#Hospital-grade towels

[damon25]

Why Cotton Matters: The Advantages of 100% Cotton O.R. Towels

Operating room (O.R.) towels are essential in surgical environments and should meet strict cleanliness, durability, and functionality standards. Of all the available materials, 100% cotton O.R. towels are the best performing and have the most natural benefits. Cotton is well known as a soft and absorbent material, so it is perfect for medical-grade towels. The towels are designed to do well in high-pressure environments where reliable and fast absorption is necessary. 100% cotton O.R. towels do not contain any harsh chemicals, so they go easy on your skin and do not cause irritation or allergies for you or the patients. Cotton O.R. towels are also highly durable. The fibers are tightly woven to give excellent strength; these durable surgical linens are resistant to multiple uses and sterilization without losing integrity. It's also the durability that ensures consistent performance in demanding surgical settings. Not only are cotton towels practical, they're good for the environment, too. Biodegradable and coming from a renewable resource, they go hand in hand with the green intentions of healthcare facilities looking to reduce their ecological footprint. Thus, 100% cotton O.R. towels are a combination of comfort, efficiency, and sustainability and, therefore, a preferred choice in operating rooms worldwide. These healthcare linens are proven performers and an eco-friendly option for use in medical settings.

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dreams]

Summary: You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. And does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place?

Warnings: Jake Seresin Whump. Mentions of Religion. F!reader x Jake Seresin. Angst, Mother-in-law issues. F-18 crash. Bad Medical representation.

Word Count: 6.2k

Author Note: EEEPPPPP we're almost there. this is the chapter EVERYONE has been waiting for. Just what the hell is going on! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 23rd 

Your genetic makeup, the genes that you inherit from your parents, determines who you are biologically. They’re your blueprint so to speak. Everything from your eye colour to your height to your laugh. Even some diseases like asthma, diabetes, and various cancers. 

But who you are at the core of it all goes far beyond your genetic makeup. Who you really are is the result of many, many things: How you deal with fear. Who you surround yourself with. And how you show up when it matters most. 

The sea breeze was a gentle reminder of how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye. As you walked along the sand with small, barely there waves lapping at your ankles, the sight of families running after beach umbrellas and holding down sandy towels after the sudden gust of wind came through and caused a disturbance, really made you smile. Smiles were a treasure that was few and far between. It had been for months. 

The somewhat sunny day was shrouded in the unknown. Chronic winds continued to wreak havoc on unsuspecting families just trying to enjoy their weekend. A storm was brewing off the coast. But for you, something much more life-altering was wreaking havoc. Something all-encompassing and certifiably depressing was eating away at your soul. 

Your boyfriend and the love of your life had been severely injured in a work accident just over two months ago. His mother is certifiably insane and clearly doesn’t like you even existing on the same planet as her son… and his best friend hasn’t left you alone in what felt like a century. 

But who were you to compare tragedies on this fine, sunny day? 

“There you are!” The second you heard that agitating, grading voice, you rolled your eyes so hard you could have fallen into the shallows. The flightless bird you knew as Bradley Bradshaw was racing after you, making his presence known along the shore as he ran to catch up. “God, you had me worried for a second there. I was talking to Sue for like five seconds and you were just gone.” 

“Some bodyguard you are,” you huffed as Bradley finally caught up to you. It wasn’t that you didn't like Rooster, it was more about the fact he felt obligated to keep an eye on you given the circumstances. “How is Sue anyway?” 

“Uh–” Bradley looked back over his shoulder hesitantly to see the woman he’d been dating for the last few weeks walking away. “I don’t think we'll be seeing Sue much anymore.” It was all the explanation you needed. And if you were to be completely honest you didn’t blame the women. Who wants to fight for attention with a man whose sole responsibility these days was to keep his best friend's unborn children safe? 

“You should be paying more attention to the women you’re trying to sleep with you know,” you replied as you kept walking down the pristine beach. The place that had become a home away from home. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a babysitter. We’re good, I promise.” 

It had been an unspoken understanding since meeting Jake’s wingman that Rooster would look after you if anything were ever to happen to Jake. It went both ways for the two aviators from hell. Although at times the pair couldn’t be in the same room as one another without starting World War Three, it was a given that they would always be there for the other’s loved ones. It was brotherhood in its finest and rawest form. 

But it was driving you mad. 

“Jake wouldn’t–” Bradley tried to explain, but you’d heard this explanation too many times by this point. So much so you could finish Rooster’s sentence for him. 

“‘Jake wouldn’t forgive you if something were to happen to me’, I know I know,” you huffed again. Your right hand came down to rest across your growing bump. Two little souls were currently using your internal system as their personal development grove. Two little Seresin babies that were as unexpected as they were blessed— or at least, to you. “But you– for as much as I appreciate everything you have and will continue to do for us Rooster– are driving me insane.” 

“Too bad,” couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into his side. His arm slung over your shoulders before you could even protest his actions. “You’re Jake’s girl and Jake’s not here so therefore I gotta do what I gotta do and that my dear Y/n–” Bradley paused for a second before he continued just like the small waves that lapped at your ankles. Fear threatened to overcome Rooster’s nervous system. Yet, fending off fight or flight mode, he continued. Playing the role you needed him to be: Caregiver brick wall extraordinaire. “---Is to be right here, by your side, until that idiot wakes up.” 

They say time heals most wounds. And for the majority of people that saying is pretty spot on. But for Jake Seresin, that hadn’t been the case. Jake had been in an induced coma for weeks after his near-death accident. The experienced aviator was no match for the panic attack that took him hostage mid-training exercise. His body currently lay battered, burnt and bruised in the Miramar Base Hospital in the intensive care unit. His soul remained trapped inside the mind you sometimes hated to love and loved to hate. 

And when Doctors tried to wake him from the state they’d put him into in order to heal…he didn’t wake up. 

That was back in November…It was now approaching Christmas Day and still, there was no sign of Jake waking from his coma. He’d battled and fought what seemed like everything the world could throw at him: Broken bones. Third-degree burns. A swollen brain. Organ damage. Pneumonia. You name it and Jake had battled it. 

He was a fighter. Someone who was going to fight until he had nothing left. Doctors assured you there was brain activity. A good indication of a recovery.

But when he would wake was entirely up to him…

“Some idiot huh?” you teased playfully at your boyfriend’s expense. But the reality of the situation was that with every passing day, with every complication or turn of events, you missed Jake more and more. “He’s coming out the other side of the phenomena though, which is a good sign.” 

Bradley walked by your side as the two of you debriefed about what the day would bring. First, you needed to shower and change into something that wasn’t kissed by the salty air of the beach you liked to walk along every morning. It helped you clear your head from all the noise. Since Jake’s accident, your head hadn’t been quiet. Voices echoed all day long inside your mind about what you could be doing better, more of. What you could have done differently.

Sometimes those voices would grow louder and stronger the longer you tried to avoid them. However, averting your gaze and pretending the voices didn’t exist was a harder task than first thought…especially when the voices that escaped your mind were coming from Jake’s mother. 

That self-proclaimed holier than thou mother fu—

Next, you needed to eat something. You hadn’t had much of an appetite your entire pregnancy. Bradley liked to think it was because of the additional stress Jake’s hospitalisation had caused. You knew he’d say something if you didn’t at least try to consume something of substance. 

And finally, to you, the most important part of the list of to-do’s, was to get over to Miramar Base Hospital and see the man who’d captivated your entire heart. The goal every day besides growing two human lives was to be by Jake's side. 

Even if at the end of the day the result of all this turmoil and trauma was a breakup you knew his mother was already actively praying for, you’d still be able to say you weren’t the one who walked away. 

“Come on,” Bradley gently placed his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure Jake’s waiting for us.”

“His mother will be there,” you said without hesitation. There was a frustrated sadness in your voice. A longing for privacy. A declaration for peace. You knew Bradley was aware of the hostile relationship between the two of you, he'd been present for a few altercations. But you also knew he was right and Jake would want you there if you could be.  And it was a could-be day. For both you and Rooster. “I was thinking maybe we could go a little later in the day, give her some time alone–”

“Y/n?” 

Yeah?” You knew what was coming, it felt like the two of you had had this same exact conversation every day for the past four weeks. 

“You’re the mother of Jake’s soon-to-be twins. He’d want you there more than Janise.” 

“It’s Janeen, Roo,” you grinned to yourself as you looked down at your growing bump with a loving hand resting over your belly button. “And Hell would probably freeze over before she realises that.” 

“I thought you weren’t a religious person?” Rooster frowned momentarily as he searched his brain for any conversational remarks he may have missed in passing that would have led him to forget your religious values. He wasn’t a God-loving man himself, but there had to be something out there, right?

“I’m not.” You had never followed a religion or its practices, but the longer the love of your life remained in a coma after sustaining life-threatening injuries, the more you were open to whatever religious being extended a helping hand first. Including but not limited to Satan. You’d sell your soul in a heartbreak to bring Jake back. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?” 

Your non-religious self-awareness was the deciding factor when it came to Janeen not accepting you. Ever since Jake had brought you home to his parents one winter break back in your college days, you knew it was a battle not worth fighting. 

You were the girl who got away. The rogue agent. The true crime writer with an appetite for knowledge and literature. Jake was the aspiring college football star turned Naval Aviator. 

Jake broke it off in the spring before he went to basic. You wanted roots and stability he at the time couldn’t offer. He was off to see the world and the world would be his oyster. You couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter how much you believed Jake Seresin was the one for you. 

You knew Janeen was over the moon with joy and delight that her precious boy had come home to his faith and exiled the woman who was leading him down a road of treacherous sin. 

Get the fuck outta here. 

It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that you and Jake reconnected after he’d come back from a mission that had him staring death right in the face and questioning what he had to look back on. 

All he saw was you in that library at college smiling across at him while explaining that Christmas was fake. Something his mother would have burnt him at the stake for believing. 

So, Jake called. And like a love-sick loser, you came running from across the country. Rhode Island was your home, but wherever Jake Seresin was in the world was where your heart would be. 

“I bet she cries herself to sleep at night more over the fact you and Hangman are having children out of wedlock than she cries over the fact he nearly died,” Bradley growled. 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you replied as a gust of wind picked up a beach umbrella in the distance. “I’m something straight out of the book of the damned, Bradshaw. The idea of us having a child together, let alone twins, took twenty years off her life.” 

“Jake would have loved to see her face when you told her,” Bradley chuckled. Then he cleared his throat and did his best to steer the conversation back on track. “We still have to go to the hospital.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine, but you’re taking me to get a muffin from Bells Bakery first,” you said all the while Rooster rolled his eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no. How do you say no to a pregnant lady who just wants a sweet little treat before spending hours in the same room as your comatose boyfriend and his overbearingly religious mother? You don’t. You don’t say no, you simply nod in agreement. 

*************************

Every disease has its unique course it takes in the body when left untreated. The process begins with exposure to a root cause that sends a ripple effect throughout the body. The disease then progresses, ultimately resolving in one of three possible outcomes…

You get better, you stay chronically ill, or you die. 

The weather had taken a drastic turn since you and Rooster left the beach earlier that morning. The slightly overcast and windy day brought in a nice north-easterly storm. Rain was the only thing that filled the silence as you sat waiting patiently. You caught yourself thinking of what you’d give to hear Jake’s voice before the new year. 

The carefully cultivated interior design of Bradley’s Bronco was something straight out of every single bachelor’s wet dream. This car was what you expected the inside of his soul to look like. And if you were to ever become anything like Jake’s Mother, you’d think this car would be Bradley’s version of a perfect heaven. 

Then, like a premonition, your phone rang, splitting the quiet like lightning through a dark sky. 

"Hi, Y/n,” Doctor Hughes sounded rather cheerful as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s Bronco. 

“It appears that our dear friend is waking up," his voice was urgent but steady. For a moment, your mind stumbles, caught between disbelief and hope. Then you’re moving — grabbing keys, kicking on your sandals, heart pounding louder than an engine roaring to life.

“Rooster?” you whispered as you clambered out of the parked Bronco. The curb hated to see a Bradshaw coming. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” You awkwardly spoke into your phone before hanging up without hesitation. There was no time to waste on small talk. Jake was waking up. 

The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow as you walked as fast as you could, each passing second stretched thin by desperation. Memories flashed — hospital visits, whispered promises, tear-soaked prayers, or whatever bullshit Jake’s mother insisted on mumbling. 

“Rooster!?” you yelled as panic, fear, and anxiety overcame your nervous system. “Bradshaw?” you yelled once more as you entered the small locally owned bakery..

“Hey, what’s wrong? I just ordered a coffee to go and your apple cinnamon muffin.,” Rooster could tell by the look on your face and how sickly you looked that something had happened. “Is the Bronco okay?” 

The fact that was the first thing his mind jumped to angered you to no end. “Yes, the fucking Bronco is fine, you idiot,” you sighed as your belly felt heavy with two Seresin children, a nervous shit, and impending vomit. “Jake’s waking up.”

“No way, who called?” Bradley kicked into fifth gear before your eyes as he ushered you out of the cafe without his coffee or your muffin. 

“Rooster, our order?” you protested as he barrelled out of the cafe with your shoulders in his hands. “Hold up!” 

“We gotta go, you wanna be there when he wakes up, don’t you?” Rooster asked, thinking the answer you’d give him would be a straight-up “yes”. There shouldn’t have been any other answer. But the longer you stood still not answering, Bradley knew something was eating away at you. “Y/n, why are you being weird about this? He’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright.” 

“What if he doesn’t want this?” your eyes welled with tears in the middle of the walkway. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if…what if he doesn’t want the ki–our kids?” 

Surgical intervention doesn’t always work when it comes to disease. Sometimes, despite best efforts, the disease wins. It takes over our cells one-by-one…until the damage can no longer be reversed. When that happens, all you can do is take the loss and move on. But when you can change the course of someone’s disease, you can change the course of their life. It’s enough to make you want to come back for more. 

“Oh, Y/n, no,” Bradley cooed as he drew you in for a much-needed hug. “Jake’s a lot of things, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, but giving you up all those years ago was his biggest mistake,” Rooster reminded you as the tears you cried stained his T-shirt. Your face was buried in his chest. A chest that had soaked up far too many of your tears these last few weeks. “I know there’s a lot of unknowns, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Jake’s never gonna let you guys go. I promise you.”

“He didn’t want the baby before he–” You couldn’t finish your sentence without breaking out into an all-out wail. Bradley held you tighter than he ever had before. He didn’t know what you hadn’t told him. And what you hadn’t told him was the whole truth…

The whole truth was that Jake’s accident had been your fault. Or so it felt like it. 

“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Rooster tried his best to soothe your soul all the while the lady who’d taken his order before kindly brought it out. He was sure to thank her silently over your shoulder as she placed the muffin in its brown paper bag and his takeaway coffee on the bench. “Whatever happened before all this, I’m sure it’s gonna work out. Jake loves you so much,” Rooster beamed as he rubbed your back. “He’s not letting you or these kiddos go.” 

**********************

As the Bronco sped down the rain-slick streets, tires hissing against the wet pavement, Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as possible. His knuckles were white with tension. You sat anxiously in the passenger seat, phone clenched tightly in your hands, replaying the call from Dr. Hughes in your mind over and over again like a broken Rolexes that held only one memory. 

"It appears that our dear friend is waking up,” Jensen Hughes, Jake’s primary doctor who had been with him since the first day he was brought into the hospital, had said. The words echoed in your head, filling your mind, body, and soul with equal parts hope and fear.

"We’re almost there," Bradley muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His best friend was waking up from a coma he never really thought he’d come out of. He’d been looking after you and his unborn children since the accident. Jake had missed so much and nothing all at the same time. 

"He’s strong. He’s been fighting this whole time." You reached over, resting a hand on his arm. Bradley nodded in return but didn’t speak. The memories of countless nights spent at Jake’s bedside haunted you both. Each mile seemed endless, stretched by the weight of anticipation.

The hospital's glowing sign finally appeared through the rain-streaked windshield. Bradley exhaled sharply, parking the car with a jerky halt. Without another word, you both dashed toward the entrance, hearts pounding, ready to see Jake — ready to hope again. 

**********************

The elevator doors opened with a subdued ding as you and Rooster stepped into the hushed hospital hallway. The dim overhead lights cast a pale glow, reflecting off the sterile white walls. Neither of you spoke as you walked toward Jake’s room. Both too anxious to say anything that could jeopardise this significant moment in Jake’s recovery. 

As you approached the familiar door, you hesitated. Your breath hitched in your throat. Bradley gently squeezed your hand, grounding you in the moment. You felt like you were going to be sick. Your twins pressed on every vital organ they had shoved to whatever side they could to make room for themselves. Here you were, Jake Seresin’s pregnant girlfriend, about to see him awake for the first time in what felt like a decade. Rounding the final corner, you saw the familiar door, slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed by hope and fear intertwined.

"We’re here," Bradley whispered, his voice steady though his eyes betrayed the weight of his worry.

As you pushed the door open, you were met with the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the steady whoosh of the ventilator. Jake lay still, his face pale but peaceful, lost in the depths of his coma. His mind was a world away, carried off into the subconscious. His body was the only remaining evidence to suggest he was still with you. 

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as you stepped closer. Why were you expecting him to be awake and alert? Wishing thinking once again overcomplicated your usually realistic outlook on how things worked in this world. Perhaps it had been the way Doctor Hughes spoke to you on the phone. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that allowed for more hopeful endings. Either way, neither explanation added up to the expectation you had set. 

"Hey, Jake... it’s us," you whispered, voice trembling. Bradley pulled a chair close and ushered you to sit beside the bed. 

"We’re not going anywhere," he said firmly. "You hear me? We’re right here." Resting a hand on Jake’s forearm, Rooster was quick to let his wingman know he was there. The room remained silent except for the rhythmic beeping, but neither of you moved, holding onto hope with every passing second. 

“We heard what you’ve been up to while we’ve been gone, baby,” you cooed softly as you stroked Jake’s cheek gently, taking in the sight of his peacefully unaware self. “And we don’t plan on going anywhere until we get to see those beautiful eyes of yours.” 

“What’s going on here?” The familiar voice made your heart sink into your stomach as you tried to get as comfortable as you could in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. Janeen stood in the doorway with a fresh coffee from the cafe downstairs in her aging hand. Her nails, manicured to perfection, clutched around the paper cup so much so that you swore the scolding hot liquid would burst through the weakened structure. “Did something happen? Why the urgency to not go anywhere?” 

“Did–” you paused for a second as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into your chair with a protective hand strewn across your ever-growing baby bump. “Did anyone call you?” 

“Why would anyone call me when I’m already here, silly girl.” Janeen scoffed as she walked further into Jake’s room. A room that had been his for weeks. A room that your mother had helped you decorate with Christmas lights and decorations as the season approached with every passing day. A bleak, barren hospital room was no place for a soul full of such joy and fun and high-octane energy. Jake deserved more than white walls and sterile floors. 

“Right, my bad for asking,” you sighed as Rooster rolled his eyes discreetly and tried to hide his disdain for his best friend’s mother. A mother he knew Jake wasn’t so fond of either. Especially when it came to you. 

“Jane!” Rooster beamed as he broke the tension. “Long time no see. How long has it been?” Bradley smiled as he shot you a cheeky look of mischief. This was who Rooster was at his very core. A shit-stirring moustache-having gold star kid. The best there was. He’d been a rock for you during this whole ordeal. There had never been a moment these past few months where you hadn’t been able to cry on Rooster’s shoulder or vent to him in full confidence that everything you said would stay with him and only him. 

“I saw you yesterday, son,” Janeen replied sternly, not a single hint of amusement in her tone. Yet, Rooster continued with his antics. He knew well enough by now to know if he kept going, Janeen would cut you some slack. Rooster had been an on-and-off fixture in the Seresin household for years. Ever since Jake and Bradley met in the academy. And boy did Janeen Seresin have a soft spot for the man who grew up without parents or any sort of guiding light. She saw real potential in the Bradshaw kid. If he just applied himself to God, he could be one of his finest soldiers. 

“Really? I’d never forget seeing you! Are you sure it was yesterday? I heard dementia is kinda contagious in these sorts of environments,” Bradley grinned as he pulled the shorter, aging woman with that signature older mother smell into him for a hug. He was sure to send you a wink over her head. 

You had to stuff the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill from your mouth right back down into the depths of your stomach before World War Three could erupt right here in Jake’s hospital room. To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t be opposed to that diagnosis. Perhaps then you’d have somewhat of a chance at developing some sort of relationship with the grandmother of your children. Even if each and every day brought a new personality and memory bank. Oh, a girl could dream. 

“Y/n, be a dear and get me a chair will you?” If you weren’t already sitting down, you would have fallen over with shock. 

“Oh, I can do that,” Bradley quickly jumped into action, not wanting you to get up. “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.” He grinned at Janeen before sending you a worrying look of concern. A look that didn’t necessarily look the best on him. “Don’t–just don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?” 

“Scouts honour,” you held your hand up as if you were swearing on the bible. Something you’d never actually do. But as Janeen looked over at where you were sitting, she nodded in agreement. 

“Right, I’ll be right back,” Bradley groaned hesitantly as he left the room. Leaving an unconscious and comatose Jake to fend for himself. “Sorry pal, she’s your mother,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head and continued out of sight. The second Rooster was gone…it was on for young and old. 

“I’ve organised a paternity test for when you have the babies–” Janeen informed you like it wasn’t the worst insult you’d ever heard.  

“Excuse me?” you replied rather harshly as you sat up in your chair. In what world would these not be Jake’s children? How was this happening right now? How was she doing this when Jake was slowly waking up from his endless sleep? 

“You heard me,” Jeneen smirked. “I need to protect my son,” For a woman who preached about being God’s seeing eye, she really was doing the devil’s work. 

“Your son should have listened in sex-ed a little more.” You knew even the mention of sex would have Janeen’s skin crawling. Sex out of wedlock! How dare you, how would you ever be cleansed of your sins? “Are you being serious right now Janeen?” 

“I almost lost him once!” Jake’s mother raised her voice as she stepped closer to his bedside, taking in the sight of her grown, adult child. “I’m not losing him again and certainly not to some wannabe writer who wants to live off my son’s achievements.” 

“Almost doesn’t matter because almost never happened,” you made sure to say before you went on to unleash a declaration of war against your not-so-mother-in-law. “But I can guarantee if you try and destroy this family before it has a chance to grow, so help whatever God you believe in bitch…I’ll burn your entire life to the ground and smile when I watch the millions of dollars you put into that ranch burn too.”  

“You vindictive girl.” Janeen had nothing else to say from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed. 

“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.” It was the only warning you were ever going to give. 

“He’s my son!” Janeen shouted as Bradley made his wake back down the hall with a chair in hand. 

“And he’s my hu–” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence. With so many hormones and emotions coursing through your veins, you slipped. Jake wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your fiance. He was your boyfriend. And for as much as you wanted to marry the man lying in that hospital bed after nearly losing his life, you knew that question was far from being asked. If it were ever to be asked. Jake Seresin had grown up watching his parents hate each other…he’d made it clear marriage was something he wasn’t interested in. Why would he be when he spent his childhood listening to his mother beg his father to fix some stupid faucet that never did get fixed? 

Why would Jake ever be interested in marriage when he could remember the intervention his grandfather gave his dad at their wedding, something about it wasn’t too late to back out. Hell, why would Jake be interested in marriage when he watched his father fall out of love so hard with his mother that she never really clued him in on her battle with breast cancer? Jake grew up under the guidance of God and his almighty word…

But the way his father had treated his mother throughout Jake’s life had truly left a sour taste in his mouth. And if Jake, through biological design, was anything like his dad…he was never going to put himself in a position where he could emulate any sort of resemblance to his father. 

Trauma am I right? (He’d told you so much about his childhood.) 

“Honey, you’re nothing more than an incubator,” Janeen hissed with a wicked smirk plastered across her face. “He’s my son, and my son knows better than to allow himself to stoop as low as ending up with someone like you.” 

“I thought I told you two not to kill each other?” Rooster tried to intervene as he placed the chair down beside where Janeen stood. He’s never seen you look so worked up. So angry. So hurt. 

“Janeen.” You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. “When I have these children, Jake’s children, if I have it my way you will never see them. You will never get to know them do you hear me? No God or religion or wackadoodle fucking beliefs you have will ever help you have a relationship with my children because if you can’t look me in the fucking eye and see what your son sees in me then I’m not entertaining any sort of relationship with you.” 

“If they’re really my grandbabies then you can’t keep them from seeing their family–” 

“She’s their mother, Jane, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Rooster sided with you as politely as he could. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Jake's fingers were twitching either. 

“Better start praying really hard Janeen,” you chuckled, knowing that although you didn’t win this battle, you’d win the war. “Maybe Rooster will bring back a pillow for your knees,” you teased, a little out of line but it was so worth the look of horror on her face. “You’ll be on them for a hell of a long time.” 

**********************

The roar of twin afterburners pierced the sky as Jake pushed his F-18 Super Hornet through a steep climb. The clear blue expanse stretched endlessly above, the ground a distant memory. This was his element—a place where skill and instinct defined survival. Still, the only thing on his mind when he should have been focusing on controlling a multimillion-dollar piece of military equipment was you. You were pregnant. Jake was going to be a father. 

He should have listened to you when you said the two of you could talk about it after he got home from work. He never should have pressed you for more information. But Jake had and the second the words came out of your mouth, he heard nothing else after the words “I’m pregnant Jake–we’re gonna have a baby.” 

He wasn’t ready to be a dad. A father. Being a dad was the last thing Jake thought he should ever be. He wasn’t raised to procreate. He shouldn’t be responsible for another human being. If Jake was even an ounce like his own father, that kid, that poor fetus growing inside you as he raced through the sky, was about to have one hell of a childhood. It wasn’t even just having a baby that terrified him. How was Jake meant to teach this kid right from wrong when he was still learning that himself? 

“What if I told you that I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, but I want you?” Jake knew the second that the question left his lips…that it hadn’t come out the way it should have. But the reality was he had said it, and the look in your hopeful eyes quickly shattered and was replaced with a reluctance to continue with the conversation. 

Self-doubt radiated off Jake like his life force was fading. Today's training was a high-intensity combat simulation over the rugged terrain of Redstone Valley. Jake and Rooster were executing advanced dogfighting maneuvers against an elite training squadron. Every turn, every roll, every burst of speed was a calculated dance of power and precision.

"Bandit on your six!" Bradshaw’s urgent voice crackled through Jake's headset. 

His wingman had questioned him earlier in the day about what had him so uptight. Jake hadn’t been himself today, he knew that much for sure. But that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the very fact you were pregnant with his child. A child created out of love and endless passion. But that wasn’t enough to make Jake want to be a father after being so sure for so many of his adult years that he wasn’t supposed to be a father. “Hangman! Get your arse into gear man!” 

Jake yanked the stick hard left, pulling into a sharp barrel roll. The G-forces slammed him into his seat as he broke away, narrowly avoiding the pursuing jet's simulated missile lock. His pulse raced, his adrenaline surged as his heart beat against his cheat so hard he swore he was having a heart attack… 

Suddenly, the cockpit warning system blared—a mechanical shriek of impending doom. "ENGINE FAILURE—LEFT ENGINE!" flashed across the Heads-Up Display.

"Mayday, mayday, this is Viper One, experiencing critical engine failure. Attempting emergency procedures," Jake radioed, his voice steady despite the rising tension. The heart attack he swore he was having was a full-blown panic attack. Jake couldn’t catch his breath long enough to maintain focus. “Fuck, Rooster! I’m going down! Mayday–mayday!” Children’s laughter filled the cockpit as Jake spiralled out of control. 

“JAKE! EJECT EJECT EJECT!” Bradley shouted frantically through the coms. He watched on in pure horror as one of the best aviators he knew plummeted to earth without much control. “HANGMAN EJECT!” 

“Tell Y/n I love her–” was the last communication that Bradley received before Jake frantically gave up his battle with the controls to pull his chute. 

Much like Rooster’s late father, Jake’s emergency exit hadn’t gone according to plan. The roar of the F-18's engines screamed in Jake's ears as the warning lights flashed across the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the right engine, as his aircraft trembled violently. 

As Jake pulled his emergency chute, he was propelled into the sky as his F-18 was engulfed in flames so hot the heat melted his uniform into his skin. If he’d waited even one second more he would have been a goner. The emergency exit did little to stop the dramatic fall from grace Jake was experiencing. He plummeted unconscious from the sky towards the burning pile of rubble that was, just a few seconds ago, his Super Hornet. 

The ground felt like solid concrete as Jake slammed into the side of the valley, bones shattered on impact as Rooster watched on in utter agony. His helmet did little to cushion the impact, although that was its intended purpose. Emergency services had already been sent out to Jake’s last known location… but there was little that could be done for Jake as he lay in a twisted pile of his emergency parachute. Blood stained his flight suit as his body began to shut down.

He was dying, but the laughter of children filled the silence like sunlight filtering through leaves—light, spontaneous, and full of love. 

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

[ellie-r2]

Musical Curtis brothers hcs

Darry:

-Felt insecure and jealous of Dally because of his closeness to Pony and it got worse after Pony leaves and Dally says that thing of seeing Pony more than Darry has.

-Like Ponyboy he blames himself for their parents' death because of it being his birthday and they were going for the frosting for his cake.

-Post musical whenever things get too much he goes to Soda and he cries but will quickly stop and hide it when he hears Ponyboy nearby (he doesn't want Pony to see him break)

-Despite that when they reunited in the hospital after the fire just like in the movie he did cry when going to hug Ponyboy.

-He does go easier on Ponyboy about his daydreams/emotions and his grades after reading the story because he saw how Ponyboy viewed him.

-Even though he is only 6yrs older than Ponyboy the role of brother is starting to fade into father ("stuck between the role of a brother and a father")

-Tucks in the boys each night but after they're already sleeping totally not based off of Melody's live.

-Whenever he misses his parents he sleeps in their room instead of his own.

-Used to care what his hair would look like now it's a miracle if he even takes time to brush it.

-On his days off instead of relaxing he still tries to keep working (washing dishes/laundry/cleaning random parts of the house) until Soda has to force him to just sit down and rest.

-Still tries to play football whenever he can but waits for someone to suggest it first (it's Soda who does it because he knows Darry wants to play).

-When Soda has a long day at work or Pony has a test coming up Darry tries to make their favorite food for dinner.

Soda:

-He has his own room but still sleeps with Pony because of the nightmares (pretty sure this is canon but I don't remember for sure).

-Tried to read Great Expectations for Ponyboy when he and Johnny were gone because he missed Pony.

-He, Ace, and Steve are the most chaotic trio when they're together. (sometimes he catches Melvin the soc staring at Ace and finds it hilarious) Inspired by Melody's tiktok of Melvin looking for Ace's digits

-He folds all the laundry when he sees Darry has had a hard day at work and even offers to cook.

-Was allowed to cook once nearly set the kitchen on fire and was never allowed to cook again.

-He really did try in school just couldn't do it no matter how hard he tried so when Steve told him there was the full time position open at the DX that was his reason/excuse to drop out.

-During the 2 weeks that Pony was disassociating Soda was terrified of losing both Pony and Darry (because of throwing in the towel) to the point that he wouldn't sleep some nights which is what also leads to him eventually snapping.

-Would sleep in Darry's room on the nights Darry would fall asleep by the telephone so he would feel at least one brother close by.

-Watched the cartoon's Darry mentioned in throwing in the towel to keep himself from worrying too much but it never worked.

Ponyboy:

-Kept both Dally and Johnny's jackets and wears them when he misses them but never actually lasts long with them on because he starts crying.

-Panics if multiple people accidentally touch him because he gets flashbacks to being grabbed and almost drowned.

-Which he now also has a fear of being in water too long.

-The first night after the church burning he asked both Darry and Soda if they can share the bed with him because he missed them.

-Sometimes dreams of the house with the garden he wanted with Johnny after his death and he wakes up screaming and sobbing because he knows now all it will ever be is a dream.

-Tries to quit smoking because he genuinely believes he caused the fire that killed Johnny and eventually Dally.

-Used to be ashamed of his name and would get bullied for it until Johnny would tell him how original it was.

-Still believes death's at his door but he tells both his brothers of it and how he's been feeling so it's getting further and he's slowly trying to get better.

Now for all 3 brothers (I only have 2 tbh):

-Their train related trauma isn't lessening especially after Dally.

-When nights get bad for them they have a sleepover in the living room and watch cartoons.

[berrykis]

Acesabo AU of them being cute secret boyfriends during high school, because well, homophobia and sometimes you have a reputation at school you don’t want people to also get into your business. President student council (year 3 both ace and Sabo) Sabo, and Famous gang member Ace from the WB gang.

Although Ace is in a gang especially WB he still has a pretty good reputation at school and famous for his charms and good looks. Total hottie for sure.

Then there’s sabo, a nickname they call him but sabo finds ridiculous is “Prince sabo” for being a handsome blonde with obvious good grades and being graceful at what he does.

Both Ace and Sabo are good students, and a good duo! You’ll always catch them together when it’s break time or lunch time.

Some girls even ship them, draw cute unrealistic versions drawings of them kissing.. or what they call “yaoi” pretty popular thing nowadays in art and stuff.

One thing nobody knows of is that they both have a little brother at home they take care of.

Everytime they’ll walk home together, they make sure to stop by a convenience to buy snacks and some extra meat to cook dinner but also to cook up for their gluten brother Luffy. 🩷 who for some reason is a big meat lover!! He’s only 4 years old but he’s so energetic and has a meat shaped plushie sabo got for him on his 4th bday!

Both Ace and Sabo dote on baby luffy so much, they’ll leave school without hesitation if it meant Luffy needed one of them (or both)

Like the time like this,

The day Makino was supposed to take care of sick baby Luffy started with a sense of calm, knowing she was there to handle everything. However, it quickly turned into one of the worst days Ace and Sabo had ever experienced.

Both received urgent calls during their meetings, and the last thing Koala and Marco saw was Ace and Sabo rushing out the door. They sprinted across campus until they met each other outside, then hurried to the hospital where baby Luffy was being treated for a severe high fever that miss makino couldn’t handle with wet cold towels ontop of luffys forehead instead he needed to be taken to the hospital especially at his little age..

Ace and Sabo almost collided with the front desk when they arrived, running at full speed. Desperately, they asked which room Luffy was in. Once they got the room number, they continued to rush through the hallways.

When they finally reached the room, they paused in front of the door, panting heavily. Nervous and trying not to intrude, they slowly opened the door. The tension in the air was palpable as they prepared themselves to see their little brother in such a worrisome situation. Their little brother, their sunshine falling in a terrible high fever in the hospital is the worst things they’ll pray never happens again. That’s their baby!

As they opened the door, they were greeted by the sight of baby Luffy lying on the hospital bed, naked with patches on his chest. Despite his condition, Luffy was cheerfully playing with his Tony Tony Chopper plushie, his little hands clutching the toy tightly. Makino was seated next to the bed, her face a mixture of concern and tenderness as she played with him, trying to keep his spirits high.

When she noticed Ace and Sabo at the door, she looked up, her eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and. She sent them a warm smile, silently conveying her concern and the slight reassurance that Luffy was in good hands. Ace and Sabo felt a wave of emotions wash over them as they took in the scene, their hearts aching for their little brother but also grateful for Makino's comforting presence.

Ace took a step forward and softly said, "Hey Luffy... hey baby." Luffy looked up from his plushie, his eyes widening as he recognized his brothers. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he started to softly cry, his voice trembling as he blurted out, "Eshu..! Swabo!~" The sound of his tiny voice calling out their names tugged at their hearts, and they quickly moved closer to comfort him, their presence bringing a sense of warmth and security to the room.

Ace and Sabo couldn't hold back their own tears as they saw Luffy's distress. They leaned over the bed, wrapping their arms around him in a gentle hug, their faces close to his. They kissed his cute little face, whispering comforting things to soothe him. "It's okay, Luffy. We're here now," Ace murmured softly. "We won't leave you, little brother," Sabo added, his voice full of love and reassurance. Their tender words and warm embrace slowly calmed Luffy, his cries turning into soft sniffles as he felt the love and protection of his brothers.

When the atmosphere calmed down now that they were both there, Luffy's mood changed and he perked up, proudly saying he didn't cry when the doctor gave him shots. Ace and Sabo raised their eyebrows in an amused yet gentle way. They turned to Makino, who was listening with a warm smile, nodding and chuckling at Luffy's proud expression.

---

Ace ruffled Luffy's hair and laughed, calling him a brave boy. "That's our Luffy, always so tough," he said with a grin. Luffy beamed at the praise, feeling even more proud with his brothers by his side.

Even though school was on both Ace and Sabo's ass, they still managed to leave early to head to the convenience store to buy Luffy meat snacks before going to the hospital. When asked where they were going, they would reply with a serious face, "To my baby brother at the hospital, he needs me.”

Cute. The two infamous duo ace and Sabo seem to be protective brothers outside of school, both leaving school to check on their baby brother Luffy at the hospital. Luffy still needed to rest for a few days before being discharged, and they'd go to the hospital praising him in bed and pampering him with meat and little things like a sun sticker on his forehead for being a brave boy for taking his shots so bravely without crying. Ace and Sabo made sure Luffy felt loved and proud, turning his hospital stay into a fun and memorable experience.

—-

When Luffy was finally discharged, Ace and Sabo got a lot more overprotective of his well-being, making sure he was okay and not sick. Soon, they decided to take Luffy to their school because Makino was busy and couldn’t take care of him while they were at school. When they came to school with Luffy in Sabo's arms sleeping, he was quickly praised for being such a good older brother, showing a gentle and soft side of them both. Koala turned her attention to Luffy, who was sitting on Ace's lap while eating lunch with him, and asked, "Hey Loof, what do you think Ace and Sabo are to you?"

Sabo who was sipping on his strawberry milk perked up at that and rested a hand on his cheek while saying “we’re his brothers of course, what else?”

Then ace who was busy cleaning up luffys mouth with a napkin after he had taken a big bite of pork cutlet, nodded and hummed.

Luffy thought about it for a few seconds , his wide round eyes sparkling with innocence. "They’re my big brothers... but they’re like my parents too! Shishishi!" he said with a cheerful giggle, making everyone around him smile at his adorable honesty.

Ace and Sabo couldn't believe what they heard and saw. Sabo choked on his strawberry milk, splashing Koala's face accidentally. Koala pinched his cheek upset, from her short temper, before releasing him and turning their attention to Luffy, curious about his sweet and innocent words. It was a cute and chaotic moment that made everyone burst into snicker and laugh here and there, thatch hits aces elbow while chuckling “so called “big brother” turns out to be his secret daddy all along huh?”

Ace and Sabo are blushing deep and as Luffy tries to say something else ace shoves another piece of pork into his mouth so he can shut up for now. Too stuffed with meat before embarrassing them both more.

Ahhhhh I’m lazy to continue

[rockermybuddie]

Second thoughts

Rocker x reader

Story 4

Summary: Its been five months since you were shot and you and rocker have officially dated. Its almost time for you to go back to work but theres a secret thats been keeping you awake and you’re unsure of what to do.

A/n: im not sure how many stories im going to put in this series lol.

———————

You stare up at the dark ceiling as you have for the past three months. Every night you fall asleep for two hours but is woken up by a reoccurring dream that you wish would just go away.

But its not that easy.

You pick up your phone to check the time, 4:10am. The bright light hurting your eyes you quickly put your phone down hoping it didnt wake Rocker.

“Babe?” You hear a low mumble then felt a hand pull your waist closer to the warm strong furnace laying in the bed next to you.

“Just checking the time.” You tell him giving him a small peck on the lips. You snuggle your head in the crevice of his neck and shoulder as you try to drift back off into sleep.

You sit up in a dripping sweat, trying to catch your breath. You look over and see Rocker asleep facing the other way.

“Damn it.” You mutter out, you just had another one of those dreams in the same night. You grab your stomach, where your were shot, as you check the time. 5:07. Almost an hour since the last one.

Rocker is about to wake up for work so instead of trying to go back to sleep or pretending that you’re asleep when Rocker wakes up. You decide to go make him some breakfast.

As you stand infront of the hot stove you feel two arms wrap around you and all of a sudden its a hundred degrees in the room.

“Whats all this?” Rocker asks, his voice still raspy from sleep. “Breakfast for my favorite human being.” You answer. Rock plants a fat sloppy wet kiss on your neck as he leaves to get the orange juice from the fridge.

The two of you sat at the table and ate breakfast together as you thought about where you are in life.

Not where you want to be.

Rocker got ready for work and the two of you said your goodbyes. You watched Rocker back out of the drive way and watched him all the way down the road intill you couldn’t see him anymore.

You head back into the kitchen to clean up after breakfast. As you’re doing the dishes you get a flashback from the bank robbery.

“Ahh!” You scream as you grab your stomach in pain. You stumble backwards falling to the floor.

——

When you open your eyes you see the floor and broken glass infront of you. Your head is pounding, lifting your hand to try to rub the pain away in your head you see blood dripping down your arm from the palm of your hand.

“Shit.” You mutter as you grab the hand towel hanging from the door and wrap your hand it.

The room is spinning, so its not a good idea to stand up but you dont want to call Rocker either. Not when hes at work, he’ll just worry about you and he cant do that, he needs to be focused.

You pull out your phone and call the next person that comes to your mind. “The key is under the plant.” You tell him.

Only 10 minutes later Deacon comes walking in the kitchen. He sees the broken glass and blood on the floor. “What happened?” He asks kneeling down beside you.

He looks at the giant bump and bruise forming on your head and then at the bloody towel wrapped around your hand.

“I dont know. I fell. Thats all i can remember.” You tell him. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” Deacon scoops you up in his arms and carries you to his car.

He pulls out his phone. “Please dont call Rocker.” You ask him. He looks at you with concern and confusion. “Im calling Hondo.” He tells you.

You lay your head against the window as he turns on his lights and sirens.

At the hospital they stitched up your hand, 20 stitches. They said you have a grade 2 concussion. You just need to rest and you should be fine in a few days.

“What happened?” Deacon asks again when the two of you get in the car. “I told you, I don’t know.” You tell him, not wanting to have this conversation.

“You were supposed to return back to work in a few days, then this happens? I dont think thats a coincidence.” Deacon says. You let out a heavy breath, Deacon is good at reading people he knows you are hiding something.

You were about to talk to him but his phone rang.

“Its Hondo.” He says before answering it.

“They need me back at HQ. I don’t have time to drop you back off at Rockers.” He says apologetically as he drives to HQ.

You hope Rocker is out on a call.

———

You and Deacon pull up to HQ, he gets out and heads in to the main roon as you walk in slowly behind him.

The doctors gave you some pain meds that are making you a little loopy. As you turn the corner you stumble into something but are caught by two strong arms.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice asks. “Rocker?” You mumble.

He gets you steady on your feet and lifts your face up by your chin with his fingers. “What happened to you?!” He asks when he sees the bump and brusing on your face.

“I fell. But im okay.” You tell him. “Well maybe not my hand. It has 20 stitches in it.” You let out a small laugh as you lift your bandage hand.

“Why didnt you call me? Did you drive yourself?!” Rocker asks concerned as he hopes you didn’t drive yourself to the hospital and then here.

“I didnt want to worry you while you are at work. I called Deacon.” You point at the meeting hes in but hes focused on what Hicks is telling 20 squad.

“I’m taking you home. Stay here.” Rocker orders as he sets you down on some creat in the hallway.

He leaves to tell Hicks is done for the shift that theres a family emergency. He leaves his 60-david in charge of the team.

———-

When you and Rocker arrive back at his house he carries you up to the bedroom. He places a glass of water next to you as he goes back downstairs and cleans up the kitchen.

Rocker soon comes back upstairs and makes himself comfortable on the bed bringing you in close to him.

“What happened? How did you get hurt?” He asks.

“I dont remember. I just remember waking up on the floor.” You tell him.

“Did you black out? Did you trip?” He asks. “I said i dont remember.” You snap. “Okay. Okay.” Rocker rubs your arm with his hand as he kisses the top of your head.

This is why you didnt call Rocker. He should be at work right now, not sitting in a bed with someone who doesn’t know whats going on in her life.

——-

You’re sitting on the couch downstairs, its 2am and you cant sleep because theres too much going on in your brain.

“I dont know. Im having second thoughts about it. What should I do?” You ask balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fidget with your fingers.

Rocker sits at the bottom of the steps and listens.

“What if I regret it?” You ask. “Who are you talking to?” Rockers voice makes you jump, you look up at him and he looks aggravated? Mad? Tired? You arent sure.

He grabs your phone and sees Deacons name across the screen. “She’ll call you back.” Rocker says into the phone and hangs up.

“What the hell?!” You scream, you try to snatch your phone back but he lifts it above his head. “You are so childish.” You snap at him.

“We need to talk.” Rocker finally says. “Rocker you didnt hear the whole conversation.” You tell him.

“I heard enough.” He says, he walks around the couch and sits down. Leaving a gap between you and him. You don’t mind though, not with the way he’s acting.

“Are you breaking up with me?” He asks. “What? No.” You say. You can see the relief fill his face.

Youbtell Rocker you’re unsure if you want to join SWAT back.

“Did you hurt yourself on purpose so you didnt have to go back to work?” Rocker asks, a hince of concern in his voice. “No. Why does everyone think that.” You rub you face in your hands.

“Everyone?” Rocker asks feeling more left out than he already does. “By everyone, i mean Deacon. Rocker i only called him and talked to him because hes like an older brother to me. He has helped me before and i just feel comfortable talking to him about life decisions.” You tell him.

“I understand. Just know im always here for you.” Rocker tells you. “I know.” You give him a small smile.

The two of you talk more about you returning back to SWAT.

——

A/n: This is probably gonna be the last story to this series. It went better in my head i just couldn’t write it as good as i had hoped. The stories just arent doing as well as my others, so im just going to stick with writing 911 stories.

For those who read these, thank you so much! Means a lot to me <3 i promise.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Clockwork. - OC Story

pairing: COD OC!Victoria "Whiskey" Callahan x Simon "Ghost" Riley bonus: MootOC!Meabh "Pirate" O'Malley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish words: 1.4k~ (on the dot, bby!) cw: canon simon backstory. + none. just toothrotting fluff.

December and May are Simon's least favourite months of the year.

December because it's the constant reminder of his family passing.

May because it's the constant reminder that he was the cause of all his family's issues.

Simon was born within days of his own father's birthday; "a late birthday present" everyone called it...

Nevermind the fact the druggie was too high to even attend his own son's birth, and that his mum had to get herself to the hospital alone, with a young Tommy tucked under her arm.

Simon had a bad birth, having breached feet first, and having to get rotated in utero, and then having been born with the umbilical chord around his neck, which meant he needed extra care afterward.

Simon needed to get surgery at age 3 because of tonsilitis.

Simon needed glasses growing up, which is mum could barely afford.

Simon had trouble saying his Ss, so for a long time, he got mocked at school for calling himself "Shimon"... and ended in him having speech classes.

Simon's grades were horrendous, and he had a tendency to get into fights at school, which caused his mum to have to take hours off work to come see his teachers.

Simon.

Simon.

Simon.

Always him, at the root of every problem.

And yet Simon was the only one in the house to raise his voice (and later his fists) at the drunk that was his father, which earned him countless trips to A&E.

Simon was the one with the neglected birthday, not because his mum and Tommy didn't remember, but because being right after his own father's, the leech would blow all their money on a rager, and leave the family unable to eat, let alone buy the boy a cake.

So Simon learned to not care.

Going into the Army, people didn't really show that big of a deal about it like they would at a normal job. Hard to, when you spend all your time fearing a bomb will fall on you or a bullet will bury itself on your body.

But then he went home, and when he kicked that bag of bones out of the house, and got Tommy into rehab... It got different. Got... better. The birthdays got easier. There were phone calls, and cards, and he actually... sort of... looked forward to it.

Whenever he'd be scheduled for leave, he'd go home, and mum would've bought them a cake and they'd sing happy birthday, and mum would give him things he needed; clothes, boots, they'd watch films together, she'd kiss his forehead so often...

Then, Beth came along. And now he suddenly was being forced fed cake and handed gifts that he had no clue what to do with... So his barracks suddenly had color. There were new towels, and little trinkets, picture frames with photos from home...

Then Joseph came, the little boy that had been the apple of his eye, that learned to talk in May, at 10 months old, and Simon got an e-mail with a video from them, where little Joseph mumbled his way past a 'SiSi!' while pointing at a picture of him in Tommy's phone... One of, if not the, best gift he'd ever received.

And they they were gone.

It only got so much worse after that night.

He swore he'd never celebrate his birthday again.

All he had ever loved had been stripped from him.

He wondered if it was his fault.

If he was, somehow, destined to bring bad luck to all those around him.

If he was, somehow, the root of all evil.

If, because he spited some God, all that he loved, all that he touched, was destined to die in his hands.

He spent three years locked in a haze. Mission to mission, job to job, move move move, and never stop.

He spent three Mays buried in work so he couldn't think, and buried in alcohol so he couldn't feel.

And then, on the fourth...

“He tried to get the radiophone off me, so I broke a couple of his fingers… And his wrist. And kicked him in the balls.”

“It's a… Mexican-style MRE. Has beans and cheddar cheese or something. It's the only one I actually don't mind eating. The others are disgusting.”

“That feels like a dig at my social skills.”

“I've been swimming since I was a girl. Navy made sense too.”

“Took a napalm bath.”

For once since that bloody fucking day, he actually wanted something more than to simply forget, to drink himself into a coma and only waking up days later with his phone ringing and Price talking about a new mission.

God, Victoria made him laugh. She made him roll his eyes. She made him scoff. She made him talk. She made him listen.

Of course he couldn't let that go... let her go.

Of course he went looking for her once he was on leave.

Of course he held her close for those two nights.

Of course he held her close in that safehouse.

Of course he bore his face out for her when he got shot.

Of course, of course, of course.

He didn't isolate anymore, every May after that.

Simon'd wake up on his birthday and throw back the covers and sit on the edge of the bed and before the thoughts got to him, she'd already be wrapping her arms around his midsection, and pressing her cheek to his back.

And he'd put his hands over hers, and hear her breathing, and her heartbeat pressed against his back... And he'd close his eyes.

They didn't need to speak.

Victoria never wished him a 'Happy Birthday', but she'd always make sure to bake him a little sweet treat for dinner.

They share it the same way they shared their ''wedding cake'': sat across from each other in their kitchen, with a backdrop of trees beside them, a single knife to cut a slice, feeding each other pieces off the blade.

And when the thoughts got to be too much, on his birthday or all throughout the month, he'd simply turn and look at her, cup her face in his hand, and look her in the eye...

In those moments, he wanted to say it, he could feel it in the tip of his tongue...

That he cherished her.

That he appreciated all she did.

That she kept him sane.

That she was the best thing to have ever happened to him.

That she was like a lighthouse when he felt like a bloody gondola lost at open sea (wildly unprepared and definitely about to tip over and drown).

That he'd die for her.

That he'd kill (and had killed, and would kill again) for her.

That even if there was nothing else to go on for... he'd keep going for her.

That he loved her.

The words were always at the tip of his tongue.

Not just then, but every day. At all points of the day.

Whenever they touched, he'd want to say it.

Whenever they spoke, he'd want to say it.

Whenever they'd lock eyes, he'd want to say it.

Whenever he breathed, he'd want to say it.

His tongue would swirl with the taste of it, of the love he felt for her...

But the words never really made it out...

But he knew. And she knew.

Extra:

Then the news came, the baby, Meabh, it was always go go go, on the move, at home, never time to rest, just Meabh and the baby, and Victoria and him, and...

By the time Simon noticed, Fiadh was here, lying in his arms, little hands closed into fists, her small wrapped in a white blanket with anchors and fishes drawn on it...

And he looked up at his wife who stood beside Meabh, doting on her best friend and caressing her head, cooing at her that she did a good job, the girl a bit dozy from exhaustion from the recent breast feeding...

And then at the clock on the wall, marking 00:13 of the 19th...

And he felt his eyes begin to prickle, his jaw clenching under his surgical mask...

He looked back down at his niece again, little blind blue eyes, the same ones that used to belong to his best friend, staring up at him...

Maybe he didn't hate his birthday so much anymore.

for you @loveandplanet for making me sad ; and also @crashtestbunny sorry for this :)

[idabbleincrazy]

We Make Our Own Destiny: Ageless

Fandom: Smallville

Rating: E (overall)

Pairing: Clex

Characters: Clark Kent, Lex Luthor, Martha Kent, Jonathan Kent, Lana Lang, Evan, LuthorCorp staff

Word Count: 5041

Warnings: angst, emotional h/c, s4 au, episode rewrite, Lana is trying, so is Jonathan, fluff

Summary: Evan and his found family visit the LuthorCorp labs. Lana and Clark talk. Lex comforts where he can.

Chapter Four:

The next morning saw the little farmhouse in a buzz of action. Martha hadn't come home until Clark was already making his bed on the couch after checking in on Evan, so he had only told her the gist of what had happened while she was at the Talon before she headed to bed. Amazingly, Lex had woken with the dawn along with Clark and the two of them were soon busy getting boxes unpacked, sorting through the clothes and toys Lex had ordered the night before. 

Evan had awoken by the time they were done, and Lex had happily volunteered to bathe and dress the boy as Clark sped through his usual chores before his parents woke. Lana had stopped by just as Martha was putting the coffee on and listening avidly to Jonathan's retelling of the night's events, so as Lex bundled Evan down the stairs, he and Lana took him out to the barn to keep him occupied and to give Clark some privacy with his parents to discuss the more tenuous aspects of the situation. Lex felt a wave of gratitude through the bond, and he tried to convey a comforting hug in return.

The scientists Lex had emailed were currently in a bustle of their own, getting equipment ready. They had estimated they would have everything set up by noon, so Lex had convinced Clark and Lana to head off to school after breakfast and come back at lunch to accompany him and Evan to the lab.

“Where is Evan now?” Martha asked as she set out makings for a quick lunch for her growing brood.

Clark did a quick scan as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.

“In the loft with Lex and Lana. And, Mom, I've never seen anything like it. Last night he was just a baby, and then suddenly, he's ready for first grade. Speaking, and apparently he's able to read already.”

“His growth spurt was really amazing.” Jonathan came into the kitchen, washing his hands as he spoke.

“And frightening.” Martha paused in her preparations, turning to look at Clark and Jonathan. “Evan needs to be seen by a doctor. We have to take him back to the hospital.”

“What are we gonna tell the doctors, Mom, he's some second generation meteor freak? He'll either wind up in Belle Reve or a laboratory for the rest of his life.”

“I don't know, Clark, but we owe it to him to do something.” Jonathan dried his hands on a dish towel and stood beside Martha.

“Look, I need you guys to hear me out on this before you go shooting me down. Lex has agreed to have his meteor-focused scientists take a look at Evan. He’s having the lab set up to look into what caused the sudden aging. He’s just as worried as the rest of us about the little guy, and wants to find out if he's okay.”

Jonathan sighed heavily, torn.

“Clark, I realize that Lex has helped us in the past, and that me and him have been trying to get on a better footing with each other, but I'm not sure I'm ready to just put this young man's life in his hands. I'm not sure I trust him that much yet.”

Clark pushed down the anger he felt rising at his father's obstinacy when it came to Lex, he didn't want the emotion to bleed into the bond and worry Lex. 

“Dad, if I were in trouble and Lex was the only one who could help, what would you do? Lex has helped out so much already, and besides, don't you think if he had any evil intentions towards Evan, they would both already be gone? He cares about him just as much as any of us. More. The way he is with Evan, it's like he…like he's found something he's been missing all his life, Dad. I trust that he would never intentionally do anything to hurt Evan.”

Jonathan thinks about it, seeing Clark's point, recalling how Lex had been with the baby the past two days, and how eager he was this morning to take charge in caring for the boy. He hadn't seen such a quick attachment since Martha had picked Clark up in the middle of a chaos-ridden field. 

Martha watched Jonathan consider Clark's words, ready to interject on Lex’s behalf if her husband got stubborn. She had seen Lex with Evan, saw the light in his eyes that hadn't existed before. Martha had always seen how Lex was, deep down. He'd never admit it willingly, but the young man needed to be needed, a caregiver through and through. He had all this love locked up inside him, and needed someone to let him share that love. And what better conduit for all that unconditional love than a child? Yes, she knew Lex would do anything he could for Evan, just like she would do anything for Clark.

“Alright. We'll give Lex the benefit of a doubt on this. But, I swear, if he hurts one hair on that boy's head-”

“He won't, Dad. And, thanks.” Clark swiftly kissed his mom on the cheek and hugged his dad, before running off to get the others for lunch.

Martha smiled at Jonathan, pecking him on the lips.

“They'll be fine, Jonathan. Lex isn't the monster you've imagined him to be. He's not his father, and you just need to keep looking beyond his name to see that. Clark and Lana are growing up, and Lex is still so young himself. The three of them will do the best they can for Evan, we just have to be there if they need us.”

“I'm trying, Martha, I just…”

“I know.”

Clark walked up the steps to the loft, silently, not wanting to interrupt the scene he'd spied. Evan is sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Lex and Lana, reading aloud from a storybook. Lex’s arm is wrapped loosely around the boy's shoulders, and Lana is staring down at him in quiet amazement.

"You must be very kind to him, to teach him all he needs to know in Rabbit Land, for he is going to live with us forever and ever."

“You know how to read?”

Evan sets the book down in his lap, looking up at Lana.

“I've already read all of Clark's old books, and most of the new one's Lex got me, but this is my favorite. I also like the encyclopedia.”

Lex let out a chuckle, ruffling Evan's hair proudly. Clark could feel the swell of pride through the bond. Lex looked over the back of the couch towards Clark and winked. 

“The encyclopedia, huh?” Lana is smiling down at Evan, not sure whether the boy is being genuine or spinning tales. “That's a pretty long book.”

“I know. I stopped at W. Windmills. Did you know they were invented in Persia?” 

Lana lets out a soft gasp and looks from Evan to Lex. Lex nods, confirming the unbelievable. He had been up here with Evan for hours, watching him devour book after book, like a real live Matilda. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um…” Lana shakes off the surprise, smiling down at Evan. “You are a very, very special boy, Evan. I think that you are the most special little boy that I have ever met.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Evan looks from Lana to Lex, and Lex nods in agreement. “And you're really lucky, because there are so many more books for you to read and so many places for you to see.”

“Like what?” Clark can't help but grin from his hiding place at the excitement in Evan's voice.

“Like a real windmill. And when you stand up on top of it, the whole world stretches out around you.” Lana thinks fondly of the windmill in Chandler's field, where Clark had taken her, despite his own fear of heights, just to show her that they weren't as cut-off from the rest of the world as she had thought, Metropolis sparkling, bright and alive, in the relatively near distance. 

“Can we go? Right now?”

Clark takes that as his cue, clomping up the rest of the steps, pretending he hadn't been skulking in the shadows. 

“Where are you going?”

Evan jumps off the couch and runs into Clark's instinctively offered embrace. Lex stands and follows at a more sedate pace, safe enough in Lana's knowledge of them to hug Clark in greeting as the teen lifts Evan up.

“Dad! Mom and Papa are taking me to see a real windmill! Wanna come?”

Startled by the assigned titles, Clark carries Evan back to the couch next to Lana. Lex, Lana, and Clark exchange uneasy glances as the two men settle on the couch beside Evan.

“Um, Evan, listen. We're not your real parents.”

“Everyone's supposed to have parents, and they're supposed to love each other very much, just like you all do. I felt it, last night.”

Lex and Clark shared an awkward look with Lana, the young woman feeling the loss of Clark sharply once more. 

“The three of us care about you a lot, Evan. That's what matters.”

Evan looks between them, a heavy sadness on his face.

“If Lana's not my mom, and neither of you are my dad, where are they?”

Lex takes Evan's hand in his, his heart aching for the boy. 

“We don't know. But wherever they are, I'm sure they love you very much.”

“We even have a friend of ours helping to find them, okay?”

Lana leaned over and pressed a kiss to Evan’s forehead, the tension breaking as Evan made a very age-typical yuck face. Clark stood, picking Evan up again and hefting him onto his hip as the trio headed for the stairs.

“Hey, after lunch, you want to go for a ride in the truck?”

“Are we going to the windmill?!”

“Uh, we will. But first, Lex wants to show you where he works. We've got some things we need to figure out about you, and Lex has people who work for him who know a lot about people who are special, like you, and how to help them.”

“Oh, like a hospital? I'm not sick, am I? I mean, I don't feel sick.”

“That's…that's what we want to make sure of, buddy. It's not a hospital, though. It's Lex's personal lab. You'll be safe there.”

Lex felt Clark's apprehension and tried to soothe it, but considering his own anxiety, it may not have worked as well as he hoped. He followed Lana and Clark back to the house, trying to keep his emotions off his face. 

The second they all stepped into the house, it was hard for the three of them to focus on their worry. Evan was taken into Martha's smiling embrace, cooed over as was expected, before being led to a table laden with sandwiches, fruit salad, and a plate of fresh baked cookies. Milk was set out for Evan, coffee poured for everyone else, and Evan dug in dutifully as the three younger adults let themselves be buoyed by the happier atmosphere. 

They decide it would be easier for all of them to pile into Lana's Envoy, Clark sliding in beside Evan in the backseat as Lex took the passenger seat. Lana drove up to the fertilizer plant in anxious silence, steering at Lex's directive towards the back parking lot closest to the laboratory that was expecting them. 

Inside the lab, a man in a crisp white lab coat hurries over to greet them. Lex is wearing his business mask, but Clark can feel the trepidation thrumming through their connection, the older man just worried as he and Lana. 

“Dr. Turner, I trust everything is ready?”

“Of course, Mr. Luthor. If you'll just follow me.”

Dr. Turner leads them across the lab to a room at the back, and Clark fights back a rush of fear at the sight of the stark metal table he sees through the room's glass walls. Machines lined up around the table, beeping and whirring, and Lex has to place a hand at the small of Clark's back before he remembers to breathe. Lana looks over at him in confusion, Evan's hand in hers as she leads the boy along. 

“It's okay, Clark. I promise.”

Clark gives Lex a discreet smile and nod of thanks at his whispered comfort, following the others into the room a little less dizzily.

Lana helps Evan out of his shirt at the doctor's direction, lifting him up onto the table so that Dr. Turner can attach the wire leads to his chest and start gathering readings from the various machines. Evan lays back on the table and Lex takes a blanket from a nearby chair, covering the boy from the sterile cold. 

Another of Lex’s scientists steps in, and Lex gestures at Clark and Lana to follow him out into the hall. They watch as the new guy injects Evan with a syringe of clear fluid, Lana cringing in empathy as the boy grimaces at the pinch. Beyond the minor discomfort though, Evan seems unfazed, looking over at them and waving.

“I hope we've done the right thing.” Clark can't help but be twitchy in this place, despite Lex's assurances, the fear of experimentation too ingrained. He's grateful for the soundproofing of the glass. “If we put him through all this for nothing…”

Lex pulls Clark into a loose hug, guiding him and Lana to a sitting area nearby.

“Clark, it looks a lot worse than it is, I swear. I won't let them do anything more than take a few blood samples and readings. Just to conclude whether Evan is indeed meteor-affected and if this is going to happen again.”

Lana watches Lex being so gentle with Clark, squashing down the residual jealousy as she realizes how much Clark needs someone like Lex. Someone to take care of things when he couldn't, someone to lean on. Things she had always needed from him, but didn't yet have the strength to give in return. 

Just as Clark is assuring Lex that he's just being a worrywort, Dr. Turner comes out to request that he speak to Lex. He waves the doctor off ahead of him and presses a quick kiss to Clark's temple, hugging Lana mostly as an afterthought. 

Lana sits down next to Clark, bumping his shoulder playfully. Clark flashed her a quick smile, nudging her back.

“Hey. You really love him, don't you?”

“Lex? Yeah, I do. I'm sorry, Lana, that I-”

“Don't. Don't be sorry, Clark.” Lana reached over and took Clark's hand in hers. “I see how the two of you look at each other, and I realize…you've always looked at each other that way. You look…happy. Like you both finally found peace. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one to give you that, but I'm glad you found someone who could. I won't say I wasn't surprised, or that I'm not a little bit jealous, but I won't tell anyone about it, and I won't go all Fatal Attraction on you. You deserve this happiness, Clark, you both do.”

“Thanks, Lana, really. But, you deserve happiness, too.” Clark squeezed her tiny hand gently, his smile turning sad. “I'm sorry that we didn't work out, even after I said that things would be different. I'm sorry you couldn’t find with Jason, what I found with Lex. I do feel love for you, Lana, just…”

“Not the same as you feel for Lex. I get it, Clark. If we're both honest with ourselves, I think we've always been meant to only be friends. We saw each other as an ideal, what we thought we wanted, but didn't see we weren't what we needed. And, hey, I'll find my own Lex someday, I can be patient.”

Clark stood, pulling Lana up with him and into a hug, kissing the top of her head. He would always care about her, but Lex was the one he had chosen, and probably always would. Lex was the one person who, when Clark thought about losing them, the prospect hurt more even than Alicia's death had. More than Kyla's. The thought of losing Lana that way stung, but not in that soul-crushing, can't breathe around the pain in my heart, kind of way that losing Lex would bring. 

“Still friends?”

“Always, Clark.”

“Good. Let's go check on Evan.”

As they walked back towards the glass room, Lana chuckled ruefully. 

“You'd think after the past four years, I'd be used to this kinda stuff, but these past few months have definitely been the strangest yet.”

“And for Smallville, that's saying something.”

Looking through the window, Lana squeezes Clark's hand, worried at the expression on Evan's face.

“Clark, he looks so scared. I hate doing this to him.”

“So do I, but it shouldn't take long. Lex has his best scientists working on this.”

Just then, Lex comes down the stairs at the back of the lab and steps up beside them. His face is a mix of wonder and fear. Clark can feel the warring emotions wafting off the older man, his own anxiety ramping up.

“And they've already come up with some intriguing, albeit startling, discoveries.”

“Lex, is he gonna be alright?”

Lex doesn't answer right away, looking from Lana to Clark, and turns his head to watch Evan for a moment.

“Lex, tell us what's happening.”

Lex sighs and pulls his gaze away from the boy being poked and prodded at, pushing away memories of those agonizing months he'd spent in the hospital after the meteor shower. 

“I had them looking at the data based on my theory about that flash of light we saw just before we found Evan. The results are only preliminary, but everything indicates that Evan's body is storing energy, like a battery charging.”

“Charging for what?” Lana's voice is full of fear, and Lex lays a hand on her shoulder, uncertain how to comfort her.

“The conclusion we've come to is that once enough energy is stored, it's expended to fuel a burst of extremely rapid cell division.”

“That's how he was able to go from a baby to a seven year old in one day.”

Lex nods at Clark, knowing Clark is struggling to keep his angst from flooding the bond.

“Is there any way to stop it?”

“My team believes a bone marrow transplant might slow the growth and bring his metabolism back to normal.”

“Can they use my bone marrow”, Lana asks. “If I’m a match?”

“Well, it's not that simple. His genetic makeup is highly unusual. For this to work, we'll need an exact match with a living donor, which means a biological parent.”

“Chloe found the recording of an emergency call made just before we found Evan.” Clark frowned, and Lex's heart surged at the pain in his voice. “We think his mother died when he was born. We're still trying to find his father, it sounded like he ran off just before the explosion.”

“What's going to happen to Evan if we can't find him?”

Before Lex can answer, the lights in the lab start flickering. A huge blast from the room sends one of the doctors flying through the glass window and he falls to the floor in the hallway between them.

“Evan!”

The three of them hurry through the shattered window, to Evan's bedside where he is sitting up. Lana touches his arm, shocked.

“Evan”, her voice a whisper of disbelief.

“Unbelievable.”

Clark can't even find words as he stares at Evan from Lex's side. Sitting up on the metal table is a teenaged Evan, the blanket pooling precariously around his waist. Eyes wide with fear and confusion, Evan looks between the three he's grown to consider parents, then down at his hands.

“What's wrong with me?” His voice is deeper, cracking slightly in the middle, puberty in action.

Dr. Turner steps up beside Lex, a little less flabbergasted than anyone else in the room.

“We can have the Level Three facility prepared for his immediate transfer, Sir.”

“No. You're not taking him anywhere.” Lex promised Clark Evan wouldn't be made to feel like an experiment, and God knew the boy had to feel overwhelmed enough right now. “I’m having that sector shut down for a reason, and I will not have him subjected to that environment.”

Clark takes off his jacket and puts it around Evan's shoulders, relief coursing through him and through the bond. 

"But Sir, we need to isolate him while we run more tests. If this happens again-”

“I just want to go home.” Evan is gripping Clark's hand tight, tears welling in his eyes.

“Turner, he's just a boy. I said no. Any other tests can be run with the samples you've already taken.”

“We understand you're trying to help, and we appreciate it.” Clark looks at the doctor, ready to act if he doesn't concede to Lex's orders. “But he's been through enough. We're taking him home.”

Lex stares Dr. Turner down as the scientist splutters, trying to convince the CEO to change his mind. Clark and Lana help Evan off the bed and walk him out of the lab, Lex striding behind them without another word to the frustrated doctor.

Evan is set in the front seat of Lana's car, Lex adamant about joining Clark in the back. He can feel Clark's fear and pain seeping through the bond despite the brunette's efforts to hide it, and as the SUV passes the gates of the plant, Lex wordlessly draws Clark into his embrace, letting him sag against his side. Lips to the young man's forehead, he whispers an attempt at comfort.

“We'll figure this out, Clark. I swear, we'll do everything we can to keep him safe.”

Once back at the Kent farm, Evan darts out of the car and up to Clark's loft, the young boy apparently finding it as much a place of comfort as Clark always had. The trio of concerned adults drag themselves from the vehicle, various lost looks in their eyes. Inside the kitchen, Clark mutters something about clothes and heads towards the stairs. With an apologetic glance at Lana, Lex follows after. 

Lex shuts the door quietly behind them, even as he hears Martha joining Lana downstairs. He feels slightly better that she has someone to vent to now, but Clark is his priority. Watching Clark rummage through his closet, clothes discarded in a blur, he waits. It doesn't take long.

Halfway through the top drawer of his dresser, Clark crumpled into himself, falling to his knees in stages, a broken sob renting the air. Lex is there instantly, kneeling beside him, drawing him into his arms. He feels Clark's pain through the bond as the brunette finally lets his barriers down, knows his own is felt by Clark when the hands that had gripped at his shirt loosen to wrap around his back instead. They sit there, in the middle of Clark's room, surrounded by shirts and jeans, holding onto each other like a lifeline. Soundless tears streak Lex's face, counterpoint to the sniffles and weeping coming from the lips muffled against his salt-dampened shoulder. 

“He's gonna die, isn't he?” Clark's voice is hoarse when he finally speaks, thick with the agony of the loss he knows is coming. “It's not fair, Lex. What good are all these powers if I can't use them to save people like Evan?”

“I know, Clark, I know it's not fair. And, I know it hurts. But you can't save everyone, Clark. Sometimes, people die, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop it.” Clark's face is nestled into his shoulder now, and Lex lays his cheek on top of his head. “The world isn't always fair; sometimes it takes good people away too soon. Innocent people. Children, like Ryan, like Julian, and like Evan. Like Kyla and Alicia. And, you can't always stop it. And, it hurts. It's a pain that doesn't completely go away, that only lessens, but lingers for as long you remember them. But, we can live for them, make it so they don't die in vain. We can be happy again, because they would want us to be. Trust again, because they wouldn't want us to hide ourselves away from the world. We can care about and love other people, even knowing we could lose them, because those we've lost wouldn't want us to be alone.”

Clark sniffled again, blinking away the tears that blurred his vision as he lifted his head. He remembered the promise that he had made to Ryan, when they were drifting high above Smallville. To not be angry or sad at his loss, to never give up. He pushed away the pain again, letting Lex's comfort and words bolster him against the urge to just give up. 

“So, no, it's not fair that this happened to Evan. But it's not over. We still could find his biological father, get him to help us save him. My team could still find another way to stop this. Listen for him, hear his heartbeat. As long as you can hear that, and as long as we keep trying, it's not over. But right now, there is a fourteen year old boy up in that loft, alone and scared, and waiting for the only people he's seen as parents to come help him, to comfort him. Evan needs us, Clark. He needs a change of clothes, and the three people who care about him.”

“You're right”, Clark stands up, wiping tears from his face and pulls Lex up beside him. Brushes a quick kiss to Lex’s damp cheek. “I know, you're right. Help me pick something out for him?”

Lex gives Clark a watery smile and they search through the small wreckage of clothes, settling on one of Clark's older plaid shirts and a pair of worn jeans Clark had outgrown by seventh grade. None of Clarks shoes are small enough, so Lex makes a quick call for a pair of sneakers to be bought and delivered to the Kent house within the hour. 

After another few minutes of comforting each other and a tender kiss or two, they finally head back downstairs. Martha is on the couch, consoling Lana with gentle words and a hug that only a mother could give. Her head turns at the sound of Clark's boots on the steps, a sad smile on her face as she takes in their reddened eyes.

“Are you boys alright? Lana told me about Evan, I'm so sorry it happened again.”

“We're not resigned to his fate, Mrs. Kent. My men are working on a back-up in case we can't track down Evan's father.”

“Lana, we're gonna take him these clothes to change into. Give us a minute before following?”

Lana nodded, composing herself as she reluctantly straightened from Martha's loving embrace. Her motherly care had felt wonderful, something Lana had missed for so long, warmer and more real than what Nell had been capable of giving. 

Lex and Clark climbed up the steps to the loft, finding Evan still wrapped in the blanket as he huddled on the couch. He looks up at their entrance, tears shimmering in his eyes, but accepts the scrounged up clothing wordlessly and slips the boxers on under the blanket before standing. 

He's lanky, but not quite as tall as Clark had been at that age. The plaid button-up is a size too large, and the jeans will need to be rolled at the cuffs to keep him from tripping. Clark feels his heart squeeze painfully at the sight of the boy, and knows what his parents felt every time he'd outgrown another set of clothes. He feels Lex rub his shoulder, and tries to convey a look of assurance when he glances over at him. 

Evan is just settling back down on the couch as Lana joins them, sitting next to the boy and taking his hand in hers.

“I'm dying, aren't I?”

“Evan, don't say that.”

Lex settles on the arm of the couch at Evan's other side, and Clark settles on the coffee table in front of them. Both young men reach out, one hand on a knee, the other on hunched shoulders.

“No, I- I read the average lifespan of a man is seventy-four years. I've aged from a newborn to a teenager in forty-eight hours.” Evan looks between the three people he considers parents, the only people he knows, with absolute certainty, love him unconditionally. “Do the math.”

“Evan, we're not gonna give up. Lex has got his team working on a cure right now.”

“And if we can find your father…”

Evan stands up and walks over to the window, his back to them. He knows they just don't want him being scared, but he's trying to be realistic, trying to tell them not to get their hopes up.

“Do you really think they're gonna find a cure for me overnight? It's like my life was just some sort of trick that was played on me! All that stuff I read in the books that I thought I was gonna see...I'm not…” He turns around to face them. “Am I?”

“Don't talk like that, all right? We just have to keep trying.”

“It's not fair. This whole thing...it's just not fair!”

Evan runs down the stairs and out of the loft. He needs to get away. Their hope is too hard to bear.

Lana looks between Lex and Clark, lost. 

“We have to do something. We can't just let this happen to him.”

“Would you go see if he's okay? I need to find his father.”

Lana nods and hurries after Evan. Lex stands and Clark pulls him into a brief hug.

“While you go get Chloe's help on tracking down Evan's dad, I'll head back to the plant. See if they've made any progress.” Lex hands Clark a burner cell. “Call me if there's any luck with Chloe.”

Clark rushes out of the barn as Lex calls for a car to come pick him up.

*****

@leatafandom

[alaydabug2]

Tag list: @sparklenarniawizard @imobsessed123 @thoughtlescat @ilikebookssomuch

Broken heart/Broken mind

Chapter Forty-eight

(Human AU)

Sophie and Keefe met in the children's hospital when they were little. Because of how long they were confined to the four walls of the hospital, they became very close during their stay.

As the years pass, they wind up being in the same classroom together due to their physical conditions. This makes their bond deepen.

But are they able to handle when life gets tough, throwing problems and complications their way?

(Eleventh grade)

Rain pounded down against the roof of the house. Sophie shifted further down with her blanket. School had gotten canceled because of the hurricane currently raging the town. Roads were being closed off by the hour due to the rain. The power had been flickering all day.

Her, as well as her parents, had everything prepared. Tub filled with water. Generator. Gas for the generator. Power banks charged. Candles and flashlights just in case.

She was getting ready for a rainy day nap when a knock on the door caught her off guard. She, reluctantly, got off the couch to the door.

Sophie opened it to find Keefe completely drenched. She couldn't help the fit of giggles that escaped her lips.

"What are you doing here," she finally managed after collecting herself.

He shrugged. "Just wanted to see if I could ride out the storm here. That and I was trying to get to Ro's house, but her road is blocked off."

"Yeah, come on in," she told him. "You might want to squeegee off first."

He shook his head to dry his hair off. Sophie squealed when the water sprayed on her.

"You're not a dog," she laughed. "Would you like a towel?"

"Please," he accepted. "I'm also stealing back a shirt of mine you stole. I'm soaked."

"How close did you park?"

"Behind your car, like I normally do."

"Really?" She glanced out the window. That was fairly close to the garage. "How hard is it coming down out there."

He waved in front of himself. His clothes were still dripping.

"Fair point," she surrendered.

Sophie went down to the linen closet and took a towel out. Keefe was already venturing in her room to rummage through her closet. She really hoped he didn't stake back his red shirt. That one was her favorite to wear around the house.

Coming back into her room, he was already shirtless. His eyes widened slightly, and he blushed. He mumbled a thanks when she gave him the towel.

Sophie usually wouldn't stare, but she never really got to see his scar very much. She never understood why he would always get so fidgety about it. Unless....

Oh.

The time they were at the beach for a field trip in elementary.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about it," she told him. "It looks cool!"

"No, it doesn't," he mumbled. "It makes me look ugly."

"It doesn't make you look ugly." She stepped closer and traced her finger down the top part of it. It was slightly bumpy. "Do Biana's scars make her look ugly."

"No." Keefe crossed his arms. "But that's different."

"How."

"It just is."

Sophie gently kissed him. When she pulled away, she whispered, "It's really not, but ok. I'll meet you in the living room."

He came in a little while later and sat down next to her. By this point, the wind was picking up. It racked against the house.

Storms made her anxious. When thunder boomed, she yelped and gripped Keefe's arm. He pulled her closer so she could huddle against him. Iggy came running from a different room and jumped up on the couch.

When her parents came into the room, they saw the three of them on the couch. Sophie hiding under the covers, Iggy peaking out from the blanket, and Keefe letting them lean against him.

[yourleftpinkytoe-blog]

Pinkytoes’s Random Lore drop

Tw: csa, domestic abuse, suicide attempts(this somehow turns into me venting about the shitty stuff that happened to me lol)

Inspired by @detectivebambam

Weird medical shit (I’m just like a hotbed for random weird ailments for some fucking reason)

I developed reactive arthritis at the age of ten. We still don’t know what caused it but I still have some side effects to this day.

In eighth grade I got this weird stomach thing that caused me to throw up everything i ate for around a month.

That when away for like six months and then came back. I couldn’t eat solid food for more than four months after that. We again have no clue what caused it but it’s whatever 🤷‍♂️

RASHES HOLY SHIT I GET RASHES ALL THE GOD DAM TIME. For a while we thought it was eczema but like four doctors have told me it’s not. But it’s terrible it for years was all down my left arm(I’m talking shoulder to wrist) finally it went away in eighth grade then two years later it came the fuck back… ON MY OTHER ARM!!

School shit

One time someone sprayed pepper spray into the air vents at my school which caused someone with asthma to go to the hospital.

This one person punched a paper towel dispenser and tried to use to shards to kill a teacher and then themself. Luckily everyone was fine but the school was on lockdown for like two hours.

So many people are caught either masterbating or having sex all over the school. I mean like just last year there were like six people suspended for it.

A girl at my school and her mom were murdered by her ex-boyfriend. (I’m not gonna elaborate out of respect for her)

Random(aka trauma sorry)

Got continuously groomed by multiple men from the ages of 12 to 14

I’m in therapy tho guys it’s chill

My bio dad manipulated me into grieving so hard for his girlfriend’s miscarriage that i developed severe depression at the age of nine.(she was like three weeks pregnant)

My parents got divorced when I was two cause my bio dad was emotionally and financially abusive towards my mom.

My bio dad had me so stressed about his financial situation that I had panic attacks over it at the ripe old age of three.

One of my best friends stoped talking to me after i tried to off myself cause she “didn’t need that kind of drama in her life”

Reading aftg literally stopped me from offing myself. Seeing broken people finding love and a future gave me hope for my own future you know?

In tenth grade I developed such a big crush on a guy that I fell down the stairs once cause I was looking at him.

In first grade I got in trouble so much trouble so often that I got suspended.

It wasn’t even for bad shit either it was things like doing cartwheels in the hallway, pouring maple syrup on some girls banana peels during lunch, and sticking my hand in the water fountain just as the principal happened to be walking passed.

As you can see I was a little delinquent/sarcastic.

Although in third grade I did punch a fifth grader in the face for calling a kindergartner a “dumb little bitch” so there’s that. (I didn’t get in trouble cause it was on the bus and my bus driver was one of my best friends) ((sad ik))

In kindergarten I wore my pajamas under my clothes one day cause I read it in a book that firefighters did that and thought it was cool(technically I read in in a Romona Quimby book and felt the need to do it so I did)

[swissboyhisch]

That Scar Hurt By The Way

Pairing: Nikita Zadorov x Reader

Summary: In a world where everyone has a soulmate link, you happened to luck out with a pain link.

Word Count: 1424

Warnings: None I think. It is an AU though.

Request: From ANON I need soulmate and or were! fics so bad any player!😍😍🥞🥞

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Soulmates. A term used to describe two people who were meant to be with each other. Can be used platonically but more common when referring to romantic relationships.

No-one knows when it began but these days, people were born with a link to their soulmate. There were different links you could have. Marks shared by the two. Person A draws on themselves and it appears on person B. One is singing/listening to a song and the other can hear it. Some have a measure of how much danger their partner is in. 

You were born with the pain sharing and matching scars link. Growing up, you’d have random bruises popping up on your body. At random points through the years, you’d feel bursts of pain before the bruises arose. They became more frequent in your later teens and early adulthood. And more painful.

There was one instance in particular that you vividly remember. 7th of November 2019. You were going about your day, teaching one of your grade 10 classes, when you felt something hit you in the face. Your hands flew to your lip. The pain was extensive. 

“Miss!” One of the girls shouted as the class watched you hunch over.

“Are you okay?” 

You worked up the courage to pull your hands away from your jaw. Blood. And a lot of it. “I–” 

“I’m going to get Miss Allen.”

Julie, one of your students, helped you to your desk and handed you the trash can. The pain became too much. Vomiting despite trying to hold it in. Your students whisper, worried about you. The sound of heels rushing to your class made you groan. 

“Okay guys,” Lily, your colleague and close friend, called. She clapped her hands to gain the class’ attention. “Can you please make your way next door to Mrs. Harrison’s class. She knows you are coming. Hurry please.”

Lily made her way over to you, towel in hand. You looked up at her. “Hi.”

“Hey, you look like you took a puck to the face,” She jokes.

You hold the towel to your face wound and give her a glare. “Thanks.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Lily states. “I have Hayley covering my class. And Nick is coming to pick up your class.”

15 stitches later and some strong medication helped you push through. That’s the day that won't leave your mind. You now have a permanent scar over your chin and lip that you try to cover daily. Makeup has become your best friend. Since then you have struggled with your self image. Men would cringe away, disgusted, when they saw the scar. 

Despite your quite obvious soulmate link, it was years after that event that you had met him. Nikita Zadorov. A Russian NHL defenseman for the Calgary Flames. Six foot five. Brown hair. Chocolate brown eyes. 

You moved to Canada to teach recently. Better pay. Calgary to be precise. And one day at the end of the school year, you had to cover for a PE class. You were told it was going to be an easy cover since there were a couple guests coming to talk to the grade 10 group. A couple of hockey players. Sure, you had watched hockey but not to a crazy extent. The class though… excitement. It was all they have been talking about for weeks. God forbid having these students after this period.

“I have your guests here,” One of the office ladies called as she entered the gym. 

In walked three guys wearing Calgary Flames merch. You smile, offering your hand and name. 

“Tyler Toffoli.”

“Jacob Markstrom.”

Then he stepped forward. I mean it was hard not to notice him. But the first thing that caught your eye was the scar on his jaw. One that happened to match yours. “Nikita Zadorov.”

“Hi…” Before you could shake his hand or say anything else the students started coming in. “Guys come sit down and you’ll get to talk to them at the end of class.”

“And signatures?” One of the boys asked. 

“Yes. And signatures.”

You got to sit at the back watching over the students and observing. You needed to find out more about the tall defenseman. Without you noticing either, Zadorov kept glancing at you. The class finally got to question time where they were firing off all types of questions, about hockey, about the team. But one piqued your interest.

“How did you get that scar?” One of the students asked Zadorov.

The man chuckled, “I got a puck to the face back at the start of the 2019-2020 season.”

Thanks to his words, you were thrown back into that memory. The pain. The healing process. You were basically 100% sure he was your soulmate. But there was one way of confirming it. Pain. A pinch to your arm. Nothing too extreme but it was enough to make him jump in surprise. One that you noticed.

The bell rang, indicating the end of the period and the start of lunch. The students finally left, and you went forward to thank them for coming in. They were staying for the last period to talk to another class, but you wouldn’t be covering. 

“Thank you for today. The kids loved it,” You hummed. “It was an honour.”

“I don’t want to be annoying, but do you have a scar on your lip?” Toffoli asked.

It caught you out. Too nervous to say anything. “I mean yeah, I got it years ago. Puck to the face. You know the drill.” You didn’t mean to say the puck bit, but you couldn’t think of any other excuse. Bloody Lily and her joke. 

“Same as me,” Zadorov smiled.

“Yeah…”

“Soulmates,” Markstrom grinned.

Zadorov pinches himself without you realising. You didn’t jump but you rubbed where he pinched. “You are my soulmate.”

“I think so… That scar hurt by the way.”

Neither of you could believe it. Your soulmate. 

“Can I see it?” Zadorov asked shyly. He remembered how badly it hurt. To know you also felt it. God that hurt him more than the actual injury. “The scar I mean.”

You guided him to your class where you could have the conversation in private. The other two dropped off at the staff room for some lunch. You sat down at your desk and pulled out your makeup wipes. Using your phone camera as a mirror, you wiped off your makeup covering the scar.

“May I?”

After agreeing, Zadorov’s hand comes to cup your jaw. Sparks filled your bodies, the soulmate touch. So gentle. Lightly ghosting your skin. His thumb grazed the scar. The dented lines across your lips and down your chin. One scar matching his.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, feeling his heart break once more.

When it first happened, he was aware that his soulmate was experiencing this at the same time. The pain accelerated because of this knowledge. Every time he looked in the mirror, he imagined what it would look like on another person. His soulmate. But to finally see it on them, the pain returned. He did this to you.

You smile softly, “It’s okay.”

“15 stitches,” he muttered.

“7th November 2019.”

Zadorov, still cupping your jaw, leaned in. Pressing his forehead to yours. “Tell me about it.”

“I was teaching back in Anchorage. End of the day. A grade 10 class. They’re probably scarred for life. Just feeling that sudden pain, hunching over covering my lip and jaw. But that pain had me vomiting. My friend had to take me to hospital. She even made a joke that it was like I took a puck to the face.”

“Well, you did,” Zadorov offers, “Kind of, anyway.”

Your class door opened and there stood your favourite colleague with Toffoli and Markstrom behind her. “When they said Zadorov had met his soulmate and it was the PE teacher, was a little shocked thinking it was Mr. Paulson for a hot sec.”

“Yes Big Z,” Toffoli grinned, messing with the defenseman’s hair. 

Zadorov pushed his teammate away with a roll of his eyes. “Leave us alone.”

“Can’t do sadly, bell is about to go so we have to head to the gym.”

You got an expectant look which made you shake your head. “I’m not covering for the next class. I have one of my own.”

“Can I see you after?” Zadorov asked.

“I hope you’d want to,” You laugh.

“Out of all the soulmate links to have, we have this. But I’m thankful it’s you.”

TAG LIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings

[damon25]

100% Polyester O.R. Towels: Trust a solution that works as hard as you do.

Medical professionals need tools that work well and maintain excellent standards in operating rooms. Using 100% polyester O.R. towels is a wise choice for healthcare settings needing dependable materials. Users trust polyester towels because they stay strong and work well over time. These synthetic materials resist damage from repeated cleaning cycles, protecting their original form. These high-durability towels last longer, so you save money by not buying new replacements often. Polyester towels offer a quick-drying and lightweight advantage that helps prepare reusable materials quickly in busy work settings. The fast drying ability prevents bacteria buildup by minimizing moisture, enabling bacterial growth. Polyester towels deliver stable results and keep their smooth handling properties. Natural fibers often wear down as time passes, but polyester keeps its pure surface and absorption power throughout its lifespan. The material works effectively and produces exact results when used in essential procedures. Your selection of hospital-grade towels delivers vital workplace advantages through efficient use, long-lasting quality, and sanitary conditions. 

[dakotakazansky]

One Thing Right

Word Count: 768 Tags: Mostly Fluff, hint of angst, mentions drinking and driving, wrecking, hospital

Bradley Bradshaw was not an easy child. He was easy to love, but wrangling that boy was easier said than done. He’d started acting out soon after Goose had passed. He’d been kicked out of every daycare as a child. He picked fights, he pushed and shoved, and he tormented the other children. It always ended the same for poor Carole. She’d love him until the end of the world, back, and then some. 

Carole had eventually exhausted all the options she could with daycares. That was when she enlisted Maverick and all his squad buddies to help her care for Bradley while she worked. 

“Acting like my mama’s little devilish child.”

During his school years he only got worse. Still always picking fights. Always had barely passing grades, was even held back a year or two before he shaped up enough to barely meet passing grades each year. 

During highschool was when he finally met her. What she saw in that boy always shocked Bradley himself. He tried his hardest to push anyone and everyone away, including her, but she never faltered. 

Bradley had turned 16, and that just enabled him to be more reckless and wild. His first car was supposed to be Goose’s beloved Bronco. Carole never allowed that to happen, Bradley ended up with some beater that should have been dead on the road from how badly he ran it, but it never faltered as well, until one fateful night.

Bradley had been at a party that one of the school kids had thrown when their parents were out of town. He had one too many drinks and made the decision to drink and drive. He’d swerved all over the road, eventually wrecking that beater car into a tree. He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, and was thrown through the windshield of the car. 

That night sobered him up well and fast. When he awoke in this hospital bed, he felt that his right hand was soaked. There he had found her. Devoid of all energy, tear stained cheeks, and sleeping. From that night he decided he wanted to be better, if not for himself, but for her.

“When I was getting crazy, reckless and wild…”

That night should’ve been the night that she threw in the towel and walked out of his life once and for all but she didn’t. She stuck by his side through it all. She went to school, got a voice recording of his lessons, and would grab his schoolwork, and as soon as the day ended she was right back in that hospital with him. When he was finally discharged she’d continue on just like before, but arriving at his house after school. 

With her help, his spirits after the wreck were lifted, and his grades greatly improved. She saw something in him, and during the worst of it, she never left. She helped him get to and from PT, even sometimes planning little outings for them. On the particularly hard days, she took him to her favorite ice cream shop, before taking him to the beach, where they would spend their time decompressing from stress, with the sound of seagulls and crashing waves. 

That had quickly become a tradition for them. Even on the anniversary of Goose’s death, they’d get ice cream, and then head to the beach. It was only a shock to her on that day, that Bradley had asked her to be his girlfriend. It was an even bigger shock to him when she agreed. 

“It took a heart like yours to find its place.”

They’d graduated high school together, and eventually graduated college together. They were stuck together like glue. They ended up back on that same beach that they frequented all those years ago, and that was when Bradley dropped two of the biggest bombs on her. Firstly he wanted to join the Navy, to continue to improve himself. The second bomb he dropped was asking her to Marry him. She of course said “Yes!” They had an extended engagement. 

Two years and a deployment later, came to this very moment. Bradley and his now wife, dancing their first dance at their wedding reception. Bradley spinning her is slow elegant circles as he sang their entire first dance song to her, as she giggled those music like giggles that he’d never get tired of. He looked her in the eyes finishing the song, “But I got one thing right.” He placed the most tender yet passionately filled kiss to the soft lips of his now wife, before looking deeply into her eyes, whispering, “You.”

If you like what you read, check out my MasterList, for more one shots or stories.

Tagging some people that may be interested:

@mayhemmanaged @roostette @roosterforme @startrekfangirl2233 @cassiemitchell @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @desert-fern @lovinglyeternal @sarahsmi13s @bobby-r2d2-floyd @bradleybeachbabe

[the-owl-house-takes]

https://www.tumblr.com/the-owl-house-takes/739902025110814720/httpswwwtumblrcomthe-owl-house-takes73915284?source=share

Okay man, I will let you in on a little secret, from one severely traumatized person to someone else. Luz is traumatized, this made her do bad things. On the scale of bad reactions to trauma Luz is taking it like a fucking CHAMP. She got used and manipulated and that's bound to make someone feel gross and slimy, especially KNOWING as much as Luz knows about how what she did helped someone so EVIL. Should she have been honest? Yes. But also you dense motherfucker, that was probably the LEAST BAD THING she could have DONE in reaction to this trauma.

For a few years, starting when I was 11, some of the most horrific shit you could imagine was happening to me. No details because. You know. Not the place, I don't get the option to throw this under a read more. When I was 13 I did the "right thing" and turned in the person hurting me. But where I lived didn't have good therapists, I already had bipolar (diagnosed in 1st grade, yes for real) and it was getting worse. I would become extremely hostile and easy to set off. I broke aluminum brooms on people's backs. I stabbed people with pencils in high school. I literally missed the start of class to find out where a kid who stole some food from me in the previous class was so I walked into his class and SCREAMED AT HIM. Someone stole my MP3 and I had a meltdown for the entire duration of choir screaming at everyone to give it back because it was extremely unlikely that someone came in the private choir hallway to take my puny outdated MP3. I was a huge fucking piece of shit and I work every day to better myself from who I was in high school. The other day I had someone who knew me in high school come up to me and APOLOGIZE. I was constantly being bullied. I told him I genuinely didn't even remember what he said because it was over 10 years ago now, but told him to pass on to a few of the people I stabbed that I'm sorry. He still bought me a drink because he felt so bad. But I also felt bad. Yeah the only people who can forgive me are the people I've hurt, so I actually don't want to fucking hear your opinion on it.

The other characters in the show are actually emotionally intelligent and understand that even if what Luz did was bad they know she has proven to them that she cares about them and was only afraid of losing them. Speaking as someone who has not a single childhood friend from being the weirdest kid in SPED every year and moving just as frequently, I can absolutely understand the fear of losing the only friends you have and becoming ALONE again.

If this is how you react to any fucking "misbehavior" by someone so hurt then I would rather never hear another thing you have to say. Traumatized children are going through fucking enough.

When I was 10 I jumped off a swingset and landed funny on my arm. I told my mom's boyfriend and he said it was fine. I wore slings I made myself out of paper towels for a month because it hurt to let my arm hang down. Now sometimes when I lift heavy things or sleep on it wrong my arm hurts a bit. I had it x-ray'd a few years back and the bones were only very slightly deformed. Untreated breaks can end much MUCH worse. But when my arm hurts now I don't blame my fucking arm, I blame my mom's shitty boyfriend for not taking me to the fucking hospital (he never told my mom either).

So anyways Luz did a bad thing but she could have literally done a billion things so much worse and her friends forgiving her is not bad writing it's because they LOVE HER, and I don't know why there's so much fucking discourse on this specific topic, the people she hurt forgave her, your opinion is not relevant to this plot point because she didn't hurt you specifically. So sorry anon, that Luz Noceda lied to you specifically and hurt your feelings so bad. It's framed as a bad thing in the show even tf is wrong with you.

-

[tending-the-hearth]

hi hello i read the outsiders in eighth grade for english class and you kept posting about the musical and specifically darry and throwing in the towel and as an oldest child whose favorite characters are also oldest children i am now obsessed with him. i read ur fic about darry and soda getting the call from pony in the hospital and then watched the movie and now im obsessed with the musical soundtrack

i went to go see water for elephants on broadway back in march and i wanna go again over my fall break and now the outsiders is added to my list and it is entirely your fault

anyhoo i just thought you’d enjoy that :P

I WANT TO GO SEE WATER FOR ELEPHANTS SO BAD FR but i'm looking to get tickets to see the outsiders again this summer with my brother!!!

but honestly i didn't really fall in love with darry as a character until a few months ago, when i started reading the book with my own class and now i'm just??? he is trying his very hardest and loves his brothers SO much but he's also only 20 and wasn't given time to grieve his parents' death and i'm going to protect him with my whole heart

it also doesn't help that brent comer is the darry ever and understands the character so beautifully in the musical, it's all that man's fault istg

i'm so happy i've also turned to to the darry side <3 and i'm glad you liked my fic!!

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

⛑️ or 🥰 with Curtis and honey - your choice! 💖💖💖 Love these two (and you for sharing them with us)

Hey babes! I went with both of them because I just loved both of these themes. Thank you so much for playing babes.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

So Many Things

Warnings- Mentions of knife cuts and blood.

You were busy in the kitchen, your mind in a hundred places at once.

Dice the veggies. Your brain chided while you grabbed them from the fridge.

But I got those papers...no dice the veggies. You scolded again, intent on getting dinner on the table. Curtis had been doing it all week for you, you could at least get it done tonight.

I wonder if I can do that stitch on the sewing machine? It would be faster than by hand. Y/N Focus! You sighed as you grabbed a knife and started chopping. Trying to stay focused. The movement became methodic as you diced the peppers, prepping to make a stir fry. It was quick and easy, this you could do. You had to get it done while your stomach reminded you with a rather angry burst that you were starving after a day of being too busy to eat. You grabbed at a piece and popped it in your mouth, in an attempt to quiet yourself.

You went back to it, now dealing with onions to toss in. I can make this fajita style, we have that chicken. Then I should call Yona, tell her about tomorrow... Your mind still wandered. You never heard Curtis come in from the garage, heading for the sink to wash his hands.

"Hey Honey, what you got cooking?" He simply asked and that startled you, making the knife slip across the board and bit into your palm, making you yelp in alarm.

"Oh shit." You drop the knife on the cutting board, grabbing your palm to try and cover it from bleeding everywhere.

"Whoa, hold on." Curtis grasped your shoulders lightly, steering you to the sink that still had running water from where he just cleaned his own hands. "Lemme see Honey." You felt your eyes welling up at the sting in your palm and frustration that you weren't paying attention. Curtis eased your hand under the water, making you hiss at the sting of it. "I'm sorry Honey, I promise to be quick." He muttered while leaning over the sink to get a better look. Grabbing a clean towel nearby, he pressed it over your palm to put gentle pressure on it.

His gaze lifted as you gave a sniffle, the tears now big dollops falling down your cheeks. Curtis lifted his free hand to your face, his thumb running under each eye to clear them. "It's shallow Pretty Girl, no need for the hospital. You okay?"

"No." Your nose wrinkled at the overwhelming feelings that were pestering you. "I fucked up, bled all over the food, I wasn't paying attention, and ruined dinner."

Curtis's eyes widened in surprise at your words. His thumb tilted your chin up to look at him. "Y/N, you didn't fuck up Honey. Accident's happen and I'm more worried you're in pain than anything else." He tugged you with him, keeping a hold of your palm while he sat in a kitchen chair and eased you on his leg, refusing to let you try to hold yourself off him.

"I feel like I did." You sighed as you gave into him, settling in against him.

"I think you need to give yourself a break Pretty Girl." Curtis tucked your head under his chin, his free hand rubbing against your back. "Let me order us a pizza tonight. Forget about making dinner and we can crash on the couch together watching shit tv the rest of the night."

"I got so much to do though." You muttered, really liking the sounds of what he was offering.

"Is it anything that needs to be done right this second Honey?"

"Well dinner was the main thing, then I was gonna grade some papers."

"I can help you with the papers, Im good at copying your writing now on them." Curtis chuckled, popping a kiss to your temple as you straightened back out. He eased the towel off your hand, seeing that it had stopped bleeding. "But first let's bandage this hand and I can call us that pizza delivery."

You made no move to get up, but with your uninjured hand, you cupped his face, letting your forehead lean against his, your eyes looking into his as a gentle relieved smile eased in place of the worried frown you had earlier. "Thank you, Curtis, for taking care of me."

He pressed his mouth to yours, muttering against your lips after a gentle kiss. "Always plan to Honey."

Nightmares

Warnings- Curtis relives the car accident that took his family.

It was cold, and freezing, the car horn wouldn't stop. Curtis tried plugging his ears against the noise, no longer a man but a little boy stuck in the car that was blaring its horn, and everything was so cold he couldn't stop shaking.

Why wouldn't it stop? He wondered as he struggled in his seatbelt, the feeling of fear making him want to cry out for his mom, his dad, and his brother, Tyler. Where were they? They should be with him. Curtis struggled again, trying to pull off the seatbelt holding him in place.

Somewhere there was yelling, calling his name. He could feel the tears hot in his eyes as they came rolling down, his voice turning hoarse as he cried out for whoever was yelling his name. I'm here, I'm here...

"Curtis, baby wake up. You're having a nightmare." You were sitting next to him on the bed, watching your boyfriend's face screw up in fear while tears were running into his beard, making it gleam in the bit of light in the room. Your hand rubbed at his heaving chest as he gasped several times in his sleep, which initially woke you up. "Curtis." You said a little louder and this time his eyes sprang open, shining brighter blue than you can recall ever seeing them, the tears making them intense.

"What?" He half sprang to a sit, turning into you while you held him, letting him ease against you. "Shit, I woke you, didn't I?" His face was half buried against your chest while he tried to make sense of where he was and what was going on.

Your hand soothed over his buzz cut and down to his tense shoulders, working your fingers into the muscles to loosen them again. "Your dream was upsetting you, Curtis. You were crying in your sleep."

"I know, shit, I'm sorry." He shuddered, now that it was all coming back to him. His arm eased around your waist, hugging around you while he started to loosen back up, relaxing now that he realized he was home, safe in bed, with you. The shivers that were wracking his body earlier were imagined, all from the freezing cold in his dream.

You're okay, you're not in that car anymore, You're not a little boy stuck in the wreck. He reminded himself as he let his face rub against your soft breasts, relishing in how warm and soft you were against him.

"It's okay Curtis, do you want to tell me about it?" You asked softly, your touch never stopping. It was soothing, a reminder that life was okay now, he was right where he needed to be. Did he want to relive the dream, talk about what happened when he was so little that he only remembered it in bits and pieces? Mostly in his nightmares.

No, not really. Not right now.

"If you don't want to Curtis, we don't have to." You continued gently when he didn't answer you right away. "We can talk about something else till you're ready to sleep again."

He lifted his head off you finally, shifting till he was stretched next to you instead of smothering you under him. "Tell me something about when you and Jade were kids?" He requested and you smiled at him, scooting back in closer towards him till you could let your head rest on his shoulder.

"Well, there was this one time we..." You started and Curtis let himself just listen, forgetting all about his past and picturing you as a kid yourself, never having to lose your family so suddenly.

Send Me An Ask To Comfort A Character

[crinkled-emotions]

So glad you're back!! Could I request "you look pale", "infection" and "waiting room" from the whumpril list please? How would you feel about writing Cyclone looking out for and trying to take care of Bradley? I think he probably has a bit of a soft spot for him at this stage and knows a little about his past trauma and tendencies to push it when he gets a cold or whatever sickness. (Maybe a few cameos from the other Daggers and Mav at the end, ready to chew Cyclone out, only to find he's the only person who tried to stop Rooster from destroying his system once again lol)

Hey anon!! Thanks for the warm words 🥰.

I've never really considered writing Cyclone, but I'm down for this! Here's to getting his character slightly aligned with how he is in the movie 😂 expect a lot of cranky older man with Rooster's sass but also his respect for authority lmaooooo.

Also, from the movie I kind of remember photos of what looked like his kids on his desk, so I'm saying Cyclone has kids and that's that. Maybe even... grandkids??

Warnings: Rooster's PTSD diagnosis which isn't just related to his active duty, it's also his childhood and the amount of time he spent in hospitals.

-

The rip in his flight suit was an indication of what could have happened had he not been as experienced as he was. Rooster was a decorated Naval Aviator, when they instructed younger pilots they showed his flights and asked him to come in and talk when the older instructors couldn't get through to their mid-20's audience.

Do it like Rooster does it, the instructors said when questioned as to why the younger aviators were instructed to hold on.

That didn't mean he was exempt from making mistakes. Rooster had physical and emotional scars, but when younger pilots asked him for an explanation he was completely honest with them.

All of this put Rooster, despite destroying at least one jet on the Dagger mission, in Cyclone and Warlock's good books. It put the rest of the Daggers in good standing too, deployed as a separate squadron. Rooster had chosen to stay behind for the first one, instead coming on as an instructor at TOPGUN.

-

"Admiral Simpson, sir!"

Cyclone looked up from his paperwork, frowning at the LTJG hesitating by his office door. His secretary looked like she was ready to hand in her resignation but Cyclone waved her off, turning to the young man in front of him.

"Does Bradshaw know you're here?" He asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. The young man nodded frantically.

"There's been an accident, sir. Hondo sent me to find you, said Captain Mitchell is out for the week."

"What do you mean accident?"

Cyclone's stomach tightened, already thinking worst case scenario. Then he frowned.

"What does Captain Mitchell have to do with it?"

"It was Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw, sir," the LTJG in front of him said. Cyclone reached for his jacket.

"Let's go. Have you called for the infirmary?"

"Yes sir."

Lieutenant Junior Grade Dawson led the way through base, navigating out to the tarmac. Cyclone could see the class crowded around one of the jets, Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster" painted across the side. He picked up into a jog, gently pushing through the crowd.

"Ah, hell, Rooster? Can you hear me?"

Rooster didn't look bad, but he didn't look good either. Something was definitely up. Cyclone knelt, doing a quick visual check over. Rooster was out cold, but he was breathing. The tear in his flight suit told Cyclone he'd caught his side on something, and with Hondo's help they got the suit down to his waist.

"Go and get me some towels," Cyclone said to the team still crowded around. When they all took off in various directions, he turned back to Rooster and ran his hand down his side, trying to find any cuts or broken ribs. Sure enough, his hand came back with blood and Hondo whistled.

"Medics are on their way. I didn't see the whole thing, but I did see him hit his side when he fell from the wing of his jet."

"Why did he fall? That's not like him."

Where Maverick was borderline chaotic and worked on pure instinct, Rooster was careful and every move he made was highly calculated even if it did look a little like something his godfather would do.

"Not sure. He was fine beforehand."

The medics arrived on the tarmac, wheeling over to where Hondo waved at them. They got out of the ambulance, coming around to assess the situation.

"Bradley Bradshaw, he passed out after his hop and fell from the wing of his jet. There's a pretty major cut on his side, it's bleeding but not enough to soak his flight suit," Hondo filled them in. The medics glanced at Cyclone and their eyebrows raised.

"Sir," they said instinctively. He waved them off.

"You've got his PTSD diagnosis in your file; if he knocks you out because you overwhelmed him, I didn't see anything."

Initially, Cyclone's first instinct with Rooster's diagnosis had been a medical discharge and full pension with a thanks for your service letter in the mail, but Maverick and Warlock had talked him out of it. Maverick had begged and pleaded for him not to, insisted it was mostly regarding hospitals. The psych assessment reports had confirmed that, so Rooster was allowed to stay.

For now, at least.

"Bradshaw, can you hear me? Can you feel this?"

One of the medics firmly rubbed along his chest, the other having a better look at the cut on his side.

"You look pale, sir," Hondo said quietly to Cyclone. Cyclone turned to him.

"Do you want to be the one to tell Captain Mitchell his godson broke on my watch?"

"Uh. No, sir."

Rooster startled awake, thrashing around, and Cyclone narrowly dodged the punch thrown at the medics. He moved, coming to Rooster's side instead of kneeling at his feet.

"Rooster! Rooster, you need to calm down. Bradshaw, it's alright. Settle down, it's Cyclone and Hondo. Do you know where you are?"

Rooster's chest moved rapidly as he took in his surroundings, frowning into the bright sun. Finally, he looked to Cyclone.

"Oh, I'm screwed," he huffed, letting his head lean back against the tarmac. Cyclone frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're here, sir."

Despite himself, Cyclone snorted. Bradley Bradshaw really was Maverick's, even if it wasn't by blood.

"Can you tell us what hurts, Bradshaw?" One of the medics asked. Rooster swallowed, frowning as he shook his head.

"Please tell me you haven't called Mav," he groaned. Hondo cleared his throat.

"Well, I mean, I may have... texted him..."

"Fuck."

"He's on his way, but he's out in the desert so you've got a couple hours."

"Lieutenant Trace is also aware and she'll be back early from detachment."

Rooster's head shot up.

"You called Phoenix back from deployment because I passed out? Oh hell, she's gonna kill me. This has been a great exercise in her patience, you would have been better calling Seresin. At least then I know my death will be swift and mostly painless."

"Maverick said Seresin would cry if he knew you were hurt, Trace was on your paperwork," Hondo replied. Rooster winced, glaring at the medic who was looking at his side.

"Can you cut that shit out? It fuckin' hurts."

"You're brave, Bradshaw. Look, we're going to have to stitch it, it's a pretty deep slice. Let's get you into the ambulance."

The other medic wandered over with the gurney and Cyclone reached for Rooster's shoulder.

"Let's get you up, kid."

"Only Mav can call me that- sir."

Rooster promptly shut his mouth, letting the medic and Cyclone get him up and on to the gurney.

-

"Admiral Simpson? How is he?"

Cyclone glanced up from where he'd been sitting in the waiting room, arms crossed over his chest and if anyone asked he'd deny the powernap he'd been having. Maverick was striding toward him, looking exactly as he'd expected; panicked and very fatherly. Dad-mode was on high and Cyclone scrubbed at his face.

"He was alright for a while, but then they closed the exam room door and he had a panic attack because he couldn't see the hallway. They had to sedate him, so he's sleeping now, but he should be a little better now that you're here."

Maverick frowned, taking a seat beside him.

"How did it happen?" He asked. Cyclone cleared his throat.

"I wasn't present, but to my knowledge Rooster has been sick for a couple of days, and when he went to get out of his jet after a hop he lost consciousness and hit his side on the wing as he fell. He's lucky he didn't snap his neck."

"Sick? What kind of sick?"

"No one knows, the other Daggers are on deployment. Lieutenant Trace is coming home, when she was called she insisted. I got her on the first transport back to dry land."

"She's gonna kill him," Maverick chuckled. Cyclone snorted.

"She was worried. Is there something I need to know about?"

"Oh, no way, sir. Hangman says they've been inseparable since day one but it's always been platonic."

"Hm."

Cyclone wasn't completely convinced, but they were the same rank and honestly? He couldn't deal with the Dagger Drama (or DD as Warlock liked to call it) on a good day, let alone when one of them was laid up in hospital.

A doctor walked down the hallway and paused in front of them, chart in hand.

"Family of Bradley Bradshaw?"

"That's me," Maverick replied. The doctor smiled.

"Alright, you can go and see him now."

Maverick ducked into the room, calling to Rooster even though he was still sedated. The doctor looked to Cyclone, crossing her arms.

"You're not going in too?"

"Bradshaw needs his godfather right now, not an Admiral," he replied. The doctor hummed, nodding slowly.

"Okay then."

-

Rooster stirred, glancing over at the person beside him, and immediately groaned. Maverick smiled at him, squeezing his arm.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired... my side hurts."

"You were cut pretty bad, the mechanics are still working on your jet to find the sharp piece that might have hurt you. You don't feel nauseous or anything? You look pale."

"Is Phoenix here yet?"

Maverick glanced at the door and the way she was leaning in the doorframe, eyes harsh despite the concern. She made her way over, gently flicking Rooster's forehead.

"You got stuck with Cyclone to get you to the infirmary? What the fuck, how did you survive?"

"Wait- Cyclone? I only remember Hondo," Rooster yawned, scratching at his nose. Maverick glanced at Phoenix, the pair having a silent conversation before Phoenix squeezed Rooster's hand.

"Cyclone rode with you in the ambulance, gave your diagnosis to the staff when they couldn't figure out why you were so wound up."

"Oh, no shit- ow, fuck."

Rooster went to sit up but the pain in his side stopped him, clearing his throat.

"Cyclone helped me? He wasn't mad?"

"No, kid, he was worried about you. When you first came in they were wondering if you had some kind of infection because your blood work showed something, but whatever it was has cleared now. You've just got some new scars to show off."

"Oh. Uh, is he still here?"

"Hondo said he was, but I didn't check. Probably signing paperwork or gossiping with Warlock," Phoenix snorted. Maverick hummed, unable to tear his eyes from his godson.

"Roos, you sure you're okay?" He finally insisted. Rooster glanced over, a lazy smile crossing his face.

"Mav, I'm high as a fuckin' kite right now, I'm good."

-

Outside the hospital room, Cyclone backed away from the open door and reached into his pocket, flicking through his contacts for a moment before he found who he was looking for.

"Hey, buddy. What time is it where you are? 5am? Oh, I'm sorry... no, it's not important. Just checking in. What's college like?"

He leaned against the wall, listening to the voice on the other end of the phone, and couldn't help the grin on his face.

-