#I wonder if this next specialist is actually going to be the one to take my wisdom teeth out or not. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tkwrites · 7 months ago

Text

I'll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest via Bauer Hockey

Title: I’ll Be Proud For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC)

Summary: When an opportunity for Quinn to meet her uncle arrives, Sarah jumps at the chance, and they attend a St. Patrick's Day party at her uncle's house on Salt Spring Island. On the ferry ride back home, Sarah finally explains why she had to be close to family after her mothers death, necessitating her move to Vancouver.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, grief, and meeting new family. Talks of suicidal thoughts and suicidal ideation. No attempts or methods are described or discussed.

Word Count: 5,600

Comments: I’ve been working on this fic for a long time. In many ways, it's extremely self-indulgent. I loved writing the banter between Sarah and her uncle Travis, and it was very healing for me to write about Sarah’s experiences after her mothers death.

Sarah’s experiences are very similar to the experiences I had after losing my father. My dad died three years ago in September, and I have not experienced any kind of suicidal ideation for over a year and a half. While I was in the thick of it, it felt like I was always going to be stuck in that darkness. The other side of that chasm is so beautiful and so worth the work it took to get here.

I was very lucky that I already had a therapist who could refer me to a specialist and friends and family who cared very deeply about me and my mental well-being. Seeing a psychiatrist to get on medication was one of the best decisions I ever made.

If you are having or have thoughts like these in the future, please, please talk to a friend and a professional to get help. The world is such a better place with you in it. xx

I’ll Be Proud For You

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah grabbed Quinn's wrist as he walked toward the kitchen. “Do you have plans for St. Patrick's Day?”

“I think Garly's having a party. Why?”

“My uncle Travis always hosts a dinner party since we’re Irish, and I wondered if you wanted to come with me.”

“Sure.”

A smile took over her whole face, and he was instantly glad he agreed.

Internally, though, his heart was racing. Her uncle was the closest family she had nearby. When she first moved to the city, she'd lived with him for a year. She still went to his house at least two Sundays a month. Quinn knew they were close.

At least he had a while to mentally prepare.

“It’s a bit of a drive - they live on Saltspring, so we have to take the ferry.”

“Just means I get to spend more time with you,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, I like it over there.”

Her smile got bigger, and he swore his knees got a little weak. God, what wouldn’t he do for that smile?

“Is there anything I should do to prepare?” he asked, sitting next to her.

“Just wear something green. And don't wear anything that says 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' unless you actually want to be kissed.”

“Wouldn't mind being kissed by you,” he said with a wink.

Laughing, she leaned over and obliged.

He instantly wished they weren't at the dining room table so he could lay her out and kiss her like he meant it.

A few minutes later, the nagging feeling of neglecting her studying won out, and Sarah pulled away. “I'm sorry,” she said, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, “I really need to finish this. Give me thirty minutes?”

“Then you're mine for the night?”

She nodded.

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and wandered to the kitchen to make dinner.

As she left school for the aquarium the next day, Sarah called her uncle Travis.

“Hey, Sar, how are you doing?”

“Good. How are you, Trav?”

“Great. Samson started crawling on Tuesday.”

“What? No.”

“Yep.”

“I refuse to believe he’s crawling already.”

“I know. It’s the worst. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know I'm bringing someone with me on Sunday.”

“One of your roommates?”

“No, someone I'm seeing.”

He actually seemed to choke on whatever he was drinking and coughed a few times before asking, “I'm sorry, what?”

“We've been going out for a while, and I want him to meet everyone.”

“How long is a while?”

“Two and a half months.”

“And you were going to tell us when?”

“I was waiting to see how serious it would be.”

“And it's serious?”

“I think it’s headed that way. I want to see what you think of him.”

“What's his name?”

“Quinn.”

“How did you meet?”

“At the aquarium,” she said, “he asked me out to lunch, and we've been dating ever since.”

“He lives in the city?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there anything I should know about him?”

“Just that I really like him. Please promise you won't embarrass me.”

“No can do. That's what uncles are for, but I can promise I won't pull out your baby pictures.”

“You don't even have my baby pictures.”

“Precisely. Otherwise, I probably would.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked what she could bring to dinner. After deciding she would bring the soda bread and butter, they hung up, and she sent the plan to Quinn.

Great. When should I pick you up?

I'm driving, so I'll come get you.

You have a car?

Technically, it's my uncles, but I haven't driven in forever, so I’m calling transportation on this one.

He laughed. Tocc canceled practice tomorrow so we can leave whenever.

I'll pick you up at 1 then?

What time is dinner?

5, but the drive over is 2 and a half hours, and I like to be there a little early to help out.

“Why does your uncle keep a car here?” Quinn asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

“I have parking included with my apartment, so it just made sense. I drop it off at the Ferry terminal once or twice a month for Trev when he has to come to the mainland for work.”

“I didn’t know that. Let me know next time and I’ll give you a ride home.”

She shot a grateful smile at him before looking back to the road.

It was a strange thing for Quinn to be a passenger. He was usually the one driving, and rarely got the chance to watch her for such a long period of time uninterrupted.

He was taken with her. With the constellation of freckles on her cheeks and the button of her nose, and the round swell of her bottom lip. He wondered if anyone would notice if they just made out on the ferry ride over. She didn’t have tinted windows. Probably not the best idea.

She was wearing the same green dress she’d worn when Brady came to town. It still looked beautiful and soft, and he still couldn’t stop the fantasies of stripping it off her from clouding his mind.

“How was your morning?”

“Fine.” he scrubbed his hands over his face, “It’s nice to have a day off.”

“I bet,” she said, reaching over to entwine her fingers with his.

They held hands until they hit traffic and she had to get back to the gear shift.

He’d never driven a manual transmission, and he was impressed by her seamless shifting, despite the fact that she was a bit of a terrifying driver. He found himself reaching for the door handle more than once as she weaved in and out of traffic and went a little too fast for his liking.

“How was your day?” he asked to distract himself.

“Good. I did some reading and finished up some assignments I’d put off from earlier in the week.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of putting things off,” he teased.

She snorted and threw him a sarcastic look.

“You’re so organized, I didn’t think you could.”

Quinn had seen her planner once. It was the size of a college notebook with a column for every day of the week. Each of her classes was assigned a different color, and every day was an organized riot: hours blocked for class, work, assignments, tests, and readings to be completed. He didn’t know how she got it all done. He was exhausted just reading it. Then, he’d smiled when he realized he was there. She had all his games and their plans and dates written in sparkly blue ink.

“I still miss things. Sunday is my catchup day,” she explained. “Usually, I sleep in and do my homework on the ferry over and back, but I wanted to have it done early so I could spend the time with you.”

“It would have been okay,” he said.

The smile she gave him made his heart patter against his lungs. That, along with a stop so sudden, the seatbelt engaged to snap him back, made it a little hard to breathe.

“Thank you, but I would rather spend this time with you.”

His heart warmed at the gesture, and her willingness to give up her one morning to sleep in to spend time with him.

Once on the ferry, they stayed in the car and talked instead of going up on deck. He told her about practice and trying to push aside his nerves about making the playoffs, “Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s a guarantee.”

“Well, you are second in the league.”

“Yeah, but so much could change. I don’t want to get my hopes up, and the media asks about it practically every day. I’m getting so tired of telling them, ‘that’s what we’re aiming for, and we have a group that can get there.’” He threw his voice into a self-depricating, exaggerated version of itself.

Despite her attempt to stifle it down, a giggle spilled out of her mouth. “I think they’re probably asking because it’s going to happen.”

“We don’t know that. Demmer’s out, and we haven’t been doing great…” he trailed off.

“You’re still first in the Pacific by almost 10 points, Quinn. Can’t you celebrate that for a minute?”

He sighed, “it’s just… so much can change in a month, and I don’t want to be the guy who talks about how good it will be to play in the playoffs only to have his team not make it. I’d be a laughing stock on the internet for the rest of time and a lesson to all other captains to not jinx it.”

“I’d never considered it that way.”

He made a noise of ascent in his throat.

“You can celebrate it with me, though, right?” she asked, lacing their fingers together.

Quinn wanted to agree, he really did, but the superstitious part of his mind went to war against it. The result was a kind of half-hearted grimace.

Laughter burst from her. “Fine, fine. You don’t have to talk about it. I’ll just be proud for you,” she said, bringing his hand to her mouth so she could kiss his knuckles.

His stomach did a jerking little jig, and a real smile spread over his face.

Eventually, their conversation turned to her uncle.

“Trav is a sound engineer, and he toured with Brooks & Dunn for a long time. He moved to Vancouver because he said it’s the most beautiful city he’s been to.”

“I would agree with that,” Quinn said.

“Now he stays at home with their kids. Trevor is a copyright lawyer.”

“Oh, your uncle’s gay,” he said with a spark of understanding.

“Is that a problem?” Sarah asked, raising her brows.

“No, of course not. I was just confused. You mentioned Trav and Trev, and I wasn’t sure if I was hearing his name wrong or what.”

When they pulled off the ferry, Sarah turned onto a small two lane road, running away from town. It didn’t look like anything was out here except forest and pebble beaches.

Sarah had an incredible inherent sense of direction - the kind he had to rely on his phone GPS for - so he knew they weren’t lost, but he couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like civilization.

When they turned onto a small driveway tucked right into the woods, drove up a hill, and pulled in front of a home that looked more like a cabin than a house, Quinn wasn’t too shocked.

“What a view,” he said as they got out of the car.

Despite the drizzly weather, the horizon was still stunning. The gray blue water of the Salish Sea seemed to melt into the rolling, gray clouds, making them indistinguishable except where pine covered islands rose out of the water, vibrantly green against all the neutral colors. The city skyline cut a dark, jagged edge across the water. If the commute wasn’t so long, he would live out here, too.

“I know, right?” she said, picking up a tote bag and taking his hand to lead him up to the front door.

“Hey Trav,” she said, embracing him as soon as the door was opened. “Trav, this is Quinn. Quinn, this is my uncle Travis,” she introduced when they broke apart

Other than the fact that he had her same bright blue eyes, her uncle didn’t look anything like he’d expected. Quinn had braced himself to meet a middle-aged man who was around his dads age. Instead, Travis looked no more than ten years older than Sarah. The oldest looking thing about him was his gray hair, which was casually swept back in that effortless way Quinn’s hair could never quite manage. He wore jeans and a green band t-shirt without socks or shoes. His toenails and fingernails were painted various shades of green.

“It's nice to meet you, sir,” Quinn said as they shook hands. If he wasn’t so used to seeing it, he would have missed the way Travis’s eyes widened slightly in recognition.

“Just call me Travis,” he said with a snort, trying to cover his shock. “No one has ever called me, sir in my life. Come on in.”

Trying to catch her eye as they passed, Travis wondered how, when he’d asked if there was anything he should know about this guy she was bringing, Sarah didn’t think the fact that he was Quinn Hughes was something he ought to know. She didn’t notice, and he dropped it before Quinn did.

“Beara!” a little girl yelled as she ran toward them. “Beara! Beara!” She had curly pigtails, each tied with a green bow that flopped as she ran.

“Sawyer!” Sarah caught her before they collided, picking her up and swinging her around. “I missed you,” she said, pulling the little girl against her chest.

Putting her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, she said, “missed you more.”

When she noticed Quinn, she turned her face away from him and put her thumb in her mouth, suddenly shy.

“Sawyer, this is my friend, Quinn,” she said, turning so they could make eye contact.

“Hi, Sawyer,” he said. “I like your ribbons.”

She smiled around her thumb at him. She had those same bright blue eyes, though they were slightly wider than Travis or Sarah’s.

“What do you say to that?” her father coached gently.

“Thank you.” she didn’t take her thumb out of her mouth when she said it, so it was a little garbled, but he got the idea.

Sarah set her down, and she ran back to the kitchen, squealing when Travis chased her down the hallway.

“Beara?” Quinn asked, humor in his eyes as she took his hand, following after them.

“My whole life, my nickname has been Sar Bear. When she was younger, Sawyer had a hard time saying her S’s, so she started calling me Beara instead of Sarah, and it just kind of stuck.”

He snorted, “oh god, the guys are going to have a heyday with that.”

“With what?”

“You know how they call me Huggy Bear sometimes?”

She nodded.

“Huggy Bear and Sar Bear?” He snorted, “I mean, come on.”

The house, while rustic on the outside, was homey on the inside. Neutral gray walls and a modern, light kitchen. It seemed the whole back half of the house was made of glass, giving a perfect view into the misty forest. It was beautiful, but Quinn wasn’t sure he’d want to be here at night to see what came out of those woods.

Sarah was laughing as she entered the kitchen, hand in hand with Quinn. The shock of Quinn Hughes being in his house, of Quinn Hughes dating his niece, who had always been more of a little sister to him, still had him reeling.

Even through that startling revelation, Travis wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her so relaxed and happy since her parents died. The protective part of him held himself back from reading too much into it. The last thing Sarah needed in her life was more heartache.

“Quinn, this is my uncle Trevor.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a little busy,” he said, gesturing to the meat he was fishing out of a marinade. “I hope you like beef stew.”

“Sounds great.”

“And this,” Sarah picked a pudgy little boy up from his high chair, “is Samson.”

Quinn held a hand out to the little boy, who wrapped his tiny fingers around one of Quinn’s as he smiled and babbled. Samson looked more like Trevor. He had dark curly hair, dark eyes, and smooth olive skin. Quinn wondered if each of them had fathered an embryo for a surrogate.

“Can I get you a beer?” Travis asked.

“Sure.”

“We only have Guinness today.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else. It’s the Irish way, right?”

Laughing, he handed the can off to Quinn before turning to Sarah. “Hey, can you help me find the barley?”

He knew he was being obvious as he pulled her into the pantry, but he hoped this was a little less obvious than pulling her back into the living room would be. At least he had an excuse for her help this way.

As he shut the door behind them, he heard Quinn ask, “is there anything I can help with?”

Travis clicked the light on. They were standing nearly chest to chest in the tiny room, baby Samson squished between them. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued to babble, reaching out for the brightly colored packages.

“You didn’t tell me you were dating Quinn Hughes!” he hissed.

“You know who he is?”

“Everyone in this entire province knows who Quinn Hughes is, Sarah.”

“I didn’t when we met.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why not?” If she didn’t have a baby in her arms, she would have folded them over her chest.

“You’re too busy learning stuff to pay attention to things like that. He was all over the news for three weeks when they put him in as Captain this fall. Plus, you only care about football.”

“I do not. Well, not anymore, at least,” she said, catching Samson’s hand before he could pull a box of pasta off the shelf. “Anyway, why does it matter that he’s Quinn Hughes?”

“He’s - I mean,” Travis blew a harsh breath out of his nose. “When you said you met at the aquarium, I thought he was some guy who works there, not the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks!”

“He's just a guy, Trav. He just happens to play hockey for a living.”

His mouth opened and closed as he seemed to realize he couldn't argue against that point. “He’s a pro athlete, Sarah.”

“So?”

“So, they’re gone all the time, and the money fucks with their heads and pretty soon they’re all cheating on their partners.”

One of her eyebrows arched up, “do you only watch reality TV, or do you sometimes deviate to Lifetime?”

Despite himself, he laughed. “I just mean,” he paused, glancing down at his green fingernails. Sawyer had insisted on painting them and pulled out every shade of green polish in the house, determined to use them all. “I don’t want you to get hurt. He treats you well?”

“Yes. Very well. I wouldn’t keep dating him or bring him to meet you if he didn’t. He's actually the best guy I've ever dated,” she added.

Travis's eyebrows shot into his gray hairline.

“Just spend some time with him. You'll see. He’s really thoughtful and nice.”

“Okay, but I’m having a talk with him by the end of the night.”

“No.”

“Listen, I just need to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

“Don’t you think that’s something I can decide for myself?”

“I’m just going to have a chat with him, man to man. You’re the one that wanted to know what I think of him,” he said. “It's happening whether you like it or not. I'm just letting you know.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, but don’t embarrass me. And none of that asking for permission bullshit. I'm not a possession.”

“Dont insult me,” Travis chided, smiling, loving seeing pieces of his oldest sister in Sarah. He was glad Becky had instilled those same, strong feminist values in her children. “Of course he doesn't need permission. I just care about you.”

“Thanks, Trav,” she said, touched.

He pulled her into a hug, smooshing Samson between them more. He let out a tiny grunt.

“Here, take your baby,” she said, handing him off and grabbing a box of cookies as an alibi as she left.

If Quinn thought anything was suspicious, he didn't let on, continuing to chop the lettuce Trevor had set him to preparing.

“Teddy Graham?” Sarah asked, offering the box as she stood next to him at the long island.

“Sure.”

“Hey Sar, we were thinking about coming into the city for your birthday. I have to be in that day for a few meetings, so Trav was going to bring the kids on the ferry. Do you think that would work? We thought we could take you to dinner.” Trevor said, looking up from braising the beef.

“Yeah, I would like that,” she said with a big smile.

As he walked back into the kitchen, Travis caught Quinn’s wide-eyed expression.

“When’s your birthday?” he asked, tipping the lettuce into a bowl.

“On April third.”

He gulped. It was a gesture Travis immediately recognized as a man grappling for a purchase with new information.

Quinn pulled out his phone and quietly breathed, “we’re in Arizona that day.”

“I know,” Sarah said with a smile that tried but didn’t totally succeed in covering her disappointment.

Something about it made Travis’ hackles rise. Quinn wasn't actively hurting her, but his lifestyle was.

Quinn saved her birthday in her contact card and put his phone back in his pocket. “I guess we’ll celebrate when I get back.”

“That would be nice,” she said with a smile that was genuine this time.

Travis got her a can of Guiness, and she wrinkled her nose. “Can I have whiskey?”

“You hate whiskey.”

“I’d rather it than this tar,” she said, pushing the can back to him. “At least whiskey can be mixed into something palatable.”

“Here here,” Trevor said, laughing.

Travis mimed pulling a knife out of his chest. “You’ve insulted our ancestors, Sarah.”

“Listen, the Irish invented a lot of really great things: boycotts, modern chemistry, the stethoscope, the submarine,” she said, counting them off on her fingers.

Quinn gave her a surprised look.

“I did a presentation on Irish inventions in high school,” she explained, flipping her hands, “the point is, is that their alcohol is not one of them.”

Travis laughed, taking the can for himself. “You want a ginger highball then?”

She beamed, “I think you know the answer to that.”

“What is that?” Quinn asked.

“It’s whiskey and ginger ale. It’s delicious.”

Before other guests arrived, Travis asked Quinn if he'd like to see the vintage shelby Mustang he was restoring.

Quinn agreed and gulped when Trevor asked if Sarah could help him find Sawyer. This was one of those talks. He shoved his hands in his pockets and followed her uncle out to the garage.

“Listen,” Travis said after they admired the beautiful white car, “Sarah isn't my daughter, but she means a hell of a lot to me, and I want to make sure she’s not going to get hurt. She’s gone through enough heartache already.”

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Quinn licked his lips before responding, “the last thing I want is to cause her more pain. I know she’s been through too much. I don’t know that I can guarantee she’ll never get hurt, but I can say that I would never hurt her intentionally.”

“Do you think your job will get in the way?”

“The travel definitely takes a toll. But I really like Sarah, and I think we have a lot of potential.” Times like these, he was glad for all of his media training. Not that this was anything like a press conference, but they did get him used to thinking fast and answering hard questions.

“She’s not really a model NHL girlfriend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Quinn demanded, barely keeping a glare off of his features.

“Just that most of your lot date models that don’t have normal jobs and aren’t in school,” Travis said, fighting to keep a smile off of his face. That defensiveness answered a lot of his questions.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true,” he agreed, biting down the urge to correct him. Most of his teammates were married to their high school or college sweethearts. “I like that Sarah has her own stuff and that she’s so independent. Before I met her, I dated a girl like you described, and I was always a little worried about what she was doing while I was on the road. I don't ever get that with Sarah.”

“What do you do on the road?”

“Mostly, I sleep or hang out with the guys. We don't have as much free time as people think.”

Travis was still looking at him appraisingly over the hood of the car. Had he not been exposed to Sarah’s blue, blue eyes, he would have found her uncles stare incredibly intimidating.

“Look, Sir - Travis,” he corrected quickly, “I really -” he stopped himself, not wanting to say that to her uncle first. “I really like Sarah, and we really get along. I know it’s not an ideal thing for me to be on the road during the season, but it seems to be working well so far. I want to be with her, and if she’ll let me, I’d like to be in her life for a long time. I just want to make her happy.”

Travis nodded. “What’s your favorite thing about her?” It was a question his mother-in-law asked him when he met her. It wasn’t until this moment that he realized what a telling question it was.

“She treats me like a normal person,” Quinn admitted. Even though he knew it made him sound conceited, it was his favorite thing about her. She’d never treated him like anything else than a normal guy. “And she’s interesting and easy to talk to and really respectful to people around her.”

“Okay,” Travis said, nodding, glad to see Quinn saw the same things he did. “Okay.” His face split into the natural smile he’d given Sarah when he first opened the door. “I can see why she likes you.”

Despite his attempt to stay cool and collected, Quinn felt a blush splash onto his cheeks as relief relaxed his shoulders.

“I'm not going to say I'll kill you if you hurt her, but just know she has me and Trevor in her corner.”

Quinn smiled, “I get it. I would want to hurt anyone who hurt her, too.”

The dinner party was small - no more than 10 people, and only one of them, their friend’s teenage son, Jace, gawked when he walked in to see Quinn in the kitchen. Quinn took it in stride and talked shop with Jace for a while before dinner was served and he took his seat next to Sarah, who had been watching him with a secret, proud kind of smile on her lips.

Halfway through the night, Travis looked over at them to find Quinn watching her as she talked with someone, with this quiet, infatuated look on his face. A few more of his fears were put to rest.

As he stood at the kitchen sink with his niece, drying the pots and pans she was washing by hand, he leaned closer to her, “I can see what you see in him,” he said, conspiratorially.

“See,” she said, nudging her shoulder into his as she handed him a knife, “I told you.”

“How did you manage going to school from here for a year?” Quinn asked as they pulled onto the ferry for the ride home.

“When I lived with them, they lived in the city. They needed to move into a bigger house when Samson was born. By that time, Trevor was working from home most of the time, and I was okay to live with roommates. So, I moved into the apartment I'm in now, and they moved onto the island.”

He waited until the car was parked before asking, “what do you mean you were okay to live with roommates?”

She pulled in a heavy breath. It was bound to come out eventually. May as well tell him while they had a solid hour and a half boat ride to talk about it.

“After my mom died, I really struggled.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Quinn asked.

Sarah pushed the seat back to give her enough room to turn and face him. Her right knee pressed up against the center console. She needed to be looking at him when she said this.

“I mean… I really,” she paused, trying to find the right words. “I remember I flew back to Hawaii a week after the funeral, thinking it was going to be so nice to get back into my routine, but I had this massive gulf in front of me and a literal ocean between me and my family. My roommates were kind of party animals, and they had no idea how to support me, and I had broken up with Kaleo, my boyfriend, before I left because he didn't want anything to do with her funeral or my grief. It felt like no matter where I was, I was just so…alone.”

It felt like someone was reaching down Quinn's throat and wringing his heart.

“I called my sister one day - I think I woke her up, which was really shitty because she had a six month old who was teething.” She laughed a little, but there was too much sadness in it for it to be convincing.

“Anyway, I called her crying because I…I started having these really intense thoughts about killing myself.”

A steep breath stuck in his lungs. He wasn’t totally sure what he thought she would say, but he hadn’t expected that.

“She flew out to be with me, and I moved home two days later. Just packed everything up and left. I didn’t even tell my boss - I was still on FMLA for the funeral, and she had to call me when I didn't show up to work the next Monday.”

“Did you ever…” he trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

“Attempt?”

He nodded, and Sarah shook her head, “no, but the thought of it was really terrifying. Like, I saw for the first time how someone could get into that headspace where they might take their own life. I just remember ruminating on those thoughts and thinking, ‘I don’t wanna die.’” She pressed the heel of her hand under her eye to catch some of the tears that slipped.

“How did you get out of it?” Perhaps she was just really good at hiding it, but she didn’t seem that depressed in all the time he’d known her.

“I stayed with my sister for the next nine months. I got on some meds and started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist, and we talked through what was bringing those thoughts up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d already gone through the grief process with my dad, so I knew how awful it was. I never expected to have to go through another big death while I was still single. I thought by the time my mom died, I would have a consistent partner in my life - maybe even a family - and I just kept thinking, ‘I don’t want to do this again.’”

Quinn wanted to go back in time and make it better. Somehow make sure they met before she was in the city so he could be there for her when it all happened.

“Anyway, my psychiatrist told me our brains are basically just big problem solvers. You give it a problem, it wants to fix it. So when I kept telling myself, ‘I don’t want to do this again,’ my brain was just coming up with the swiftest solution for me to not have to do it again. When I changed the way I was thinking about it and started giving myself some more grace, those thoughts lessened a lot.”

God, she was even stronger than he thought.

“Even with all that stuff, I still really wanted to go to grad school, and my therapist and my psychiatrist agreed that it was best for me to have a goal to work toward, even if it meant moving away from home. I was really scared that if I moved out totally on my own, those feelings would come up again, and no one would be around for me to talk to about them, and I might hurt myself. But I couldn't study the ocean in Nevada. My brother actually suggested UBC and living with Travis. I called him to see what he thought. I hadn't even applied, but I didn't want to if I didn't have a plan for when I got in. I pitched that I could be a nanny of sorts when I wasn't in school. They told me they’d love to have me stay with them. I applied and by some miracle was accepted on the first try, and the rest is history,” she said, shrugging.

“Do you…” he paused, not totally sure how best to ask this. “Do you still think about it?”

She shook her head, “not much anymore. Every once in a while, it comes back when a big grief marker comes up, or I get really, really stressed or anxious, but the thoughts are always really fleeting.”

Even though it meant the console was pressing into his stomach, and she was pitched back slightly, Quinn leaned over to gather her against him. “I can’t believe how strong you are.”

“It’s not like I had any other choice.”

“Clearly you did,” he said, reluctantly settling back into his seat.

“I didn’t,” she said, voice quiet but firm. “There was no way I was going to put my family through another death, and like I said, I didn’t want to die. I wanted to not be in pain anymore, and those are very different things.”

“I just think you should be proud of yourself, that’s all.”

“I mean, I am proud that I got out of it, and proud that I know how to ask for what I need now, but being strong in the face of death is just something you have to do. There’s no way out but through.”

“Fine,” he said, repeating her action from earlier and bringing her knuckles to his lips, “I’ll be proud for you.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #qh43 #quinn hughes fan fic #q hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey romance #tw sui ideation #tw sui talk #tw grief #grief #cw sui ideation #sui ideation

151 notes · View notes

haikyu-mp4 · 2 months ago

Text

Work ethic

Fluffy workplace romance in a gym facility with your crush Tanaka for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @childofmyth. word count; 565 – gn!reader

You’re a professional nutritionist, working in the same gym as a personal trainer named Tanaka Ryunosuke. Many people who work out regularly need specific meal plans to reach their goals, and you were there to provide them.

It’s a small gym, so there weren’t a lot of specialists there and you and Tanaka mostly worked with the same people. He’s a nice guy, you admire the way he can be so tough and strict with the more experienced clients while softening and pulling out his greatest encouragement for the ones who were just starting on their fitness journey.

Today you had an appointment with a familiar client who already had Tanaka as his trainer for several months. While going over the nutritional plan he would start next week, you kept glancing over at where Tanaka was running on the treadmill beside his client and yelling encouragements at him while gradually raising the speed and/or incline on the machine. It made you smile, before focusing back on your job.

However, the client noticed your wandering gaze and chuckled. “Funny, Tanaka always looks at you like that when you’re working, too.”

“What? No, no way… Why would he do that?”

The man chuckled breathily. “Why do you do it?”

You scowled stubbornly, pretending to take some important notes. “I admire his… work ethic.”

“Interesting. That’s what he said about you.”

When you two met up again later, just before closing time, Tanaka was still panting from the last workout, towel slung haphazardly around his neck. You gave him a questioning look before turning back to the scheduled appointments for the rest of the week.

“That plan you made for me has been working great, I think my arms are getting bigger,” he bragged, one hand squeezing the opposite bicep to show off for you. Barely sparing him a glance, for your own sake, you nodded and smiled.

“You look very good,” and he finally got your full attention when he knocked over a mop and scrambled to clumsily pick it up. “Careful, Bambi, we’re supposed to prevent injuries.”

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while leaning on the mop pole, flushed cheeks from more than just his workout. “I’m actually on cleaning duty tonight. Wanna maybe… stick around and play loud music on the speakers?”

You licked your lips, doing a terrible job of hiding your bright grin at the invitation. Deny it all you want, you have a crush on the gym’s resident hottie, and he’s a really good guy.

“Yeah, I’ll stick around.”

Tanaka was not the most thorough in his cleaning duties, so you finally exited the gym and locked up after only twenty minutes. He held the door for you, and you looked around outside. “Which direction are you going?” you asked.

Tanaka pointed over his shoulder, lips pursed before he spoke. “I was planning on getting some sushi, would you… like to come?” he asked, and you nodded quickly.

“That sounds awesome, I’d love to!” you agreed, already starting the walk there and looking to the side where Tanaka tucked his hands in his pockets.

“And tomorrow… maybe a coffee before work?” he added, wondering to himself if he was doing the right thing going slow instead of asking you to marry him already.

“Sure.”

“...And then we can have lunch together.”

“Tanaka…”

“We should date.”

“There we go.”

masterlist

#workplace romance #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyu fluff #tanaka x you #tanaka ryuunosuke #tanaka #tanaka fluff #tanaka x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka ryunosuke

99 notes · View notes

a-pups-writing · 3 months ago

Note

Hi beautifullll💋🩷 got super excited when I saw ur ok with writing suicide, so can I ask for twst headcanons with first years + riddle when they learn that reader(gn) had a failed suicide attempt at ramshackle? Platonic or romantic, though I don't think it would matter much in this particular scenario. Thanks in advance, love ur writing💖

A/N; love this, and thank you for the kind words dear pink princess. No specification on what kind of suicide, so I'm going with an OD (overdose) hope that's okay. Also I have faves, I think its noticeable..

P.S.: if you ever deal with suicidal thoughts, you can and deserve to get help! Either from friends or a specialist, as someone who has the same problems it may feel like there isn't another out but there is. Life can be worth living. <3

CW; GN!reader, angst/fluff, suicide/mental health themes, some Sanders vibes(??)

Chars.; Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola/Deuce (??), Epel Felmier, Jack Howl

Riddle Rosehearts; Romantic

first thinks its a joke, albeit not a very funny one, when he's told you're in the infirmary from an apparent overdose. He even collars those who told him, unable to believe such lies and rumors.

still, he goes to the infirmary, just to see if there's any proof of you..having done something, maybe you just hurt yourself accidentally- his heart almost stops when he sees you lying there, on an IV drop.

you just look so frail on that moment, pale skin and shaky breaths - he's grateful for the heart monitor standing besides you, showing him your heartbeat.

he cries, while holding your hand and just waiting for you to wake up and come back to him. He's gonna have to be forced to leave (Trey comes to get him, only able to convince him with tarts and promises of returning the next day, he even leaves one of those tarts for you..just in case you wake up.)

during classes/when he's not with you he's more irritable then normal and he sometimes reverts back into his snappy behavior - he just worries so much, and everyone seems to be breaking more rules.

as soon as you wake up he's by your side, holding your hand while his own is shaking in pure happiness. He might even cry again, tho he tries not to let you see that part of him.

definitely gets you help as soon as you're discharged, you can talk to him (or Trey) but he'll also search for an actual therapist/psychiatrist.

depending on the problem he'll do his best to help you, like studying with you, talking to those who were rude, etc.

he starts treating you more carefully, not that he really means to but you just got so much more fragile in his eyes.

Ace/Deuce; Platonic

pure unfiltered panic and chaos. Ace slaps Deuce to get him to work again, and then Deuce has to slap Ace to do it in return.

they run to the infirmary, almost getting kicked out my one of the medics, but they're allowed to stay..as long as they don't start to make loud noises again or something similar.

Ace jut stares at you while Deuce actually started to shed a few tears - seeing you so lifeless is new, definitely blame themselves for not having noticed it earlier and thinking they're bad friends because of it.

they'll be more down in general/less energetic, and mostly try to stay by your side (tho it can get to Mich for Deuce, he just can't take seeing you like that.)

both start to ask you questions the moment you wake up, the most prominent one; WHY?! Was it them? Someone else?-

they only calm down after a little while, but don't worry it'll happen..soon..maybe..

as soon as you get discharged try to help you with everything, chores, homework, people. It'll get overwhelming, and you'll have to tell them to calm down, after a few times they lay off a little.

Epel Felmier; ?

what?..his little apple? Doing something like that? He can't believe it, but runs out of the lesson as soon as he caught wind of the rumor. (Much to Vil's dismay)

cries a little when he sees you, but does his best to hold it back for his own sake.

starts wondering why you did it, is it because of him? Is he not strong/manly enough? Was he to weak for you to feel comfortable coming to him? He just becomes an insecure mess.

looses some of his spark, and even while Rook tries to cheer him up it doesn't help. Even Vil lays off a little during that time, stress causes wrinkles after all.

as soon as he sees you awake its like a dam breaks and he can't stop crying and hugging you.

he's definitely the type to demand answers. He wants them, to help you, and he wants them now!

it'll take some talking to get the point of mental health across, how its not just something that can be put aside. But he'll listen and do his best to learn.

asks you how you're doing everyday, and might even ask Rook to look after you when he gets worried..just for your safety of course.

Jack Howl; platonic, kinda sire/cub (y'all want an romantic version?)

wolf boy is worried about his little cub, he believes it when he hears it and mentally prepares for the worst while jogging to the infirmary.

is calm..on the outside, the only tell is his tail being down and his ears flat against his head. On the inside he's a mess, thinking of what could have prevented this and how he can help you when you wake up.

stays mostly by your side, and gets more aggressive when he can't - actually growled at Leona when the man pissed him off, he's just constantly stressed and hoping you wake up - takes a toll on him.

sees you as soon as you wake up, he might not have a smile on but his tail sags and starts to wag quite a bit. He might even hugs you, but would mostly likely wait for you to open your arms/ask him.

much more protective of you, talks with you once a day about your mental health and even gets you a support plush. Its a little wolf, to help you in times of need.

Sebek; so sorry for the Sebek fans, I've never written for him before and am scared of just writing something completely OOC (out of character), I'm still practising how's to write him and until I feel confident enough I won't. I ask for your understanding.

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #ace x reader #deuce x reader #twst wonderland #first years #jack x reader

61 notes · View notes

turbulentscrawl · 11 months ago

Note

Naib and Eli resting their head on gender neutral s/o’s boobs sfw, how do they go about to getting into the position, what’s their reaction if their s/o calls them out lovingly ofc!! please :3!!

Heck yeah!! I wasn't entirely sure if you wanted HCs or a little scene so here's a bit of both.

Naib Subedar

-Mr. “I do what I want” right here just sees an opening and goes for it. As long as you’re in private, of course.

-If you seriously want him to get off he will, but he can tell when you’re just messing with him and plays along with it a bit.

-He can take some teasing, especially if it means he gets to stay like this longer.

---

You blinked and he was there, full weight settling carefully against yours. When you lifted your book to peer down at the shirtless mercenary who’d joined you in bed, skin still hot and steaming from his shower. He deigned not to return eye contact and instead nuzzled his jaw into your sternum. Both of his hands wormed their way between the bed and the small of your back and squeezed. His legs clenched and stretched like a cat, and then he fell still.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked.

“‘M tired,” Naib said in response, muffled slightly against your chest. His hair was down, dripping, dampening your shirt.

“I’m sure, it sounded like your match was a busy one for my favorite rescue specialist.” He groaned in confirmation. “But you know there’s a perfectly good pillow right next to me?” You felt more than saw his lips pull into a smirk.

“I like these better,” he said. “Warmer, softer, and they come with a heartbeat.” To punctuate his point, Naib laid his ear right over your heart and settled back in. “Rub my back for me.”

“You’re being awfully demanding,” you replied. “What if I don’t like you laying on me like this, hmm?”

Naib groaned louder and made a show of peeling himself away from you. He got as far as elbow-height from your body before you tossed your book away, forcibly hugged his face back into your chest, and locked your legs around his waist. With a short laugh, he collapsed back on top of you. One of his hands ran the length of your side appreciatively while he settled back in, cheeks now well and truly smushed by your bosom.

“You’re the best,” he muttered when your hands began rubbing circles into his shoulders, and after several minutes drifted away to sleep.

Eli Clark

-A little more shy about it. He asks first, but he’s just a tiny bit awkward about it.

-Also handles teasing well, as he knows when you’re being serious or not, even if you’re really subtle.

-So very sweet about it. He just wants to be held. ;;

---

Eli finally stepped into your room after checking on everyone post-match. It always took him forever to make his rounds, but it was hard to be upset when his absence was for such kind reasons. Brooke Rose took a perch onyour coat rack, and Eli made himself comfortable, sluggishly removing both his cloak and eyemask. You were already watching him when he turned to face you, bright blue eyes locking onto your form. A sweet, but tired smile slipped onto his lips.

After several long moments holding one another’s stares like that, and his cheeks steadily growing pink, you ventured to ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Ah,” Eli finally said. “I was just wondering…if I could join you?”

“Of course you can,” you chuckled. Always cautious, this one, even after losing count of all the times you’ve given permission. You patted the mattress next to you, and Eli seemed pleased with the offer, but stopped again with just one knee on the bed, vaguely hovering over your reclined form.

“Actually, I was wondering if I might…lay on you?” he asked.

“Feeling a little extra clingy tonight, are we?” you asked back. His head dipped away in embarrassment, but he didn’t retreat from you. He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Can I?” he asked again.

“Can you?” Your voice dropped low, teasing and suggestive.

“You’re cheeky,” he said back, “I think I can.” Carefully, he slid himself up against your side. His legs tangled with yours, torso half-topping, half-spooning you. He was trying to be mindful of his weight, but when he finally settled and seemed happy with the position, he was coiled around you like ivy. And his head cradled right against your boobs.

“I see what this is,” you taunted, unable to resist one more. “You just wanted easy access to the stress balls.” Eli barked a loud laugh in response. He turned his head up as if to say something but cut himself off when your fingers slipped into his hair and began combing through it. The treatment relaxed him, and you two fell gently into intimate silence.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #naib subedar x reader #eli clark x reader #idv seer #idv mercenary #turbulentscrawl

275 notes · View notes

lynnerdo · 5 months ago

Text

* The heart is not meant to rule *

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader

Tag list: @wo-ming-bai

Slow burn, knife kink, blood kink, strangers to lovers, softer!Feyd-Rautha, CONSENT, 18+, arranged marriage, assassination, poison, murder, etc

Previous Chapter - You Fought Well Current Chapter - The Fall

***

You try to calm down Feyd as he is storming the halls, throwing everything out of his way, attacking servants. You manage to catch up to him and grab one of his arms in order to get him to stop. He retaliates by turning around and pressing you against the wall nearby. His breathing is heavy, his eyes searching for any form of calm in yours. You are fully aware that in his rage he would be able to do anything, but you trust him not to be so stupid. He's holding both of your arms down so you can’t really defend yourself at this point. Physically, there’s nothing you can do.

You softly look up at him, as you’re tracing his face, he seems to calm down a bit, when you stop at his lips you feel him come closer to you. You lift your head as he towers over you.

“Kiss me,” you speak up.

He wastes no time after that, kissing you hard and aggressive. His manners seem all the more possessive than usual, and he doesn’t let go of you for even one short second. When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. Calmed down, he finally releases you slowly. Your hands go straight up to hold his head and massage his neck.

“… I hate him,” he manages to croak out.

There was an unspoken sadness and trauma which you heard. You had no idea what their history was, but layered and heavy, that’s what it felt like. You praised yourself lucky to have had an upbringing with lots of love. Even more reason why you felt the need to help Feyd combat his demons.

“I won’t allow him to hurt you anymore, Feyd,” your words came out without much thought.

Feyd sniffed a laugh at you whilst he made eye contact. He knew you couldn’t really do anything to protect him, but he appreciated the gesture. The Baron had so much power and frankly speaking, you had barely anything. Even should your family back out of the deal, it would only take a few days to decimate all the Atreides. You both knew this, but it was the sentiment that was important.

“And what will you do? Challenge him in the arena?” Feyd said with a small smile on his lips.

You smiled up at him, shrugging at the thought. Because why not? It’s not like he would win in a physical fight anyway.

The next couple of days were tense. The both of you had a lot of meetings together with political parties, economics specialists and both of your families constantly had to be informed of what the other was doing. In everything the Baron said, it always felt like he was trying to offend you, calling you names, not respecting you, or not seeing you as an equal to Feyd. You wonder why he even agreed upon the arranged marriage in the first place.

Feyd’s self-control was tightly wound, it would only take a few more stabs at your honour for him to actually attack the Baron. Today would be a calmer day however, with the last meeting of the week set in the Giedi Prime gardens. You noticed a newly introduced species since last time you visited. The colour a grim black and white because of the dark sun, but you managed to figure out the plant. Caladian Rose. You looked over at Feyd to see if he had anything to do with it. His eyes went soft as you looked at him quizzable. Your mouth turned into a smile as you diverted your attention to the flower again and took a big whiff of it. It reminded Feyd of you, and it reminded you of home. He must’ve taken the seeds back home since last he came back from Caladan, since it takes a while for the plant to grow like it had.

As Feyd is discussing matters you hear a rustling in the bushes a few meters behind you but think nothing of it. Unbeknownst to you, danger lurked among the shadows. A figure, cloaked in darkness, moved silently along the garden’s edge, eyes fixed on you. Their heart racing as they closed the distance, you, oblivious to the looming threat.

In a swift, fluid motion, the assassin drew a blade, its edge glinting in the dim light. They sprang from their cover, aiming for your back, but the distance betrayed their presence at the last moment. Feyd’s instincts kicked in, honed by years of training and survival. He moved close to you, extending his arm, bladed, as he clashed with the assassin’s blade, steel ringing against steel. Your reflex kicked in to drop down and kick the assailant in the chest, making him stumble backwards. Feyd went in for the offence then, his agility no match for the other, precision and speed his second name.

With a desperate burst of strength, Feyd managed to disarm the assassin, sending their blade flying into the undergrowth. But the assassin was not so easily defeated. They lunged forward, tackling Feyd to the ground. The struggle continued, each fighting for control. In a final, decisive move, Feyd twisted free and drove his dagger into the assassin's side. A gasp of pain escaped the assailant's lips as they collapsed, clutching the wound. Feyd stood over them, breathing heavily, eyes filled with a mixture of triumph and anger.

"Who sent you?" he spat out, but the assassin remained silent, their mission incomplete.

Feyd knew better than to expect an answer. He watched as the life faded from their eyes, another casualty in the brutal game of power that defined Geidi Prime. Until he spotted a mark on the assassin’s hand. His uncle, the Baron, had sent them. Feyd’s jaw locked in a tense glare. As he turned to you, you had to admit that you’ve never seen him this seething and angry before. He looked at you on the ground and walked over to you slowly, eventually squatting down.

“Are you alright?” His voice a mix between anger and softness, he’s clearly having a tough time with emotions at this point.

You simply nod and take the hand he’s offering to pull you up. As you get up from the grass he pulls you flush against him in a posessive hug. His breathing labored, you somehow feel more like a squeezetoy than a person right now, but you let him. If this means he managed to calm down, then it’s for the better.

“I’m going to murder him,” he whispers angrily into your ear.

You only just put two and two together when he said that. The Baron really hated your guts for some reason, or maybe he just hated Feyd.

As soon as your father got word of the assassination attempt he was completely done with this planet. His decision final: you were to return to Caladan to reassure your safety. At least for now.

In a secleded corner of the palace, Feyd had waited for you, anxiety clearly etched on his face. When you appeared from Leto’s chambers, your face was a mixture of sorrow and resolve. As he spotted you like that he felt his heart clench.

“My father is sending me back to Caladan,” you manage to say, voice trembling.

A big frown on Feyd’s face, his expression also a mixture of disappointment and understanding.

“When?” he spoke as his jaw clenched further.

Tonight,” you reply, tears welling up in your eyes. “He believes it’s the only way to keep me safe.”

Feyd understood, and possibly even agreed. It’s not a life to keep living in fear every waking moment you were on Geidi Prime, he wanted you to feel at home, or at least safe. He couldn’t assure you fully that something like what had just transpired would never happen again.

He reached out, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This can’t be goodbye,” he said, voice soft. “We will see each other again soon.” More so a promise he would be willing to make in blood for you than some simple words he meant.

Tears started to stream down your face as you look up at him.

“We will’, your voice choking with emotion. “But until then, promise me you’ll stay safe Feyd. Don’t take any risks.”

Feyd took a while to nod, unsure if he could promise her such things. He hoped he could. As you stood together for a while, he held you tightly, a silence between you filled with unspoken fears and hopes. Finally you pulled back, heart aching terribly.

“I should go, the ship will be waiting,” you say as you try to clear your head and wipe away another tear.

Feyd catches your hand and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles.

“Until we meet again, my lady.”

Your hand comes up to cup his face in it and he fully leans into your touch. Eyes closed, not wanting this moment to end. You kiss him on the lips and he reciprocates, ever so softly.

“I love you,” you manage softly.

His eyes fly open with a newfound passion. His own voice too weak to say the same words back, but you know he feels the same. He eventually lets you go and with a final, heartbreaking glance, you turn and walk away, the echo of your farewell lingering in the dark and cold halls of the palace. Feyd watches you until you disappear from view, a vow forming in his heart to reunite with you, no matter the cost.

As the ship lifts off, you feel a part of your heart staying behind on Giedi Prime, with the man you loved.

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #the heart is not meant to rule #fanfiction #dune #dune 2 #dune part two #dune part 2 #dune movie

61 notes · View notes

mistydeyes · 1 year ago

Text

undercover with undiscovered feelings

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Your codename is Belladonna and one thing is clear you have a mood more sour than Ghost's. You hated the limelight, the shock and awe of it all, preferring to take your enemies out discreetly and quietly. Suddenly Laswell throws you to the wolves along with Soap, your fake French American fiancé. As if that wasn't bad enough, you have one secret. You're in love with him but you won't let him see past your hard exterior.

pairing: Soap x fem!Reader, sunshine x grumpy trope

warnings: SWEARING, violence, depiction of wounds, feelings being brought to the surface

a/n: thought it was time my scottish boy deserves some love

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Belladonna, the infamous 141's specialist in stealth and toxicology. Price took you on board due to your decorated resume and ability to discreetly take out your target. From day one, a certain mohawk soldier would not let you live down that your code name was also one shared with a porn star. God you hated him. Although maybe not hate, more like "unwillingly attracted to." You were polar opposites. While Johnny always was one for the theatrics, you were not one for shock and awe. You preferred to blend in the crowd, a grey man if you will. But stealth wouldn't help you here as Laswell planned to put you on in the limelight.

God, you should've known that breaking a mirror with your stray bullet would have its consequences. Now, you were sitting in this debrief in a safehouse in Italy wishing you had taken that bullet instead. Your legs bounced with nervousness as Laswell went through the planned covert op.

"I see you looking at me, Bell. I'm sorry but this mission is going to require you to get more intimate and not hide in the shadows," she said as you tried to silence your rapid heartbeat. All eyes were on you as Laswell continued, the mission was a simple one. One team would enter through the vents and gain access to a museum's records, a front for child trafficking. Another team would work undercover and make sure no one noticed the information extraction. What was your role? Oh Laswell made sure to painful describe how you would pose as a wealthy art collector accompanied by your body guard and your fiancé to be. "And who would those be?" you asked, fearing the worst. "Soap will be your dutiful boyfriend of 5 years while Ghost chaperones you through the night." You couldn't believe what you were hearing, out of all people why did they pick the Scottish idiot who you secretly liked. "What about Price and Gaz?" you wondered as Laswell had not reached the end of her debrief. "We'll be doing the hard work, you're just the distraction, Sweetheart," Price said and soon you would realize what he meant as a distraction.

"Stop shaking, Y/N," Price said as Ghost delicately tried a ring on your finger. "First, you all expect me to go undercover. Next, you make me act all cozy with this sweaty idiot. And now, you're having me try on rings to be fake proposed too?" you shouted as Soap held your hand to stabilize it. "Not just any ring, bonnie. A ring hand picked by me with the finest Japanese saltwater pearl and a band of 3 ct of diamonds set in pink gold. Now let me put it on your finger and you can go." You huffed as he and Price examined the fit of the ring, ensuring it was perfect for the planned engagement.

To your dismay, the night had finally arrived. You nervously checked the mirror as your hair lay loose around your shoulders. It was parted to one side, covertly hiding a comm in your left ear. Earlier, the boys had been relentless as you applied your makeup and curled your hair. Soap almost gained a black eye when he joked, "Well, our wee Bell actually cleaned up for once." The mission might end up being the death of you and your heart.

You felt nauseous looking at your self, examining how the dress flowed from one shoulder and ended with a waterfall of restricting pink tulle. The only thing you liked about this dress were the navy blue pearls adorning the layers of fabric, a subtle nod to your code name. "Lass, it's time," you heard Soap knock. You bunched up your skirt as you made your way to answer him. You were thankful Laswell had graciously gifted you with a knife tucked in a garter along with a set of Clostridium botulinum syringes. You opened the door to see him finely dressed in a midnight blue cashmere wool, silk blend suit. You couldn't deny he was handsome. Your pulse quickened as you examined him further, he had been asked to shave his famous mohawk and instead had a simple haircut. To him, you were also a sight to behold. Your cynical demeanor had endeared him, he loved making fun of you until he noticed a slight reaction. But now you looked even more gorgeous, he felt his breath hitch as he saw how the dress fit your curves perfectly and showed off your frame wonderfully. "Soap, let's go," you said breaking the silence and ending his trance. "You look breath-taking, Lass. Couldn't help but stare." You were glad he walked behind you as your face was bright red.

You exited the safe house marveling at the black Aston Martin Laswell had obtained for the op. As you got in the car, you noted Laswell driving along with Ghost in a black suit fixing his cufflinks in the passenger seat. "We're bringing you out of the shadows tonight, Bell" Ghost began, "don't worry we got you covered" he said and flashed his inner coat to show a gun tucked in its lining. Laswell, ever the observer, could feel your nerves. "Bell, there's some tequila in the console for you," she said and you quickly leaned over Soap's lap to grab it. Bless this woman, she knew your favorite. After taking many sips from the bottle, you tried to offer it to Soap but he disgustingly replied, "that shite tastes like dog piss." More for you, you guessed. You nursed the bottle as Laswell drove over the rolling hills of the coast. You tried to calm your nerves reminding yourself this was just another mission, something that you could add to your resume. You kept mentally telling yourself, "keep it professional".

Finally you felt the car come to a stop as Soap lightly tapped your shoulder indicating your arrival. "Let's go, my pearl," he said in a surprisingly convincing American accent. In this narrative, you were from a wealthy Portuguese home while Soap was your new money, New York City-transplant French American. He held out his hand as he helped you out of the vehicle. As you felt the cold coastal chill on your shoulders, you made your way to the entrance.

You made your way to check-in, Ghost silently following behind. You forcefully smiled, introducing yourself as Elaine de Rosales and your date as Renoir Cretin (dumbass in French). The host stifled a laugh at Soap's fake last name and allowed you three to enter.

As you entered the large gallery, you noted some familiar faces from the endless files Laswell had "gifted" you with. "Fucking bastards," you said under you breath and Simon whispered behind you, "that's no language for a lady." He was definitely getting his ass kicked next time you had a training exercise.

When Soap went for your hand, you could feel your heart jump. You should've downed that entire tequila bottle. He held your hand, gracefully leading you around the gallery as you made painful conversation about each piece. You were never one for arts and your horrible comments made that clear. "This looks nice," you said with a questioning tone and you heard Price laugh at your comment. He remarked, "Kid, you're so dry. Just try to act like you don't want to inject yourself with botulism right now." Every one was seriously out to get you today.

"You look more breathtaking than this painting, darling," Soap said aloud as you admired The Birth of Venus. He was laying on this whole couple thing, hard. You hoped he couldn't feel the heat radiating from your face as he planned a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "My love, you're too kind. You're practically carved from marble," you replied back, catching a glimpse of a pink blush on his cheeks.

After you examined yet another painting, Price notified you that they had gained access into the main server room. You gave Soap a subtle set of three taps with your thumb. He knew it was time as he lead you over to the main attraction. You lifted your eyes, gazing upon the large rendition of Eros and Psyche in front of you. Soap let go of your hand as he set himself on one knee.

Weeks before, Soap attempted to relieve your nerves as he described the masterful speech he would deliver to you. There were many revisions as he practiced the fateful moment to you. "You know, Soap, if I were a dumb, I'd say you're in love with me" you joked, "that speech was disgustingly romantic from the likes of you." "Oh fuck off, Bell. The first nice thing you say about me ends with an insult," he shot back. To anyone watching, the tension was clear but you remained your grumpy self, hiding your emotions.

Brought back into the moment, you could hear the crowd hush, eyes focused on you and him. "Elaine, ever since I saw you lost in the streets of Versailles, you have captivated me with your beauty and elegance. Your vast knowledge of art has shown me that there's more to a painting than a canvas with paint. I love you and will forever be there to listen to your musings about Monet and Degas," he began and you waited for the fateful words to fall out of mouth. However, to your surprise he continued, "I have never met anyone who entertained my antics quite like you have. You challenge me constantly with your fiery words and quips. This little dance of ours makes me a more humble, more loving man. Looking at you tonight, I realize that you are the woman who inspires me to surmount all obstacles. Will you make make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?" You were shocked, that was definitely not part of the script. Your face flushed at his kind words and he looked deep into your eyes.

"Oh yes, Renoir!" you whispered as tears fell from your eyes. He triumphantly picked you up, spinning you in his arms. He set you down and held your chin gently in his hand. He raised your face to his and placed a long kiss on your mouth. Your lips moved in sync as he held you tightly with his other arm. You were lost in each other, ignoring the full attention of the crowd. As you parted, the crowd loudly clapped at the spectacle. You took this moment to lean over to your new fiancé and whispered, "You went off script." He gently kissed your cheek and whispered back, "meant every word, Bell." Ghost returned to your side as older couples gathered, congratulating the "new couple." Your smile was genuine as you showed off the expensive ring, giddily detailing how your mothers would be so proud you bagged a good one.

You walked around the gallery more, now linking arms with Soap. You hadn't acknowledged the speech since your whisperings and went about downing numerous offered glasses of champagne. You made your way to a private gallery adored with more opulent paintings of historic love stories. Ghost positioned himself next to the security guard, allowing you both to sit on a bench and admire the artwork. After what seemed like forever, you in your tipsy state, broke the silence.

"My love, I appreciated your kind words. I never thought you felt that way about me," you said quietly, eyes trained on a depiction of. "Well El, you never gave me the chance. When we first met in France, I thought you disdained me," he replied, moving to hold your waist.

"I never disdained you, just ran away from my feelings," you whispered back. As you finished your sentence, he again placed his hand on your chin to lift your face. Just as you were about to kiss again, you heard through the comm, "Bell, Soap, we've been compromised. Gaz jammed their signals but security is heading to our location as we speak," Price said in a rushed tone.

Immediately, you feigned a dizzy spell as Ghost and the museum security guard rushed to help you. As they helped to carry you to a private room, you mumbled incoherently about how you were drunk on love. Once the security guard set you down, Soap shut the door and you discreetly injected the man with one of your toxins. As he lay on the velvet couch, Ghost replied to Gaz and Price that you were on the way.

Exiting the room, Ghost stopped a patrolling security guard and said, "There's a young woman in that room. Try not to disturb her, I believe she may have had one too many drinks and her father doesn't want a fiasco for the family."

With that, you made your way through the various guests, loudly whispering to your fiancé that you desperately wanted some alone time. No one questioned you as Ghost made his way to the stairwell and you both split into the elevator.

Descending to the ground floor, you could hear gunshots echoing through the elevator doors. As it opened, a guard yelled that you both shouldn't be down there before becoming distracted by another gunshot. You took this time to pull out another syringe and injected it into his neck.

"Nice work, Elaine," Soap said and armed himself with a hidden pistol from his suit pocket. Ghost joined you both soon after as you made your way to the other team's location. You three worked in unison as the boys provided a pleasant distraction with their gunfire. You were able to sneak you way and subdue the guards with your knife as they were distracted by the noise of falling bodies and shots fired. You finally made it to the room, notifying your presence with a coded series of knocks. Price heaved the door open as you noticed Gaz behind him, drive in hand but with a bleeding arm. You quickly tore the layers of fabric from your dress and provided a makeshift tourniquet.

"How are we getting out of here, Captain? They're gonna have this place on lockdown," Gaz asked. "There's a delivery area on this floor, we'll have to hurry," Ghost said and navigated you all through the winding corridors.

You finally snuck you way to the area but noticed 5 guards standing watch. "Gobshite, they must've already put this place on lockdown," Soap swore quietly. With the adrenaline rushing to your ears, you had an idea, "follow my lead, Renoir. Danger close, boys. Just listen for my signal" you whispered. You quickly took some blood from Gaz's leaking wound and applied it to your dress and ripped skirt. You rubbed your hands on Soap's pristine white shirt and pooled it around his stomach. You then motioned for him to cover his hands with Gaz's blood. "Thanks, mate," Soap whispered to Gaz and you quickly rushed into the large delivery room.

"Please help us!" you shrieked, you held on desperately to Ghost. "My fiancé and I were attacked by some crazed gunsman, I think he's been shot," you cried as the men rushed over to help. Your loud wailing and statements saying how you couldn't lose your love distracted them and allowed for you 5 to take them out. The minute you took one of the men closest to you out with your last syringe, you shrieked, "MY GOD, Kate's been shot!" That was the queue as the boys knew Laswell was nowhere near the museum. Soap quickly took out the two men trying to find the source of his bleeding while Price and Ghost handled the other two.

With the men down and the area cleared, you loaded into an armored van, presumably one that transported all the expensive art. With Price at the wheel, Ghost provided cover as you raced into the night.

Finally away from danger, you all breathed a sigh of relief. Gaz lay in the middle of Ghost and Price, tending to his wound while you and Soap lay in the back amongst the plastic wrappings of paintings.

"You were a great actress, lass. Who knew you had it in ya," Soap said as you sat next to him. You both were propped against the steel interior of the van, experiencing every bump Price hit. "You as well, that proposal was something else," you replied back. "Like I said in the gallery, Bell, I meant every word." With that, you finally were able to share your second kiss and Price smiled looking in the rearview mirror. "Be careful with that one Sgt, if you mess up she'll slip some ricin in your mouth." he joked as you and Soap rested against one another, you'd deal with the repercussions later.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x you #mw2 #izzie is writing

282 notes · View notes

the-hopeless-haze · 1 year ago

Text

Bet She Was Brutal and Bratty

Part 1 of Series: Accident Waiting to Happen

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/reader

Summary: Enemies to lovers. Called in to the BAU as a psychiatric consult by Reid, you turn Aaron's life upside down for worse or for better. He doesn't understand why Reid likes you, or why you chose a people-facing career, or why you're so goddamn miserable and hellbent on dragging him down too. But you know what they say. Once an adrenaline junkie, always chasing that high.

------------

“Why do we need a psychiatrist?” Morgan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve already got one in there and she’s not much help.”

“The BAU, which was originally called the BSU, was actually founded by two agents and a psychiatric nurse. We wouldn’t have jobs right now without her expertise,” Reid drawls, happy to insert factoids into the conversation once again. “It’s what makes it a science. Her name was Ann Burgess, and she—“

“Okay, okay. We don’t need a history lesson. Elle is in there. Are you sure your contact can come down here to fly with us?” Aaron asks.

“She works in the area,” he says.

“And she’s good?” Morgan asks. “You’ve worked with her before?”

“Yeah. You could say that.”

————- “Jesus, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us,” Morgan says, sending you a teasing smile that you meet with a scowl. “Didn’t know you knew women this pretty.”

“Christ. Save it,” you mutter as you board the plane. “I don’t need you drooling on the floor.”

“It was a compliment,” he says, faltering.

“Yeah. And also a backhanded insult to Reid. It’s smarmy and arrogant and the fact you have to put other men down to give compliments to women goes to show you’re terrifyingly insecure,” you respond.

There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence as everyone else gets situated on the plane, letting the weight of your comment sink in and settle in the air.

“Well. She told you, I suppose,” JJ says quietly.

“Anyone else have any comments they’d like to add?” you ask, scanning the plane. There’s Spencer, still scrawny and awkward as ever. You wonder why he bothered to reach out to you in the first place. It’s not often the BAU says they need help from psychiatrists like yourself despite its past history. He looks better, now, though, and this team won’t know it or appreciate it but he’s come far since you last saw him.

Then there’s Morgan, who you know you’re going to butt heads with. Bordering on chauvinist, you assume, doesn’t take the weight of these cases as seriously as he should. Too young, too macho, too arrogant.

He is attractive though.

He can have that.

His lines probably usually work.

There’s JJ, media specialist. She’s pretty, blindingly pretty, has a face and a voice for the TV screen, alright. You don’t see yourself having too many issues with her. She seems like as long as she can do her job you can do yours however you please.

You always worked better with women, anyway.

Next to her is Gideon, an older man with a balding spot in the center of his head. Been doing this too long, probably. Jaded. Maybe even burnt out. Seen a lot of people die.

The jury’s out on him. But he’s a man, so.

And then… there’s Hotchner. Tall, quiet, stoic, with dark eyes and dark hair. He’s the only one who dares to meet your eyes after your outburst with Morgan. Shows he’s not easily intimidated.

You already don’t like that.

“You can cool it with the remarks,” Hotchner has the audacity to say.

“Your agent was just hitting on me when we’re in the middle of a hostage situation and you’re telling me to cool it with the remarks?” you ask. “Why don’t you reprimand the person you actually have authority over? I’m doing you all a favor because apparently you’re all too inept to do this on your own.”

He’s narrowing his eyes slightly at you, and he’s about to say something in return until he’s interrupted by Morgan.

“Okay. Okay. If this is going to be an issue, I’m sorry, alright?” Morgan says, raising his hands in surrender. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re a professional, and I should have addressed you as such. I’m sorry. Okay?”

“Thanks for all your help, Spencer,” you say, glaring at him.

“Well, actually, in past occasions you’ve said you would prefer to handle situations with what you call and I quote ‘douchebag men’ on your own without assistance from me,” he says. “Something about fighting your own battles.”

“That was before you knew how to fire a gun,” you quip. “But thank you for agreeing that Derek is a douchebag.”

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean… I was saying that’s what you would say,” he sputters, blushing red.

“Cute,” you tease. “It’s fine. I’m sure he gets it a lot. Anyway. Is anyone going to brief me more than what Spencer gave me over the phone or do you want me walking into this blind?”

“He’s a psychotic,” Hotchner says, his tone clipped.

“Yeah? Is that truly all you think I need to know or is that actually all you know?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why did you all even get called in? Christ, I think a local police department is as equipped to deescalate a person in active psychosis as you. And, if you didn’t catch that, by equipped, I mean not well at all. Sending you dogs in there is going to do nothing. Psychosis is a completely different beast than what you’re usually dealing with. None of you have the training necessary.”

“We let Reid call you in for a reason,” he offers, giving you a tight-lipped smile, extending an olive branch.

“Save it, Hotchner. We don’t need to be civil.”

“I see no reason to try and create animosity.”

“Can’t say I agree. How’d you clear me this fast, anyway?” you ask.

“We are the best of the best.”

“Oh, God,” you groan. “I don’t even think I have enough fingers to count how many times the FBI’s very own BAU has fumbled the ball.”

“Hm. Seems civility truly is lost on you,” Hotchner sighs. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have cleared you.”

“Funny,” you smirk at him, glad you were getting under his skin.

“Anyway… submitting you for clearance may have been one of the first things I did when I got the job,” Spencer says, grinning sheepishly.

You roll your eyes at him. “Wish you didn’t.”

“Why’d you come, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“For you,” you say softly, wishing the rest of this goddamn team wasn’t here to see you show any point of weakness.

But Reid was a source of weakness for you, an Achilles heel if you will.

Even now that he’s equipped with a gun license and even more of an encyclopedic knowledge, to you, he’s still that kid you met at your lowest point.

“You came all the way down here for Reid?” Hotchner asks.

You shrug. “Do I need a better reason?”

“Most people wouldn’t need one. You…”

“You think you already know me, Aaron? Hm? You think you can profile me?” you ask, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. You see him stiffen when you say his first name.

He hates you.

You love it.

“I think this isn’t an appropriate conversation to have with an audience.”

“Why? You don’t want your employees to hear your astute observations? You invited the conversation. Aaron.”

“It’s Agent Hotchner,” he says through gritted teeth.

“I’d call you by your title if I felt you deserved one. Aaron,” you say, a lilting smile on your lips.

Spencer says your name, hitting you on the shoulder lightly. “Please. I love you, but please stop embarrassing me in front of my boss.”

“Don’t worry, honey. He won’t be your boss for long,” you say, grinning at him. “That wedding ring you keep playing with? You’re on the verge of a divorce, aren’t you, Aaron? Job getting to her?”

“Stop,” Spencer begs. “Stop.”

Aaron feels a fire burning, a migraine starting, a nausea building.

You are antagonistic, abrasive and acrid. Belligerent. Caustic.

And Aaron is a man who prides himself on his ability to keep his cool. Trying so hard to not be his father’s son, to fall as far away from the tree as possible. Catch bad people instead of becoming one. But you? You’re destined to bring out the worst in him, bring out all his terrible qualities he’s tried so hard to stifle, cover up, keep hidden.

He expects the people he catches to anger him and he knows how to deal with that. He knows how to swallow it down and go for a run and be able to sleep at night.

You?

Christ. You’d claw at his throat, coming up like heartburn he can’t swallow down without the acid scalding his chest.

And the worst part is?

You’re getting off on this, on teasing him, arguing with him, seeing him squirm. You think this is fun. Riling people up, pushing buttons, and making them miserable.

You must be miserable to find pleasure in this.

But, begrudgingly, he admits to himself, you’re good at what you’re doing. You are successful at making him irritated and at making the entire team of agents uncomfortable in an environment that was their home turf. You would be an excellent asset in an interrogation room. Who needs physical torture when they could bring you in? He thinks maybe he should send Guantanamo your contact information. They’d certainly appreciate it.

And the fact that you realized he was on the rocks with his wife… lucky guess, on your part, maybe, he doesn’t know many people his age that have perfect relationships with their spouses, but… again, it’s like you knew the exact nerves to hit. And you didn’t care if you hurt the person they belonged to.

Still… you can’t be a terrible person. For you and Reid to have such an easy relationship, understanding, trust… Reid had to know the real you. Reid was closed off and awkward with everyone on the team and it had been months but with you the way you both fell into natural conversation and that Reid had told you he loved you and you didn’t bat an eye… and that the most sincerity you showed was when you said you came down here for him… and Reid is a good kid, kindhearted, genuine.

There’s something deeper than colleagues there even if neither of you will say.

“I go too far, Aaron? You can’t take the heat anymore?” you ask, ignoring Reid.

“It’s Hotchner,” he says again, forcing his tone to be neutral through gritted teeth.

The other thing?

You’re fucking gorgeous.

Morgan wasn’t off-base with his comment, even if it was terribly received and definitely not the right setting. Every time you say his name it goes right fucking through him.

He’s still married. He’s still trying to make it work.

He’s absolutely fucking miserable. You got that right.

If he ever came on to you, ever got you on your knees in front of him, he wouldn’t trust you not to bite his dick off, anyway. Dramatic, maybe, especially from so little time knowing you, but he can’t exactly imagine sex with you as a loving experience. It’d be push and pull, pain more than pleasure, ache more than release.

Exactly what you crave.

Probably.

You look at him, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk, like you know just what he’s thinking about. Cornering you against a wall, shoving his knee between your legs, seeing if you’d still talk back then.

You would.

God he fucking hates you. Can’t fucking stand you.

This isn’t like him, either. Elle and JJ are beautiful women that he’s around constantly, and on occasion, his thoughts will travel where he doesn’t want them to go, but they’re easily quelled.

Nothing about you is easy.

“Whatever you say, Aaron.”

The only consolation he has is that it’s a short plane ride.

———

Landing in Texas, you’re immediately assaulted by the heat, and you wish you didn’t have such an affinity for Spencer that you let him drag you out here. And it’s fucking ridiculous, the amount of people they have making up these SWAT teams for one man with a gun that’s more a risk to himself than anyone else on that train.

But whatever.

You weren’t going to change a broken system any more than you were going to fix your own broken psyche.

Spencer was doing the right thing, calling you in. At least one of the agents wasn’t a hopeless fucking idiot.

One of them already managed to get herself in this fucking situation to begin with.

“Well, it took two hours just to convince him to allow a two-way phone. But he won't speak to anyone except what he calls the ‘Higher Authorities.’” The cop says to Gideon, who you’re following into the van they had set up nearby.

“God?” you ask.

“No mentions of religion thus far.”

“Has the Crisis Negotiation lead claimed to be the Higher Authority?” Gideon asks.

“The UnSub won't speak to him any longer,” the cop answers.

“You’re not seriously going to feed into his delusion, are you?” you ask Gideon.

“It might get us an in,” he says, shrugging.

“He gave a deadline of three hours to produce this Authority,” the cop interjects. “And that was two and a half hours ago.”

“Jesus Christ,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Why would you feed into his delusion?”

“Maybe because he’s armed and keeping hostages.”

“Well. Look how far it got you,” you snap. “We’ve got half an hour left and you didn’t get any closer to releasing them. Gideon. You think you can be this higher authority?”

“You want me to feed into it after all that?”

“We need to find out what he wants. We don’t have a choice with our limited time thanks to our lovely local cops. I would do it myself but I doubt even in his delusions he’s enlightened enough to believe a woman is the higher authority.”

“If he makes any reference to an endgame of killing himself and the hostages, it’s over and we’re rushing the train,” Hotchner says.

“He’s not going to kill the hostages,” you say.

“How can you be so confident?”

“He’s more likely to kill himself and only himself.”

“But he could still kill them.”

“Well. If I’m the Higher Authority, I’m not going to him. He’s coming to me,” Gideon says. “We need to help him ask the first question.”

“Whenever we get a leeway, we need to say we need a hostage back, or we can’t make any promises,” you say. “It’s dangerous and unfair to validate his delusion in any way. I’m only advising it because of the gravity of the situation. Be vague. The less you say, the better.”

Gideon nods.

“Any objections?” You ask, turning to Hotchner.

“Not at this present moment,” he huffs in annoyance.

It’s a woman’s voice on the line. She’s terrified, coming off quivering and shaking. “He wants to know who you are. He wants to know who just arrived.”

“Tell him it's someone who can help resolve the situation.”

“What….What part of the government do you work for?” she asks after telling him.

“I never said I was with the government,” Gideon answers.

“Are you FBI?”

“He can ask me himself.”

She tells him, and the phone goes over to him. “Tell me who you are or I’m going to kill myself. I want it out!”

“You know who I am.”

“If you're the Higher Authority, then you can have it removed.”

You hit the button to pause the line, the crisis negotiator looking at you with irritation. You ignore him, saying, “Don’t agree to that. Be vague. Say you can’t do anything until you get a hostage back. Tell him to let the woman go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure! Get back on the line.”

Gideon nods in agreement.

“It'll take some time,” he says cautiously.

“I want it removed now.”

“It’ll take some time. I need one of your hostages back. Let the woman go.”

“You’ll get it out?”

“I need some time,” he says. “And I need the woman back.”

“But you’ll get it out? You have an hour or I swear I’m going to kill myself!”

“I need the woman back before we can discuss that. Can you do that for me? Let her walk out?”

“Yes. Okay. One hour!”

“Good job. Glad you listened to me. Seems someone isn’t inept here,” you say to Gideon, and he smiles, shaking his head.

“Aaron and Morgan aren’t bad agents. You all just got off on the wrong foot.”

“We’ll see about that assessment.”

“The hostages don’t matter to him,” you say. “He might believe they’re working with the higher authorities, he might not, but it doesn’t matter. I believe what he wants is for the voices to stop. I don’t think he’ll hurt them as long as he isn’t provoked. He let her go without much bargaining.”

“Good job, Jason,” Hotchner says, catching up with you two.

“Jason? I got her out,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Hotchner looks at Gideon for confirmation.

“She did. I probably wouldn’t have tried it myself,” he admits.

“Maybe you should all take orders from me instead,” you say, brushing past Aaron to walk over to Reid.

“She’s something, huh, Aaron?” Gideon asks, smiling at Aaron knowingly.

“Don’t, Jason,” he scolds.

“Reid found us a spitfire, hm?”

“Don’t really know how they’re friends,” Morgan interjects. “Maybe they are more than that. She swooped in to his defense pretty fast.”

“You shouldn’t have hit on her the second she walked in,” Aaron says.

“That was barely a comment. Come on. I could’ve said much worse. And I apologized. Look at her, though, Hotch. If only she wasn’t so… hostile…”

“‘Like a golden ring in a swine’s snout is a beautiful woman with a rebellious disposition,’” Gideon recites. “Proverbs.”

“Well, I think that’s more sexist than my comment, Gideon,” Morgan chuckles. “I know the Bible isn’t known for being progressive, but, wow.”

“I’m not saying I agree with it. I’m just pointing out how quick you are to cast her aside for her attitude. Is she really a waste of beauty because of the way she acts?”

“I mean… we all heard her, right? She is kind of… a lot.”

“Well. There’s a reason for it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what, yet.”

“Don’t make it a habit of trying to sleep with consults, either, Morgan. You never know if we’ll need to call her again,” Aaron interjects.

Morgan looks at him, shocked. “You’re thinking about calling her again? After all that?”

“If she was able to guide us to get a hostage out within minutes of being here, then yes. She’s effective.”

“Effective at pissing you off, too. I don’t know. Doesn’t seem like she’d be good for your blood pressure.”

“I’ll be fine. Go call into Garcia and see if she has any updates on the rest of our hostages.”

“Morgan’s not wrong. You seem extra tense today,” Gideon observes, then walks over to you and Reid.

“He thinks there’s a chip. Common delusion, even by people that don’t have schizophrenia,” you say. “Government is always watching. Whatever. Tell him there’s no chip. Or tell him he needs to leave the train to remove it if you feel the dire need to be assholes.”

“I don’t think that will work,” Aaron says brusquely. “There’s a chance he could kill everyone if we tell him there’s not a chip. He believes there is.”

“Okay. But we know there isn’t,” you say tersely, rolling your eyes at him. “His speech is lucid. There's no sign of neologisms, word salad, or loosening of associations. He can be negotiated with.”

“What if we can remove the chip?" Morgan asks.

"I can do that magic trick. Sleight of hand," Spencer offers.

“Are you kidding me?” you ask, looking at him incredulously.

“I used to do it during exams,” Spencer says. “You remember.”

“Yeah. Not tricking an armed man with schizophrenia. Come on, Spencer. You’re smarter than that. You guys can't risk giving him another agent as a hostage.”

“Teach it to me,” Aaron says.

“Yeah, because that’s so much better,” you snark. “Actually, I’d look forward to not getting you back.”

“Look, if you can do it, I can do it. Show it to me,” Aaron says to Spencer, trying his best to ignore you, but you see his jaw set in annoyance.

You’re pleased with that, at least.

“I’ve been practicing this my whole life,” Spencer says. “We have less than 30 minutes.”

“Spencer, I am not going to let you get on that train in an active hostage situation,” you say. “Teach it to him.”

“I can do this,” Spencer says.

“Now isn’t the time to show off, or try to kiss ass, Spencer,” you retort. “Can’t you talk some sense into him, Aaron?”

“I don’t see a better option,” he says quietly.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me. I didn’t know I came down here to watch Spencer get killed.”

“You’ve got to have faith in me,” Spencer says, grinning.

“It doesn’t matter if I have faith in you or not. It’s common fucking sense not to send people into a hostage situation. He’s not coming back if he goes in there. We all know this, right?”

“Do you have any better solutions?” Hotchner asks.

“I already told you! Tell him there’s no chip there! I guarantee you that what he wants is an end to the voices. That’s what he thinks the chip is doing. So when the voices don’t stop… what do you think is going to happen? He’s going to let everyone go when this chip is removed? Even if he doesn’t think it’s controlling the voices… we have no idea. We’re the higher authority, right? He believes that? So tell him there’s no chip. Or, I don’t know. Tell him he needs to put the guns down and come out and talk to us about it. Anything is better than this bullshit.”

“There’s a chance if we tell him there is no chip he’ll no longer believe we’re the higher authority.”

“There’s a chance the voices tell him to kill everyone on the train when they don’t stop,” you say.

“I thought you said he didn’t care about the hostages? Which is it?” Aaron snaps at you.

“Whoa, don’t get nasty with me. He has command hallucinations, clearly, and he’s armed. I never said there wasn’t a risk. I said you would need to provoke him and removing the chip and not the voices… that’s provocation right there.”

“We can’t remove the voices.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Which is why this is fucking stupid to begin with.”

“I think unfortunately our best bet is to send Reid in there.”

“Okay. Then you’re dumber than I thought. Remind me to never take you gambling if you think this is your best bet. Jesus Christ. Why bring a professional in if you’re not going to listen to her?”

“You’re a consult,” he snaps. “You’re here to advise. I still make the final call.”

“Oh, so you’re going to risk Spencer’s life to get one over on me, Aaron? Make you feel like a big man, huh, exerting your authority? Why would you listen to a woman when you can just do whatever the fuck you want?”

Spencer’s babbling your name nervously, tugging at your sleeve. “Please. I’m okay with it. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Aaron sets his jaw as Reid pulls you aside to talk you down. He’s never been quite so grateful for him.

“She’s really got it out for you, huh?” Morgan says.

“Quiet.”

“You got it, Hotch,” he says, grinning.

“Wipe the smirk of your face and at least act like you’re working, Morgan.”

“Don’t take it out on me. I’m not the one who’s got you by the balls.”

“Morgan,” Aaron scolds sternly, rolling his eyes as Morgan laughs and walks away.

God.

You seem hellbent on boiling his blood to a fever pitch.

———

“How can you work for a man like this, Spencer?” You ask him.

“I think you’d like him even less if I told you he kicked me a few weeks ago,” he chuckles.

“He kicked you? I’ll—"

“Relax. It was for a case. It… it didn’t even hurt. I wish you wouldn’t antagonize him.”

“It’s how I am with everyone. You know that.”

“Yeah. But… I’m still new here. I’m the youngest here, too, and I… I wanted you to make a good impression. To show I can pull my own weight, that I can be helpful.”

“I’m being helpful. I got a hostage out of there within ten minutes of being here.”

“Right. But… you’ve been rude to everybody.”

“Morgan was rude to you!”

“You are a lot prettier than me,” Spencer says sheepishly. “He’s not wrong to wonder where I met you.”

“Oh, be quiet and stop feeling sorry for yourself,” you say, ruffling his hair.

“I want to prove myself.”

“You don’t need to do this to prove yourself.”

“I… I don’t want to let anyone down. If there’s even a chance this could work… please tell me you think there’s at least a chance. A shot in hell?”

“I mean, yeah. There was a shot in hell I could’ve won the lottery. Did I? No. This isn’t safe, Spencer, and you know it, and don’t tell me your job isn’t safe. This is creating unnecessary risk.”

“But it could work.”

“Yeah. But you have to be very, very careful. And when you can’t leave, because he won’t let you… are you prepared for that?”

“I don’t … I don’t know,” he admits, sucking in a breath.

“You have to talk him down. Don’t validate his delusions. But talk to him. Get to know him. Show you’re not a threat. Convince him to let the train go and that it’s against his best interests to keep them. Tell him we can get him help. Real help. If… if you think you can, tell him you heard voices too. Tell him the higher authority helped them stop but he needs to come out and meet him and put the guns down.”

“Am I validating or not?” he asks nervously.

“You can’t validate anything past the higher authority. We already said that exists. But use that to your advantage. Be vague, though, unless he gives you more insight on what he believes the higher authority is. What he really is… he’s really alone. Anxious. Depressed. And… well… you know what that’s like.”

“So do you,” he says, meeting your squinting eyes in the beating sun.

“Yeah. Well. Whatever. Tap into it. Empathize, don’t sympathize.”

“Can I… can I hug you? In case I—“

“Spencer, if you dragged me down here to watch you die I’ll be the next person with hostages, and that douchebag Hotch is first on my list.”

“Watch it. You’re still talking to an FBI agent,” he teases, walking closer to wrap you in his arms.

“Jesus, do they clean these vests? You reek. Also, cute that you’re walking in there with an FBI vest. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Stop it,” Spencer chuckles, pulling away from you.

“You do whatever you can to make it out of there. You hear me?”

And, predictably, Spencer does not return when he performs his magic trick and “takes the chip out”.

You knew he wouldn’t.

You truly don’t think anyone here thought he would.

“Aaron? Look at me,” you say firmly.

“What?” He sighs, no longer seeing the point in correcting the way you address him.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You’re an idiot. What is it, hostage negotiation 101 to not bring somebody else into a hostage situation? Which I said about fifty fucking times, in case you were never taught that. You just put Spencer’s life at risk. You’re an idiot and a sorry excuse for a unit chief.”

“Go to hell,” he says quietly, just under his breath, just barely audible.

You didn’t know the constant stress, the trials and tribulation, the pressure he was under.

Sure.

You’re a professional in your field. No doubt things aren’t exactly a cakewalk for you.

But when people will die if he’s not there… when he makes decisions that risk the lives of his coworkers, the people he’s grown close to… that he cares about… it’s a toll. One you wouldn’t understand.

And he did order Reid right into the crossfire.

You weren’t wrong about that.

You weren’t wrong in your assessment that the unsub would let a hostage go, either.

Fair enough.

He still hates you beyond belief.

How dare you call him an idiot, in front of his entire team, and do your best to undermine his authority at every chance you got, for stupid reasons, too? That you just assumed he was like every other man, dismissing you for your gender, that all he wanted was to get one over on you.

He thinks about what Gideon said earlier, how there was a reason this was the way you choose to act. Maybe some people just come out of the womb born to be contrarian. But Gideon seemed certain there was a reason.

Did it make it any better?

The end result is the same, regardless of why.

Right?

“Go to hell?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, and now you’re a fucking liar, too? Morgan, you heard him. What did he say?”

“I’m definitely not getting involved in this,” Morgan responds, raising his hands in the air.

You scoff. “Of course not. Gotta keep everyone in line. Bureaucracy, right, Aaron? Everyone just blindly follows you? Wants your constant approval? That’s why Spencer went in there. You know? It’s your fault if he dies. His blood is on your—“

“Enough,” Aaron cuts you off, louder, more stern. “That’s enough. I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t leave, Aaron? You gonna manhandle me out of here?”

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you focus on the situation at hand instead of berating me? If not, you can leave.”

“What, you want my advice now?”

“Yes,” he says drily. “Unfortunately. Yes.”

“Smartest thing you’ve said all fucking day. Yeah. I’m making the phone call this time.”

———- “Dr. Bryar? Did I reach Dr. Bryar? I’m someone who can help you. I work for the Higher Authority, like the man you spoke with earlier. I’m a doctor who can help you,” you say.

“No! No doctors!” he shouts. “I don’t want any more doctors. Leo says no more doctors.”

“Right. But I specialize in the procedure you just had done. It’s my understanding you feel like it didn’t go as planned. I do need my technician back, though.”

“There must be another one… I… I still hear the voices… I…”

“Right. There isn’t another one. You would have known, right?” you ask. “I need to see you to assess you to see why you’re still hearing the voices. But I can help you, Dr. Bryar. If you leave the train… you need to come to me. I’ll take you on as my patient and I’ll get you real help. We’re all here for you, Dr. Bryar. We know that you've been hurting. I need you to leave the guns on the train and come out so I can help you."

“But why… no! You’re going to kill me!”

“I promise you we’re not. I can make the voices stop. I need you to listen to me. You… you probably felt alone, right? Scared? Alone? You were the only one to really like math class, right? You were memorizing your times tables while the other kids were playing dodgeball. Right? And you loved it, but you felt alone, at the end of the day. And sometimes… sometimes the voices are helpful, because they help you feel less alone, right? But other times they’re scary. And that’s why you’re doing what you’re doing right now. Because you’re afraid. You don’t want to hear them. You don’t want to do what they say. You want to be your own person like you were before they got this loud. And you can do that. You can put the guns down and you can leave the train and I can help you. Okay? Because that’s what you want. You just want help. Someone to listen. Not just scream at you."

Aaron's listening to this, watching you, watching you turn into a... well, a professional. You've been nothing but crass to him and the rest of his team, but he realizes why Reid loves you, now, why you chose this field to begin with.

You've struggled. You’ve been the outcast, not by choice but perhaps because you were shy, awkward, unchosen. And the rough exterior, well, it's just that. A facade. He knows you'd deny it, say you were manipulating the situation, playing a part to get a desired outcome.

But he knows what he's hearing.

“I… how did you… how did you know? Are you in my head too?” Dr. Bryar stutters anxiously.

“No. I just… I’ve been through it too, you know? Being alone and afraid. That’s why I know how you feel. And I got better, so I can help you feel better, too. Right?”

A gunshot through the speaker jolts you out of your seat. “Fuck off!” You yell, running outside. “I was so close too, what the fuck?”

“Stay back,” Aaron yells, running after you as you run toward the train.

“Fuck off, Aaron,” you snap, trying to bend his arm so you can push past him. “I need to see if Spencer is okay.”

Pulling you back, he grips your arm firmly, glaring into your eyes. “Yeah. What happened to not running into an active hostage situation? You’re not armed or vested. You’re staying here.”

“If he’s not safe--"

“Clear!” Morgan yells from the train, audible from the now broken window. “It’s clear. Everyone’s alive.”

“What?” you furrow your brow in confusion, shrugging Aaron off you.

You rush onto the train, seeing what was likely Dr. Bryar collapsed on the seat, holding his shoulder, the gun he had in his own hand now on the ground next to him.

"I... I had to. I had a shot," a passenger sitting in the back seat whispers, voice quivering.

"You're an idiot," you hiss at him.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said."

"Sorry! I didn't want to listen to you play negotiator. Sorry I wrecked your big payoff. It clearly wasn't fucking working. He was... off guard talking to you. I had a shot. I took it."

"Yeah. He was off-guard because I was doing my fucking job. You can shut up now," you mutter, putting pressure on Dr. Bryar's bleeding shoulder.

“Fucking bitch,” he murmurs under his breath.

“Yeah. Okay. Save it for someone who cares, asshole. Can we get a stretcher in here? Let’s go!” you yell, glaring at Morgan.

“Yeah. They’re wheeling one over. Relax.”

“Don’t ever tell me to relax, Morgan.”

“Noted,” he says, raising his hands in defeat.

Turning to the doctor, you say, "Hey. I'm the doctor. We're going to take care of you, okay?"

"I... I'm sorry," he rasps out. "I'm sorry."

———- “Yeah? Hey honey, can you hear me?” you ask, speaking into the phone. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just dealt with fucking idiot agents. One of them has to go to the hospital so I can't fly back yet. I’ll be back in town probably overnight. I’m okay, Jessie.”

You cough as you inhale smoke, exhaling heavily. “No, I’m not smoking. Why would you think… okay. I picked up a pack on the way over. It’s fine, Jessie. Yeah. Okay. Sure. You can burn them if I don’t chain smoke the whole pack right now. I’ll see you when I get in. Bye. Love you.”

You lean against the wall, taking another drag, coughing again. “You can come out, Aaron. I know you’ve been eavesdropping.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

You chuckle, flicking your lighter on and off again. “Not married. You’d have to drag my feet down the aisle.”

“Naturally," he responds, a slight mirth in his tone.

“Are you expecting an apology? Because you’re not getting one,” you say, turning to look at him.

“No,” he sighs. “No. I wasn’t expecting one."

“Then what do you want?" you ask, throwing your cigarette on the ground and stamping it out with your boot.

"I... I actually wanted to apologize," he admits. "I should have listened to you instead of sending Reid in there."

"Yeah. It's only what I said like... fifty fucking times."

"Right. You were good, anyway."

"Yeah. When you let me work."

“Right,” he says, coughing awkwardly. Sometimes he hates being the bigger person, to apologize, to get over himself, to acknowledge when he was wrong.

It’s the only way to ensure the apple rolled far, far away from his father’s tree.

“You’ll be calling me again, hm?” you ask. “Deal I worked out for pay isn’t bad. And I got a new patient.”

“You’re… you were serious about overseeing his case?”

“Mm,” you agree. “Only fair. I did promise it.”

“He probably won’t remember.”

“Right. But what if he does?” you say and shrug. “Here’s my card. I assume you’ll need it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t bet on me reaching out.”

“Why not, Aaron?” you say, grinning. “That’s a gamble I’d feel quite confident winning.”

#Aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotchner x reader #hotchner x you #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds fanfiction

302 notes · View notes

mycomfortblanket · 5 months ago

Text

Publicist Set Up

Chapter One

Sokka is lying in bed scrolling through Instagram when a message request notification bar appears at the top of his screen. Not thinking too much of it, he hits the bar and it immediately takes him to the message.

From: KateLoftinFireStudios 9:46 pm Hi, my name is Kate, I am Zuko Sozin's Social Media Publicist and Manager. I noticed that you've commented a few times on his posts and was wondering if you would be interested in a Zoom Meet and Greet with him..

Sokka rolls his eyes. Another spam message, although this one seems more realistic, is probably an actual person messaging him and then will somehow manage to get his social secruity number from some special encryption bullshit. But still, it's always fun to mess with these people and see how far they are willing to sell their lies.

From: Sokkas_B00merang 9:48 pm Oh, Zuko's publicist, huh?

From: KateLoftinFireStudios 9:48 pm Yeah, I know, there are a lot of scammers out there, but this is a legitimate offer. It's completely free, you would just have to log onto a Zoom meeting after I set up the times between you two.

Sokka furrows his brow. He's never had a scammer openly admit to there being other scammers on the internet, nor them saying 'completely free'. Usually, they'll throw in a 'small payment' or something along those lines.

From: Sokkas_B00merang 9:50 pm Is there any way for me to know you're real?

From: KateLoftinFireStudios 9:51 pm Oh, I'm so sorry about that. I usually lead with that. Yes, here is my card, I blacked out my phone number for obvious reasons. If you would like, you can request to follow me on Instagram and you can see some personal photos I have with him.

The picture that comes in is crystal clear and it's what she says it is: a business card. Sokka clicks on the photo so that it comes up bigger and he inspects the card. There's her name, and underneath it says Social Media Specialist and Publicist, the scribble of what looks like a Snapchat coloring over the phone number and email.

Okay, this shit is weird and actually kind of real looking. Before he actually starts to get his hopes up, Sokka goes to Kate's profile and hits the Request to Follow button, and within thirty seconds, his request is approved and he is able to go to her page.

The majority of the pictures are of her and several of her at the pool drinking some frozen alcoholic drink. But, every so often, there's a picture with someone famous. There's that girl from that K-Pop group he hears so much about, or that actor from the newest James Bond movie, and a little further down, is Zuko. The caption reads Great night with great company. He clicks the photo and the top comment is from Zuko's official account. It's just a heart, but still, this shit is weirdly realistic.

He goes back to the messages,

From: Sokkas_B00merang 10:02 pm Okay, I'll give you this, your stuff looks legit. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to ask me to input my credit card number.

From: KateLoftinFireStudios 10:03 pm Lol no, nothing of that sort. I just need to know when you are free within the next two weeks so I can get a meeting set up between you two.

~~~

Even though Sokka still has a sliver of a doubt about this whole thing, he is also having that rush of excitement at possibly meeting a celebrity. But not just any celebrity, the hottest model that Sokka has ever had the privilege of masterbating to. He started appearing in magazines a little bit before the pandemic, and once everyone was confinded indoors, his image seemed to be everywhere.

Sokka has a few magazines that Zuko is featured in scattered about in his apartment, and even though the majority of the time, he is fully clothed, there is that random picture of him in underwear or swimsuit. His lean body has the perfect amount of wiry muscles and his abs are defined but not overly in your face. His scar, although Sokka is sure was incredibly painful, gives the man a sense of mystery and ruggedness.

When it's finally time for the meeting, Sokka pulls out his old laptop from the back of his closet and powers it on. He'd rather be safe than sorry just in case it is actually spam and they give his computer some sort of virus. He has it set up on his coffee table and with him on the floor, his back pressed against the couch.

He's still waiting in the Zoom calls 'lobby' waiting for the host- or Zuko- to start the meeting. Sokka checks his reflection in the little square that shows his picture and he quickly reaches up and adjusts his hair and checks for eye boogies one more time.

The computer makes a sound, letting him know that someone has started the chat and his heart freezes for about .5 seconds as the screen changes. The person he's supposed to be chatting with still doesn't have their camera on so he can't see if it's actually going to be The Zuko or some ramdom guy from a different country trying to steal his identity.

"Bloody hell, you would think I would know how to do this by now," a woman with a British accent says. "Sokka- am I pronouncing your name right?"

"Uh..." he hesitates, but nods his head. "Yeah. You pronounced it right."

"Great, this is Kate," the British woman says. "Zuko is in the other room, said something about his shirt. I can't seem to understand why- Ah!" the camera finally comes on, "There we go!" and a beautiful woman comes into view. She's sitting in what appears to be a kitchen; there's a stove and the edge of a stainless steel fridge behind her. The breath is actually sucked out of him. That's the lady that was in the Instagram posts... which means...

"Is that him?" a raspy voice sounds from off-camera and Sokka's eyes widen. He would recognize that voice anywhere. From all the interviews that Sokka has watched, he would be able to pick this man's voice out of a lineup any day. Kate glances to the right of the screen and gives a small nod and a smile.

"Okay, Sokka. So the way this works, you and Zuko get to chat for about thirty minutes before it automatically kicks both of you out. For legal reasons, Zuko won't disclose any personal information like where he is, phone number, or things of that sort and you also don't have to disclose any information that you don't want to. Sound good?"

Sokka can't even really bring himself to say anything, but just nods, his eyes still as big as dinner plates.

"Great, well here he is." Kate turns to Zuko who is still offscreen, "I'm going to be down the hall in the office, I'll come back a few minutes before the time is u p to give you a warning, okay?" She turns back to Sokka, "Bye, Sokka. It was great chatting with you!" She walks off the screen and a tall figure takes her place.

If it's even possible, the breath is sucked out of Sokka again at the fact that Zuko fucking Sozin, the most beautiful model his eyes have ever laid upon, drops down into the chair in front of the camera.

"Oh my god," Sokka whispers.

"What?" Zuko asks, his brow furrowing.

"I didn't actually think- I mean... you're real!" Sokka says, his voice cracking slightly.

Zuko huffs out an awkward laugh, "Yeah, and you're real, I mean, of course, you'd be real. I just didn't believe Kate when she told me about the Zoom meeting because, I mean, who does this sort of thing? I- I don't mean that I don't want to talk with you, I just- I'm totally new to all of this-" he cuts himself off, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

Sokka cant' help the smile that comes onto his face. God, this guy is cute. In the magazines, he just radiates confidence and sex appeal, but in real life, he is so painfully awkward that it's cute. "You don't talk to fans often?" Sokka asks, deciding to help him out a little.

"I wouldn't necessarily say I have fans..." Zuko mumbles, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "I mean, sure, there are people who like me, but fans- I think that's being a little generous."

"Nah, man. I'm definitely a fan," Sokka gives him a charming smile and Zuko gives him a small one back. "You say you're new to this, but I've been seeing you in magazines and stuff for years now, since before the pandemic."

"Oh, yeah, no. I didn't mean new to the modeling thing, I meant new to the talking to people who... like me?" he finishes awkwardly with a shrug.

Sokka can't help but snort a laugh out through his nose, "I'm finding that a little hard to believe that you- mister beautiful famous model man- is nervous talking to me, a guy who ids barely surviving working at his dad's mechanic shop."

"I don't know about the beautiful part," Zuko grumbles and looks down, his blush deepening just a little and starting to spread down his neck. Sokka can just barely see his fingers picking at something on the table he is at. This is the second time he has been self-deprecating and Sokka can tell he's not doing it in a way of fishing for compliments, but rather, he genuinely believes what he is saying. He also notices how Zuko didn't deny the fact that he is nervous talking to him, but rather, denied that he is pretty.

"Well, what made your publicist choose me for you to talk to?" he asks curiously. Sokka does not expect the full-on bright red blush that overtakes Zuko's cheeks even more and goes down his neck, disappearing into his shirt. His eyes go wide and he quickly looks off-screen and then back at Sokka, trying to stammer out a response. There's something about making Zuko blush with every other question that is really getting to Sokka. "What?" he asks, his mouth quirking up into a smile as he tries fighting off his own blush.

"It was random, Kate just pulled someone from the comments and- set it up," he doesn't look at Sokka when he says this so he knows that Zuko is partially lying, but he won't call him out on it... yet.

"Ah, well, what comment did I leave that made her click on me?" Sokka thought this was an innocent enough question, but the way Zuko's blush deepens, he can only guess. Actually... he doesn't even need to guess, he knows what comment it was. "Oh... yeah, I know which one, don't say that out loud, uh..." Sokka starts. In his defense, he was incredibly stoned when he posted that comment to Zuko's Instagram account.

The picture in question was of Zuko lying on the edge of a pool, his drenched white shirt pulled up to expose his stomach. There were artfully placed droplets of water scattered about on his face and the way the sunlight- or artificial light, whatever- brought out his light brown eyes, making them look like dripping honey.

The comment that Sokka had left isn't exactly something he is proud of and to be honest, he completely forgot about until now. What I would do to have this man underneath me isn't exactly something that screams 'strike up a conversation with me'.

His ex, Suki, had beat manners into him and how awful it is to degrade women by talking like that, and of course, the sentiment extended to men. But, Sokka was never very good at keeping his mouth in check while under the influence, so he knows what he said wasn't exactly 'chivalrous'.

Zuko finally looks back up at the camera and gives a small laugh at Sokka's sudden awkwardness, "Now who is the one that's nervous?"

Sokka snorts, not expecting the joke to come from him, "Oh, he's got jokes?" he asks through his laughter. It's weird how easy it is talking to Zuko, they're talking like they're both normal people instead of half the party being incredibly famous and the other half being incredibly not famous.

Zuko's smile brightens just a little and he visibly seems to loosen up the longer they talk. They start poking fun at one another as if they've been friends for years. It's only when he hears the familiar British accent off-camera that he knows their thirty minutes are coming to a close.

"it was really great talking with you, Sokka," Zuko says, his voice lowering slightly and making a warmth settle in Sokka's belly. God, the way his name sounds on this man's lips.

He gulps at the same time he tries to say, "Yeah-" he coughs a little, clearing his throat, "Yeah, I can't believe I actually got to meet you, it's unreal. You're unreal."

Zuko laughs a little, "I'm really glad we met, hopefully we'll talk again soon."

Sokka's eyes widen, "Wait, what do you mean-" but the Zoom call ends before he can even ask what Zuko means by Hopefully we'll talk again soon. How would they talk soon? There's no chance of them meeting in public, mostly because he doesn't even know where Zuko lives, but also because, what is the fucking chance that he would meet a celebrity when the only places he go4es to are the coffee house down the street, work, and the community college a town over?

He stares at the Zoom home page for a few minutes longer, trying to process the whole encounter. At one point, he thinks they were flirting, but he couldn't be sure, because, like, why the fuck would a fine-ass model flirt with him?

Shaking his head slightly, sure that he will wake up in a few minutes from some coma that he's been in, he stands up from the coffee table, scooping his phone into his hand, and starts down the hallway towards his bedroom.

He flicks on the light when he gets two notifications, one after the other, from Instagram. Opening his phone and navigating to the app, a smile breaks across his face.

Zuko.Sozin followed you

A new message from Zuko.Sozin 7:48 pm And yeah, I'd like to be underneath you, too.

Read the rest of the series on ArchiveofOurOwn.com

#zukka #zuko #sokka #zukoxsokka #zuko x sokka #sokkaxzuko #sokka x zuko #flirting #model!zuko #mechanic!sokka #fluff #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #modern au #original character

23 notes · View notes

specialagentlokitty · 1 year ago

Text

Saul Silva x teen!reader - just lost between worlds

Hey, I have a request for a Saul Silva xTeen Reader Story. If you want to write it 😉 So Reader is from the first World. R runs away from something/ someone, falls and suddenly lands in front of Alfea. Saul finds R. He is suspicious and for the first time only recognizes a danger in R. R wonders where they are and learns about magic, fairies and specialists for the first time. Maybe R becomes a specialist or Saul helps R to find out why R is now in the other world...? - Anon💜

Saul was used to all things strange and weird, but when he got reports there was an intruder outside of Alfea he wasn’t expecting to see a giant crater, a closing hold in the sky and what appeared to be a teenager laying where the road should have been.

“We aren’t sure where they came from or why.” Sky said.

“Are they alive?” Saul asked.

“Yes, we checked. Professor Harvey is coming as well.”

Saul nodded, ordering all the students away and he walked around the landing zone, trying to determine the best and safest way inside.

“Do we have any ID for our mystery teenager?” Farah asked.

“No, but right now they’re yet to wake up, I can’t find a way down can you make one?”

Farah nodded and made them some stairs out of the dirt so the three teachers could go investigate.

While the professor checked you over to make sure you were okay, Saul went through your bag while Farah stood watched carefully, poking through your memories.

“Well, there’s nothing in their head to suggest they would be a threat, let’s take them inside.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Saul said.

“Well we can’t exactly leave them out here.”

He sighed, knowing she was right and helped carry you inside.

It wasn’t until the next day you woke up, and you wouldn’t let anybody near you. You were throwing anything you could grab to keep them all away.

“Calm down!” Saul snapped.

“Fuck off!”

“Either you calm down or I restrain you.”

“I’ll break your nose!”

Saul glared at you, but he made no attempt to actually get near you.

He wasn’t sure what you were capable of yet, and he didn’t want to jump straight into trying to fight you.

When you made no movement, he released his grip on his sword slightly.

“Who are you?”

“You tell me first.”

“We found a student card in your bag, do you go to college?” He asked.

You huffed a little.

“No.”

He carried on asking questions but you wouldn’t give a straight answer.

They all agreed it was best to keep you there while they tried to learn more about you and how you got there but Saul didn’t trust you one bit.

But you were fascinated by Alfea and everything they taught, thought you were sad to learn you didn’t have magic.

“What were you doing when you landed here?” Saul asked.

He was in charge of watching you until Farah came to collect you so he could teach his lessons.

You glanced him from your spot on the pebbles, and tossed one aside.

“Was outside, pretty dark so couldn’t see much.”

He glanced at you before going back to reading some papers.

“Why would you be outside in the dark?”

“Finished work late. I’m bored is there anything to do here?”

“Not for the likes of you who shouldn’t be here. Do you recognise these?”

He handed you a sheet of paper and you looked through it, showing him one of the patterns.

“Its spray painted on the side of my building.”

He took it back and crouched down, handing you another one.

“What about these?”

You looked through them, shaking your head.

“What are they?”

“Protection circles, some fairies use them to hide things. Someone wanted your building hidden. Was it always there?”

“Dunno.”

Saul nodded, folding the papers to put back into his pocket.

“Are your parents magic?”

“Dunno.”

“Do you know their number, maybe we can find them.”

You glanced at him, then laid down, tossing a few pebbles away from you.

“I know where the they are.”

“Where?”

You made grabby hands at him, and he reached over, letting you use the phone they had gotten for you in case they had to leave you.

You went into it, did a few things then handed it back to him.

“What is this?”

“A cemetery obviously. They’re dead asshole.”

“Sorry.”

You said nothing and tossed some more stones.

Saul looked at you, they had preformed all the tests and everything they could, and as far as he could tell there was no magic about you.

There was nothing particularly important about you in relation to Solaria or Alfea, yet here you were.

No explanation.

Just a lost teenager wondering how to get back home considering apparently now you couldn’t just leave solaria.

“When can I go home?”

Saul sighed, looking down at you.

“I’m sorry I don’t know.”

“Okay..”

He walked over, standing above you.

“We’ll figure this out.”

“Don’t waste your time, it’s fine I guess.”

He was still suspicious about you, but now he felt a little bad.

You had nothing here and apparently you had nothing back home either, you were just thrown between realms and all alone.

But until he was sure you weren’t a threat he wouldn’t be taking in the role of a caretaker, even if it did somewhat upset him to see how defeated you seemed to be.

Then an idea struck him.

“Come with me to training.”

You looked at him.

“Come on, it’ll give you something to do and I can still watch you.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but at least he could watch you, and he could have you stay busy doing something.

What was the worst that could happen?

#fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga x reader #fate the winx saga imagine #fate the winx saga x you #Saul silva #Saul silva x reader #Saul silva x you #Saul silva imagine

76 notes · View notes

whentherewerebicycles · 19 days ago

Text

ok update: leave specialist says my leave is protected if i take it in a single six-week block and it's no problem at all to change the dates (people do this all the time, she said). if i do it that way, i can go entirely through HR and then notify my team. if i want a partial return to work or to use leave intermittently, though, i have to negotiate the schedule directly with redacted and she can set limits on how i use the time (like, you can only do this reduced schedule for one month, or you can only do four days a week not three, or whatever). so now i have to think about what i want to do. liz asked what my actual ideal situation would be and i really had to think about it. i guess if i look into my heart i wonder if my ideal situation would just be to have the time with my kid. i feel like i've been working so hard this month and last month that i haven't really been "on leave" for a while. it would be nice to spend more relaxed time with him and also have some time to rest/reset before i go back to work. we're planning to go home for christmas and the week after and i was going to have to work remotely that whole week since i don't have any PTO left, but it would be great to just be able to spend that time with family. i still think there are definite advantages to easing back in, but i also think there are disadvantages to opening the door of redacted-related stress part of the way... our interactions often make me feel so bleh i can't stop thinking about them even when i'm away from work. so idk.

i think i need to think about it some more, and maybe gather some more information... i just emailed daycare to see if i could move his start date (in april they said I could move it to anytime in december but not sure if that'll still be the case). then i think tomorrow i'll take a look at my budget to figure out whether or not i'd have to take on another student to make the money work. ok. i think i want to try to make decision one way or another by no later than monday of next week and ideally by friday.

9 notes · View notes

aeoki · 5 months ago

Text

Dance Floor - Slow Step: Chapter 6

Location: Park (Lawn Area) Characters: Touri, Yuzuru, Eichi & Wataru

Wataru: Alright, children, watch my movements closely!

One spin, two spins, three spins… By spinning through the air at a tremendous speed, you can dig into the ground and move about in the earth!

And the moment you take your eyes off, I shall launch a surprise attack from your back!

Look, a monster has appeared! You’ll get eaten if you’re caught~!

Interesting, isn’t it? I shall spin and block your sight! Then, the cloud of dust I’ve created should allow me to move behind your back!

Humans have blind spots so it makes it look like I’ve teleported!

That concludes the secret to my technique~☆ Please give me a round of applause if you’re impressed! That will make me very happy!

…Oh, do be careful you don’t trip.

I shall extend my arms out gracefully to catch you – and up in the air you go! Look, boys and girls, I shall carry you all into the sky~☆

Touri: *Pant, pant…* Does Long-Hair have infinite stamina? How does he have so much energy?

And the kids have all of their eyes on him.

Yuzuru: Perhaps it’s due to our difference in training. In terms of his muscles, instantaneous abilities and durability, they should all be inversely proportional…

But it seems Hibiki-sama is altering every aspect of his muscles at every stage.

Touri: It’s hard for me to gain muscle so I can’t really enjoy those sorts of topics. But is that something amazing?

Yuzuru: Yes. It’s as if he’s being reborn as a new person every moment – I wonder how he does it.

I’m interested from a medical point of view – I’d love to dissect him…♪

Touri: Don’t say something so scary…

President~ I’m a bit tired.

Eichi: Alright. Well done today, Touri. Come, I’ll give you a hug ♪

There, there. You’re very warm after being in the sun – it’s like I’m holding on to a ball of fire.

Touri: Heheh. Your body temperature is usually on the colder side, so I’ll warm you up~♪

Yuzuru: What an awfully stifling sight…

But President-sama, what is the point of this performance?

I thought I’d gotten used to handling children, but they’re all quite confusing and different…

They all confuse me – it’s quite tiring.

Eichi: Right. As usual, Anzu-chan doesn’t speak much and it’s difficult to understand her intentions, so I’ll explain on her behalf.

No, I’ll give my own personal guess on the matter.

A long time ago… I had a friend who loved drawing manga. I found it interesting and copied him.

There, I learnt how difficult it actually was.

It’s a common beginner’s mistake but it can be far more difficult to understand.

I couldn’t rephrase it in simpler words and ended up spouting specialist terminology that only the artist would understand.

I couldn’t express the message I wanted in a straightforward manner and ended up doing it in a roundabout way.

I didn’t have the skill to express what I’d wanted nor did I know the method.

You can express the important things with a short numerical formula, but add on unnecessary ostentation and it’ll become difficult to understand.

You could say that excess is individuality and charm.

But as a result, if you can’t express the important part, then that story is worthless. No, one’s wish to create a story will not be fulfilled.

Yuzuru: President-sama, that explanation in itself is already something that’s difficult for us to understand.

Eichi: Hehe. Then, I’ll explain it using easier terms.

If a long period of study and deciphering is required, then that’s art. The things that children can understand instantaneously is the ideal entertainment.

It’s obvious for performers who have polished those skills, but it’s impossible for amateurs to create a masterpiece.

If the right tools and systems are developed, then that may be possible, though.

There isn’t time for that. Touri’s dance recital is next week, isn’t it?

If he can succeed as an artist in that short amount of time, then he must be a genius or a monster.

Touri. I understand how you feel about always wanting to stand proudly at the top as a member of “fine”.

But that is a dangerous idealistic thought – you must face reality.

I have to do something difficult, it has to be something others can’t imitate, otherwise that wouldn’t be “fine”...

It wouldn’t be the strongest, not like a king – Those are the sorts of thoughts running through your head, right?

But you must learn where you stand, in a good way.

Kings aren’t gods or monsters beyond human intellect – they’re simply the representative of the masses. They’re the embodiment of the general public’s collective will.

That’s what the new “fine” will be in my eyes.

The old “fine” were angels instructed by god to reform the rotten world…

They acted like entities superior to humans – just like disciples and heroes who appeared in myths.

As a result, we won but we were also hurt because of the fight.

Hiyori-kun… Nagisa-kun… Tsumugi… their wings were torn off and they fell to the ground, covered in blood.

Touri, Yuzuru, Wataru… You three found that mess and took it into your arms.

You gave us encouragement to stand up on our feet again – that’s how we became the new “fine”.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Last 2 Chapters →

#dance floor

7 notes · View notes

iambic-stan · 7 months ago

Text

Having an uncommon health problem in America can mean many (not great) things. In my case, it means waiting what feels like an eternity to get test results, then waiting longer for someone to call with an expert analysis on said results as well as guidance for the next step. Then it's realizing that you have to travel to see a specialist because there isn't one in your town, but not in the immediate future because there's a waitlist. You wonder how much that will cost, since surely it's not covered by insurance. In the meantime, your anxiety tells you that it's actually the worst case scenario so you worry that it is because there's no one to tell you otherwise.

It would be nice if there was a professional, probably a social worker or some other mental health specialist, whose job was to bring you in for occasional appointments while you're waiting to take that next step and listen to your heart reassuringly with a stethoscope that has soft, soothing colors. This person could tell you relaxation techniques and tell you that everything is going to be ok while telling you how good your heart sounds. I guess that could be misleading, though. What if everything isn't going to be ok?

#cardiophilia #cardiophile #stethoscopes #auscultation #medical anxiety

8 notes · View notes

deadmomjokes · 1 year ago

Note

oh wow I am so sorry to hear about your daughter having EOE - that sounds really rough. How do you navigate that?

At this point, with a lot of flailing.

It took 3.5 years to even get her properly diagnosed, not through lack of trying-- it's just a hard thing to differentiate, and the specialists that can actually do the test are dealing with a huge number of patients so they're always backed up. We're lucky: we live only an hour from the state children's hospital where they can do the diagnostic procedures, and it has a dedicated EOE specialty clinic that's one of the best in the country. It still takes 2 months to get an appointment as an established patient, and it took even longer to get her in on the initial referral. We're also lucky that she was able to explain to us what she was experiencing in a way that a doctor could take seriously and act on, and we're lucky that her primary care doctor did so.

But generally speaking, things suck spectacularly for pediatric EOE and GERD patients right now, at least in the US. The best medicine for treating it is omeprazole (prilosec), and there was exactly one manufacturer that made it in a suspension that small children could take. Well, that manufacturer decided it wasn't profitable enough, so they quit making it altogether. So now the next best, lansoprazole (prevacid), is on national back order for months because every child that was on the other one is now needing to switch.

So my daughter is currently on the next next best thing, because it was that or nothing, and it's just not working great for her. It keeps her from the worst of the pain, but she's back to not wanting to eat anything but bagels, one specific brand of cereal, and string cheese.

Back when she was officially diagnosed, her doctor gave us the option of going on a super dose of PPI meds, jumping straight to the steroids, or doing a full elimination diet with a nutritionist. For a kid, none of those options are great.

The PPIs reduce absorption of nutrients, which are already few and far between for a growing person with only a few tolerated foods. The steroids may have effects on a growing liver and kidneys, and also make you more prone to fungal infections and upper respiratory illnesses. Both have to be routinely dose-adjusted because the child is growing constantly, but you have to get an official weight/height check at the specialist to do so, which is always backed up. Then the elimination diet is...well, it's hard, to put it mildly, and it takes a really long time because of how delayed the reactions can be. Plus when you already don't like eating and only have a few 'safe foods', it's hard to cut back. Most people with EOE also have more than one trigger, so you have to eliminate a ton of things and hope you get them all, and you can't be on any medication while you're doing it because you have to be able to identify the point at which symptoms get better and then return.

In short, all the options suck.

We eventually decided on trying to get it under control enough with the meds to hopefully expand the foods she was willing to eat, in preparation for doing the elimination diet. It was working. Then the forced medication switch blew that all up. So we're just gonna grit our teeth and go with the elimination diet unless her specialist has another option for us.

But aside from that, it's been a lot of phone tag and appointment waiting, and a lot of readjusting the way we look at food and eating.

For her, whatever she will eat is a win. We've taken pressure off her to try new things. We still offer it, but we don't press if she's not feeling up to it. Reducing stress around the concept of trying new foods is super important, because she's already up against the stress of wondering whether it'll 'get stuck' or feel yucky or make 'the fires' worse.

We've also had to make sure we don't fall into the trap of trying to dictate how much she eats and when. Unless a meal is coming within the half hour, we let her have a snack when she's hungry-- wait too long, and she's in pain. Plus we want her to kind of train herself to respond to those hunger cues because her appetite can get so drastically reduced at times, every instance of her listening to an 'I'm hungry' is a win.

We also had to abandon the idea of the 'perfectly' balanced diet. Proteins are a struggle for her. Leafy greens are a struggle. So are other calcium containing foods like dairy and dairy alternatives. She really only likes carbs, mostly bread and fruit. But it's not like she can help it. Nobody purposefully restricts their diet just to be difficult-- a "picky eater" is someone who is struggling and needs accommodation, not judgement.

So we let her eat what she will eat, and work to find options that can get her the stuff she needs. Protein bars are a big hit with her right now, for example. A better texture than meat, they come in 'treat' flavors, and there are options that don't have all the added sugar that's gonna trigger the acid flareup. We make sure we get enriched flour and bread products so she gets at least some iron. We pick varieties that have added protein and calcium. We get juice with added vitamins and minerals. We stock the pantry with things that cater to her capabilities and needs wherever the two overlap. The goal is nutrition, whatever form that takes and whatever it looks like right now. Getting it "right" will come later. For now, we just need her to be comfortable with food and to learn how to work with her body.

This has also meant teaching her about nutrition, so we can help her take charge of her body's needs and help us think of ways to meet them. That's hard for a 3 year old, but there's a show called Storybots on Netflix, and they have a great episode on nutrition called "Why can't I eat dessert all the time?" Super accessible for kids, and has a catchy song describing macronutrient categories and why we need lots of different kinds of food, not just one kind. It was a perfect starting point, and we just kept at the explanations. Like when we would eat an apple with breakfast, we'd talk about how it has Vitamin C to help her cells be strong, fiber to help her tummy and intestines work well, and carbohydrates to help her have energy. Every time we try a new food, we talk about what's in it to help her body. That includes things like chips and cake--we're big on the concept of "all food has value, it's just some has more than others, so we eat the most of those."

So now, when she's had a "just bread" day we remind her that her body needs more than just carbs, and we can't get all our protein, fats, vitamins, and minerals from bread, so we should probably have something else too. 9 times out of 10, she'll add something to her request, like some blueberries or carrots. She might not eat a ton of it, but she tries, and that's what counts.

I know this is a mile long and probably way more than you were asking, but it's just one of those things that I have a lot to say about. I could talk all day about accessible eating and nutrition, as well as Going Off on our current medical system in the US, so if anyone has further questions, feel free to reach out.

#asks #eoe #life #long post

35 notes · View notes

wild-moss-art · 1 year ago

Note

hi moss! I hope you are having a good day!! I was wondering if you were willing to share how you convinced a doctor to yeet the uterus :O are you scared about having a major surgery? (I am, as always, having The Thoughts.)

<3 I hope you're having a good day too! It is a long story and kind of personal but I'm happy to share bc I know that it's really difficult to find info on, and if anyone has questions you can feel free to dm or send an ask. Gonna put the story under the cut.

First of all, I live in america and this will all sound very american lol.

In the interest of not burying the lede, my working theory is that I have endometriosis or adenomyosis; these are notoriously difficult to diagnose. Endometriosis is only diagnosable through a laparoscopic surgery and adenomyosis is literally only diagnosable through getting a hysterectomy and having the tissue biopsied. If you don't want a hysterectomy, you can't get an official diagnosis.

Now to the backstory. I think my medical history and experience advocating for myself medically had the most impact on being approved for this procedure.

I have been on hormonal birth control since I was about 13 or 14 practically as soon as I hit puberty I had debilitating periods. I was missing a lot of school and obviously this didn't look good for my parents, so I was put on the pill, and later when I was older I switched to IUDs. The birth control basically put a bandaid on the problem, and the IUD eliminated my period altogether.

Near the beginning of this year, I started to have a lot of pelvic pain that I initially thought was a UTI. I went to the doctor who kept telling me I didn't have the bacteria for a UTI, and basically sent me home with some antibiotics anyway, which didn't help. They did not test for any other problems. I ended up switching doctors due to insurance purposes, but was also put off by the care I'd received.

When I went to the next doctor, they were actually willing to run tests. This doctor and every other doctor I've seen since initially insisted I must have an STD. A panel was run, and I was fully clean for STDs. I was referred to a urogynecology specialist, as my main symptoms at this point were pain(which they do not care about- didnt even put it in my file) and difficulty urinating(this symptom I believe is the only reason I was able to get a referral to a specialist).

While I was waiting for my urogynecology appointment(they were pretty booked out), the pain got worse, like a lot worse. I was also having more and more hormonal symptoms like heavy acne. I was able to move my appointment up but ended up going to the ER. At the ER, I posted about my experience which I can link if you'd like but I'll include the relevant info. The doctor hadn't looked at my age on the file and initially DENIED testing because I was "too young". He came back later and approved it, because he actually looked at my fucking file. From this point on I've been livid and ready to fistfight every doctor Ive seen.

I was at the ER for like 10 hours and got a CT scan, which showed all the inflammation in my uterus and little in my bladder, which was when I began to realize that the bladder issue was just a symptom and not the problem. The original doctor was off duty toward the end of my visit, and the new doctor came in for briefing when she mentioned they needed to run an STD panel. I told her I'd had one about a week ago that was fully negative. She said "I need to go talk to my supervisor."

Ultimately, I was released from the ER with a prescription for extra strength ibuprofen and a referral to a gynecologist. They said my IUD was stabbing me internally, and needed to come out. They did not take it out at the ER.

At this point, it was time for my urogynecology appointment. At the appointment, I told them about my ER visit and asked if they could take my IUD out. They said they didn't really do that there, but after I showed them my CT scan results, they did it anyway. I felt a lot better, immediately. They were helpful and awesome, but said that they mostly treat bladder problems, which was clearly not what I had.

I didnt feel fully better though, because hormonal birth control keeps endometriosis and adenomyosis symptoms and pain at bay. The pain has gotten gradually worse, but it's not longer quite as sharp and stabbing. I've been doing a lot of research about these conditions thanks to a helpful tumblr mutual, and I believe I have adenomysis. I'm not sure whether I have endometriosis.

I followed up on the gynecology referral from the er; I am really happy with this clinic so far. They are the ones that offered the hysterectomy. In my initial appointment, I mentioned that I was not on birth control and wanted to be sterilized. They asked if I wanted birth control in the meantime. I said no(I believe this helped).

(as an aside. Another reason I believe I was offered what I was is that I am married. When I listed my partner as an emergency contact, they specifically mentioned that I did not take his last name. I believe this says something about our relationship to doctors. I know often they will ask for the husband's permission in this scenario; however, they did not even bring him up beyond the last name thing.)

When I met with the doctor for a tubal ligation consult, we talked a bit about the procedure and what other symptoms I was having. I also got an ultrasound that showed inflammation in my uterus(as well as a medium sized cyst on my ovary. lmao). He said the tubal ligation would not help my other symptoms. When I mentioned my CT scan, he actually left to go look at it, returned and immediately asked if I wanted kids. When I said no, he told me he could give me a hysterectomy.

We went over some details; just a hysterectomy is a pretty non invasive procedure and doesn't even require an incision. He mentioned that it may or may not fix the whole problem(it would fix adenomyosis which only affects the uterus, not endometriosis which affects other organs) but that it's pretty complicated to remove the ovaries because it's a more invasive procedure and basically I'd have to be on hormones to simulate menopause for a really long time(I'm only 27). So that is an option, but it's better to just see if the hysterectomy fixes my problems.

The surgery is in 10 days from now and I have my intake consult on tuesday. I plan to update cause again, I know not a lot of people talk about these experiences and it would have really helped me to have known more going in. I really cant wait, I've basically been bedridden, cant exercise, can't stand for long periods of time, not much at all. I'm lucky my livelihood is sitting on my couch drawing.

Finally, I believe that it is possible that they wanted to sterilize me due to my mental health history. I am in ongoing treatment for my mental health, and have particular diagnoses that I do not disclose publicly. You can message me if you'd like to know this information.

#ty for the ask <3 #im sorry this is so long lmao. it has been a lot #I do feel all this is relevant though. I don't think I could have just rolled up to my general doctor's office and asked for a hysterectomy #nor do I think I could have rolled up to the gynecologists office and asked for one without the history #im not sure how to tag this so that people could find it if they need to lmk if anyone has suggestions #moss is sick as in cool but also as in sick

24 notes · View notes