "We're almost there darlin. You hold on. Do you hear me??"

Your hand went to your pounding heart as you drove over the very high bridge that crossed the bay back into Salem and to add to your anxiety, your eyes caught sight of Landy's bare, buff chest in the rearview mirror.

"Jo...you ok?" Orlando asked from the back seat of his car as he dressed for his shift at the hospital that he was now late for.

He had just gotten out of the shower when you had called him in a panic to come pick you up, so he had thrown on a hoodie and sweats and grabbed his doctor attire to take with him when he learned he may have to go drudging through the forest in the rain.

Before you could answer, Landy tossed his dress shoes over the seat and onto the passenger floor, then forced his large body over the seat as well and plopped down beside you.

"Hey. Talk to me. Is it the heights thing?" he sweetly said as he softly rubbed your shoulder.

"Put your seatbelt on." you ordered without looking at him as you stiff armed the steering wheel.

"Yes ma'am, but first, I need to put my shoes on. You're ok Jo. We're over the bridge now and you handled it like a pro."

Now that you were back in town, you quickly pulled over on a side street, put the car in park and then uncontrollably broke down, sobbing into your hands.

"Is this how a pro handles things Landy??"

"Heyyyyy. Come here. Please don't cry sweetheart. Let me hold you and try to make it better."

Orlando reached his arms over to you but you didn't need any coaxing, for you practically dove into them. What you needed...wanted...was someone's warm comforting arms around you and Landy's was a perfect fit and now you were a blubbering mess of tears as you sniffled into his clean white dress shirt, rambling on about your many woes like a distraught child.

"I deservingly lost my apartment. Craig hates me. A little girl is missing because of me. I can't stand your brother as a cop and I hate your other brother and your sister. In fact I hate all of your family except you because you are good person and I think you are so wonderful and beautiful and I hate what they all have done to you and they all just suck and...and...ghosts, ghosts are real and now my sister is hurt and I shouldn't even care but I do. I hate that I do! and Britt took off with Jason and Lee is changing and I can't take it anymore Orlando!! I feel so lost and alone."

You were now bawling and gasping for air as your fingers were tightly dug into his muscular back.

Orlando softly kissed your head and stroked your soaked cheek as he pondered with an arched brow on one thing that you said.

"How...how is Britt with Jason?"

You suddenly froze and became completely silent as you realized you had just outed your brother on being alive in your careless rant.

"I...I meant that...."

You paused and sat up, then sighed heavily.

"Fuck this. I can't lie anymore and I won't lie to you. I trust you, so here it goes. He's alive Landy. He survived the explosion and then on some whim, he chose to fake his own death and he's after Ethan and Cyrus. It's one big mob war and they both are responsible for trying to kill him. Liz was involved too."

"Jesus. I always knew Ethan was into some bigger shit and that Cyrus was shady as fuck but I guess I didn't realize the extent of it. As far as Lee, I wish I could offer some insight but he don't even talk to me anymore like he used to and I've told you al that I do know. I...I'm happy for you though that you at least got your brother back."

"Yeah well sometimes I'm not because of all the baggage that came back with him. God Landy, there's so much you don't even know."

"Well...now I at least know that you think I'm wonderful and...beautiful." he raved with a twinkle in his raisin hues and a curled lip grin that always made you melt...and now you felt a bit awkward.

You dried your face and scooted back to your seat. "I think we should get to the hospital now. I'll explain more on the way, but you can't say a word to anyone. I..I just need to get this shit out. I can't stand secrets and yet here I am, asking you to keep them."

"My lips are sealed for you love. Well, at least for the secrets part anyways." he quipped with a wink and another grin as he began putting his shoes on.

With a roll of your eyes and a slight grin of your own, you shook your head at the dashing doc and drove off, filling Orlando in about mostly everything along the way. Everything except Lee. He was off limits. Even in your anger towards him, you would always protect him....until you couldn't, such as the cat now being out of the bag about him seeing Jacob. At least with Dave being a witness to the supernatural sighting, you hoped Lee wouldn't be so worried anymore about people thinking he had finally lost his mind.

There was no sign of Dave's truck yet when you pulled into the ER parking lot, so you sat with Orlando, waiting and listening to the peaceful rain parade over the car and in that moment, a memory stole your thoughts as your mind drifted off to the first time you and Lee kissed on that stormy February night inside of his car.

You could still feel his warm velvet lips and taste his breath of sweet bourbon and...

"Josie? Where'd you go?" Orlando asked, breaking your concentration to where you realized you were lightly touching your lips.

"Oh...uhhh...sorry..I...I...I'm just...it don't even matter. Where the hell is Dave already??"

Knowing David's phone was dead, you still called him to try and evade any further prodding from Orlando because you did not want to talk about Lee. Yes you did. It was all you wanted to talk about. Damn him and his luscious lips. If he were there instead of Orlando, you would be pulling them to yours. You had to get out of there. Out of the rain.

"Let's wait inside Orlando. You're late, remember?"

Simultaneously, Lee sat in the same peacefulness of his Dodge Dart on the other side of the hospital, daydreaming of the exact same memory. How could he not with all the rain and it being in that car that his lips first caressed yours? He could still feel the way you tenderly touched his face and see the way you looked at him. It was as if he were all you could see.

The pain was just too much and he needed to shut his mind off of you, as if that were even possible. That morning, he was adamant that he was not going in for his shift with all that happened, but after you left, the silence was deafening and your absence was gut wrenching, so he chose to go in, for if he had stayed home, he would have drank himself into oblivion.

Lee downed his Red Bull and crushed the can in his fist, then tossed it in the back seat. He then put out the remaining half of his Marlboro red, another old habit that was dying hard in his time of distress, and got out of the car. No umbrella, no coat. Just his dress shirt and tie as he casually walked across the lot, allowing the downpour to punish him and hoping God would too by striking him down with lightning, right then and there, for without you, Lee felt he had nothing and was nothing.

Instead of lightning, a silver truck sliding around the corner at lightning speed almost did the trick of taking Lee out, missing him by merely inches as he dove onto the wet pavement.

"Hey asshole!! You missed!" Lee shouted as he jumped to his feet, not realizing who it was until the truck skidded to a stop at the front doors and Dave hopped out.

"Lee man, I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I need some help here!"

When Lee saw him run to the passenger side and carry out a limp Megan, he instantly transformed into doctor mode and raced up to assist.

"Hey man, get her inside! I'll park your truck."

Dave gave a quick nod and rushed off, the Lee secured the vehicle and sprinted inside and through the hospital to the ER to find out what happened.

"Hey, Dave. Here's your keys. What's going on with her??" Lee panted in his saturated attire as Megan was being worked on in a cubicle.

For the time being, until he would speak with you, Dave only told Lee the need to know information.

"Josie told me she had been missing a few days and I was able to locate her. Her leg is broken and she's lost a lot of blood. Hypothermic too. I'm not sure what happened to her. She hasn't been awake long enough to say anything yet."

"I see. And according to Jo, you have been missing as well. She was pretty worried. Good to see you're back and alright. I'm sure she's very relieved. Does Jo know you found Megan?"

"Actually yes. She was on her way here when my phone died, so I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

Lee's heart skipped a beat as his wide eyes looked around for you. He didn't know if you would want to see him and he felt he better just stay in the shadows for now. After all, you hadn't called him.

"Oh. Ok. Well... I am quite late and need to go dry off and get changed. I'll check back later."

Lee rushed off before Dave could respond and then just a few seconds later, you and Orlando came running up from the opposite direction and you threw your arms around him.

"Dave! Thank GOD you're ok. Where's Megan??"

"They took her right in, over there in cubicle 3."

"Has she said anything?"

"Not yet. She's been in and out of consciousness. Josie, she was down in the tunnels. She never would have gotten out of there on her own."

Out of nowhere, you hauled off and smacked his arm.

"Oww! What the hell was that for??"

"For doing something so incredibly stupid, yet....so incredibly brave. God, I can't even be mad at you when I want to be. You're everything that a doctor should be. Compassionate and selfless. You and Landy both, so...thank you Dave, for what you did. I'm going to go use the restroom to dry off and call mom."

"And I need to go do the same and get clocked in. I'll be back when I can Jo."

"Wait, Landy."

You gave him a long, tight hug. "Thank you too. For being there for me at the drop of a hat. I meant it, those things I said about you. You're really great, you know that? I'm sorry I made you late."

Orlando smiled and gave you a good squeeze. "It's all good Jo. See you soon."

As Orlando took off to the breakroom, Lee stood in the shadows of the hall, his eyes falling in pain and sadness. He had heard you call out to Dave when he was leaving and decided to come back to see you, but...he then heard everything you just said. About what good doctors are and all, which made him think about how he refused to help Liz and how you had reminded him of that in the fight you both had.

And it crushed him that you had turned to his best friend instead of him, but he understood why. It still hurt nonetheless. He then bowed his head and walked off, undetected, with his hands in his pockets, debating on what he has wondered for quite awhile. If he should continue his career in the medical field.

The day turned into night as you sat with your distraught mother in the waiting room. Dave had stayed with the two of you while Megan was in surgery to repair her leg and he had just gotten back from speaking with a police officer. Margaret wanted answers just as the cop did, so Dave told her what he told him. A flat out lie, which he hated himself for. He had used the story that he told you sounded ridiculous, that he had been spending some time in nature to clear his head and just happened to find her in his curiosity of the old tunnels because it was much more believable than revealing that a child's ghost led him there.

You knew when Luke got wind of it, he would be all over this case and you were actually glad about it because you had high hopes that Megan would reveal Ethan as her attacker and you also really hoped she knew where Blaise was or could at least offer some leads if she didn't know.

"Do you think she will pull through this Dave?" Margaret March asked with tearful eyes as he held her trembling hand and explained what he knew as kindly as he could.

"I'm not her doctor Margaret, so I can only offer so much insight. I can make no promises, but what I will say is that I am very hopeful of her recovery. With that said, it's going to be a long one and right now, with your faith as I know it to be, your prayers will do her good. I will be praying as well."

"Me too Ma." you chimed in, which lit Margaret's eyes up to hear that you cared.

"You're an angel David. Thank you for rescuing my daughter and all that you did for her. Will they let me see her after her surgery?"

"I don't see why they wouldn't, but I know she'll have to be in recovery for a few hours first before they allow visitors. Can I go get you something to drink or to eat?"

'Oh, no thank you dear. My stomach's all a bundle of nerves. I'd just toss it right back up." she chuckled, trying to hide her fear. "I suppose I could go up and see Victor for awhile."

You could see the guilt all over her face about that as she fondled her wedding ring your late father had given her. You knew she still harbored feelings for Victor after all these years.

"How's he doing mom? I can't seem to ever get ahold of Gerry to find out. Kind of worried about him."

"He's slowly recovering as far as I know and Gerry, well, you know not to worry about him. He's part Greek like his father and Scottish like his mother. Tough as they come. I wouldn't worry too much. He's a copoholic remember. Probably keeping busy at work."

But you knew that wasn't true because you had called the station and he had taken a leave of absence, leaving his partner Luke to do all the bad boys' dirty work and he certainly wasn't as rugged as your mom believed him to be. Gerry may have looked tough on the outside, but you knew his heart and soul. It didn't harden like one would have expected it too. On the inside, he was actually quite fragile and vulnerable, which seemed to have been brough on from finding out that the man he had known most of his life as his father wasn't, but Victor was. His tough act was exactly that. An act. And tomorrow, you planned to try and find him.

"You're probably right Ma." you agreed, just to keep things brief about Gerry. "Go ahead. Go see Vic. Maybe it will perk him up some to see your pretty face and maybe it will even make you smile too."

"Oh gosh, my face must look a fright right now. I'm going to go freshen up first. Please come get me if you hear anything."

Hours went by and you had fallen asleep on Dave's lap and of course, even your dreams would not let you avoid Lee. It may have been triggered as you subconsciously heard the tv playing the David Bowie video for "Let's Dance", for it brought you back to his dad's funeral reception where Lee got the crowd all riled up and dancing to that song as he gestured pulling the train horn over and over like his dad had taught him as a child.

And then the dream went ot when Lee had pulled you in his arms and sang a verse from the song to you. You could hear his voice so clearly and you could even feel him.

"If you say run, I'll run with you. If you say hide, we'll hide because my love for you would break my heart in two if you should fall into my arms and tremble like a flower."

His face vanished as a touch to your shoulder startled you awake.

"Hey. Sorry I scared you. Your sister is out of surgery and stable."

When your eyes came into focus, you saw Orlando smiling down at you.

"Oh my god. Landy, thank you. Wh..where's my mom??"

"I'll go get her." Dave offered and jogged off.

"Aaargh!" Orlando scoffed and rubbed his tired face with both palms.

"Hey, you ok?"

"For the most part, yeah. I'm just so fucking frustrated and angry. I just want to beat Ethan's face to a pulp right now."

"You and me both. You certainly owe him, that's for sure."

"Well so do you. He can't run and hide forever, especially now."

"Yeah well, we sort of need Megan's story of what happened. What I'm worried about is that she may be too scared of him to rat him out, which honestly, I can't blame her. She didn't deserve this."

"She don't deserve you either. After all she's done to you, you still are here for her. You're the good one Jo. Hey, come here. Give me a hug. I gotta get back in a few."

Orlando leaned over and gave you a a comforting bear hug and whispered in your ear.

"It's going to be alright and I'm here if you need me. I'll be here all night and I'll keep coming to check on you when I can."

"Well my daughter won't be here because she is going to go home and get some rest." Margaret explained as she came walking up with Dave.

"No, mom. I'm not leaving you here."

"Nonsense. Dave said Megan will be sedated for pain and will sleep through the night, so there's nothing here for you to do but sleep when you could sleep in your own bed."

"And what about you? Are you staying?"

"Of course I am. In case she wakes up. I'll sleep in the recliner in her room. Dave is going to get me some blankets and a pillow. I'll be fine."

"Well...you both have got this all planned out I see."

"Jo. Go. I'll be here all night as I said and i will gladly come check on your mom and someone will call you if anything changes." Orlando kindly offered.

"Fine..nuh." you huffed.

Orlando grinned the cute grin once more. "I'll talk to you later then gorgeous."

Dave went and got the things for your mom and took her up to Megan's room and when he came back, he had a different proposal for you.

"Sooo...it's ummm, 11 o'clock. What do you say to going back with me to my place for some....midnight margaritas??"

"Dave, I don't know...I..."

"Come on. Please? We haven't spent much time together and I miss you. I don't want you to be alone. I'll even let you pick the horror movie. What do ya say?"

You couldn't resist his charming puppy eyes and pouty lips and...you didn't want to be alone either. In fact, drowning your sorrows sounded super fantastic to you, so you gave in and nodded.

"Sweeet. It's settled then. Let's hit the road."

Lee had changed his clothes and groomed himself to be presentable for work, but he found himself locked in his office with the do not disturb sign hanging on the handle. He just couldn't do it. Put on a fake smile and force all the bad thoughts and memories out of his mind and replace them with medical ones. He couldn't get the image of you in Orlando's arms out of his head nor the way you had praised him and Dave's ethics as a person, for he didn't just see it as a professional compliment.

He sat at his desk, wallowing in his misery that loved his own company. Who else did he have? Certainly not you and he didn't have his dad, his mom, his son, his brother or his only two friends, Orlando and Luke, whom he was beginning to not see as friends anymore. He felt he only had himself and his bottle of whiskey.

"Fuck it." he protested and poured a drink, then popped a perc in his mouth and washed it down.

He began scrolling through your Facebook to look at all your pictures and he continued to medicate himself with more liquid gold as he did so while waiting for the pill to kick in and finally...it did.

Lee staggered off to the bed he used for mostly for double shifts and crashed onto his back, feeling no more pain as his eyes quickly closed.

That had been the plan anyways. To feel no more pain but his lucid dreams insisted that he feel more of it as his mind traveled back in time to the underlying cause of his anguish.

@redeemer46

#lee pace #code blue #lee pace fanfiction #david conrad #orlando bloom #drama #angst #doctors #supernatural encounters #ghosts #love stories #dark stories #dark fiction #Youtube

[screechthemighty]

Speaking of mentor figures, how about grieving the loss of one? Bit of a short update, but hey, an update's an update. AO3 link will be in a reblog, but here's the full chapter!

crash and burn (and then return again) | a titanfall 2 fanfic part three

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The next day brought paperwork.

So, so much paperwork.

His recounting of Typhon could be given entirely in writing since he still struggled with being verbal. Writing it down was hard, but even the thought of giving a verbal interview, of having to actually talk about what he’d gone through, exhausted him. In writing, he could be concise, dispassionate, pretend it happened to some other poor SOB named Jack and he was just recounting it.

It didn’t really work that way, but at least he ended up crying in private and not on camera.

After the paperwork, it was time for another exam. The medic remembered him from last time and kept the AAC tablet out in case he needed it, which he appreciated. Fortunately, he was able to work his way up from one-word answers to short sentences as the exam went on.

Physically, he needed rest and to eat well. Psychologically, there were people he could speak to planet side that would help him out with this “difficult period.” He was given leave papers and a referral to a therapist who had experience working with autistic clients. “I’m not sure how much time you’ll be able to take, but take as much as you can,” the doctor said. “I’ve seen too many pilots burn out from overwork, and you’ve been through something unique.”

Not that unique after Broadsword, Cooper thought, but didn’t say. That was a bit too much for him to get out of his mouth at the moment, and at any rate, it felt a little too dark. You got used to gallows humor when you were in the military, but…

No, it was too soon to comment on either situation.

Cooper was walking from the med bay and debating whether he should risk getting food or just go back to sleep when Sarah Briggs rounded the corner. “Cooper, there you are,” she said. “How are you holding up?”

Bad was the first word that came to mind, but he shoved it back quickly. “Physically fit, ma’am,” he said instead.

“Glad to hear it. Did they get you set up with leave papers?” Cooper showed them to her, but kept the psych referral tucked in the back. “That’s good. Any family on Harmony?”

Cooper shook his head. All his family were still on Persephone, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face the whole gaggle of his cousins, anyway. “I might.” Cooper paused to fully form the sentence in his head. “Someone I know might be stationed there. She’s with logistics.”

“She’ll probably be there, then. You’re more than welcome to visit. I know the head of R&D wants a word once you’re planet side. And…” Briggs hesitated. “Cassie…Captain Lastimosa’s niece, I don’t know if you knew about her…she may not know yet.”

Cooper’s chest ached. He did know about Cassie. Lastimosa had talked about her more than once. He was a little surprised that she didn’t know by now, but maybe they wanted to tell her in person. “She’ll probably have questions,” Briggs continued. “I don’t know if you’ll be up for it, but…”

“I’ll talk to her,” Cooper said. It would hurt, but… “She should hear it from me.” He’d been there when Lastimosa died. Stepped into his gear, his Titan, his mission. It was only right that she got the whole story from him.

Briggs nodded. “That’s kind of you. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Appreciate probably wasn’t the right word, but Cooper didn’t want to think about that right now. A new question was gnawing at him, demanding some kind of answer. “What happens to me after, ma’am?”

Briggs didn’t hesitate. “Like I said, you’ve more than earned your pilot’s certification. They’ll probably want to run you through all the entrance tests, just to check where you need additional training, but that’s it. You’re one of us now, Cooper, if you still want to be.”

If all that stuff about parallel timelines was true, there was a Jack Cooper who was overjoyed to be getting that news. A Jack Cooper who had earned his way in under less bloody circumstances and felt he had the right to celebrate. The Cooper he was, though, could only feel a hollow ache.

He would have given up his dream of becoming a pilot in a heartbeat if it meant Lastimosa and BT could live.

But it didn’t work that way, and backing out now felt like spitting on everything Lastimosa had ever done for him. So, Cooper nodded. “I do want that,” he said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He had to be worthy of Lastimosa’s sacrifice now. Worthy of all the trust and belief the man had put in him.

Worthy of all the trust and belief BT had put in him, too.

No matter what it took.

#fic: crash and burn (and then return again) #titanfall #titanfall 2