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broken-heart-raven-queen · 15 days

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Cody and Cameron don't exist, they are only names in a list.

But FOR ME they also:

•Were known as "The Winter Blizzard" in high school.

•Used to dye a part of their hair white, Cody still does it.

•Had a very united family, people think their parents are separated and that they lived a Parent Trap situation bcs they are so different but their parents love eachother and their children and are just normal nice people that MAYBE work to much.

•Cody is the youngest (even if they are twins, I'm not discarding that posibility) and tried to contact his brother but never received an answer (Tetsuji and the other coaches intercepted the letters and burned them) so he's mad that Cameron didn't ever reply and Cameron thinks that Cody liked his new friends and new life without him better.

•They are not grumpy/sunshine coded, they are goth/jock coded but as they grew up together they share a lot of interests and some little details from their style.

•They smoke pot, Cameron had to quit because in the Nest he had bad trips and they made practices even worse.

•Don't really love exy, it was the only chance they had to go to college and maybe help a little to raise the economics of the family. Cameron only wanted to go pro because of the Ravens, but is one of those things you principally say to blend in and then start believing a little.

•Both are pan but neither of them are persuing relationships at the moment. Cody is on and off with some of his teammates but is mainly a fwb situation and Cameron still thinks about a person from his past (that he knows he has to forget bcs its an outsider and the Master won't approve).

•Cameron tried to stay clear from Riko so he almost never played in the same team as him when the Ravens practiced.

•Cody is one of Jeremy's closest teammates that are not his friends.

•Cameron wanted to study marine biology (whales specifically) but was doing an irrelevant minor bcs they forced him to. Cody studies a lot (he was never as good as his brother in school) and is doing a mayor in law and a minor in art.

•If they are twins they are both in third year, if they are not, maybe Cameron is in 4th year and Cody in second.

•Cameron doesn't necessarily hate Jean or Kevin but he will glare at them if he sees them and maybe be a little rougher than needed in court.

#idk where this all came from #i have adopted them apparently #they are now my babies #my winter babies #and I want to see them in tsc #and then in fandom #tsc #tsc hc #aftg #all for the game #aftg brainrot #nora sakavic #riko moriyama #cody winter #cameron winter #jeremy knox #the winter brothers #the winter brothers hc

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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 10 months

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Don't Touch Her - James Wilson x peds!reader

description: y/n will challenge whatever threat there is to her children, at any consequence to herself. James will always be there to pick up the pieces.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: sexual assault, child sexual assault, mentions of rape, yelling, angst

authors note: I've realised I'm great at writing angst!

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

House’s pov

I stared at the test in front of me.

Everybody lies.

I held the DNA test in my hand, and I could feel it burn through my skin as I limped my way down to the office of my ‘sister-in-law’.

Knock knock.

“Is that Mrs Wilson in there? I can hear you caring.” I shouted through the wood in hopes of gaining access. The door was flung open. I was met by sunshine itself.

“Mrs Wilson? I thought that was you?” She jabbed. “What can I do for you, House?”

Her face was the picture of innocence, and the smile never left her face despite the witty comment. I worried about her reaction. Usually, I relished in the extent of human outbursts, wondering how far I could push them so long as the consequences never fell on me. But this didn’t feel right. This wasn’t going to be fun. I only prayed I could get to Wilson fast enough before these consequences ricocheted back on to her.

She widened her eyes in a silent question of why I was here. Her eyes flitted down to the piece of paper in my hand.

“Well come on, what medical supervillain are you going to brag about curing to me now?”

“Actually, this isn’t my patient. It’s yours.”

She scoffed at my ambiguity and proceeded to take the paper from my hands.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She giggled at the joke she assumed I was trying to make. But my face revealed the truth. When she received no further taunt or clever wordplay her smile dropped. Without much further thought she practically tore the paper trying to unfold it. Her eyes danced across the words on the page and each word took a little bit more life from her face each time.

In a flash she had exited her doorframe and had unceremoniously crashed into my shoulder. I couldn’t even bring myself to mock her for ‘injuring a cripple’ because as I watched her frame run further down the hospital hallway I had more important things on my mind. Primarily, protecting her from herself. And there was only one person I needed for that.

I limped down a few more doors and finally barged into the one office I needed. Wilson turned away from the new photo he was hanging on his wall. It was him and y/n at the beach.

“Please, come in. Have a seat. Thank you for knocking.” He mocked but I remained unmoved. “You’re not taunting back?” His brows furrowed at the abnormality. “Why are you here?”

I looked to my feet, suddenly afraid of my friend’s reaction.

“Your girlfriend is about to do something incredibly brave and incredibly stupid.”

Wilson carefully removed the nail and placed the picture neatly back on his desk. His eyes never met mine until he said.

“Where is she?”

Your pov

Flames burned my soul, and my heart was filled with anguish. I flew down the hallway. People jumped out of the way when they saw my sunny disposition replaced by hard stone. Normally, I didn’t like feeling like an imposition in the hospital. I would run towards a patients room when they’re seizing whilst simultaneously apologising to anyone who moved out of the way for me. Yet here I was, a torpedo through a sea of colleagues.

I made it. Room 309. The doors creaked at the weight of my push. A mother and father sit at their daughters bedside. 10 years old, in for a heart attack. The two parents turned towards me as their daughter remained peaceful and sedated. I was thankful, as the words that were about to spew out of my mouth were not for young ears. I held up the paper and presented it in front of them like a detective who just cracked the case.

“Three days ago, your daughter was brought in for a heart attack. Because of her extremely young age I decided to keep her in for observation so I could come up with a diagnosis for a myocardial infarction in a 10-year-old girl. I was coming up blank and eventually I was going to have to release her back into your care, but I was terrified. Terrified that if I let you go, I’d be dooming your daughter to a disease I missed. That was until today when I found out that your daughters heart attack was brought on by a short but severe onslaught of emotional distress.” At this point the two parents had closed in on me, eager to hear my findings. At this the mother became confused and sought answers amongst her tears. The father remained quiet.

“Emotional distress-I don’t—I don’t understand? Nothing happened before. We would---I would’ve known?”

I opened my mouth to speak but it just wouldn’t come out as my eyes fell on the little girls sleeping form. My eyes drew in and I decided to merely hand the mother the results which I had been given moments ago. She took them from me with shaky hands. I turned to face the man to the side of me.

“The police are on their way.” A loud shriek exploded from Mrs Hart as the words on the page resonated in her already fragile mind. I stared him down. “I don’t suggest running.”

I made my way to exit the room, preparing to actually call the police but also because, as selfish as it was, I couldn’t be subjected to that level of despair any longer. The screams of a mother learning about her child’s pain were enough. However, I was harshly ripped away from the door.

“What the fuck do you mean by that.” Mr Hart had my arm in an iron grip.

“I think you know. And now, so does your wife.” I tried to pry myself free, but he was too strong, and I was thrown up against the wall.

“What are you insinuating!”

“She had vaginal tearing, and her 10-year-old uterus was filled with semen. Semen that was just confirmed as having your DNA from a test which your wife is now holding the results of. Along with a comprehensive list of the injuries you subjected your daughter’s body to.”

I gained new strength and shoved the significantly taller male away from my body.

“My professional opinion is that when you crept into your daughters room that night and started subjecting her to your own examinations, the extreme emotional distress caused her body to shut down and brought on a heart attack. At least we now have the cure, no more playtime with daddy.”

“YOU BITCH!”

He lunged for my throat but not before I fled the room. I should have ran; found James or House or anyone. That would have been the smart thing to do. But I just couldn’t. This man disgusted me, and he needed to feel it. I needed to say it. The police would deal with him later, but I needed to get a few shots in first. I turned back to face him.

“That little girl in there, she depends on you because she has no one else. She trusts you to take care of her and you treat her like that. Every day I take in children, and I work to save them and I work to protect them. Every day I do my job as best as I can only for there to be people like you who take the innocence of a child and control it for their own perverted needs.”

Now he was fuming, and he stalked towards me. A lion to its prey. My resolve began to crumble, my bravery slowly lacking. He towered over my body, and I suddenly felt the fear that his little girl felt every night when daddy came in to her room. His face was confident, but his body held an anger.

“You’re lying.” His face was now inches away from mine. His hot breath washed over my face, and I began to shrink into my body.

“I have the proof. I have medical proof.” I whispered, my eyes struggling to hold his firm gaze

“Papers can go missing. It happens.” As he spoke his tainted fingers found a new resting point in my hair as they slowly began to stroke through my locks. I shuddered at the action that I ordinarily found so much comfort in. I remembered the nights where I would lie on James’ chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. The memory couldn’t save me from the situation I currently found myself in. As I went to speak I could feel the words crawling back in my throat. ‘Don’t antagonise. Play along. Wait for someone. He’s stronger. He’s bigger.’ But these inner thoughts were overshadowed and my mind replayed the first moment that little girl walked into my care.

“Enjoy your last moments of freedom.”

“I’m not going to prison.” He smirked at this, concocting a plan of escape. I had to say it.

“Really? I hear it’s so much fun for kiddy touchers.” In my peripheral I saw his hands fly up to grip my neck. I gasped. But before I could even feel his icy touch around my throat, he was ripped away from me and his back hit the floor in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t ever touch her.” James stood over his body. Just looking at him I felt my racing heart slow. He wasn’t wearing his lab coat, only his shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He panted from the long run from his office. Once he composed himself his professional nature returned.

“Officers, please escort Mr Hart off the premises. I believe Dr Y/l/n and Dr House have the medical proof of the sexual assault of a minor along with the DNA evidence to prove Mr Harts involvement.” The two police officers, who had obviously been called, but not by me, held Mr Hart by his arms as they hoisted him up off the floor. They secured the handcuffs around his wrist whilst reading him his Miranda Rights. “Whilst you’re there you can also add the physical assault of Dr y/l/n to his list of accusations.”

As he spoke, James approached me. At this point, I realised I hadn’t moved since the confrontation. James noticed my thousand-yard stare and approached me like how one would handle a skittish horse. He carefully rolled up the sleeves of my lab coat and he saw the beginnings of a bruise where his hands had gripped me.

I uttered a less than believable, “I’m fine.” Despite the lump in my throat.

His arms eventually wrapped around me, and I sunk into his embrace. He placed a gentle kiss onto my hair. I allowed myself to sink into him more. My head rested on his heart and the gentle thud offered me a consistent beat to focus on.

“How did you know?” My once strong voice came out as a whimper. He only needed to utter the word.

“House.” I felt a warmth spread through my heart at that. He knew. Somehow, he’d known. And James had known. And he knew how to take care of me.

“I don’t need you to defend me.” I spoke, uncertainly, into his chest.

“I know.” James softly said as he stroked my hair and brushed his thumb against the exposed skin of my waist.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He punctuated his sentence with the lightest kiss to my lips. As he retreated, I leaned in to seek him out again and he answered with another, deeper kiss.

We stayed there for a while. Neither of us speaking but our breaths saying everything for us. In that moment, despite what my words said, I had needed him and now, more than ever, I needed him to save me from myself. From the spiralling thoughts that flooded my head ready to push me down further and further. Eventually we separated but our intertwined hands meant I could still make sure he was there, and he wasn’t going to leave. He led me down the corridor, in the direction of his office rather than mine.

“What did you tell the police, when you called them? I was so blinded; I couldn’t even think about following procedure.”

“I didn’t call them. House did. Seconds after he got the results.”

We made it to his office where I remained for the rest of the day. James explained what happened to Cuddy and she allowed me the rest of the day off. James offered to drive me home but, honestly, there was nowhere I wanted to be, nowhere I felt safer than in his arms. So, he sighed and pushed out his chair in a silent allowance. I curled up on his lap as he sat and filled out forms. His left hand wrote as his right gently ran up and down my thighs. We didn’t need to speak; we were just there.

---

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