#Best IV Drip London

[ninskilondon]

Revitalise Your Look and Health with IV Drips and Lash Lifting in London

In the fast-paced world of London, where stress, pollution, and a hectic lifestyle can affect your appearance and well-being, finding effective ways to rejuvenate your body and enhance your beauty is essential. Two popular treatments gaining traction in the city are IV drips and lash lifting.

Whether in the bustling heart of London or the tranquil areas of South East London, these treatments offer a blend of health and beauty benefits that are hard to ignore.

Read Our Blog :: https://ninskilondon.blogspot.com/2024/08/revitalise-your-look-and-health-with-iv.html

[ivdropd12]

Drip Excellence: Where to Find the Best IV Therapy in London

Before delving into where to find the best IV therapy in London, it's essential to understand the foundations of this wellness practice. IV therapy involves the direct infusion of fluids, vitamins, minerals, and other nutrients into the bloodstream, bypassing the digestive system for faster and potentially more effective absorption. Originally rooted in medical contexts for treating dehydration or nutrient deficiencies, IV therapy has evolved into a popular wellness trend, offering a variety of formulations to address different health and lifestyle goals.

[maxverstepponme]

Kelly list of events | Part twelve

(idk what else to call this 😭)

Anon: Anon please!

06. December: her birthday. 10 people wished her well. Of course you have to repost all of them. Who is missing? His family. Not even teasing and reminding Victoria that she has the same birthday as her son got a reaction. Oh and dear you are 34. Just because you like to pretend you are 22 and act like 12 doesn't mean you are actually that age 

08. December: posting a birthday picture with the reservation sign that reads Mr. & Mrs. Verstappen clear in view. They are at desert so the table should have been reset minimum 3 times. This reservation sign usually gets removed as soon as you sit down. But obviously need to imply as always. So pathetic.

09. December: Kelly flew to London to get "fitted" supposedly and fly in full hair and make up to Italy for price giving. Luis Vuitton must not like her as 1. It's not fitted well and 2. Sophie Turner wore it 3 years ago to the Game of Thrones premier. You know am actual 22 year old model.

10. December: Max deleted a picture from his page from Christmas 2021 with Nelson Sr and Kelly

12. December: year end party at Redbull. Of course she couldn't miss that. Doesn't matter it's very cold in Milton Keynes and she is supposedly so sick. No problem taking 4 flights within a 3 days just to party and drink alcohol. Nanny can take care of the kid like she's doing 99% of the time unless mommy dearest needs IG pictures for content

13. December: he actually believes that doesn't he?

15. December: remember how Kelly claimed she was oh so sick poor girl. While partying and flying around. Well thankfully she can use it as advertisement for IV vitamin drips. Not recommended by real doctors but people buying crap from stupid influencers will rather believe those bimbos than medical professionals.

17. December: Kelly friend gets married in Florence. Max looks miserable as always. How many times will he be asked when he's getting married today?

19. December: Kelly is cover model for Vogue Netherlands. Theme is "women in sports". F1 community is not happy and rip Vogue and her to shreds. Look who is back to defend Kelly? Janssen. You thought we forgot. Nope. That's alright we see your backup finsta account in Elisabeth already. Vogue NL only sells 5000 copies a month and a year ago they filed for bankruptcy. They are pay to play now. This photoshoot was organised by Kelly in Brasilia at her family's residency and paid to be published in Vogue. Netherlands naturally. And oh the lies and grooming and making Max look bad by comparing him to her racist and homophobic father.

26. December: not known where Max spend Christmas. No pictures. He was racing sim all day until 22. December. Today they are off to St. Barths for vacation

And now my watch has ended. Several other nonnies have already compiled lists of all the shenanigans that went on since the vacation. In the meantime remember they are the best most in love couple in the history

[cocteautwinslyrics]

for any traveller to the united kingdom. you cannot trust fish and chips in the southeast as it is more seafood territory (oysters cockles etc). London you need to be careful: there are very few places. Only one i trust currently is Poppy's who have branches in Spitalfields and Camden market, though marked down for price. In a regular climate, a regular fish and chips should not exceed £10, though due to cozzie livs i can forgive £12. i think Poppy's is at £14...

Up next is the area I didn't expect to be so good which is the south west (excluding cornwall but thats okay cornish cuisine is good). In somerset is where the big money is but you have to go out of the way (i.e. off the railway lines and onto a bus) for it. it's called Tuckers and is the best fish and chips outside of the north IN MY OPINION spongebobscared. it is executed nearly as good as northern fish and chips with the chips tasting like they're fried in beef dripping which makes them taste bloody lovely. they have 2 shops, one in Cheddar (yes like the cheese they age the cheese in the caves nd shit) and another in nearby Wells, which is easier to access by means of many buses from Bath. price falls around the £11 mark for a pretty precisely filling meal.

In the north, the fish and chips game is absolutely head and shoulders above the world. My personal go-to because its not a.far detour from the M1 is the Wetherby Whaler's original shop in Wetherby, though they have multiple other branches in small towns nearby in Yorkshire. this falls very much further on the affordable scale, with my large haddock and chips falling squarely on the £12 sum and a regular being only £8.30 (!!). the point of caution here is for my cod girlies, since the Whaler sole-ly serves haddock because in particularly Yorkshire it is the fish of choice (in my opnion for good reason; its a tastier fish than cod). the benefit of the Whaler is that it serves scraps for free if you ask for them, with scraps for the uninitiated being the bits of batter that come off in the fryer and which are stored for order in the best chippies. Though. Word of warning if you see the Jumbo and think you can eat it. you must not have eaten all day. because that shit is very near as long as my arm and i am over 6 feet tall. if you're just famished and not ravenous settle for the large. it'll be more than enough i promise it's like 14 inches long

also its not in the nicest town in the world but if you're in redcar id recommend Oliver's because its on par with the Whaler on price though ill caveat that with the fact ive not been there for around 8 years because redcar i must reiterate is not a nice place to go by choice.

[ivdripuk]

How Premium Vitamin D Injections in the UK Can Improve Your Health

Introduction:

If you look for healthy ways to improve your health, Vitamin D injections in the UK and Biotin shots might prove some of the most potent. Whether it is an IV drip London that will help pump more vitamins into your body or injections with biotin for healthier hair, observable improvements can be delivered. Biotin shots are extremely good for hair growth. Biotin injections for hair are not used just to improve overall health but for specific problems regarding health issues of hair. Now, let’s go inside and see how the treatment can be included within your wellbeing routine so that optimal results may be drawn from it.

Boost Your Health with Premium Vitamin D Injections in the UK

If you’re looking for Vitamin D injections in the UK, then look no more. Keeping your Vitamin D at an optimum is essential for overall health, to which our superior Vitamin D injections make it much easier and handier. This blog looks into the advantages of Vitamin D injections and how biotin shots can complement your wellness program.

The Benefits of Vitamin D Injections in the UK

Vitamin D injections are specifically designed to increase your Vitamin D levels here in the UK, which is very important in having good bone health, immune function, and regulation of mood. Because very few people can achieve adequate levels through diet and sunlight exposure alone, injections are a practical way to make sure you reach what you need for your health.

Immediate Results: Vitamin D injections provide fast relief from deficiencies.

Enhanced Immunity: Supports a stronger immune system.

Bone Health: Promotes better bone density and overall skeletal health.

Finding the Right Vitamin Drip IV Near Me

vitamin drip IV near me can be found in a number of places, and it is always advisable to select the best service provider. Vitamin drips are intravenous delivery means for delivering critical nutrients into one’s bloodstream. They pass the digestive system and create more active and practical results.

Customized Drips: Tailor-made to meet individual health needs.

Expert Administration: The medication was administered by the most seasoned medical professionals.

Convenience: Available at our state-of-the-art clinic or as a home service.

Biotin Shots and Health Boost: A Guide to Wellness

Biotin shots are yet considered popular injections among all those individuals who strictly look for better health and wellness. Biotin injections, also popularly known as biotin shots, offer a number of benefits among people seeking improvement in hair health. We look at some advantages of biotin shots for hair and overall health, and why they just might be that perfect addition to your wellness routine.

Why Biotin Shots?

There are plenty of reasons for choosing biotin shots over oral supplements. For those who will be in a hurry to see quick, noticeable effects, biotin injections prove to be the shortest route for the attainment of your health goals. More than that, though, biotin shots are an injection by professional professionals ensuring the right amount is delivered with an accurate dosage level for your individual needs.

How Do Biotin Shots Work?

Biotin shots work at the point of administration of biotin into the body, where it can easily and fastly get absorbed into the bloodstream. Oral supplements may have their effectiveness diminished by the digestive system. By opting for biotin shots, one is guaranteed proper intake into the body of this vital vitamin in pure form.

What Are Biotin Injections?

Biotin shots, or biotin injections, are a form of supplementation to deliver high doses of biotin to the bloodstream. Biotin, also known as vitamin B7, is a dietary nutrient that helps to guarantee healthy hair, skin, and nails. While biotin is obtained from dietary sources, a Biotin injection will give you immediate direct effects with quicker realization of improvement in biotin levels.

Benefits of Biotin Shots for Hair

One of the advantages of taking biotin shots is that they give positive results in terms of hair health. Biotin shots for hair help strengthen hair follicles, reduce hair thinning, and encourage hair growth generally. Biotin injections can really make a difference for someone who has brittle or thinning hair.

Key Benefits:

Replenishes Hair Follicles. Strengthens Hair: Makes hair less likely to break. - It supports hair growth: It fosters healthier and fuller hair growth. - Improves Shine: It also serves to enhance the natural shine and luster that hair might possess.

Are Biotin Shots Right for You?

In case you’re considering biotin shots as a hair treatment or otherwise, a consultation with a healthcare provider may better be able to determine whether they are worth it and appropriate for your unique situation. A practitioner can evaluate your present levels of biotin to design a suitable plan of treatment for you and your goals of health maintenance.

Conclusion

Incorporating Vitamin D injections in the UK and biotin shots into your health regimen can significantly enhance your overall well-being. Whether you choose a vitamin drip IV near me or opt for biotin shots for hair, both treatments offer valuable benefits tailored to your unique needs. For a personalized, private experience, visit our clinic or explore our home service options.

FAQ’S:

Q1. How important is biotin for hair?

A biotin deficiency may lead to hair loss, and supplements may aid hair growth. However, evidence has not shown that biotin supplements can boost hair growth in those without a deficiency. Biotin is an essential B vitamin that helps the body get energy and nutrients from carbohydrates, proteins, and fats.

Q2. Are biotin injections good for hair?

Biotin improves the base protein (Keratin) that makes up our hair, skin and nails. Which is why Biotin deficiency can cause dry skin, brittle nails and hair and even hair loss, acne and psoriasis. With Biotin Injections you will notice a great improvement in the appearance and condition of your skin, hair and nails.

[elvastonmedical]

Rejuvenate, Revitalize, and Thrive with IV Drip Therapy in London to improve your wellness!

Maintaining peak health and vigor may be difficult in London's hectic and demanding lifestyle. Enter IV Drip Therapy, a ground-breaking health strategy that has swept the city. The best IV drip therapy in London is available at Elvaston Medical Clinic. We provide a variety of procedures meant to increase your energy, hydrate your body, and revitalize your skin. Unlock a new level of well-being by learning about the effectiveness of IV drip therapy.

IV Drip Therapy London - It is revolutionizing well-being by delivering vital nutrients right into your bloodstream. IV Drip London has quickly garnered appeal as a holistic approach to wellness. In London, Elvaston Medical Clinic is a pioneer in delivering cutting-edge IV drip therapy and offers a range of therapies that are specially designed to meet your requirements. At Elvaston Medical Clinic, we understand that every person has different health objectives. Our IV Drip Therapy treatments may be tailored to meet your requirements, ensuring that you get the most out of them. IV Drip Therapy is well known for its quick benefits in enhancing one's energy. No matter whether you are struggling with exhaustion, getting over jet lag, or just needing a pick-me-up, our treatments provide an immediate and powerful energy boost.

IV Drip Therapy Services -

IV Detox London - Get rid of toxins and environmental stresses from your body with our IV Detox treatment in London. Our treatment, which is infused with cleaning chemicals, aids your body's natural elimination of unwanted substances, leaving you feeling renewed and invigorated.

IV nutrition London - Our IV nutrition treatment will provide your body with the critical vitamins and minerals it needs. Our nutrient-rich IV drips provide you with the sustenance you need, whether you are trying to strengthen your immune system or improve your general health.

IV hydration near - Dehydration may negatively impact your health. Find a local IV hydration center. By keeping your body properly hydrated, our IV hydration treatment encourages better digestion, better skin health, and more vitality. 

IV anti-oxidants London - Our IV antioxidant treatment reduces oxidative stress and supports cellular health. This therapy promotes a young look and helps your body fight free radicals since it is loaded with potent antioxidants.

IV vitamin London - Our bodies someties need an additional dosage of vitamins to perform at their peak. IV vitamins in London. Our IV vitamin treatment helps you attain peak performance and vitality by delivering a strong combination of vitamins straight into your circulation.

IV for energy London - IV Drip Therapy at Elvaston Medical Clinic will take you on a journey to renewal and wellness. Your safety and comfort are our top priorities, and our knowledgeable medical staff is here to help you through the procedure and answer any concerns you may have.

IV Drip for Skin - Our IV Drip for Skin treatment is the solution if you are looking for that sought healthy glow. This treatment encourages the formation of collagen, moisturizes your skin, and gives you a beautiful complexion since it is full of skin-loving nutrients.

Overall, IV drip therapy at Elvaston Medical Clinic will take your well-being to new heights. Our selection of IV drip treatments, which vary from hydration and detox to skin rejuvenation and energy boosting, are created to meet your specific requirements. Learn about the IV drip therapy's transformational impact in London and take the first step toward a healthier, more energetic you.

[diamondskinandlaserclinic]

The DSL Clinic offers vitamin drips to support overall health, wellbeing, and performance. These intravenous (IV) vitamin infusions can help replenish vitamins, minerals, and amino acids in the body. The drips are personalized to the individual’s needs and can include ingredients such as B vitamins, magnesium, and calcium, as well as antioxidants and other nutrients. These vitamin drips can be used to treat fatigue, muscle soreness, and improve recovery from illness or injury. The clinic works with experienced nurses and experienced medical staff to ensure safe and effective treatments.

[alltoolewis]

All Nighter- Mason Mount ✨

Thank you so much for all the love recently on my writing! My heart has literally burst with happiness over the past week 😥 I can't wait to write even more things for you guys & if anyone has any questions, requests or ideas please send them in... my inbox is always open 🤍

Summary- Mason finds you cuddled up on his sofa after waiting for him to come back from an away game despite it being exam season...

Prompt- "You waited up for me..."

If there was anything someone should have warned you about when you first started dating a footballer, it would be the number of restless nights you'd have when they weren't by your side... it was a killer knowing that they were out and about traveling after a tiring 90 minutes to get home to you, while your suppose to sleep peacefully in your shared bed like nothing was happening! When Mason first asked you to move in a month ago, you made a secret pact to yourself that you would never let him come home to a quiet sleeping house, no matter how tired you were! However, you had yet to have a proper chance to stick it out as most away games he'd had were in London... that was until tonight!

"I'll call you later yeah?" Mason whispered, crouching down in front of the couch as he pecked your cheek softly not wanting you to get too distracted with your exam only being 2 days away. Looking up quickly, you grab his hand pulling him back down to you to give him a proper kiss "score a goal for me..." You mumble on his lips, causing his lips to tug into a smile "I'll try my best darling..." Giving your mouth one last peck, he got up grabbing his bags as he gave you a final wave "Make sure you get plenty of rest after studying... I'll see your pretty face in the morning!"

Giving him an untruthful nod, you smiled "I will do handsome... good luck! I love you!"

"I love you too... make sure you have something to ea-" Rolling your eyes you leapt off the couch, practically pushing him out the door as laughter filled the room "I will be fine you big softie..." You giggle, pushing him fully out the door making sure he had all of his stuff as you run your hands through his hair "Your going to Liverpool not Australia... calm down, I'm fine..."

"I'm sorry." He sighed, taking your hands in his "I just now how stressed you get when studying and with your exams being only 2 days from now, I don't want you to neglect yourself again... not like last time!" Your last exam season was so bad that you ended up in the hospital due to a lack of sleep and nutrients you had. It broke Mason in two seeing you lying there with an IV drip attached to your arms feeling like he could have prevented it all somehow, so he promised himself that he'd always be there to make sure you'd never get that way again.

Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you kissed his lips "I promise you I will never let it get that bad again, Mase. I'll have my dinner, study a little more than & then I'll have some rest... stop worrying!" Mason felt a rush of relief from your words, knowing that you always tried 100% to keep a promise!

"I'll believe you I suppose..." Mason smiled, pecking your lips before pulling you in one last hug "Love you honey.."

"Love you to Mase... See you later!"

As soon as the door was shut and Mason's car was gone from the driveway, you bolted straight up the stairs. Immediately grabbing all of the blankets and pillows you could for your midnight stay up. With the game only being in Liverpool you knew there was a high chance of him being back before midnight, but with the press afterward and then commute back up to London you didn't want to take any chances.

The rest of your evening was spent hunched up on the couch, studying books in hand as you watched the lead-up to the match. Your cheeks flushed pink every time they'd mention his name like you were some love-struck teenager who can't even see their crush without getting all giddy! Keeping at least one of your promises, you finally pack up your books once kick-off was only 10 minutes away, running into the kitchen to make yourself some quick dinner and coffee before vacating back to the couch where you sat intrigued for the next 90 minutes. Before dating Mason you hated football, not finding the idea of watching 22 grown-ass adults kicking a ball around a field entertaining at all. But with attending the games and Mason always having them in the background, you grew to adore it! Now spending most of your spare time finding out transfer news and keeping updated with different games across the globe... you have to admit that at first you did it to talk to Mase but now you turned addicted for your own self!

Throwing your hands in the air when the whistle blew full time, you cheered along with the crowd as Mason once again got another goal & assist! Obviously taking your little comment before he left very seriously! Your heart burst with pride every single time they would show him on the screen, the familiar redness on cheeks and his chest puffing up and down after another 90 minutes of non stop effort from him!

Pulling your phone out you sent him a quick 'so proud of you🤍' before switching off the game, instead opting to put on a marvel marathon that you knew would help you stay up for the next couple of hours for your boyfriend's return! & it was actually a lot easier than you thought!

You were too engrossed in the scene in front of you to hear the door slam softly shut. Mason thought it was unusual that the living room lights were on when he pulled up, you were the type of person to check everything 10x before you went to bed which told him that you might not have actually taken his advice about resting. That was confirmed when his head popped into the living room, finding you in the same position as you were when he left watching the same film you seen millions of times with the same shocked expression on your face.

Feeling a stare upon you, you looked up. Finding Mason leaned against the door with a goofy grin on his face, immediately opening your arms out for him to climb into, which he accepted without hesitation. "I'm so proud of you, Mr goal scorer.." You whispered in his neck as he held you tight to his chest, continuously pecking your temple with a big smile on his face "You waited up for me..." Mason smiled, causing you to lift your head up to look at him with a matching grin on your face "I thought I told you to rest darling... it's midnight!"

"In my defense, I stopped studying just before the game.." You smirked, pointing across the room to your packed up books "I haven't been doing anything for the last couple of hours apart from resting, watching Tom Holland, and seeing my super talented, hot, gorgeous boyfriend kill it in Anfield!"

"Thank you, baby..." Mason mumbled on your lips, pulling away from you to lean his head on yours "Still think you should have rested like I told you to instead of pulling an all-nighter..."A part of him was a little mad at you for not taking his advice and resting, but as he saw that goofy little smile on your face his anger was quickly placed with nothing but love instead "It's good job your adorable y'know!"

"It's one of my many charms" You smirked, pecking the bridge of his nose before cuddling back into his chest "Now stop talking, it's the best scene!" Mason chuckled as your eyes went back to the TV to watch your favourite scene of the whole film "I suppose we're not going to bed yet are we?" Mason laughed as you looked at him with a disgusted look on your face. "Of course not! At least not until this has finished!" Looking up at him with soft eyes, you brushed his hair "Unless your tired then of course I don't mind..." Mason's heart burst at how you always found away to think of him, even when your in a goofy mood. Shaking his head he pulled you back down to him...

"Nahh sweetheart, ." Mason smiled, kissing your temple "I'm never to tired to spend time with you.."

"I love you Mase.." You whispered into his chest, your words going to straight to his heart. "I love you so much more... missus all nighter!"

[aster-aspera]

It’s just my skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: loss of hearing

Pairings: (platonic) jonmartim

Warnings: claustrophobia, hospitals, hearing loss

Masterlist

If you liked it please reblog <3

The aftermath isn’t as quiet as Tim thought it would be.

Maybe it’s the fact that he isn’t dead even though he should be, maybe it’s the dreadful ringing in his ear, maybe it’s the way his chest is heaving in gasping breaths he can’t hear.

There’s a thousand pounds of stone pressing down on his back and somewhere far above him he can feel the ground rumble and shift. He can’t even find it in himself to worry about the whole place coming down. He wasn't planning on making it out alive either way.

He thinks he floats in and out of consciousness for a bit. Time seems to wind and stretch and loop back, only the rubble on his back and the incessant ringing to keep him company.

Something shifts eventually, a change in the air at first, the darkness becoming just a bit softer, a bit less cloying.

And then there are hands and stretchers and needles and people pulling and prodding him and over it all is still that high pitched ringing, rising higher and higher into an impossible crescendo. He thinks they ask him things, he is sure he sees their lips moving and their expectant gazes. He thinks he tries to say something, but his lips feel awkward and unwieldy.

Everything goes dark after that. A cool blessed darkness where he just floats, no stone, no rubble, no dust, just peace.

He thinks about Danny for a while, and the ritual and the burning collapse of it all and the way Sasha smiled at him every morning when he came into the archives. Then he just sleeps.

He wakes up a bit more coherent the next time. The ringing isn’t gone yet, but at least his brain doesn’t feel like it’s through different planes of dimensions at a hundred kilometres per hour anymore. At least now he can breathe without the dust clogging his lungs.

He looks around the overbright hospital room, the disconnected monitor and the IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins. There’s a bouquet of orange flowers on the bedside table. Probably from Martin, he thinks bitterly. There’s no one else who would go through the trouble.

Martin walks into his room at some point and Tim wonders why he’s here and not hovering around Jon like some lost puppy. Maybe Jon didn’t make it out of the explosion.

Something sharp and painful shoots through Tim’s chest at the thought and he does his best not to examine it too closely.

He looks up at Martin, whose lips are moving as he fusses with the flowers on the little table. Tim stares up at him uncomprehendingly, waiting for sound to come through, waiting for that unbearable ringing to resolve itself into something he can understand.

It doesn’t.

“I can’t hear,” He says, his lips forming the words, his vocal cords vibrating, but no sound comes out, not to him at least. Martin looks up at him with concern, his mouth moving in shapes that should have been familiar, had they been accompanied by the right noises.

“I can’t hear,” Tim says again. And this time, it doesn’t come out half as controlled. He can feel something very close to panic crawling it’s way up his throat and he doesn’t quite manage to swallow it down.

Martin presumably says something else, before giving up and typing something on his phone, shoving it into Tim’s hands before stalking out of the room.

Getting a doctor, stay here

Well of course he’s going to stay here, does Martin really think he’s going to wander around London when he’s just survived an explosion? He isn’t Jon.

He waits impatiently in his bed, rubbing the uncomfortably thin hospital sheets between his fingers and trying to adjust the flat pillows so he can sit up.

Eventually the doctors come in and once again, it’s back to being poked and prodded. Doctors examining his ears and brain and all the million scans they take, with Martin occasionally coming in to hover over him, bringing along coffee from the cafeteria.

In the end, the verdict is predictable. Permanent damage from his proximity to the explosion. Figures he couldn’t just walk out of that unscathed.

And most people would probably consider being permanently deaf better than being dead. Tim wasn’t too sure he agreed with them  yet.

They let him go home eventually, with a whole laundry list of instructions on how to care for himself. Tim throws the papers into a corner as soon as he gets home. He’ll be fine, he’s survived Jane Prentiss, he can survive this. And it isn’t like it matters much.

His phone buzzes to life when he sticks it into the socket, all the messages he missed streaming in at once, a tidal wave of promotional mails and push notifications. He’s half tempted to just shut it off again when he notices one text notification between all the others.

Jon

Martin had told him he was alive, of course. But something about seeing his name displayed black on white on his phone screen drives the point home in a way Martin’s scribbled notes hadn’t done. Something sharp and hot shoots through his chest and he wants desperately for it to be that familiar anger that carried him through the last few months.

But as he lets his head fall back onto the couch, he can’t quite feel it burn the same, and without its familiar warmth, he feels hollow in a way he hasn’t since Danny died.

He swipes away the message without reading it and curls up on the couch, pulling an old, dusty blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. He tries not to think too much of the darkness after the explosion, of the plaster dust swirling through the air and settling in his lungs, of the stone crushing his limbs at awkward angles.

A dark apartment isn’t much like a collapsed building but his brain doesn’t care when it brings up vivid images of his time under the rubble. Despite it all, he does eventually drift into the comforting darkness of sleep, his slumber taking the pain and weariness out of his bones for just a moment.

It’s peaceful, till he wakes up gasping from a nightmare.

His desk rattles slightly when a heavy book is dropped on it and Tim looks up in annoyance, ignoring the painful squeezing in his chest when he meets Jon’s tired, regretful eyes.

‘Learning sign’ The book proclaims and Tim feels irritation bubbling up.

“Fuck off,” He says, focusing his attention once again on his desk.

‘I know sign, I can help, or at least recommend you some classes/books’ Jon informs him through the notes app on his phone.

“I don’t need your help.”

‘I know you don’t, but I’d like to'

“Why? So you can feel better about everything that happened? You think this is going to fix it?”

‘I’m sorry Tim’

“Sorry is too late,” he bites out, shoving out of his chair roughly. He tries to move past Jon, make it out of this stifling, dusty room, get somewhere it doesn’t feel like the walls are watching him.

A rough, calloused hand shoots out, wraps around his wrist like a vice. Jon’s eyes are dark with concern and Tim feels an odd anger at the expression. How can he show so much empathy after everything that happened?

He looks at the hand wrapped around his wrist and suddenly, it’s all just too much.

The deafening ringing in his ears, this wretched place that trapped him and choked him and took his best friend from him. And Jon, eyes still hopeful, still compassionate, after Tim had blamed him and hurt him for months on end.

“Go away,” He tries to say and he doesn’t even make it to the first syllable before his voice betrays him with a choked sob. A shudder runs through him and he looks down at the wooden floor, trying to compose himself.

The grief has never felt as all consuming as it does in this moment and it chokes and burns and pulls him under all at once.

And then, there are arms around him. A familiar touch, a familiar weight, from days so long ago Tim can barely remember them. The first touch that isn’t hostile, the first comfort he has felt in so long.

And it’s all from the man he’s tried to hate for months.

His hands curl themselves tightly into Jon’s cardigan and he buries his face in his shoulder, biting back tears with all his might. It doesn’t do much good against the tidal wave of emotions sweeping through him and soon he’s shaking all over with the sobs that wrack through his body.

Jon’s hand comes up in a familiar movement, brushing through Tim’s messed up curls. It’s hesitant at first, as if Tim will yell at him again, but when he makes no motion to do so, only melting deeper into the hold, the fingers carding through his hair become surer.

There’s a rumble against his cheek as Jon says something and Tim wishes desperately he could still hear it, hear Jon’s sure and steadying voice.

He remembers when, near the beginning of it all, he would stand in the corridor outside of Jon’s office and listen as his voice drifted through the halls, all the pain and fear and emotions painted so clearly on it. He’d always thought Jon a bit ridiculous for the way he read those statements. Now he just wished he could hear it one more time.

He closes his eyes as the loss of his family and his friend and even his hearing tear through his chest, leaving him shattered and shaking.

Jon’s chest rumbles again and Tim presses his cheek into it, pretending for just a moment he can hear a sound that isn’t the awful ringing.

Another pair of hands close around him, softer ones, broader ones. They pull him up gently and he’s not entirely sure how they both ended up on the floor, it probably has something to do with how broad he is and how skinny Jon is.

He’s pulled close against a soft, broad chest and relaxes into it almost immediately. Martin’s safe, he always has been.

He’s deposited gently on the cot, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a warm mug of tea pressed into his hands. He feels a bit like a child, being coddled and carted around. But right now, he can’t find it in himself to care.

He thinks Jon and Martin are saying stuff. Martin’s chest is rumbling against his back and he tilts his face so he can feel it better. Martin runs a comforting hand along his face, brushing away the tears that stick to it.

A hand settles on his knee, comforting and grounding and he’s sure it’s Jon’s. Both of Martin’s hands are occupied holding him together after all.

He closes his eyes. He can deal with the mess of it all tomorrow.

Right now, he just feels safe. His friends are here and that’s enough.

[sweeethinny]

The first Potter

I wrote this after watching the Kardashian series (yes) and seeing Mason's birth, which made me want to finally write what I think about a few weeks ago

fortunately I never got pregnant, but my sister did, so this whole chapter was inspired by the pain and everything I saw her go through, and how I think she and my mother are warriors, for having gone through it a few times and still saying that is the best pain they ever felt!

Harry and Ginny had decided to have their child in a Muggle hospital, for several reasons, but the main one; privacy. They knew it would be a big deal when the firstborn of the wizarding world savior was born, everyone would be crazy, wanting to take the first pictures and be the first to make sure what he would be like, so even if Molly had argued with them about that decision they would have the baby in a Muggle hospital in a well-located London neighborhood, with the surnames Evans.

It was December 26th, after a Christmas full of pain and irritation on the part of Ginny who felt too ugly and swollen to enjoy anything, she had cried in the bedroom when her dress didn't close and when she couldn't tie her own hair without feeling tired and breathless. Harry had a lot of patience, helping her get dressed, braiding her hair, helping with her shoes and enduring all the crying spells - which were not few.

The next day, they spent the day watching movies and series, resting and anxiously waiting for her purse to burst at any moment and finally see that baby they had been waiting for. The doctor, Dr Iver, had predicted that it would be that week yet, and that they might not need to operate on her if everything went well. But then the 26th passed and nothing happened.

On the 27th, Ginny cried when Harry needed to go to work and she was alone, she didn't even know why she was like that, she just wanted her husband back to help her pick up the dishes and take a shower, feeling her son move like never in belly, kicking down her ribs and stomping the bladder, when it didn't seem to push a knife in the middle of the spine and make her grunt with the pain that cut the air from her lungs.

She was so scared.

The pregnancy had been smooth, in general, but it was terrifying to think that everything would depend on her from now on, that the baby wouldn't come out if it weren't for her strength, and Ginny cried whenever she thought she wouldn't be able to do that, that it would cause some damage to the child, who would give up and fail halfway.

Bill and George took turns to be with her, sometimes Ron would jump out of the fireplace and join the company, Angelina and Fleur also showed up, but it didn't matter, none of them were Harry, none of them said the right words, and she knew she was being unfair, but she was carrying a bloody baby's inside herself! She had a right to be!

When her husband did not return that day, Ginny felt that she could start crying with anyone who touched her.

''You know it can take a while, and I'm sure he's doing everything he can to get back as soon as possible'' Hermione soothed her, wetting a towel and placing it on her forehead when Ginny started to sweat, even though it was snowing outside as never

"I'm going to kill Robards for taking my husband away from me" The redhead grunted "This is hurting more than usual" She sighed, the pain cutting her back and making the air disappear from her lungs, her hips looking like they were about to breaking in two. Ginny grabbed the arm of the couch, sinking her nails as she moaned in pain, the bitter taste of blood filling her mouth.

''Are you alright? Do I need to call anyone?'' She denied, trying to take a deep breath, still feeling her hips seem to shake and almost break, the baby moving non-stop inside her

"He looks like that when night comes," she said, crying wanting to flood her eyes. "Love, calm down please, you're going to kill mommy." Ginny rubbed her belly, just like Harry did when it happened, trying miserably to make the pain less.

But nothing happened, the pain got a few degrees worse, and she barely knew if she would have the strength to move from there, with so much pain that she felt itchy at the base of her spine

''Ginny, I think you're feeling contractions'' Hermione then jumped off the couch, running over to the fireplace and picking up the watch they kept there, looking intently at her ''Tell me when this stops'' The redhead nodded, badly listening to her sister-in-law while trying to take a deep breath.

It didn't take three pauses between pains for Molly to be in the room, next to Arthur, running after Ginny's maternity bag and everything she would need more.

''No, no, no, no'' She denied the help to get up, leaning back on the sofa and sighing when her hip stopped burning and finally could fill her lungs with air ''I won't leave here without Harry. He will never forgive himself'' The crying prickled her eyes again, vehemently denying, completely terrified at the idea of ​​doing that without him ''It's over, it's just a false alarm'' Ginny looked out, trying to look for something else to focus, the dark blue night sky showed no stars at all, and the snow seemed to have given a respite, but she thought of her husband, and hoped he was close and coming home

''Gin, baby, we need to do this'' Dad sat next to her, squeezing her hand and kissing her forehad ''We'll be with you'' She denied it, tears coming out of her control

''No, I won't do it without Harry. I will not be able to. I need him'' Harry had been at all times, the first kick, the exams, the first time they heard the heart beat ... he wouldn't miss the fucking birth! ''This baby will hold on a little longer'' But as if to contradict her, a cold liquid ran between her thighs, dripping on the floor and wetting the entire sofa, without smell or color, barely seeming to come out of her body. ''No'' She denied it again, hugging her belly as if her son could fall from there at any moment ''I can't''

''Of course you can'' Molly crouched in front of her daughter as if she were 6 years old and wanted to climb the top of the tallest tree in the garden ''I will hold your hand and ... And Ron can go behind Harry for you'' The woman looked at Hermione, who nodded from the corner of the room, looking very frightened with the bag in her hands

''Are you going to do this?'' Ginny blinked tearfully at her best friend / sister-in-law, biting her trembling lip. ''Do you promise to bring him here?'' Hermione nodded again

''I promise'' And dropping the backpack on the floor, she apparated and disappeared.

Ginny was forced to go to the Hospital, but saying with certainty that there was, that she would not have her child until Harry was there to help her. The pains increased, and with each movement of the car - she would not be able to apparate or go by the Flu, which left them to call a taxi (for Arthur's amusement) - the woman almost screamed, shaking her mother's hand and biting her lips with all the strength.

The arrival at the Hospital was sharp at midnight, Dr Ives was quick to show up and take her to the room, reformulating the whole procedure again, just so that she would be aware of each step they would take thereafter;

''Let's check your dilation, and then, go ahead with our normal delivery plan, all right?'' She nodded, being lifted to settle on the stretcher, already wearing those ridiculous hospital robe and barely able to speak, feeling the nurse puncture her vein to introduce the serum and start doing some things that she didn't quite understand.

"The baby is fine, we need to wait some more time until he is well positioned and you are ready to have him" The woman said, rubbing something cold on Ginny's round belly, making her cry even more when her heart your son's echoed in the bedroom. She needed Harry there, needed him to see that, to hold her hand and say that everything would be okay. Her husband would die if he knew that he had lost his son's birth.

''Where is he, mom?'' Luckily the pains subsided, whatever had been given to her, made her go limp '' Where's Harry? ''

''He's in the way, honey'' Molly stroked her daughter's face, brushing the hair that was stuck to her forehead and kissing there ''You're a warrior, I could never be more proud'' Ginny felt her mother's tears wet her skin, which made her smile and calm down a little.

''Thanks for being here'' But I still want Harry, she swallowed.

The hours didn't seem to pass, the doctors put her in a warm bathtub, then made her sit on a huge pink ball, and they seemed to come back every ten minutes to check how dilated she was. But all Ginny felt was exhaustion.

When the room was full of Weasleys (except Ron and Mione), she couldn't even remember exactly how she got there, ignoring the conversations and photos her mother took, napping for a few minutes - which seemed like decades in her head - and then looking by Harry. The son had calmed down, as if he knew he needed to wait for Daddy to arrive, but now and then he still tapped on her hip and made her grunt with pain, biting her mouth and doing everything she could to breathe.

''Are we ready, Mrs. Evans?'' Dr Iven smiled at all the redheads and households, turning the pregnant woman on the stretcher

''Not without Harry. This baby will stay here until my husband arrives. ''

''I don't know if your son agrees'' The man smiled a little sadly ''He already wants to come into the world'' Ginny denied again, sniffling and trying to ignore the twinge of pain that ran through her spine. Without Harry, no baby would be born

''No'' Molly started to argue with Fleur and Bill, but it was no use, they didn't know how excited Harry was about every little thing, how he cried when they bought the first clothes and set up the baby's room, so excited that Ginny thought she was capable of infusing with love. He was so excited, making plans for the trips they would have together, that now they needed to make a Quidditch court for that little being to learn to fly. There was even a time when he thought Ginny was sleeping while talking to the baby, whispering against her swollen belly; ''I will love you with all my life, as I have never loved anyone but your mother, and I promise to try to be the best father''

If anyone was supposed to be in that room, it was Harry Potter.

"Ginny, you need ..."

''..Not without Harry!'' And finally, when she started to think that she really would have to do it alone, feeling her hip hurt even more, the door was swung open, and a man all disheveled, looking a little sweaty , and with the hospital clothes all pies went in

''I'm here, I'm here'' Ginny thought she breathed for the first time in hours, releasing the tears that were trapped in seeing him there, almost sobbing when he hugged her ''I'm sorry, please'' Harry also seemed to cry , with his head buried in her neck "Ron was slow to find me, and I was too well protected to be spotted easily" She hugged him as she could, nodding

''I don't care anymore, not when you're already here'' She said, sniffling tearfully ''It hurts so much Harry'' She revealed, trying to speak as low as possible ''I'm so scared ''

''No need, I'm with you'' They broke up, and Ginny never felt so confident, shaking her husband's hand as she felt him wipe the tears that stained her cheeks. ''Let's do this together. I'm here.'' She nodded, looking back at Dr Iven, who seemed to be analyzing some paperwork, as if he wanted to give them the moment.

''I'm ready'' 

''Well, now I want everyone to leave ...'' And he started, saying again about all the steps they would take, updating her on the baby's health - perfect - and her health - also, perfect - before adjust Ginny's legs and ask for strength.

It was an absurd pain, it tore all her skin and it seemed absurd that she was going to be able to do that. Harry squeezed her hand, encouraged her, kissed her forehead and stood beside her, looking much more tearful than in his entire life, especially when the doctor said the head was gone.

Ginny can hold her son and take him away, pulling him up and listening to the crying echoing through the room, loud and resounding, showing that he was alive. She could barely see, crying as much as the little one, putting it on her chest and barely caring about all the dirt, kissing the little forehead and looking at Harry beside her, kneeling and trying unsuccessfully to wipe away all the tears.

''What's his name?''

''James.'' Ginny smiled at her husband, exhausted, never wanting to let go of the small package that was in her hands ''James Sirius Potter'' She knew that Harry would have to stun the doctor so that the man would not question his last name but at that moment nothing else mattered

''I think I'm going to die of love'' He smiled and rubbed James's head, the little tufts of gray hair making him smile, his cry still echoing as if he complained about coming out of his hot bubble and comfortable for this cruel and cold world.

Harry cut the umbilical cord that still held Ginny and James together in one body, before he crouched down next to her and kissed her with as much love as the day they were married.

''I love you, and I will always be here'' They were family now.

[ivdropd12]

Intravenous Excellence: Ranking the Best IV Drip Clinics in London

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[dontmindthefangirling]

Pandemic {t.h.}

part 2

Tom Holland x Medic!Reader

Summary: Y/N has to go back to the states as the coronavirus pandemic gets worse and Tom worries about her having to work

Warnings: angst; mention of death; swearing; more angst

Note: This a one-shot based off of my series Broken Nose but you don’t really have to have read it to know what’s going on; this is also a big shout-out to all of the people working to keep us safe during this pandemic and this idea came to me because working on the front lines can be scary and difficult

part 1

-

“Tom, you have to stop watching the news,” Harry said approaching his brother who was sitting on the edge of the couch, his knee bouncing up and down and his eyebrows permanently scrunched together. 

“How?” Tom snapped, turning his head. “It’s everywhere.”

Ever since you left to go back to New York, Tom had been irritable, almost everything getting him angry or worked out. Harry was beginning to lose count of the amount of times he’s seen Tom angrily boxing out his emotions, punching a bag that was beginning to tear. 

“I know, mate,” Harry sighed, sitting next to Tom on the couch and shutting the TV off. 

“God, (Y/N) is in the middle of it all,” Tom almost whimpered, burying his face in his hands. He angrily ran his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated groan. 

“Have you talked to her?” Harry asked.

Tom shrugged. “Here and there. She’s working sixteen hour shifts every day.”

New York City was all over the news as the world struggled to control the pandemic. It had the most cases in the states, and it was a complete ghost town as everyone was ordered to stay at home. Everyone except you and all the other essential workers.

But you were on the front lines. You were constantly around people being sick and injured because emergency calls didn’t stop even for a pandemic. 

Tom constantly worried about you all day and every day. He couldn’t sleep, he was barely hungry, and he felt nauseous with anxiety. The only people keeping him sane were Harry, Harrison, and Tuwaine. They forced him to eat, they forced him to get out of bed, and they kept him going.

Yet you still remained in his thoughts. His biggest fear was of you getting infected with the virus. He wouldn’t be able to go see you, and he was terrified of losing you.

“She’s smart, mate,” Harry reassured Tom, placing a hand on his back. “She knows how to take precautions.”

Tom nodded numbly, staring down at his phone, waiting for you to text back and tell him you were okay for another day. 

-

On the other side of the Atlantic, you were giving chest compressions in the back of an ambulance as it raced down the empty streets of New York City. You were sweating, and breathing was difficult through your mask, but you didn’t stop. 

“(Y/N),” your partner James said, watching you. “I can take over if you need a break.”

The patient beneath you was a young patient, probably only in his thirties. He went into cardiac arrest when you had arrived to the scene. The call was initially for shortness of breath, and then things went south when the patient coded and his heart stopped.

You looked down at him, seeing the blue around his lips as you pressed deeply into his chest. 

“No, I got it,” you grunted. 

James sighed, adjusting the bags of medication that was dripping into the patient’s IV. 

Moments later you were pulling into the emergency department of one of the many hospitals in New York. The driver of your ambulance jumped out and rushed to open the doors. You continued compressions as the stretcher was pulled from the truck. 

Because of COVID-19, you were no longer allowed to enter the emergency room, and had to do all of your reporting outside while the doctors and techs came out and took your patients from them. 

You already called the patient in, telling them that he was a potential COVID-19 patient due to the shortness of breath, so the hospital could properly prepare with appropriate protective equipment. 

One of the doctors took the patient from you while you gave the report to the nurse.

"How long has he been down?” the doctor asked you while one of her techs began compressions.

You sighed. “Fifteen minutes.”

“No signal on the EKG?”

“None.”

The doctor sighed, turning to her staff and telling them to call it off. 

“Time of death, 14:03,” the doctor called glancing down at her watch while one of the scribes wrote it down. Your heart sank as they moved the patient so your crew could get their stretcher back. A sheet was placed over his face and that was it for you.

You bit back as a sob as you stormed back over to your truck, ripping your mask off and resting your forehead against the truck. James was hot on your heels, running over to you.

“(Y/N)-”

“Fuck!” you yelled, punching the ambulance. Tears swelled in your eyes as you turned around, and looked up at the sky. It was too nice of a day for how you were feeling.

You were exhausted and worn out and your feet hurt from your boots. You had been working from eight in the morning until midnight every day for the last two weeks and you were spent. 

You were happy to be working with James, he was your best friend and he had been your partner for years, but this whole pandemic was taking its toll on everyone you knew that was working. Every day was getting harder and harder and you didn’t know when it would end. 

There were a few co-workers that had been diagnosed with COVID-19 but they were isolated. Another few had been possibly exposed and were required to self-quarantine for two weeks. 

You and James had a few scares, but for every patient tested that you had had, they all came back negative. You knew they would test the poor patient that you just lost for the virus as well, and you and James would know if he was positive or negative in the next day or so.

James was silent as he stood next to you. You knew he was tired too. Every day was a new challenge, but you were in this together.

“We have to go clean the stretcher,” you muttered under your breath.

“I know,” James sighed. “In a minute.”

You were both watching the puffy white clouds float by, and for a moment you felt a little peaceful. 

You missed Tom. God, you missed him so much. The time difference made it almost impossible to FaceTime since you got off work at midnight and it was five in the morning in London. Tom said he would get up to talk to you, but it also didn’t help that you needed all the sleep you could get before your next sixteen hour shift.

There were a few times where you were waiting for calls and you managed to sneak in a few FaceTimes while working, but those were rare. 

You inhaled sharply before putting your mask back on. You were only given one mask for the day, and you had to re-use it. 

“Ready?” James asked, glancing at you.

“Ready.”

-

Tom was sitting around the fire with his friends when his phone rang. He almost wanted to ignore it, not really in the mood to speak to anyone until he saw that it was you.

“(Y/N),” he almost exclaimed, excitedly answering and stepping away from the fire for a minute.

“Hi Tommy,” you said, your voice bringing a sort of happiness that he could feel in his bones.

“How are you?” he choked out, worried that if he asked too many questions you would have to end the call before you could answer them.

“Tired,” you admitted. “We’re on our way back to the station to pick up some more cleaning supplies before we go back on the road.”

“How’s your day been so far?” he asked.

You sighed. “Not great.”

Your answers were always short, especially when you were upset, and that only made Tom worry more. He knew that you didn’t like to talk about what happened at work, especially when it wasn’t a great day, much to his protests. But he didn’t want to push you either. You’d tell him when you were ready.

“I just...can’t save everyone and it’s getting to me,” you continued, to Tom’s surprise.

“I know darling,” Tom whispered. “That’s what makes you a great medic. You want to save everybody.”

“I guess,” you mumbled. There was a short silence between you before you spoke up again.

“I miss you.”

Tom blinked away his tears and held the phone closely to his ear, like he was holding you closer.

“I miss you, too.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice soft, making Tom miss the nights where he would hold you close.

“I’m hanging in there,” Tom said, running a hand through his hair. “The boys are keeping me sane, but I’m worried about you.”

He glanced over to where his friends were sitting by the fire, Tuwaine and Harry were throwing ping pong balls at Harrison, who was swatting them away while yelling at them to stop. The sight brought a small smile to Tom’s lips.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said sternly. “It’s bad for your health.”

Tom chuckled. He could picture you with your arms crossed and your eyebrows furrowed in a way that he thought was really cute.

“Sorry doc.”

You giggled, the sound sending a warmth spreading throughout Tom’s chest. 

“I’m serious though. I’m okay,” you continued. “It’s hard, sure, but I have a lot of support here.”

“I know,” Tom sighed. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Tom smiled. “Of course darlin’.”

“You’re the one that does flips and shit. Remember when you broke your nose?” you continued, a teasing tone lining your words. Tom chuckled.

“Which time?”

You laughed, and it almost hurt how much Tom missed hearing your voice, your laugh, your everything. 

“I’m sorry babe, I have to go,” you said sadly, making Tom’s heart drop. “We’re at the station.”

“That’s okay love,” Tom said though his heart felt heavy. “Go save some lives.”

“I will,” you said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The call ended and Tom was left feeling empty, although glad he got to talk to you when he did. He stared at his dark phone screen for a moment, wishing he was still talking to you. 

The sound of his friends laughing brought him back to reality as he walked back over to them. 

“How’s (Y/N)?” Tuwaine asked. 

“She’s okay,” Tom responded, taking his seat. “Tired, but okay.”

-

After you and James restocked your truck, you hopped back in and headed back out onto the streets to await your next call. New York was empty and it brought chills to your spine every time you drove through Times Square. 

James sat in the driver’s seat as you headed to your posting location; basically the place you camped out until you got a 9-1-1 call. 

“Tom okay?” James asked. 

“Yeah, he said he’s okay,” you sighed, staring out the window as you drove down an empty 5th Ave. “I dunno, I’m worried about him.”

“He’s worried about you, you’re worried about him,” James said. “That’s not good.”

“I told him not to worry about me,” you protested.

James gave you a look and rolled his eyes. 

“What?” you demanded.

“(Y/N) for someone so smart, you really can be dumb sometimes,” James laughed. 

“Excuse me!”

“You’re a paramedic during a pandemic,” James sighed, bringing the seriousness back to his voice. “My friends and family are worried about me, too. You can’t blame him for worrying.”

You knew James was right, but you hated to admit it. It would only inflate his ego more. You looked out the window, spotting all of your favorite places in the city that you called home. You hated what this virus was doing to it. 

“I just want him to be okay,” you mumbled.

“And he will be,” James assured you. “He’s got his friends and family with him. They’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Isn’t that my job?” you sighed, turning back to look at James. “I’m his girlfriend.”

James gave you a close-lipped smile. “Right now, your job is to make sure the millions of people in this city are okay.”

Your heart twisted at his words. The weight of the situation sometimes didn’t hit you because you were constantly on the move. But when you gave yourself a moment to sit back and reflect on what was going on, it would be a little too much for you to handle. And the thought of Tom thinking of that all day made you upset. You didn’t want him to carry the burden of your problems. 

Suddenly a call came in through the radio. James responded and flicked the lights and sirens on as you made your way towards the emergency. 

You were looking ahead at the street when your phone buzzed with a notification. You glanced down, seeing it was Instagram. “tomholland2013 tagged you in a post.”

You frowned, quickly opening it as James turned down another street. It was a picture Tom had snapped of you and James on set of Spider-Man: Far From Home in your uniforms. James had his arm around your shoulder and Jacob was playing with one of your stethoscopes in the back.

The caption read: So proud of all of the healthcare workers out there keeping us safe. I may play a superhero in the movies but you guys are the superheroes in real life. Thank you healthcare workers! #stayhome

Your eyes welled up with tears as a smile broke out onto your face. You and Tom weren’t public with your relationship yet, but this was all you needed to keep you going for the rest of your shift.

You texted Tom quickly as you pulled up to the scene. 

Y/N: I love you

You jumped out of the ambulance just as Tom texted you back.

Tom: I love you too, my little superhero

You took a deep breath, adjusting your mask as you hoisted the medicine kit up onto your shoulder. 

Maybe you could do this. 

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part X

(Author’s Notes at the End)

But if you’re just joining us, here are the other parts:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

PART X

The iron gates to the Institute rumbled open as James took the corner off the street nearly destroying the trumpet on one of the angel statues that had already been replaced several times in the seventeen years that James has lived there. Xanthos dripped sweat as he came to an abrupt stop outside the front steps to the institute door, just behind Matthew’s automobile that still had all of the doors left wide open.

James jumped down from the driver’s seat and skid on the loose gravel as he grabbed the coach door and yanked it open.

Lucie grimaced when the sun illuminated the inside of the dark cab. Her eyes were red and swollen, her hands covered in something too dark to be blood. His stele gripped in her hand as James grabbed Cordelia underneath the arms and positioned her in a way that he could easily lift her off of the cab seat.

With her head tucked beneath his chin, he could faintly feel her breath against his throat. He tightened his grip on her, offering her some of his own strength, or at least the comfort of knowing that she was safe now and help was coming.

The doors to the Institute opened as he climbed the marble steps. He was met with the worried expressions of both of his parents.

“James.” Will whispered as he reached out towards Cordelia. “What happened?”

“Where is Lucie?” Tessa asked, her eyes drifting over his shoulder.

“She’s in the carriage,” said James, as he adjusted Cordelia in his arms. “Are the Silent Brothers still here? She needs to see them urgently. There is no time.”

“Up the stairs,” said Will, leading James towards the curved staircase that led to the second level. “They arrived sometime this morning, but no one knows who summoned them. Jem said that a message arrived for them to come to the London Institute urgently and that there had been an attack. About half an hour after they arrived Alastair was brought in and they warned us that Lucie and Cordelia were still missing and that Belial might have something to do with it. James, please tell me that you can explain some of this?”

Will quickly followed after James up the staircase while while Tessa ran to assist Lucie behind them. Will barked orders at the house servants to tend to the horse outside while James took the stairs two at a time careful not to jostle Cordelia, but by the small whimpers she made he knew that it was inevitable.

They took a corner and climbed another small flight of stairs that deposited them into a hallway that was crowded with people. The closest to them was Christopher, standing with his back to James and in front of a crumpled Thomas on the floor. Anna sat on the floor beside him with an arm around his shoulder. Matthew, who has been leaning beside the Infirmary door, pushed off from the wall and ran to meet James. He cursed at the sight of Cordelia and quickly moved out of the way while Christopher ran forward to open the infirmary door for James to rush through.

Three silent brothers were gathered around Alastair’s head. James could hear their whispering in his mind, but couldn’t make out the words they were speaking, when a familiar voice cut away from them.

“James.”

“Uncle Jem,” said James as he came to stop in the center of the room. “Please, you have to do something quickly. I don’t think she’s breathing.”

“Lay her down here,” said Jem as he motioned for a bed opposite Alastair’s. Three more Silent Brother’s emerged and began to swarm around Cordelia as James carefully placed her on top of the white sheets. Her skin had become impossibly ashen; her lips tinted blue; she looked like the shell of the person that he used to know.

James kneeled on the bed beside her. His hand gripped hers and squeezed, but her own remained limp inside of his own. Not even a flex from one of her perfect fingers.

Inside of his head he resumed his quiet pleas for her to live. To breathe. To fight.

Beside him, Will put a hand on James’ shoulder. “Follow me. We should let the Silent Brothers do their work.”

“I want to stay with her,” said James. “Please, someone should be with her.”

“I will not leave her,” said Jem, inside James’ mind. “You should listen to your father. It is best if we can perform our work without interruption. If anything is to happen, I will let you know first.”

If anything is to happen.

If she were to die, he means. If she doesn’t respond to their treatments. If James was once again too late. He hesitated to release Cordelia as tears trickled down his cheeks. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. She smelt of ashes and dust with only a hint of the warm floral scent that used to come from her.

Behind his closed eyes he could see Cordelia inside the Hell Ruelle, dancing under the red tinted lights, flecks of gold glistened on her skin and in her hair, and her cheeks fluffed with excitement and life. He could see her walking with Lucie in the park, her hair falling out of the tortoise shell clip that attempted to secure her delicate curls. He could see her eyes dancing when she called him the leader of the Merry Thieves. He didn’t notice it then, because of his own blindness or because of the bracelet, but her belief in him burned like a witchlight in perfect darkness.

The thought of never seeing her like that again made it difficult for him to breathe.

Will led him out of the infirmary and back into the hallway where the rest of his friends were waiting. But once out in the hallway, James broke away from them without a word, his eyes on the dried blood that covered his hands, when he nearly collided with Grace Blackthorn. The usual surge of emotion that once blinded him to everything else except her was non-existent and replaced by a bitter rage that had him tightening his hands into fists at his sides at the mere sight of her. When she stepped into his path, he paused for only a moment, before he skirted around her and continued stalking towards the stairs.

Grace’s voice followed him. “James, please, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, Grace.” James threw the words over his shoulder.

Grace moved quickly so she fell into step beside him. “Please, I don’t blame you for not wishing to speak with me and I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t of the utmost importance.”

James’ steps did not falter.

Grace grabbed him by the arm before he could descend the stairs and turned him towards her on the peak of the top step. Her eyes widened with realization. “You removed the bracelet.”

James kept his eyes on the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her out of shame, humiliation, betrayal. He wasn’t sure.

Grace lifted his sleeve exposing his naked wrist.

“I supposed you’ll be wanting it back.”  James reached into his pocket and pressed it into her hand.

Grace looked down at it. Her already ghostly complexion had somehow become even more pale. “But—How? That’s not possible.”

James swallowed heavily. Every muscle in his body urged him to turn around and keep walking, but the words formed on his tongue before he could stop them. “I had something real.” The words spit from his mouth like venom. “Someone real. And because of you, and whatever you’d done to that bracelet, I was too blind to see it.”

Grace caught him by the shoulder. “Will you allow me to— James!”

But James broke out from underneath her grip and ran down the stairs with no sense of hope or direction in his mind.

* * *

Lucie’s hands shook with Cordelia’s blood still covering them; caked underneath each of her nails and buried in each cuticle bed and shallow line of her palm. Every rune she drew into Cordelia’s skin glowed for a moment and disappeared no matter how much Lucie willed it to do its work and heal Cordelia just enough that they could make it back to the institute. She couldn’t help but wonder if they had become parabatai sooner if any of this would have happened.

An even sicker thought entered her brain. If Cordelia had never become their friend, the friend of the grandchildren of a prince of hell, then none of this would have happened to her.

Lucie knew she should get out of the carriage and follow after James and Cordelia, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. A sob ripped from her throat and she couldn’t even bury it in her hands. It just filled the empty space around her as James’ stele clattered down from her lap onto the floor of the carriage.

“Lucie!” Tessa stood in the doorway of the carriage. “Darling, are you all right?”

Lucie swallowed another sob that threatened to emerge from her throat and clenched her jaw until she shook. “Yes,” she answered. “I’m not hurt.”

Tessa nodded and extended her hand for Lucie to take. Lucie tightened her grip on the fabric of her gear though, afraid to put one of her hands into her mother’s. She knew her mother had seen her fair share of blood before, but Lucie didn’t want to share the responsibility of Cordelia’s blood with anyone else.

When she emerged from the carriage, Tessa quickly tucked her into her side and hurried towards the institute door while several servants emerged to tend to Xanthos who’d dragged the carriage home with one damaged tire and looked positively tired and exasperated from his travels.

Lucie let Tessa lead her up the stairs, asking a maidservant to warm some water for a bath for Lucie. The maidservant hurried ahead of them to start preparing. Lucie allowed her mother to carry most of her weight as her legs felt like they’d been filled with sand. Her skin itched and crawled. Her chest ached and her throat felt like someone was squeezing it with an iron fist. All of her thoughts raced like a thousand thoroughbred horses sprinting around a track.

When they arrived in Lucie’s bedroom, Tessa helped Lucie out of her gear and carefully unpinned her hair and down came handfuls of orange sand sprinkled across the floor.

Tessa quickly brushed the material off of Lucie’s shoulders. Lucie could see the questions spilling through Tessa’s mind, but Tessa only offered her daughter a small smile and led her towards the bathroom.

Once inside the tub, Tessa busied herself with soap and calming incense while Lucie drew her knees up to her chest and allowed her mother to wash the sand from her hair and the blood from her skin, paying particular attention to her hands and arms. The water turned a startling shade of pink by the time Tessa helped Lucie from the bath. It was a strange thing, but Lucie wanted to stay in the water a bit longer, as if somehow Cordelia remained with her that way.

What a terribly grim thought, but Lucie thought it nonetheless.

Once in a fresh cotton frock and nestled under the heavy quilted comforter of her four poster bed with her wet hair pleated by her mother’s gentle fingers, Tessa sat on the bed beside Lucie with her arm over Lucie’s legs.

“Would you like for me to stay with you awhile?” Tessa asked as she brushed a finger down the curve of Lucie’s face. “I don’t mind.”

Lucie turned her water rimmed eyes away from Tessa and looked towards the window where the heavy curtains were drawn.

“It’s all right, darling.” Tessa cupped Lucie’s face in her hand. “It’s all right. You’re safe now. Cordelia is getting help. You did so well, my darling, you did so well.”

“I couldn’t—“ Lucie took a deep breath as the tears flowed from her eyes to be caught by her mother’s gentle fingers. “I couldn’t save her.”

“But you did what you could do,” said Tessa. “And you brought her to the help she needs.”

Lucie grimaced. “Oh mother, don’t you see? It’s our fault.” Lucie brought her arm over her eyes. “It’s all our fault. If she dies it will be because of me.”

Tessa straightened the covers over Lucie, a habit she adopted Lucie realized when her mother felt that there was little else she felt she could do. When she spoke again, Lucie could hear the pain in her voice. “No,” said Tessa. “No, this is not your fault. This is not your doing.”

“He took her because of me,” Lucie cried.

Tessa pulled on Lucie’s arm. “You? What did he want with you? I thought it was James he was after.”

Lucie sucked in a breath. She wanted to tell her mother everything. The words were practically sitting on her tongue, the anvil weighing on her chest lifted just a bit. But the thoughts drifted back in: what would they think of her? Their  daughter who could raise and command the dead. What would they say? They’d protect her, she was sure of it, but at what cost? If they knew Belial was after her they’d die trying to protect her from him. They’d lock her into an even smaller cage then they condemned James too, because she was a girl, and couldn’t possibly defend herself against a prince of hell.

No, no she could not tell anyone.

The anvil slammed back down.

Lucie let her arm fall back down to her side. “He wanted to get to James through Cordelia and I. It was a dramatic miscalculation on his part, honestly. I’m not sure where he is getting his information from but his sources are sorely lacking in accurate information.”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed just slightly causing Lucie to hold her breath, but her expression relaxed. “What did he say to you? What is it that he wants?”

“World domination,” Lucie shrugged.

Tessa made a small noise. “It seems a strange thing to want, doesn’t it? Complete control over an entire world. I have enough difficulty being responsible for three people’s lives, I cannot imagine being responsible for an entire civilization.”

“I don’t think it's the responsibility he wants,” said Lucie. “It’s about possession. It’s control. He’s powerful, but he has limitations. He’s not human and what did Lucifer envy most of all?”

“Humans.” Tessa nodded. “God’s most perfect creation.”

Lucie reached out and took her mother’s hand. “We’ll not let him. I think he’s trapped wherever he is. He can’t reach us on his own and that buys us some time. We can come up with a way to kill him—“

“No.” Tessa’s voice grew stern. “No, I do not want you involved in this any longer. None of you. You’ll let your father and I worry about this. This is our fight, not your own.”

“Mum,” Lucie attempted to argue, but before she could Tessa released her hand and stood up. “You’re to keep yourself away from this, do you understand? I’ll spend no more time on this. Get some rest and come downstairs when you’re feeling up to it.”

Lucie nodded and watched her mother turn to leave. “You’ll come and get me with any word on Cordelia?”

Tessa nodded and urgently left the room.

Sleep and all manor of rest alluded Lucie. She laid in bed staring at the crown molding around the perimeter of her room. Herons were carved into the wood with long vines hanging from their mouths. When decorating her room, her mother and aunt Cecily tried to convince her that the dark wine burgundy wallpaper she had chosen was an awful dark color for such a large space, but it made Lucie feel like Mary Shelley writing in a dungeon about many impossible creatures. She kept her space simple. Hand painted pictures that Cordelia brought her from a trip to India hung on either side of the bed. When she looked at them, she felt like a world traveler, having seen these places herself. Her bed linens were an off-white with golden stitching with no bed ruffle because she liked the dark distressed wood, and it was easier to slide a copy of her manuscript under when one of her parents came into the room to tell her to go to sleep.

She found solace in her room the way James found it in the library, but tonight it brought her no such relief.

Her thoughts raced with images of Cordelia and Belial. His long fingers stretching out towards her flashed whenever she’d close her eyes. She wished she’d figured out a way to kill him when she had the chance. When he was standing right in front of her. Now, she’d have to wait.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

Lucie sat up in bed to find Jesse standing at the end of it, a translucent shadow with the glow of the fireplace glowing through him and behind him.

Lucie exhaled heavily and clutched her chest. “You must stop doing that.”

“My apologies,” said Jesse, a smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth. “I thought you could feel my presence.”

Lucie adjusted herself with her back against the headboard. “No, it’s me who should be apologizing, my mind is preoccupied at the moment. I’m afraid I’m not myself. Jesse, I cannot properly thank you for helping me last night. I wasn’t entirely convinced it would work, but it seemed worth a shot. You saved me yet again and at a large expense to yourself.”

Jesse shook his head, but Lucie went on. “You could have been lost in there, in the shadow world. Your soul could have been trapped there forever. And still you did it anyway. I’m afraid that I owe you for a lot more than just my own life.”

“Lucie, you owe me nothing.”

“I do,” insisted Lucie. “I am going to find a way to bring you back.”

“Necromancy is a dark magic,” said Jesse. “One that is not easily forgiven by the Clave. It’s too dangerous. I came here to tell you to stop.”

“To stop—“

“Yes,” Jesse said firmly. “I blame myself for all of this. I let you entertain the idea of bringing me back, because I liked the idea myself, and I like you. But I realize now that I’m only a danger to you the closer we become and I cannot allow something to happen to you.”

“Jesse—“

Jesse took a step backwards. “Your attention should be on stopping Belial, on being a Shadowhunter, and a writer, not on something that has proved to be impossible. Please, Lucie, I need for you to understand.”

“Well, I don’t,” said Lucie. “I don’t understand at all. I won’t stop trying, and frankly, I think you’re being incredibly indecent at the moment. I may have lost my friend tonight, I will not lose you too!”

“Cordelia's life is flickering,” said Jesse. “It’s weak, but it’s still there. She’ll need your attention when she wakes up. Please know how sorry I am, but this is absolutely for the best.”

“Is this because I used you to escape Belial?” Lucie couldn’t stop the tears from spilling from her eyes. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll command some other ghost next time. I’ll be more sensitive, I--.”

“This is why.” Jesse walked around her bed and grabbed her arm, but his hand went right through her like vapor. “I am dead, Lucie. My sister has ruined her life because of me. My mother is on her way to prison. You will not be the next tragedy that befalls because of an attempt to save me when it may well be futile. And while I couldn’t stop them, I can stop you.”

She tried to reach for his hand again, but her fingers went straight through his.

“I am sorry,” said Jesse slowly, she thought she felt the cool wisp of his breath on her cheek. “Life is for living, Lucie, not for the dead. It’s time I find my peace with it.”

“No.” Lucie swung her legs over the side of the bed, but when she stood up, he was already gone.  

(If you want some more feels added to the sadness that is this chapter give Light of Love by Florence + The Machine a listen. It inspired most of the conversations in this chapter. It really helped me get into the Herondale mindset. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don’t hesitate to leave it some love! Next update is coming Sunday 6/14.)

[freshlyjuicedbeetles]

Commodore Norrington x Reader Fic! Chapter 2

Dearest Readers: If you are in Galveston or the coast of Louisiana, please make sure you are safe! Please, no one worry about me, I’m in Oklahoma, safe from Hurricane Laura. I know a lot about Galveston because I visit regularly, and it’s where my grandma was born and raised, and grandpa was stationed in the Coast Guard. A lot of my family history took place on the island!

Title: The Same Water

Genre: Romance, Supernatural

Rating: General Audiences thus far.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, drowning, and racism.

Summary: Commodore Norrington washes up on the shore and you must find out why.

Notes: I intentionally kept the main character ambiguous (but female) so readers can fill themselves in!

The next morning, Jericka and I visited the man. We sat mostly in silence.  I barely registered the bustle of the hospital and the beeping of the machines he was connected to. I was still buzzing from yesterday. I was still in a bit of shock about what had happened and was trying to process it. He was on an IV drip of saline, a nasal cannula, and a heart monitor.

“Good morning, ladies!” Dr. Greg said, cheerfully, a chart in his hand. “So, I ran his blood sample, and it yielded interesting results. This man has no titers for anything we currently vaccinate for, but he has antibodies for smallpox. Thus, I can assume he was never vaccinated but survived smallpox.”

Jericka whispered in my ear, eagerly, “I’m telling you! He was a part of that mess my nana told me about! I bet he was the Admiral! What’s the more likely scenario here?”

“I dunno. Maybe he’s Amish or something,” I shrugged. I turned back to Dr. Greg, “What do you think it means?”

“Logically, I would say his parents didn’t believe in the efficacy of vaccinations.” He answered.

“Or they weren’t invented yet,” Jericka muttered.

The man started coughing. Dr. Greg rushed to his side.

“It’s okay, sir, we’re taking care of you. You’re at the University of Texas Medical Branch. My name is Dr. Greg. We’ve got you on supplemental oxygen and IV fluids.” He said in a calm voice as he checked the man’s vitals manually, even though the machines were monitoring him. “Can you tell us your name?” He asked.

“Norrington…James.” The man answered, and I was able to register an English accent. He opened his eyes, still confused.

“Good, do you know what day it is, James?”

“May…1729.”

The doctor chuckled, “No, not quite. Do you know who the president is?”

Norrington had slipped back into unconsciousness. Dr. Greg continued to check over him before saying, “He’s getting stronger. I expect him to be in and out today, but tomorrow is a new day.”

After Dr. Greg left, I scrambled to my phone.

“Google his name! Google! Google it!” Jericka ranted.

“I am, I am!” I said, typing the name.

I hit pay dirt. He had a Wikipedia article and dozens of other sources. “James Norrington was an officer of the British Royal Navy and the East India Trading Company. Bewigged and resplendent in his uniforms, Norrington owed his allegiance to King George II. Norrington took pride in his service to others before himself, showing a strong dedication to the law, until the occasions of pursuing the right course that demanded acts of piracy.” I read it aloud.

I continued scrolling with Jericka watching. I skimmed the article. It talked about his early life in London, the notable battles and commendations he earned. I scrolled back up to the biographical information bar. I had purposely ignored looking at the painting of Admiral James Norrington because I wasn’t ready to confirm if the man in the hospital bed was him or not until now.

I stood up and held my phone up to his face against the painting on the article. Jericka’s eyes widened, and my heart raced.

“It’s him,” I said.

“Am I in the colonies?” He asked, not opening his eyes. I must have jumped a foot back, not expecting him to reawaken so soon.

“Yeah, well, sort of,” I answered.

“The colonies declared independence in 1776. There are fifty more called the United States of America. It’s currently the year 2020.” Jericka explained.

“Do you understand what’s going on?” I asked gently.

“Indeed,” He answered and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes.

“You’ve must have seen some things if you’re taking this news so calmly,” Jericka said.

Norrington remained quiet, the far-off look of stoic contemplation on his face. Jericka and I gave him his space to sort it all out but stayed close to keep him company. Dr. Greg returned a little before lunch to check on him and was happy to see him awake. He pulled us aside into the hallway after a quick examination of Norrington’s reflexes and cognition.

“I am releasing him into your care tomorrow. If desired, of course. We’ll continue an investigation, maybe he’ll turn out to be a missing John Doe, but since no foul play is suspected, it’s not likely to go anywhere. Here’s some information about services that can help him.”

I took the information, “I’ll take him. I have an extra room.” I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t about to let him get lost in the system and fall through the cracks. This was something extraordinary. I couldn’t bear for him to be treated like a freak show.

When the nurse came in with lunch, Jericka and I excused ourselves to the cafeteria.

“We’ve got to get him some clothes. He can’t run around in that hospital gown, and his uniform is at the police station being tested for fibers and whatnot.” I said, toying with an empty bottle of water.

“Dang. How do we dress a high-class guy from the 1700s?” Jericka asked, eating a bag of chips. “Whose closet do we raid? Our dad’s or our grandpa’s?”

“I dunno, but the Coast Guard Station over on Fort Point Road is looking pretty good. Think they’ll let us use their uniforms?” I joked.

“I’d think he’d miss the brocade and feathers,” Jericka said, popping a chip into her mouth.

I sighed, “Well, I’m heading over to Houston, maybe I can find something. Can you sit with him?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As I drove over the causeway that connected the Island of Galveston to the mainland, I thought about how I would explain things to Admiral Norrington. How would I explain a car? Electricity? I barely knew how such things worked. Maybe I needed to get him a book.

I had to guestimate his sizes; I didn’t want to embarrass him by outright asking him. I could tell he was very reserved, even for someone from his time. I went for conservative styles and patterns, quality, and modesty. Even men back then tended to cover up. I had to balance the Texas heat against it. I made sure to have a fair amount of navy blue, gold, and white.

I found several outfits that I knew he’d look good in and hoped he found comfortable. He was a very handsome man with aquiline features, short chestnut hair, and beautiful eyes. I suppose the powdered wig he wore in his portrait did not make it.

After procuring his clothes and other sundries, I zipped over to Barnes and Noble for a history book. I settled on a hefty book by the Smithsonian that spanned the dawn of humanity up until the present day; well, 2015.

On the way back over the causeway, I had to wonder about what I would do with him come Monday when I went to work. Would he be okay on his own? Should I take the day off? I didn’t want to smother him or disrespect his abilities. Maybe it was a good thing he was a high-ranking military man, they were logical, right? He would probably be okay.

I found Jericka in the hallway upon arriving back at the hospital, “Has he said anything?”

She shrugged, “Not really. He’s still processing everything. They’re taking him off all those machines and IV right now.”

After the nurses left, Jericka and I entered his room. He was looking at his hand where the IV was.

“Hello, Admiral. We never got a chance to introduce ourselves.” I introduced myself and Jericka. “Tomorrow, you’ll come home with me if that’s alright with you.”

He nodded, “I suppose that is for the best, but don’t call me Admiral. James will suffice.”

Jericka and I were surprised that he didn’t want to be addressed by his title. I decided not to question it. “I got you some clothes and this,” I said, pulling out the book and handed it to him. He looked at it with interest and immediately started flipping pages. “It’s the history of the world. Of course, you can ask either of us anything.”

Jericka nodded earnestly.

“I appreciate your charity,” Norrington replied. “I endeavor not to be a burden.”

“No, no, no! Never think that.” I said.

“Yeah, you’re stuck with us.” Jericka teased.

Jericka and I vowed that nothing would happen to this man.

James was released the following evening. He was dressed in the new clothes I bought for him. He looked perfect in them and didn’t seem to mind them. I must have done well!

As we were walking out of the hospital, there was crowding at the door. It was a going home celebration. James and I smushed ourselves against the wall, waiting for the ado to die down, and we could leave.

A patient was wheeled in from the opposite corridor. We watched as a nurse wheeled him to the edge of the entryway. On new titanium legs, this man stood and walked out with his family. He was in the Navy; I could tell by the signs his family and care team were holding.

I could tell this experience moved James, he wanted to say something to the young soldier but thought better of it.

I purposely kept the car ride as underwhelming as possible. I turned the radio off and kept the A/C blowing gently. He seemed to be taking it all in stride, learning from my actions.

James mostly watched the water as we drove the short drive home, occasionally interested in the wide range of vehicles on the road; cars, trucks, vans, golf carts, motorcycles, and four-seater bikes.

“I see that the seagulls and pelicans are just as intrusive as always.” He commented, watching a horde of seabirds steal tourists’ food.

I giggled, enjoying the familiarity. We had something in common, and it was a link to his past.

Home was a raised bungalow on a heavily tree-lined street.

James looked at the stilts it rested on, “For flooding?” He asked.

“Exactly. Galveston has had several bad hurricanes hit, but the house has weathered them all. It’s up high enough that you can go around back and see a bit of the Gulf.”

I showed James to the guest room and how a modern home worked. After dinner, I gave him his space. Around midnight, I heard a door sensor chime. I found James sitting on the balcony, watching the ocean ebb and flow. I sat down across from him.

“How are you doing?”

“It’s overwhelming.” He answered, “I have so much to learn, new vocabulary, all the major events. I cannot fathom how much progress I have missed, but the ocean is the same, and I take comfort in that.”

“Well, if you’d like, we can get out on the water tomorrow. I’ll show you around the island.”

“You know how to sail?”

I laughed, “No, my boat has an engine, but I assure you that the art of sailing by wind has not been lost yet.”

For the first time, I saw a genuine smile on his face, “I’d like that.”

I endeavored to make him smile that cute boyish smile as much as possible.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door V (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Read Part IV Here

A/N: I am so sorry I couldn’t get this out on Valentine’s Day like I promised. I wanted to have a wonderful day with my boyfriend, and we ended up falling asleep and I found no time to post. I really am sorry.

But anyways, I’m not sure how well this chapter is gonna go because the last one was kinda slept on :/ BUT, to be fair, the previous one had no reader, and it was literally just dialogue, so I get it. I just really hope this one does better.

Summary: Roger goes home with a proposal to change his deal with Y/n.

(Real or Borhap! Roger. Whatever seasons your chicken.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, sLoW bUrN, EXTREME Mentions of sex, but again, No SmUt, mature romantic subject matter, I think that’s it. This one was a lil sad too.

Hun, this is about to be steamy, so this IS rated M. Read at your own risk, peeps, and if you’re under 18, maybe skip the ending of this one.

Roger pulled into his driveway, and after he took his key out of the ignition, rather than going inside immediately, he sat in the driver’s seat listening to the loud taps of raindrops hitting his windshield. 

 He rubbed his face stressfully, glancing over to the rather expensive bouquet of flowers along with the stupid, cliché heart shaped box which only contained the most expensive chocolate Roger could find in any London supermarket. 

 "If this is too much, she’ll kill me,“ he mumbled to himself before reaching for the purchases and pushing the door open. 

 And out into the rain he went. 

 He unlocked the front door after being completely annihilated with the heavy, stinging rain falling fast and largely from the stormclouds above. 

 He was able to make it into the house before the lightning began to strike, and as he toed off his shoes in the front hallway, his hair dripping with water, the low rumble of thunder vibrating the floorboards below his socks. 

 No matter, he was safe, and at home, and… something smelled really good.

 Roger removed his soaked jacket and hung it up on a hook in the hallway behind the front door before moving deeper into the dark house. The only light that could be seen on was in the kitchen, at the end of the hall. 

 He turned into the room and stopped in the threshold, taking in your lovely appearance as you wordlessly chopped up carrots, turned away and unaware of the visitor behind you. 

 Roger quietly set the flowers and chocolates on the counter before moving behind you, and after you put the knife down, he rested his freezing, wet hands on the back of your neck. 

 Almost immediately, your shoulders rose to your ears, and you let out a loud squeal, turning on your heel and shoving Roger backward, to which he laughed hysterically as he backed into the counters on the other side of the room.

 "You scared me!” You groaned before turning back to dinner stubbornly. 

 "Ah, Love, I’m sorry. The look on your face was priceless.“ He softly combed his fingers through your hair, pushing it to the side to leave a soft, warm, innocent kiss on the back of your neck, where he’d just placed his hands. 

 At the contact, you shut your heavy eyes and hummed gently in appreciation. 

"Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner,” Roger mumbled hotly, and deeply. Your face burned when you felt the drummer’s lips curl into a devilish smile against your skin.

 "Y’know, I bought you something today,“ he continued on, and you swallowed nervously. 

"Yeah?” You squeaked, to which Roger hummed in return, his hands planting on your hips over your clothes to not disturb the warmth of your body with his freezing fingers. He gave your hips a little squeeze, and let another hum reverberate in the back of his throat.

Your cheeks glowed pink, and you wordlessly brought your thighs closer to one another. 

 Make that noise again, and we may end up having a late dinner, you thought to yourself.

 "Oh yes. Because you’re such a good girlfriend to me.“ And like that, his touch was gone. 

You opened your eyes, and looked over your shoulder, where you found Roger cutting the stems off the bouquet of flowers one-at-a-time. Your eyes fell to the heart-shaped-box, and Roger put the knife in his hand down to move the box closer to you. 

”’S’ll be our dessert,“ he smiled kindly. You offered a friendly smile back, your cheeks still warm from earlier, as you turned your attention back to dinner.

 "Y'know… if we even get there,” Roger finished. Your eyes widened and you turned your gaze back to him. The little bugger was back to cutting the stems off the flowers he bought you, his lips gently upturned in an innocent grin. 

 "… Are you okay?“ 

 "Hm?” Roger opened up one of the cupboards to retrieve a flower vase. He moved to the sink, ran the faucet, and began filling it with water. 

 "What are you talking about? I feel great.“ 

 "You’re just…” You squinted your eyes. “You’re acting really weird." 

 Roger shut off the faucet, and leaned back against the counter to look at you. 

He was giving you this look… it was like how he looked at you at the Garrison’s the week before. But there was something off about it. 

His gaze seemed… Darker.

 "Just getting my mind off things,” was all he had to say before picking the vase up from inside the sink and returning to the flowers on the counter. 

You tried your best to return your focus back onto dinner, reaching for another carrot to cut up. Meanwhile, Roger was dissolving the plant nutrients in the water.

By the time you reached the final carrot, the room was still quiet, and Roger, moving to pick up the bouquet and redirect them into the vase, paused his movements to look over his shoulder at you.

 Roger watched intensely as you moved around the little area you were working in. His eyes were fixed on the back of your head, but as time progressed, he began to find it difficult to keep his eyes from viewing lower, and lower… 

 "… Y/n, have I ever told you how pretty you are?“ Roger asked suddenly. You turned to him in startled confusion, and Roger made a face of regret. He mentally chastised himself for saying that. 

This was how he picked up women. You were not just a woman. You were much, much more than that.

 You laughed nervously, and awkwardly turned back to the carrot that had nearly been forgotten on the cutting board. You tried distracting yourself from Roger’s strange behaviour by dicing each carrot slice you prepared. 

 "You do realize you’re not in public, right, Rogie? You don’t have to be that nice to me." 

 "But I’m being serious.” The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board ceased again, and you finally dropped the knife to properly approach Roger.

 You crossed your arms over your chest and sighed in pretend annoyance, though the charade didn’t last long. 

“Alright. You got me. What do you want?" 

 "A favour." 

 "What kind of favour?” you challenged with a smile, one you’d tried to suppress, but gave in to. 

Classic Roger, you thought, King of bribery AND flirting.

 Roger opened his mouth to speak again, but the words were caught in his throat. 

He suddenly went pale, and your smile contorted into one of worry. “… Roger?”

 "O-um… well Y/n, y-you see, uh…“ Roger’s gaze fell helplessly to the floor as he stumbled over his words nervously, his cheeks growing hotter with every try. This especially worried you. 

 Roger was the most confident man you knew, and watching him be this hesitant about something really bothered you. In a case like this, you would have probably made fun of him, but you could see how stressed he must have felt, so you rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

 It was as if your touch was magic. Roger’s stuttering ceased, and he looked at you with big round eyes. 

Then he took a deep breath. 

"Y/n, I talked to the guys today.”

 "… About?“ 

 "Us. This…” Roger gestured to the house. “… Situation we’re in.” You both knew he was stalling from asking what he needed to, but you tried to keep patient. 

“Look, Y/n, I feel awful, and I know I made a promise to you about no groupies…" 

 ”… This is what this is about?” you asked dryly. “You not being able to have women over?“ 

 "What?! No! Well– yes, but–” you removed your hand from Roger’s shoulder and went back to cutting vegetables, the sound of the blade hitting the wooden cutting board getting louder and louder as time ticked on.

 All of that stuttering just for him to tell you he needed sex. Of course you were pissed off, and Roger knew that. You had a deal. In fact, he was horrified with himself. And now that you were angry, he was certain you would say no to the burning question he needed to ask. 

 "Then go.“ You told him sharply. "Go find someone to sleep with. Just don’t bring her back here. If you’re ever caught, we are done for." 

 Roger’s heart ached at your words. He tried to speak, but, like before, he couldn’t get the words out. 

He didn’t care if it was too late, he had to tell you he wanted you; that he needed you. 

 "Y/n," 

 "I said go!” You turned to him angrily as you shouted, and Roger could swear your eyes were glassy with fresh, unfallen tears, though you blinked them back stubbornly. 

 He breathlessly apologized, and rushed out of the house as fast as possible, leaving you alone in the kitchen, homemade pizza in the oven almost ready to come out, and a half prepared garden salad that would never be eaten.

_________________________________

 Roger stood in the candy section of the supermarket for a second time that day, red eyes scanning the shelves for something you liked. 

 Rather than listening to you and getting laid, he was more focused on rebuilding the relationship he was unintentionally tearing down. 

 He needed to apologize to you as soon as possible, and going empty handed, Roger decided, was not a good idea. 

 "Pissed off your girlfriend too, mate?“ Roger looked to his right to see another man his age, looking at the wide selection of romantically-wrapped sweets before him. 

 ”… Yeah, you could say that.“ 

 "Figured. See, in times like this,” the stranger began as he slowly walked down the aisle before reaching out and grabbing a cheap candy bar from off the shelf. 

“The best thing you can do is buy her her favourite candy bar, give her a kiss, and tell her how much you appreciate and love her.”

 Roger silently thought this to himself, and although he wanted to somehow thank the guy for his advice, he was already giving Roger an encouraging slap on the shoulder and exiting the aisle to pay for his girlfriend’s gift. 

______________________________

 When Roger got home it was just before midnight. He made sure to enter the house and close the door as quietly as he could in case you were sleeping. 

 After toeing his shoes off and hanging up his once again wet jacket, he went to the kitchen. There, he set a large bag of your favourite candy bars down on the counter so the rustling of the plastic bag didn’t wake you up. 

 He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his back pocket, and opened it to retrieve a new one. He mumbled a curse when he realized he only had two left, and he hadn’t bothered to pick any more up when he was in town more than once that day. 

 He just tossed the nearly empty carton on the table, and that’s when he saw the vase of flowers he neglected to finish preparing. 

They were placed and displayed beautifully and intricately; the definite works of a woman. Roger couldn’t pull off making such a display if he tried to do it on his own. 

 He guessed that was one reason to appreciate you: your creativity. 

 But he appreciated you for many other things. The list was just so long; if Roger had to name everything he appreciated about you, he wouldn’t even know where to start, and his rambles would surely never end. 

 He placed the cigarette between his lips, and wandered to the back door. He took his time getting there. 

There was no need to hurry. 

 He slid the door open a crack, and lit his cigarette with a lighter he’d left on the counter. 

 After the first inhale, and watching as he blew the smoke out into the wet, miserable night, Roger already began to feel a little better.

 He still felt guilty about his earlier conflict with you, but he planned out and repeated what he wanted to say to you to and from the supermarket. 

 "I don’t want just anyone. I want you.“ 

Like his journey home, Roger began mumbling the statement like a mantra between his draws of smoke. 

 After getting to the filter of the cancer stick, Roger flicked it outside before sliding the patio door shut and locking it. Afterwards, he went upstairs, prepared for bed, and went to his room. 

 There, he turned his bedside lamp on and retrieved a notebook, his book of lyrics and brainstorm ideas for songs, from under his pillow. He opened it up and began writing in it. 

 Hearing a knock on his door was the last thing Roger expected that night, but when you slowly walked in, and stared at him from your place at the door, he put the book down and gave you his full attention. 

 "Rog… Look," 

 "Y/n, it’s okay, it’s okay.” You pursed your lips, and Roger beckoned you over with his finger. 

You slipped into the room completely, and shut the door behind you. 

 When Roger felt the dip in the mattress, he reached out to touch you. He didn’t have an exact plan on what he was doing, so his hand fell to your back, and he decided to rub slow, soothing circles around your shoulder blades. 

 "… Y/n, I don’t want just anyone,“ he finally blurted out after a while of silence. 

You looked at him in confusion, and Roger’s hand stopped rubbing your back. The silence in the air was thick, and Roger tried his best not to start panicking again. 

"I uh…” He removed his hand from your back and awkwardly shifted in his spot. 

“I wanted to explain earlier that… that I wanted to um… maybe… talk to you about uh… adding onto this… this agreement." 

 The look you gave him was devastating. Big, sad eyes, and downturned lips. You felt guiltier than ever. You wanted to apologize for what you’d said, and how you acted earlier, but you didn’t even bother.

 Roger wouldn’t have allowed it, anyways. 

 "Yes…?" 

You asked gently, reaching your own hand out and placing it reassuringly on his thigh. Roger stared down at your hand for a moment, taking a shaky, deep breath. 

 ”… Don’t you think it’d… y'know… be easier if… we were friends but… helped each other uh…“ he couldn’t continue further than that. He tried, but he physically couldn’t say any more. 

 "Are you… suggesting what I think you are?" 

 "If what you’re thinking is that we can sleep with one another with no strings attached then yes.” His words rushed out of his mouth like a flood, and Roger felt as if he was overheating. 

He wouldn’t dare to speak, or move until you did.

 And he was glad to have made that decision. 

 You, after recovering from the shock of Roger’s confession, wasted no time in gripping Roger by the hips, and pulling yourself up into his lap. 

Roger exclaimed in surprise when you did this, and after wrapping your legs around his hips, your fingers slid back into his blond hair, and you kissed him with a hunger neither of you expected you to possess. 

 Kissing you, Roger decided, was better than he ever dreamed it could be. Your lips were soft; your kiss was forceful and controlling, only making this more enjoyable for him; and the way you were touching him– pulling his hair and tightening your legs around him– teased the absolute hell out of him. 

 And he loved every single passing second of it.

 Roger’s hesitation melted away quicker than he expected, and in no time one of his hands was gripping your thigh while the other held the back of your head.

You pulled at Roger’s hair harder, and a smirk played at your lips as he let a deep growl elicit from the back of his throat. 

You let your tongue slide past Roger’s lips and into his mouth, to which he made another, pleased noise. Both of his hands grabbed your hips, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the waistband of both your pyjama bottoms and your underwear beneath as he forced his tongue into your own mouth. 

 You encouraged him to continue when you whined rather loudly, practically begging him to kiss you like that again. 

 His confidence and ego only inflated from there. 

He moved the both of you around so you were lying beneath him, his hands on either side of your head. He dipped down to kiss and suck your neck like it was the only thing he knew how to do. 

 His hips lowered down onto yours, and you, without thinking, whined again and slammed your hips up to excitedly grind against Roger’s, who let out another deep, guttural moan. 

His hands tightened into fists as grasped his bedsheets beneath you and pulled at them tightly to restrain himself from either being too rough with you, or taking you right then and there. 

 In fact, he had to eventually force himself to pull back, but just enough to get a good look at you. He noticed your beautiful, untouched hair just waiting to be pulled; your hot, red face; your parted lips swollen from the assault of his own; and your quick, heaving chest.

 His eyelids lowered and he licked his lips. 

 You were the most beautiful thing he had ever set eyes on. 

 He shifted his hips around once or twice more, and when he watched you shut your eyes and bite your lip, he decided he couldn’t handle your erotic behaviour any longer. 

 "Fuck,“ he huffed deeply, hands releasing the blankets beneath you to grip your ass. You opened your eyes slowly, and smirked. 

You, of all people, had Roger Taylor hot, bothered, and completely at your mercy.

Roger reached over without breaking eye contact with you to retrieve a condom and a bottle of lube from the dresser in his bedside table, meanwhile, you clicked the lamp on the very same table off. 

 It was time to get to work, and see how beneficial this new addition to the deal would be for the both of you.

_____________________________

A/A/N: Man, I REALLY hope this chapter does well. Things are only gonna get better from here, and I promise! No more lacking!

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[ivdripuk]

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