#and then we get a call at like midnight from a surgeon saying they needed to do a small bowel resection and she might not survive

[woundedheartwithin]

My mom’s patient care tech yesterday straight up could not believe I was 32. He asked me, “so how old are you, Caitlin” and he asked it like he thought he was talking to someone younger than him. And I looked at him like oh baby, no, you are the youngest person in this room rn and said “I am 32.” And he just stared at me and kept repeating it, then turned to my mom, who is high as hell on fentanyl, like “32?” And my mom giggled and said yeah, so he turned to my dad cuz clearly her loopy ass can’t be trusted, and my dad’s like yeah she’s 32. So he looked at me again and was like I never would have guessed you’re 32, you don’t look it at all. And I’m like yeah I get that a lot, how old are you? And he goes “…I’m 24” lmfao

[greenthena]

The Eldritch Ball or Aziraphale's Macabre Danse

I'm a huge sucker for dark classical music (I'm using the term "classical" broadly, not referring to the specific period. Music-y folks, please forgive.) As such, Saint-Saëns's "Danse Macabre" is one of my all time favorite pieces. It's spooky. It's intentionally dissonant. It's even got a jump scare! Like, literally, the perfect piece of music.

The story behind "Danse Macabre" goes like this: Each Halloween at midnight, Death enters the graveyard with a fiddle. As he plays, the skeletons rise from the ground and dance through the cemetery, resurrected by Death's power and possessed by his instrument.

In S2 E3, the Bentley plays "Danse Macabre" as Aziraphale drives up to Edinburgh. "What do we do? We play classical music that stays classical music." (And the Bentley listens to him! Because the Bentley is an expression of Crowley's subconscious and wants to please him and make him happy...and I'm sure you can find lots of excellent metas to that end. Or maybe you have another theory about why the Bentley is so pliant toward the angel? I'd love to hear it. But that's not what I'm talking about right now. I'm just getting distracted.)

Why is this song so perfect for a bit of subtle foreshadowing and repeated metaphor? So glad you asked. I have reasons. And evidence. Please, peruse my wares.

In the A Plot of this episode, Aziraphale travels to Scotland to visit a pub called The Resurrectionist. (Ya know, like Death? Like how Death resurrects people in the song? Okay, just wanted to really hit that nail into the coffin.) The pub is, of course, named for a certain Mr. (not Dr., he's a surgeon) Dalrymple, whom Crowley and Aziraphale meet in the accompanying flashback minisode entitled (you'll never guess) "The Resurrectionist." The minisode plot involves Crowley and his the angel encountering young Elspeth, a grave robber who, like Death, releases the bodies of the deceased from their earthly bonds of soil and stone. My interpretation is that Elspeth becomes Death incarnate, first in the process of using her instrument (her shovel) to resurrect the dead, and later when she inadvertently brings about the literal death of her partner, Wee Morag. Rather than allow Wee Morag's body to turn to dust in the ground, Elspeth "resurrects" her, selling her body to Dr. Dalrymple (sorry, Mr. Dalrymple, he's a surgeon, not a doctor), who will use Wee Morag's body for research, which will in turn save the lives of countless others by furthering the field of medicine. A form of resurrection, indeed. There's also the plot thread of Crowley and Aziraphale providing Elspeth with a nest egg to escape the cycle of poverty into which she has been born. This, too, is another form of re-birth. Or, say it with me, resurrection. Alright, you're getting it now.

Okay, now I get to delve into the fun stuff. Let's talk about that cotillion ball, shall we? You know, that danse party where Aziraphale persuades all the shopkeepers on Whickber street to attend a Jane Austen-style ball?

I personally refer to this whole fiasco experience as the Eldritch Ball. On the surface, it seems fairly innocent. The shopkeepers need a little bit of encouragement to attend the Whickber Street monthly meeting, but the angel manages to convince everyone to join with the help of some coercion-via-bribery. When they show up, they're transmuted into Austen-esque characters, from their clothes, to their speech patterns, even to some extent, their perception of reality. This is where it starts to get a little uncomfortable if you peel back the layers. Mrs. Sandwich can't talk about what she does for a living, which is a great comedy bit, but also demonstrates that her speech is being significantly censored and altered by an outside force. With the exception of Mr. Brown (hidden agendas here, Neil? I honestly don't know), all the shopkeepers find themselves in new, slightly-period-appropriate garments. What's really weird, though, is that no one notices the changes. When the dancing begins, to the music of Mr. Anderson's piano and an accompanying string quartet (strings...as in violins...as in fiddles. Remember Death's fiddle?), Nina appears to be the only one who realizes that something is off.

Maggie: This is something new.

Nina: This is something completely bonkers. Are we...? Why is everyone talking like they've escaped from Pride and Prejudice?

Maggie: Just getting into the spirit of things, I suppose.

Nina: The spirit of what things? This is meant to be the shopkeeper association monthly meeting.

Maggie: Hmm. Yes. Now that you put it like that...

Nina: Are we dancing?

Maggie: Yes.

Nina: Did you ever learn the steps to this dance?

Maggie: It's just what we do, isn't it?

Nina: No. No, it isn't. This is something mad. This is their [Crowley & Azirapahle's] fault. They're doing this.

Something is definitely mad. One might even say it's macabre. Aziraphale has become Death the Resurrectionist. He has lured the shopkeepers of Whickber Street through a portal (as Death leads his flock from the world of the dead to the world of the living.) Aziraphale's instrument is his clipboard and pen, held almost as one might hold a fiddle and bow, as he invites the various shopkeepers to the monthly meeting. Once they all arrive, he miraculously gives them new clothes (as Death knits together the bones of the dead), and then proceeds to control their bodies and minds, as though they are merely marionettes. They dance and speak in the way Aziraphale imagines, fulfilling his fantasy of a perfect Jane Austen-style ball (quite literally, the Danse Macabre.)

The shopkeepers have become the dead and Aziraphale controls them until the spell is broken--or rather until the window is broken.

To be honest, I don't think Aziraphale is really aware of how much he is able to transfigure his environment, including the humans who happen to be close by. Or, at least, I don't believe he does any of this with ill intent. He's just a bit blind to anything outside his fixation of wooing Crowley, at the moment. As a result, he creates a situation that is profoundly problematic and unnatural. Just like the dead in the graveyard have no agency when Death plays his fiddle, the Whickber Street shopkeepers are possessed by Aziraphale's intricate romantic fantasy and must dance as long as the music plays.

It is, in fact, only when the music stops, that the shopkeepers begin to realize that something is most certainly weird. The diagetic music (Mr. Anderson & Co.) abruptly cuts off when an approaching demon horde tosses a brick through the bookshop window. Now the spell, or in this case, miracle, begins to break down. While the shopkeepers still appear to be somewhat under the influence of Aziraphale's persuasive aura, a few of them glance down at their clothes in confusion and look around the bookshop, as though waking from a dream. And at this point, after a little finagling, Crowley escorts the humans out of the bookshop and out of Aziraphale's Danse Macabre.

Once the demons attack the bookshop Aziraphale's influence on his surroundings really starts to deteriorate. Throughout the season, he's been able to structure and manipulate reality (sometimes with Crowley's help) to suit his needs: protecting Gabriel, altering the Bentley, organizing the Ball, etc. But once the bookshop, his safe space, has been breached, he loses control of the situation. From this point in the narrative, nothing goes according to Aziraphale's plan. Aziraphale wants to protect Jimbriel, but the former archangel insists on giving himself over to the demons. Crowley leaves and Aziraphale has to defend the bookshop on his own, when he'd expected Crowley to come right back and save him. While defending the bookshop, Aziraphale reaches his "last" resort not once, but twice: first allowing Nina and Maggie to use his books (!!!) as weapons and then blowing up his halo in a last ditch effort to fend off the invaders. This was not on the agenda for today!

Things just continue to go downhill from there, Aziraphale losing all control of the situation. And by the time the Final Fifteen wraps up, the angel has lost his bookshop and possibly his most important relationship. By the end of the season, Aziraphale is no longer Death the Resurrectionist, the manipulator and puppeteer. Now the angel has become the puppet, dancing to Heaven's music.

[giuliettagaltieri]

Progress Notes

Pairing: Surgeon!Eren x Nurse!Reader

Synopsis: You are having fun, trying new things and meeting other people while Eren disproves the saying, "Out of sight, out of mind."

Warning: Minor angst

Word Count: 1370

2 of 3

The northeastern ocean is a paradise.

You’ve only seen the beaches on pamphlets and in Pinterest and you’re glad to see that it is just as beautiful as it was in the picture, maybe even more.

Padding around your cottage, enjoying the warm hardwood floor as the salty ocean breeze brushes your hair from your shoulder.

You rest your arms on the railings.  A bunch of people were already in the water despite it being two in the afternoon and the sun was high up in the sky.  You can’t wait to do so too.  But first, you needed that coconut juice with the tiny umbrella.

You glance at the shawl you draped on your bed.  Then you whipped around to see your full reflection in the mirror.  Your eyes linger on your insecurities but you let them wander on your other assets.

And just like that, you choose to exit your cottage in your swimwear alone.  Well, with your oversized sunglasses for extra effect and your pretty little beach sandals.

Eyes turned to your direction when you made your way into the minibar on the beach.  And you cannot lie, it felt pretty darn good.

The person manning the bar turns to you with a smile and you ask for the drink you wanted.  You carried the entire coconut—as the drink was served in one—on the seat facing the beach and you took a sip from the curled straw.

You sigh in contentment.  You never get this kind of freshness in Paradis.

“Hey.”

You pause mid-sip to look up the person who called your attention.

A kind looking man with a bunch of freckles smiles shyly at you.

“Hey.”  You say back to him.  “Can I help you?”

He chuckles.  “Nah.  I was just wondering if you can share your table with me.”

You glance around the nearly empty bar and to the seat in front of you.

And Historia’s words echo in your head.

“Sure!”

 “Great.”  He beams at you.  “Tourist?”

You laugh awkwardly.  “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh, no.  No.”  He smiles apologetically.  “It’s just, I come here often to surf and I never saw you before.”

You smile at him, not really knowing how to respond.  Your social awkwardness is a congenital defect.

He smiles back at you before his eyes widen.  “Sorry, was that weird?  It’s not that I spy on people.  I just watch people like a normal amount.”  He says hurriedly.  “I’m normal.” 

Ah.  A person who is just as awkward as you.

“Please, sit down.”  You laugh.

He gladly does so.  “Thanks.”  He places his drink on the table.  “I’m Marco, by the way.”

You extend a hand for him to shake, which he does.  “Y/N.”

You sip on your coconut and stare off in the waves as you did not bring your phone along with you.

“So, Y/N.  Where are you from?”

You wipe your lips.  “Paradis.  You?”

He smiled.  “Also from Paradis but I moved here two years ago to pursue surfing.”

“Oh?”  You asked, your interest piqued.

His chest puffs up a bit.  “Yup.  I join competitions and stuff and give lessons during my free time.  I can teach you if you want.  For free.”

You shift in your seat excitedly.  “Really?”  You always wanted to try surfing.

He nods as he sips his pineapple drink.  “We can meet around four, that’s when the waves usually come in.  I could even bring you a board.”

“That sounds perfect, Marco.”

Eren Jaeger was never bothered by the freezing temperature of the theater.

But this feels rather different.

“Allis.”  He says with his hand waiting and his brows twitch when it took solid five seconds before the instrument was put on his hand.

“If this continues, we’ll be here till midnight.”  He says impatiently.

“Sorry Doc, I usually work in laparoscopic procedures.”  The scrub one nurse smiles sheepishly.

Eren looks up upon hearing a different voice.  He was wondering as to why you’re being too quiet, as it turns out, you’re not even there with him. 

“Where’s Y/L/N?”  He asks as he scans the entire theater for you.

“Not here.”  The circulating nurse says rather aloofly.

Eren glances at her.  “Reiss, is it?”  He asks the circulating nurse.

“That’s right, doc.”  She says, her posture stiff as she hugs the clipboard close to her.  She was shorter than most but she’s staring him down.

“Would you mind telling me where my usual scrub nurse is?”  Eren asked calmly, not even looking at her as he pulled on a tough tissue.

Historia hesitates for a moment.  “She’s-”

“She’s out having the best time of her life and potentially kissing hot lifeguards.”  Ymir, the scrub two nurse says.

Eren pauses and the scrub one nurse looks at him in apprehension but Eren quickly resumes the operation and looks as nonchalant as ever.  “Good for her.”

“Sure.”  Ymir grins.  “By the amount of rejection she gets from you, it’s only fair if she gets laid from time to time.  Right, Doc?”

All eyes fall on Eren.

“Focus on the operation.”

They all share knowing glances and resume their work.

Marco was really patient with you despite you messing up much too often.

“I just can’t get it right.”  You say frustratingly. 

He just smiled kindly.  “It’s because you’re too stiff.  Try to loosen your hips and bend your knees a bit.”

You look and see a big wave coming.  “Alright, I’ll try again.”

Marco raises his thumbs and beams at you.  “You got this!”

But as soon as you stand, you manage to stay on the board for a few seconds before falling on your back on the water.

You sink and you look up to see the board floating, with an obscured image of a worried Marco next to it.  You swim up and rest your elbows on the board.

“That was better.”  He grins.  He’s being too kind.  That was simply horrible.  “Wanna try again?”

By the end of the day, you feel like your entire body is sore, but at least you can say that you know how to surf now.  Albeit, poorly.

You and Marco eat at a grill house.  Your treat of course, it’s your way of saying ‘thank you’ as he refused any monetary payment.

“Why is the food so much better here?  We never get tuna this fresh in Paradis.”  You groan while dipping one in hot soy sauce that the owners made themselves.

“Paradis has good seafood too though.”  Marco says confused.

You nod as you swallow your food.  “But by the time it reaches the city, it’s frozen.”

Marco just watches you eat, a small smile on his lips.

“What?”  You ask with a small chuckle, feeling slightly conscious.

He blinks and a tint of red spreads on his cheeks and he starts playing with the decorative seashell.

“Nothing.  It’s just, you’re…well, you’re really pretty.”

You pause.  “Oh, thank you.”  You smile widely.  Should you compliment him too?  What should you say in these situations?

“Well, I know you’re not interested in me in that way but I did enjoy our time this afternoon.  And if you’re not too busy tomorrow, what do you say about coming with me and my friends to scuba dive?”

You’re not doing anything important tomorrow.  Scuba diving sounds pretty fun too.  And it’s good that he is sensitive to your feelings, he knows where he stands.

The idea of being liked is something you quite enjoyed as it was always you who is being rejected.  But you didn’t like the thought of hanging out with him with that kind of mindset installed in your head.

And as much as you like trying new stuff, you think it’s better that you don’t spend two days together in a row.  Just to keep things casual.

You want to focus on yourself first. 

Besides, you can’t stress about guys right now, you’re on a vacation.

And you have enough stress waiting for you back in Paradis, and that stress comes in the form of a 183 centimeters tall general surgeon who is currently trying to come to terms with his feelings inside the Hospital parking lot for an hour now.

Doctor's Order • Progress Notes • Care Plan

[royallygray]

Psst Royal

Do you wanna rant about anymore soul horizon lore? I would like to hear about soul horizon lore if you wanna ramble :D

Also would you like to read the essay I wrote about llkau Pearl's psychological truama and manipulation from her mother?

yes I am always down to rant about soul horizon lore. also YES I WANT PEARLS PSYCHOLOGICAL TRAUMA HEHEHEHEHEHEH

Anyways hello. I am normal sized again wow.

Okay so personally--FUCK I HAVE A MEGA STUPID ASSIGNMENT IM GONNA NEED TO DEAL WITH THAT IN SOME AMOUNT OF TIME--i have recently been obsessed with soul horizon divorcée quartet.

THEYRE. SO FUCKING SPECIAL TO ME. BECAUSE THEYRE LOSERS

OMG OMG I NEED TO EXPLAIN THE EEP

WE DONT CARE ABOUT THE EEP WE CARE ABOUT SCOTT AND CLEO AND PEARL AND MARTYN

Scott and Cleo are canonically married. why did I do this, you may ask? tax benefits. and they were living with each other anyways. and also idk how marriage licenses work but it makes the pay a whole lot like even-er because Scott's a doctor and Cleo's a teacher

Well they're a college professor. idk how much more college professors get paid and I am too lazy to google it

hold on actually

ok so according to the first results: 96k to 300k per year which makes the second result so fucking sad like. the second result is 30k-97k a year. like. rip

compared to high school teachers: 45k-100k per year. Jesus Christ. and then the second result is 38k-46k.

rip teachers honestly

AYY SCOTT IS LOADED. I THINK. I DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH SHIT COSTS I HAVE NO LIFE EXPERIENCE I AM A BLOB FLOATING IN THE WIND DESPERATELY CLINGING TO LIFE

330k-630k. Yahoo. scott has it good. he's a surgeon because... I said so. he's like a surgeon but also a doctor. I think. mostly a surgeon tho but I am going to call him a doctor for the rest of this because in my mind he wears the coats. like a lab person. with cyan hair

SO. WHERE DO WE ACTUALLY BEGIN WITH THE LORE.

Well. It starts in elementary school. I... don't actually have lore for Cleo and Scott for this part but I do for Pearl and Martyn! So Pearl and Martyn are the same age, and they went to Evolution Elementary and Middle. They're in the same building. People just call it Evo

Also Jimmy barely made it through that school bc the year after he graduated it got shut down bc it was hosting cult activities. hmmm. weird

All the Evo gang went to Evo Elementary. shocker. And Lizzie.

And then they graduated, and they went to Hermit High Academy. Which I love. All the Hermits are there, except for Joel and Skizz (THEY WEREN'T HERMITS WHEN THIS STARTED AND ID ALREADY DONE THIS BACKSTORY), Cleo (she was at EEP), Gem, and Scar.

Also EEP stands for Empires Education Program. I love the EEP. All Empires people went there.

The two significant years-

hold on hold on hold on. okay. so.

Year order. we need this

also my sibling once told me that I text like someone with ADHD and I cannot help but feel like that's relevant here.

hello it is now a completely different day and place (I'm at the kitchen table and it is midnight)

(It has been thirty minutes I'm in my bed again and I am going to fall asleep. I need to take my meds. I have now taken my meds. now if I wanted to I could just fall asleep. I'm gonna keep talking here.)

In the Empires Education Program (which is referred to by people who want to mock it and also the attendees of it as the eep. Others say Empires or E E P (separated letters)) there are two years of people attending that we care about.

Everyone that was in Empires or SOS, minus False, Pearl, Jimmy, and Gem is part of the EEP.

The secondary year we care about (the grade below) has Oli, Owen, Mog, Eloise, and a few others unnamed (prolly from Witchcraft) because I refuse to make this class smaller than Magic School Bus's.

Everyone (minus Pearl, Jimmy, and Gem) in Empires S1 is in the first year of EEP. The second year has everyone else (minus False) that was in Empires S2 and SOS.

The primary year we care about (the most plot relevant people are here) has Scott, Cleo, Lizzie, Joel, Shelby, Katherine, fWhip, Pix, Sausage, and Joey. You might notice that Cleo is in here, and they are not part of this group. Cleo is in here because I said so. Also I needed a place for her to be besties with Scott. And Cleo would be a great addition to this crew, just saying.

... genuinely it is a completely different day and I am in a separate building and I have no idea what my ultimatum here was

Anyways. Martyn is a vigilante, Pearl's a villain, Scott's a doctor, and Cleo's a professor.

The funny thing that I'm absolutely in love with is how they semi get along. but mostly don't.

see. Scott and Pearl had that whole scene where Pearl literally ran out of magic and started ripping it out of Scott's soul. Magic is part of your soul, so it comes from a similar place as your soulbond.

And so Scott and Pearl have a well justified rivalry. And also after they broke the soulbond -- OH I JUST REMEMBERED THE REALLY FUNNY SHIT -- they both became Worthy, Scott significantly earlier than Pearl.

I still gotta explain the Worthy thing dammit

Anyways the really funny shit is that normally, when you reject your soulbond, you essentially function exactly the same as a person without a soulbond except you've got a weird tattoo, and you will die at the same moment that they do.

EXCEPT the divorce quartet are part of the Eighteen (which irl are just the life series members), and this means that the rejection doesn't work. It works at first, and Pearl and Scott have silent minds for the first time ever, and then they hear the slight whisper of the other one's voice and just. they're suffering.

It's funny as fuck, imo, because I'm the sadist author that makes the characters suffer. hehe

essentially, the telepathy hurts more after they rejected it than before. And also they also have the normal consequence of "if the one dies, then the other one dies too" which normal soulmates don't have.

But because of the rejection not working, the four of them realized that they're Winners. And they all figure out that they're Winners because Pearl believes that Mortality mythology (aka life series canon events) is real.

And Martyn was like "hah Pearl you're crazy"

and Pearl straight up goes "Jimmy's the Canary"

and the three of them stare at Pearl

because EVERYONE has heard the legend of the canary. It doesn't fucking matter who you are.

And Cleo's straight up like "holy shit"

And Scott knew the entire time bc he shares a brain with Pearl except he semi didn't believe it but he knew that Pearl believed it

But now they figure out that Scott is the Stars (2nd winner), Pearl is the Moon (3rd winner), Martyn is Mars/water/The Tower (4th winner), and Cleo is Pluto/fire/Death (6th winner).

And then perhaps Grian just walks out of the house and is like what're y'all talking about.

And then Pearl just stares at him. because she remembers what his soulmark is.

It's the sun and the earth. which is the missing duo of winners.

and Pearl is like. Grian. You're a winner.

and Grian's like "wtf are you on"

"like of mortality mythology"

"wat"

Scott: so is he the sun or the earth

Pearl: probably the sun. have you seen that face

Grian: wtf

Martyn: welcome to divorce club, Grian

Pearl: Martyn stfu

Martyn: yeah I'm scared of you so I will actually do that

Also Martyn and Pearl are besties

also I gotta write the scene where they divorce bc it's actually rly cute. not like Scott&Pearl and Martyn&Cleo but like. Scott and Martyn are cute. And Pearl and Cleo are cute. And Cleo and Scott<3 and Martyn and Pearl are like besties. so.

yeah

they. them. they're the perfect combination of like. a lot of shit. because all of them are morally gray.

hey that's almost my name

My name is actually a play on the phrase "morally gray", fun fact

Since Pearl is literally a villain. Martyn is a more hero aligned vigilante. Scott and Cleo, while being civilians, do actively help Pearl by giving her potions and shit since she and Martyn can go to the Nether to get the ingredients, and Scott and Cleo have a permit to brew potions.

Like. Scott and Cleo are like passive and will not get outed in the grand scheme, but technically they break the law daily. And I love them so much for that. Like. They know WAYYY too much to be civilians. Not even JOEL knows as much, and he's the motherfucking husband of Riptide, who is the sister of Scarlet AND Sparrow. AND the Canary.

Anyways. Um. If you want to ask any clarifying questions, I would be more than happy to answer those.

This was rly incoherent and I'm sorry abt that but y'know :D

THANK YOU PERI @periwinklepaint FOR THE ASK :D :D

[sarcasticbabywhispererjess]

Attn: Talk of death and dying of babies. Please feel free to scroll on without reading (I also wrote a lot, so I doubt many people will take the time to read it).

I ended my three night stretch by being a post-mortem photographer since the last two nights at work have been madness.

Really classic full moon shift on Saturday. Our one kid that had come in during day shift and soft crashed onto ECMO (I say soft crashed because they managed to never lose a heart rate and need compressions because of many doses of Epi). I was support nurse both nights (aka I didn't have a patient assignment, I just help everyone out if/when they need it) and on Saturday my other support nurse and both charges spent most of their time with the patient on ECMO that wasn't doing well. Then at 0620 they lost their HR and a code was called. Which would have been less of an emergency if the ECMO machine was circulating well, but it really hadn't been all night. I was on the opposite side of the unit at the time and I hustled to get over there. Ultimately the code was successful in that we got the ECMO to work, but we never got the HR back. From the ECHO we did the heart was bad, we'd done a bedside CT during dayshift and it wasn't great. They did eventually did withdrawal and the baby passed.

Last night started out pretty slow. Then the little 500g preemie that had perfed their bowel and had bedside surgery on Friday to place drains (they usually opt to do that with the very little ones instead of fully opening the belly to remove any dead bowel) decided to start acting up. Their pressor had been turned off during the day, it was back on and higher than before. Their blood gas at midnight was terrible. The attending got very hyperfocused on thinking that it was maybe a pericardial effusion because they had had a deep PICC (though, she admitted later, her perception was skewed because of a baby that had recently had that happen). What was actually most likely happening was more of their bowel was dying. Although we didn't lose the HR for the first couple of hours (though there were a few deep bradys when we were putting the Bovi pad on to prep for another bedside surgery) because, again, we were giving Epi boluses and had started a drip. Unfortunately once the surgeons got the belly open the baby started to brady, we lost the IV access we'd been using for all our IV push drugs, and then they were asystolic. Per the conversation the attending had had with the family prior to starting surgery it was decided to just quickly close the baby up so family could hold before they died (though they were already mostly gone). After they had stopped manipulating the bowel we did get a bradycardic HR back (not sure if it was PEA or not since no one checked for a pulse, though we might not have been able to feel on either way since the BP was so low). The complexes fairly quickly became wider and slowed down until they again flatlined. Unfortunately they had fully passed just before we got family into the room. A while later after they'd had their bath and spent time with the family, I went in with the bedside nurse to get hand and footprints for the legacy boxes we make for these situations. Once we were done with that we started taking some pictures including some with parents. I'm not really much of a photographer especially with just an iPhone, but I got some fairly good pictures. My faves were close-ups of their tiny little hands and feet... probably because they look quite dead in all the pictures. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get the picture printer to work, so that became a day shift opportunity because it was like 0650 and I had to give report so I could go home.

It's been a while since I've had a group of shifts like that. I'm hoping this isn't starting another grouping of patient deaths like we had a while back. I have one day off and I'm back as support again on Tuesday night. I did have plans to maybe be semi productive today and make it to the gym, but I never got a break last night and I'm a little behind on sleep from the last few days... so I'm just going to nap and chill today.

[drshrirang]

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Who Needs a Hip Replacement? Hip replacement is the last option of hip treatment. Hip replacement is done when we can not remove pain from the hip joint then we can go for hip replacement surgery. The following condition you need to do hip replacement surgery

Your pain continues or repeats over time The pain is increasing after the exercise You have difficulty walking or climbing stairs Medicine can not relieve your pain and increases time by time The pain prevents you from sleeping You’ve had a previous injury to your hip You have difficulty getting in and out of chairs and bathtubs You can no longer complete routine daily tasks without help Your doctor says that less-complicated surgical procedures are unlikely to help

How Is Hip Replacement Surgery Performed? Except you are having an emergency hip replacement due to an accident, your surgery will likely be programmed several weeks in advance. Your doctor will be given the appointment and at that time your surgery is performed. The surgery takes up to 3 hours or more.

They may suggest that you lose some weight. You will also need to stop taking any medications, including blood thinners. During this time, you may also want to rearrange your living space to minimize having to walk long distances or up and downstairs. For example, you might consider: preparing meals in advance and freezing them placing everyday items within arm’s reach to avoid overexertion You will not be able to eat or drink anything after midnight on the day of the surgery.

Hip surgery is done in a hospital operating room. After you check-in at the surgery desk, a nurse will take you into a room to be prepared for surgery. You will take off your clothes and put on a hospital gown, and the nurse will start an IV in your hand, wrist, or arm. The IV allows you to receive fluids and medications during the surgery. Dr. Shrirang Kulkarni is the best doctor is performed hip replacement surgery at the Earth and Ether clinic also he is a specialist in the pediatric orthopedic surgeon in Pune

How much does a hip replacement cost? The cost of hip replacement surgery in Pune and other city varies greatly. There are several reasons which affect the cost of hip replacement surgery in Pune:

Type of hip replacement surgery Number of days you stay in hospital Type of artificial implant that you choose Experience of your surgeon City of your choice Type of surgery approach At Earth and Ether clinic we are responsible for giving the best treatment to our patients. Dr. Shrirang Kulkarni is the best orthopedic doctor in pune having more than 12 years experience in the orthopedic surgery.

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 34

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L    Warnings: DARK THEMES, heavily implied domestic abuse (the Black family) A/n: I’m editing this in a restaurant rn. Nobody can say that I’m not committed! Anyway, if there’s more errors than usual, it’s bc I’m on mobile. Sorry!

【 Masterlist | Previous Chapter | ao3 】

Chapter 34: Secrets of Our Souls

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Meet me at our place at midnight. Be careful. Make sure nobody follows you.  R.A.B

Y/N read the letter several times before folding it in half while her eyes glazed the crowd of students in the Great Hall in search of Regulus.

A no-show.

Since the start of the term, she’d been trying to get hold of Regulus but her attempts were futile. He was as finicky as a shadow, never staying still long enough for her to grasp, to spot.

Everything about his inconspicuous disappearance and the peculiar letter left her deeply unnerved. He'd even gone as far as using a different owl to respond to her letters; not the usual Black family owl.

In many ways, Regulus was mysterious; highly unusual — dare she say frightening.

“Oh!” Marlene exclaimed. “A secret admirer?”

“Give it back!” Y/N said indignantly as Marlene pried the letter from her hand, unfolding it. Before she could read the contents, Y/N nearly tackled it out of her grasp, snatching it back while Marlene pouted. “It’s private.”

Continuing to sulk, Dorcas smiled at Marlene. From between the sliver of space from under the wooden table and their bodies, she watched as Dorcas held Marlene’s hand; thumb grazing over her knuckles. Y/N eyed them questioningly.

“What are you not telling us?” Dorcas mused, leaning on the table with a sly smirk.

Marlene snapped her fingers. “Oi! Ginger snaps!”

Lily peered over, smile vanishing, placing her fork down. “Did you just call me a…?”

“Would you prefer traffic cone then?” Mary teased.

“I like Carrots more.” Dorcas added, shyly.

“Anyway, you two are pretty much attached,” Marlene said. Had she known better, she would have recognized Marlene’s tone for jealousy. "Who sent that letter?”

Lily shrugged but her face turned downwards at her uncomfortable body language. “She said it’s private. Leave it.”

The conversation ended at that.

Y/N felt a little nudge under the table and as she looked up, Lily’s head was tilted, conveying the silent question, ‘are you okay?’ She didn’t answer as a couple of first years bounced up to Marlene, tugging down on her sleeve. She turned to them, flicking her blond hair out of her face with a wide smile.

One first year was close to tears, another one standing on their tippy-toes to whisper something in her ear.

“Please can you come to the common room? It’s scary and I-I miss my dad!” One of the first years cried out.

Marlene cooed, hugging them lovingly. With a nod, she stood and pressed a kiss to the side of Dorcas’ cheek. She managed to make it seem like she was whispering in her ear before turning back to the group. “See you tossers later!”

Dorcas watched Marlene walk away. First years jumping, hanging off of her while Dorcas’ fingers grazed the spot on her face where she kissed her. She dazzled radiantly.

Before midnight, Y/N left her dorm, heading to the Marauder’s room and knocked on their door. She vaguely heard footsteps approaching before it opened.

She smiled before she could even register it. “Moony.”

He grinned widely. “Whiskers,” Remus said pleasantly, leaning against the door frame, his hair falling slightly over his eyes. “How may I help you?”

“Seeing you has already helped a lot.” She joked while Remus blushed madly. She laughed at his reaction. “I need to talk to Bambi.”

Remus had his eyebrows raised but opened the door wide and beckoned her in.

She noticed a bed pushed far to the left, isolated from the other beds. The curtains were almost nearly closed aside from the sliver that was still open. Black was there, book in hand with a few pieces of parchment laid surrounding him. He was already looking up at her.

They truly isolated Black from them in every way possible.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” Peter smiled before throwing her a small wrapped sweet her way. “Greetings!”

“Thanks, Pete!” She caught it. And dropped onto James’ bed. His glasses were strewn, laying on his bedside table as he flicked through his book.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak tonight?”

James surprisingly didn’t push further as he simply went through his trunk and threw her the cloak, only asking that she would be careful with it.

She hopped out of the room, rushing out to the cold corridors and threw the cloak over her head. As she passed through various hallways, she finally opened the door to her and Regulus’ small hideout. A couple of candles were lit and the familiar Slytherin and Gryffindor blankets clashed together.

Huddled in the corner of the room on the couch, small and curled with his legs pressed against his chest and chin perched on his knees, Regulus was there, shaking.

She rushed up to him, keeping her hand visible and only touching him when he realized it was her. Consoling people was always a challenge in itself.

“What happened?”

Regulus’ voice was strained and tired. “C-can you hug me? Please?”

Her heart could have shattered as she roped him into a large, crushing hug. His aching sobs crashed through her chest. Y/N’s arms were tight around Regulus, his head face pressed against her shoulder and she could feel his tears seep through her shirt. Doing the best she could, she soothed him, petting his hair.

She couldn’t tell just how much time had passed until Regulus’ snuffles calmed down as he harshly wiped his tears. It was the first time she was able to truly get a close-up of how he looked.

To put it lightly, Regulus looked like shit.

Any of that regal, youthful glow of his diminished. And she realized it only faded whenever he went home. His skin was dull and grey, eyes sunken. Even his long hair was cut lopsidedly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked.

“I… It’s…” Regulus trailed off, face full of worry and trouble. “It’s…”

“It’s okay,” she rubbed her hand up and down his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me.”

But something caught her eye. Regulus’ trousers rode up in his shaking state. A large bandage was wrapped messily on his leg. The skin around the bandage was red and a few scars peaked out. But as soon as she realized, he had too and quickly pulled the fabric down.

“... What is that?” She asked softly. She didn’t know what it was, but something heavy sunk in her chest — the feeling of sickening, frightening dread.

He refused to answer.

“You have to get that checked out —”

“No!” Regulus shouted, complete panic filtering through his face.

“Whatever that is, it isn’t going to heal properly if we don’t.”

Regulus debated for a while and she saw the conflict on his face before relenting. “I’m embarrassed by it…”

She mustered up any kind of energy left and smiled. “I won’t judge you.” She managed to catch his eye and held it. She went over her options quickly.

1. Leave Regulus?

Option one was already tossed out the window. The weight of the situation was far too grave to continue to let it slide by again and again.

2. Press further?

But how?

3. Make him feel comfortable?

Bingo.

If he was ashamed by his scars, then maybe if she showed hers…

She turned to Regulus, lifting her sleeve. A scar ran across her forearm from Snape’s attack during the Quidditch match.

“I got this a couple of months ago in a nasty fight.” Then she pointed to the small scar on her leg from when she was dragged by Moony. "I got this from an accident."

But then, she sucked in a deep breath, mustering up all her bravery and courage, pushing down every bit of insecurity. She tugged down the collar of her shirt a bit, just enough to reveal the top of a much more faded scar that travelled down to her sternum. “And I got this from a heart surgery.”

She fixed her shirt to sit properly again. “I was born with a heart defect. It went undetected until my mom found me, hardly breathing and had to perform open-heart surgery on me. I was supposed to die but here I am. Healthy and alive and I haven’t had a problem since.”

Regulus looked up at her wide-eyed and his body became less stiff.

“I used to be so… ashamed of it. Maybe I still am, I never talk about it… Only you, my mom and someone at Ilvermorny knows. But my point is, I am more than my scars, and you are too.”

She swallowed her fear, now cursing herself and resolved to shut up. Waiting, she wondered that since she showed him the scars that perhaps he would too.

Regulus considered her, almost astonished, finally moving to pull up his trousers and peeling off his bandage, wincing while doing so.

It felt like a cold bucket of water was splashed all over her body. She desperately tried to keep her face blank as the overwhelming urge to cry while combating the wave of nausea hit her.

His skin was butchered — fiery red. They weren’t neat, like what a surgeon's scalpel would be like, but messy, crisscrossed and viciously deep. It had hardly healed and they were old enough to be a little over a week or two old. And undoubtedly painful.

Whoever did that to him was enraged, furious.

“Shit… Regulus… who did this?” She asked quietly, more to herself than him as he remained silent. She stood, commanding, “We need to get you fixed up.”

“It’s not that b —”

“Stop lying.”

“Just don’t take me to the hospital wing.”

Wanting to know more, she was too afraid that any more prying would result in Regulus completely shutting down and withholding more information. Instead, she picked up the invisibility cloak, threw it over him and wrapped an arm underneath Regulus' arms to help him walk out of the room.

She went to the only other place she knew she would be able to offer any resemblance of help.

Once reaching the Potions classroom, muttering Alohomora, Y/N helped Regulus sit down comfortably at one of the extra tables and immediately got to work. All sorts of magic went around as she grabbed an extra textbook and flipped to the Essence of Dittany page.

Shelves, jars and cabinets opened and closed on their own accord, all taking ingredients as they fell into a boiling cauldron.

“What are you doing?” Regulus questioned, nervously drumming his fingers on the table.

“Making you something.”

It was still between them. She didn’t know what to say, only what to do. Everything went through her mind like a step-by-step process, like a robot categorizing its own emotions.

Because what was the right response to something like this?

She stared at the bubbling cauldron, slowly stirring to avoid eye contact. “You don’t have to tell me but… you didn’t do this to yourself —”

“No,” Regulus said, calmly and steadily.

“Then… to the person — people who did… will they bother you again?”

“Probably not… I’ll be okay.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.

Once the potion was completed, she poured it inside an applicator and made sure to cast a quick cleaning spell. A soft blue glow emitted around his leg until disappearing. She looked up to him, fisting his shirt and shoved it inside his mouth. “I’m sorry, this is going to hurt.”

She took the applicator, pouring a couple drops onto his wound. A greenish smoke billowed around them as it bubbled on his skin. The skin was stitching itself back together and over his wound. Regulus moaned in pain, fist banging on the wooden table.

She finally pulled the cloth from his mouth once down and ran across the room to find more clean clothes to dab off the sweat from his face. Y/N thought for a second he was going to faint.

“I’m so sorry Reg… Sorry…”

He didn’t say anything for a while, only nodding in response meanwhile she monitored his condition. She gave him the wrapped candy that Peter gave her, hoping that it would help him regain some energy. She was beginning to grow worried that she might’ve brewed it incorrectly as her mind mulled over possible counter potions.

“I know… you said... you don’t talk to my brother much…” Regulus croaked out. She closed the book, rushing up to him. “But... you are in the same friend group… right?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek. A white lie wouldn’t hurt.

“Things changed. We’re friends. Why?”

There was a long pause. “Is he okay?”

A million questions went through her. Even if they were estranged, wouldn’t he know?

“He’s okay.” Lie. “He’s just been… stressed as of late.” True.

“Is he still staying with the Potter’s?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyelids drooping but everything about it told her something wasn’t right. “I’m glad.”

Regulus refused to let her help him walk back to the dungeons and left with his wound almost fully healed. And she was left with more questions than any answers as she slithered into bed.

What was he not telling her?

But then she thought about the summer with Matthew. Why had he been so surprised that she had been with a member of the Black family? Or how did he even know them? What was it about them that commanded so much respect and international recognition?

A couple of footsteps padded her way and Y/N felt her bed dip, a weight sliding beside her.

“Are you okay?” Lily whispered. “Been worried about you these past couple of days.”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, turning to the side to look at Lily through the night. “Jolly.”

“You sure? It can be our secret?”

She remained quiet and it gave Lily her answer. She turned onto her side before mumbling. “Feel free to stay tonight.” When she didn’t feel Lily leave, but she wiggled around to become comfortable, she sighed, forcing herself to sleep.

There was certainly far too much happening in her life at the moment for her to fully care about Lily’s bizarre and avoidant behaviour. She just wanted the next day to come.

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The next few days were uncomfortable and Y/N was beyond exhausted.

Breakfast was nothing more than her sipping on a glass of water, studying the Slytherin table, worried for Regulus.

Was he being bullied? Was he… no… the wound was a bit too old for it to have taken place at Hogwarts.

She spent most of the day in the library, simply reviewing her Herbology and Advanced Potions textbook.

Much to James’ dismay, all the free periods they had in sixth year were due to the overwhelming work and increased difficulty in lessons. Fortunately for Y/N, Potions was partially a free class and she never had to worry about it aside from the essays. It was far too easy.

During class, she would figure out new techniques, tricks, but to her dismay, Slughorn had really enjoyed how both she and Snape performed together and often paired them up during potions. She hated to admit it, but there was a reason why Snape was a favourite student of Slughorn. He had talent. Although, he was in a permanently vindictive mood around her which made him even more unbearable.

The tip of her eagle-feather quill moved across the pages of the textbook and she pulled back momentarily to review her book.

Nightshade… Powdered silver… Stewed Mandrakes… Slughorn had said it helped werewolves… What if Remus —

“Whiskers! There you are!” James said, strutting up. He sat down on the couch beside her, both tucked away in the corner of the library.

She gave a little wave of her fingers before closing her book. James suddenly became slightly dejected at her reaction. She couldn’t force herself to put on a show.

“Something wrong?”

Y/N felt like there were no answers to everything that had been happening recently. Only if Matthew was there.

But James was.

“I need to ask you something.”

His head swivelled around to see if anyone with prying ears was listening in before nodding.

“Could you tell me about the Black family?”

She had never seen James go so rigid. His cheek hallowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek and waited for her to elaborate.

“I know I don’t talk about it but Regulus is a friend of mine.” She didn’t miss the way James stiffened further at that. “And he’s… worrying me. He’s… god, I don’t know what to say.”

James threw up a silencing spell, encircling them. “It’s okay, go on.”

“Regulus’ leg was butchered. I think he’s being bullied or it’s darker than that.”

James’ skin, which was usually a warm, rich look, seemed as if it paled, almost giving him a gray appearance. “Did he say anything about his family?”

“No. But he never talks about them. Is that the reason why Black stays with you?”

“Even with the non-existent respect I have for Black, I feel like I can’t tell you much,” James said and she understood why. “But the Black family — they’re fucking insane. Their Pureblood mania is probably one of the worst I’ve ever seen.” James took a moment to look at her reaction after mentioning blood purity. “He has a reason to be scared of them.”

“So you’re telling me that his family… they hurt him?”

James looked down, the gravity of their conversation finally hitting him. He took off his round glasses, rubbing his temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It was probably another Slytherin. His parents… love him — I don’t see them laying a hand on him. He didn’t mention running away? Did he?”

“No.”

She heard James curse under his breath as he grabbed his hair out of habit. “I’ll talk to him.”

“About what? You can’t tell him I told you, he’ll —”

“Relax. I won’t. I’ll ask him to move in with me.”

Y/N felt like she could faint there and then. Everything in her body felt wobbly, weak as she grappled with the idea of Regulus and his home life. Then Black… did he also go through what Regulus has been through? The thought made her sick.

James’ voice tugged her back to reality. “Promise me something.” She waited for him to continue.

“I know Regulus is your friend and that he’s going through a rough time but…” James struggled with his words. “But… be careful around him. He’s not much of a threat but his family is. There’s a reason why Black lives with me; no matter how angry, how much I hate him, I would never let him go back there. To them.

“The war is approaching and they have eyes all on Regulus — watching everything he does.”

Goosebumps covered her entire body. Everything James said sounded more like an underlying threat of sorts. She wondered if that was the reason why he refused to be seen with her publicly. “Are you saying that he’s a Death Eater?”

“No,” James responded briskly. “But it’s not to say his parents won’t force him to. If you knew his family, you would understand —”

Both students snapped their heads up from the figure slowly approaching them as James eased off the silencing charm.

Professor Elway was there, holding a large leather-bound book and a stack of parchment, most likely essays she had to grade. She only gave a small nod to James before smiling widely at Y/N which caused James to mutter something vaguely familiar that sounded like ‘favouritism.’

“Ms. L/N! How wonderful to see you!” Elway was enlivened. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh! Erm — thank you?”

Elway laughed, “Your work has been incredible! I’m very impressed.”

She felt James nudge her under the table.

“Oh!” The professor exclaimed. “There’s a Duelling club session tonight I’m supervising. I’d love to see you there?”

“I’m sorry, but we have a paper due in Transfigurations.” James helped, cutting in for her. She felt herself relax into her chair.

In no time, Defence Against the Dark Arts became Y/N’s favourite class and duelling was incredibly fun, but all she wanted to do was sleep. Perhaps another time…

Professor Elway gave a little sigh but nodded her head. “Then I’ll see you next session! Have a good day, Ms. L/N and Mr..?”

“Potter.”

“My apologies, Mr. Potter. Have a fine day!”

While they watched her leave, both students were left with a similar deep, icy trepidation that clawed at their soul and a single question heavy in their hearts.

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【 Next Chapter 】

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost, translate or modify

[hauntedfalcon]

living in midnight

for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat

the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3

read on AO3 or below

Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.

Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.

She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.

“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”

Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.

A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.

“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”

“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.

Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.

Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.

“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”

The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.

Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--

“Pronto.”

Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.

“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.

A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.

“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.

“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”

“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”

White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.

Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.

“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”

She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.

And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.

There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.

In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.

The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”

Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.

“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”

“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.

“I’m glad she made it that long.”

“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.

Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.

The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”

That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.

A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.

Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.

The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”

No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”

“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.

But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”

The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.

“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.

Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.

“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”

It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.

“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”

No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.

But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”

Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”

And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”

She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…

“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”

“Celeste,” says the woman.

Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.

Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.

Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Six

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Swearing (I like swearing. Adds character and sounds pretty to me lol), mentions of surgical procedures and idiots, John Walker, drinking.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

Note: Next chapter is gonna be a spiral so strap in.

As always, any likes, reblog, or comments are appreciated (:

*gifs not mine

Previously

Y/N rolled her eyes a little bit at his comment, giggling softly, “C’mon, Bucky. It’s not like that, don’t get jealous. John’s just a friend and he may be able to fill in some gaps in my memory.” She reminded, knowing that he would know that was important to her.

Bucky sighs and nods reluctantly, “Alright, fine. We can get together for drinks one night.” He said with a smile down to her. He couldn’t say no to her, never could. Except before she left to serve as a trauma surgeon in the military. That was the one time he had tried to tell her no and that backfired pretty horribly, “I got a question for you, darlin.” He stated, “How did you figure out the girl I talked about was you?”

Y/N smiled, lifting her hands to rest on his cheeks as her thumbs brushed across his stubbled cheeks lightly, “Well, you would always look at me when you talked about her like you were talking to her. You call me those cute pentanes quite a lot. And… well, we looked at each other a little too long to be ‘just friends’ like everybody kept telling me.” Y/N watched his facial features turn into a smile towards her, feeling him grip her waist between his large hands and pulling her closer, “I also just felt safe with you. Like the whole world melted away and it was just you and me and it was familiar feeling.” She finished before standing on her toes and planting a kiss to his lips.

Chapter six - Tell me what happened

It was almost midnight as Y/N slept soundly in her own bed. Her pillow was pressed into the soft pillow case as she dreamt about rain. She didn’t remember the last time she saw rain but she knew it wasn’t overseas while she was serving. It was always too hot and there was too much sand. It was like a beach without water. She sat up quickly when she heard a noise awakened her like tapping on glass. She pulled the covers up to her nose as she looked at her window then sighs and rolls her eyes when she saw Bucky tapping at her window with a big grin. Y/N pulled herself out of bed wearing only a large green t-shirt and walks over to window, prying it open as Bucky stepped in, “What’re you doing, Bucky?” She asks with a small smile.

Bucky crawled through the window and shut it behind him before turning to grin down to Y/N, “Figured I’d come through the window, see if it sparked any memories.” He said softly down to her. He used to sneak into her room quite often when they were younger and he always snuck out before he could be caught. Bucky looked her up and down slowly, raising an eyebrow when he saw she was bottomless, “Are you above pants now?” He teased, reaching out and grabbing her waist between his large hands and pulling her closer. He was only wearing a simple grey t-shirt and some black sweatpants, he had already kicked off his boots immediately after crawling through the window no wanting to leave dirty footprints.

Y/N rolls her eyes at him with a smile, snaking her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck as a soft blush appeared on her cheeks, “I didn’t have any clean bottoms. And we are adults now, you know. I’m sure Steve wouldn’t have a problem with you using the door.” She told him with a tilt of her head, “I need sleep, Buck. It’s my first day back at work in the morning.”

Bucky kept his grin on his lips as she spoke, “It’s just so much more fun crawling through your window.” He chuckled down to her, “I know, doll. I won’t keep you up but I can’t sleep without ya.”

Y/N smiled and released herself from his grasp, “Alright.” She said before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto her bed with her. She pulled the covers up over herself and waited for Bucky to take his shirt off before covering him with the blankets also, “I mean it, don’t keep me up all night.” She said to him once he laid down facing her on the pillow beside her own.

“Oh darlin, I’ll be a perfect angel.” Bucky purred out to her, reaching over and wrapping a hand around her to pull her flush against his chest, “I just needed you in my arms.” He murmurs into the top of her head before leaving a small kiss on her forehead.

Y/N smiled gently against Bucky’s shoulder where her face rested. He was warm and as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head, she felt safe. Everything about him screamed familiarity to Y/N even if she couldn’t exactly remember moments. But something inside her remembered the feeling of Bucky’s arms around her and the way he made her feel-butterflies and all. It wasn’t long until she could hear Bucky softly snoring and she soon followed into sleep safely wrapped in his arms and her blankets.

Steve had heard the small commotion in Y/N’s room and went to check, but as he cracked the door all he saw was Bucky in bed with his sister. He rolls his eyes and shut the door, making his way back to Peggy who was still in bed, “It’s like they’re teenagers still. He’s climbing through her window instead of using the door.” He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head as he crawled into the bed next to Peggy.

Peggy smiled over at him, “I told you it was just James.” She said with a giggle, “It’s nice though. The last time I saw Y/N before she left she was devastated and trying to leave as soon as she could. It’s nice to see her so happy again as well as James.”

Steve nodded in agreement, turning on his side to face his brunette wife, “What if she remembers what he said to her?” He asks gently, worry tinging his voice, “What if she runs again?”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Steve, “Do you think she would?” She asks simply.

Steve shrugs over towards her, “I don’t know… I only got half the story of what happened. I know what was said between them but there was something else that happened she never told me, the reason it hurt her so badly. I never got an answer about that.” He sighs, “I hope it’ll all work out alright. I’ve never seen her so happy as she is when she’s around Bucky but he is the one who made her run.”

Peggy gently ran her red painted fingers through Steve’s hair comfortingly, “I don’t think James is ever going to hurt her again after what happened last time. He loves her. And if we were in their place, I would forgive you.”

Steve sighs gently again, pulling Peggy close to him and brushing his lips across her’s gently, “Always the optimist. I love you, Pegs.”

—

Bucky groaned awake when Y/N’s alarm went off at six in the morning. He felt her stir and slip out of his grasp to turn off the alarm on her phone. Once it was silenced he grabbed her arm and pulled her back against him, trapping her in the grasp of his arms wrapped around her body. He kissed the back of her head before nuzzling into her shoulder, “Ten more minutes…” He muttered out sleepily.

Y/N giggled as she was pulled back, moving her hands to try and pry off Bucky’s strong arms from around her, “C’mon, I gotta get up for work.” She said softly over to him. With another groan, she felt his grip loosen and she wiggled her way out of his arms. She stood from the bed, stretching her arms a little as she walked to her closet and pulled out some dark maroon scrubs before disappearing out the bedroom door.

Bucky opened one eye to watch her stretch and leave the room, smiling over at her as he watched. It was a wonderful sight for him to wake up to. He used to see her every morning like this and now it felt like a dream. Except it wasn’t- Y/N was real and here with him again. Once she was gone, he grabbed onto her pillow and pulled it into his chest before falling back asleep.

Y/N came back into her room freshly showered and changed into the dark maroon scrubs. She was running a brush through her hair before pulling it up in a pony tail. She made her way over to Bucky, sitting on the edge of the bed and touching his cheek gently, “Hey, Steve’s gonna take me to work. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Bucky opened his eyes at her touch, looking up at her. God she looked like an angel in scrubs. He smiled up at her, “I’m just gonna stay in your bed, doll.” He said softly to her before sitting up a little and leaning towards her, “When do you get off of work?”

Y/N tilts her head at him, “I work from eight this morning to ten tonight.” She informed him, chuckling when she saw him fall back against the bed with a groan at the hours in a defeated fashion, “Maybe you’ll have to rethink staying in my bed. Don’t you ever work?” She teased before continuing, “You can come visit for lunch though if you’d like around one?”

Bucky looked up to her and nodded, tucking his hands behind his head on the pillow, “I own a mechanic shop, darlin. People work for me.” He grins at her, “I’ll bring you something good instead of that crappy hospital food. What’re you doing tomorrow?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment before looking back to him, “I work five am to three pm.”

Bucky grinned over at her, “After three tomorrow you’re mine for the rest of the day.” He told her, reaching a hand over and pulling her arm until she was leaning in front of him. His blue eyes scanned her face for a moment before he pressed his lips to her’s, sneaking his tongue across her bottom lip slowly before pulling away, “Have a good day at work, pretty girl. I’ll pick you up tonight.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open after Bucky separated from her lips. He always left her breathless when his lips touched her’s without even trying to do so, “Okay, you have a good day too and at least try to make it out of bed at some point.” She told him and brushed her hand across his face gently before standing up, snatching her backpack and placing it over her shoulder, and exiting the room with one last glance at him in her bed before disappearing.

The ride to the hospital was pretty quiet on account of Steve barley being awake and groggy but they made small conversation such as Steve commenting and saying Bucky didn’t need to use the window anymore and Y/N replying that she had told him that which earned a shared laugh between the both of them. Y/N told her brother goodbye and that Bucky would pick her up tonight before walking into the hospital. She spend her morning finishing paperwork with the chief of surgery before going to the attending’s lounge to find her locker. She smiled when she saw a white coat waiting for her with her name stitched into it already. Slumping it over her shoulders she gave herself a look in the mirror on the wall and a smile appeared on her lips of pride in herself. Then her day started. Y/N made her way to the emergency room, assigning her residents and interns to their stations and keeping updates on any incoming traumas. It was a pretty slow morning and she had everything pretty much handled. It wasn’t until about eleven she got called to the front desk where she found none other than John Walker waiting for her. She smiled and walked up to him, “You stalking me now, Walker? Making sure I’m not all fruit loops in the head?”

John smiled at her, laughing a little at her joke, “Trying not to. But I heard you got the job and I was headed here anyway. I have a few veterans I bring here for physical therapy. You know I’m big on support.”

Y/N nodded, “I would know that if I remembered anything.” She told him with a small chuckle, putting her hands in the pockets of her scrub pants, “I don’t remember our conversations really, just that I laughed a lot with you and cried a lot to you. That and some fuzzy memory of karaoke?”

John laughed at the karaoke comment, nodding slowly, “Yeah, there was a few karaoke sessions. We got bored at the base sometimes.” He reminded, “You were rushed off the base in such a hurry you left some stuff behind. Notebooks and a few pictures, I’ll have to get them back to you. May help you remember some things.”

Y/N smiled, “That’d be very helpful, Walker.” She told him honestly. Maybe her own writing would bring back more memories. Her pager starts beeping and she pulls it out of her pocket to check it, “I gotta go, incoming trauma. I’m off work tomorrow night, maybe we can go out for some drinks? I think the place is called Joe’s Bar, I’ll invite a few friends and we can make a night of it.”

Walker nodded over to her and offered a smile, “Sounds great, I’ll bring the notebooks and pictures.” He said before walking towards the elevator to return to the physical therapy floor.

Y/N made her way back to the emergency room, putting on gloves and gown as she stood at the entrance waiting for the ambulance. When it pulled up, she immediately jumped into action taking in all the information from the paramedics she could. Turned out it was two idiots testing out bullet proof vests they got off of a website online and they were faulty and both sustained gunshot wounds. She immediately took one to the operating room and worked on him while another surgeon worked on the other. Both of them ended up living and by the time Y/N finished her surgery and got all cleaned up, it was about time for her to meet Bucky for lunch. She found him waiting leaning against the emergency room desk, trying to be friendly to the overly flirtatious nurses.

Bucky stopped mid conversation when he saw Y/N, smiling and walking over to her slightly swinging the plastic bag that held two to go boxes inside, “Hey, doll.” He said, wrapping his free arm around her waist to pull her close so he could press a soft kiss to her forehead, “How’s your day going?”

Y/N smiled up at him, “It’s good so far. Not much really going on, two surgeries. Couple overdoses. The usual.” She told him before looking down to the plastic bag, “Whatcha bring me?”

Bucky held the bag up, tilting his head at her, “Buffalo chicken salads.” He grinned when he saw her smile widen at the smell of buffalo sauce wafting near her, “C’mon hungry eyes, lead me to the cafeteria.” He said, slipping his free hand into her’s.

Y/N smiled and pulled him along the hallways and up a flight of stairs and into the cafeteria. She found a small table against the window to sit at, sitting across from him and pulling out one of the to go boxes and flipping it open, “This looks amazing, thank you.” She said with a large smile on her face toward Bucky who was already spreading his dressing on his own salad.

“No problem, doll.” Bucky told her with a smile before bringing a bite to his mouth.

Y/N bit her lip gently as she poured her ranch over her salad, looking up at Bucky from under her eyelashes, “So, I know you wanted to spend all of tomorrow with me but I ran into John earlier.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, swallowing the bite in his mouth before speaking, “You’re ditching me for blonde boy?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at Y/N slightly. Jealousy once again filled his body. First Walker showed up at her house and now at her work? He was beginning to feel really uneasy about John Walker.

“No, Bucky. I’d never ditch you.” Y/N said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand encouragingly, “I just invited him to Joe’s Bar tomorrow night. I figure we can go. We can invite Steve, Peggy, Sam, maybe even Natasha. It’ll be fun.” She told him with a smile, “Besides, you can take care of me after I drink again.”

Bucky sighs at her, shaking his head with a smile and making little clicking noises with his tongue, “Darlin, you and your devious mind are trouble.” He said smiling over to her, “Alright, I’ll let Sam and Nat know. I’m sure they’d love to join.” And he could also keep an eye on Walker, figure out a little more of what his intentions were when it came to Y/N.

—

After Y/N’s shift at the hospital, Bucky picked her up and helped her to bed. She was exhausted and tired of being on her feet. She let Bucky help slip her into some comfortable clothes before falling asleep next to him. The next day of work went by like a breeze. The morning shift was usually never really that bad unless something terrible happened like a fire or a bad car wreck. Bucky picked her up and took her home, stopping for coffee on the way to make sure Y/N would be awake for the plans she had made to go to the bar. After a quick nap and shower, Y/N was all dressed and ready to go. Bucky, Steve, Peggy, and Y/N arrived at the bar in Steve’s car. Peggy never drank too much so she would be the designated driver. Sam and Natasha already had drinks in their hands and were playing darts super competitively. It didn’t take long for Y/N to be dragged away from Bucky’s side for shots by Natasha when she noticed they had arrived. Bucky sat at the bar with Steve, smiling as he watched Y/N and Natasha laugh and take their shots and talk. His smile was interrupted though when John Walker took a seat next to him, placing a large yellow sealed folder on the bar next to him that contained Y/N’s notebooks and pictures. Bucky shot him a glance and took a drink of his beer, nodding towards John as a hello.

John smiled over to Bucky and Steve before raising his hand to the bar tender to get a beer, “How’s it going?”

Bucky muttered out a ‘fine’ in John’s direction while Steve was a little more vocal, “Good, how’re you doing, John?”

John shrugged, “Pretty good. Y/N invited me to drop off some stuff from base that got left behind.” He said, patting the folder, “Thought it may be helpful.”

Steve nodded, looking at the folder before back to John, “That’s nice of you. I’m sure it’ll help.” He said with a small friendly smile. His attention was grasped by Peggy who was waving him over to dance with her, “Excuse me.” He said with a smile before standing and making his way over to Peggy, leaving John and Bucky alone.

Bucky sat in the awkward silence before sighing, looking over at John, “What’re you doin, Walker?”

John cocked his head slightly with a small frown, “What do you mean? I’m drinking a beer.” He said before taking another swig from the bottle in his hand.

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips pressed into a stern line, “Showing up at Y/N’s house out of the blue and at the hospital. You trying to worm your way into her heart or something?” He hissed out, “Because she’s perfectly happy curled up next to me.” Bucky had always been a protective man with a little bit of possession, especially when it came to Y/N. She was his and everybody knew it except for John Walker it seemed like.

John rolls his eyes slightly at Bucky, “Look man, I’m just a friend trying to help out a friend that can't remember anything.” He spat back before looking over to Y/N, “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it though. She’s smart, beautiful, funny. But from the moment I met her, her heart was wrapped around your finger.” He paused, looking over to Bucky who was still shooting daggers at him with a glare, “When she arrived, we all thought she was an emotionless robot. She jumped into action and didn’t say much. Kept to herself. It took a long time to get her to talk to be about anything other than how her job as a trauma surgeon was going but then she wouldn’t stop talking about you and I knew I didn’t stand a chance. We are just friends.”

Bucky flinched slightly at his last words, wondering what Y/N had told John about him. Was it the good things like how he made her feel safe and how his whole world revolved around her, or was it how he broke her heart and made her run away from him? Bucky drank the last of the beer in the bottle before speaking, “What she tell you? That I broke her heart?” He asks bitterly, “Thinking I’m just taking advantage of her memory loss to get her back?”

John shook his head, “I don’t think that either. She would’ve came back to you eventually, even talked about it a few times. She just didn’t know what to say or how to face you.” He informed, “She talked about you two like you guys were still together. It wasn’t until I caught her crying behind one of the tents she talked about what happened between you two.” He placed a hand on the yellow folder, “These are her journals Y/N kept overseas and some pictures. Don’t worry, I didn’t read her diary. But I’m sure it’ll help her remember everything between you two. She deserves to know what happened and and how it made her feel to make the choice herself.”

Bucky scowled at John even though a part of him knew it was true. Y/N deserved to know what happened between them, what broke them apart he just didn’t want to tell her. But not when she read those journals, she would know everything. He decided he would need to talk to Y/N before she read those journals, hear it from him instead of reading it. Bucky looked at the bartender and grabbed another beer from him, “Nice talking to you, John.” He said before going over and wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist who had been talked into another shot by Natasha, “Hey darlin, John brought something for you.”

Y/N smiled up at Bucky after setting the empty shot glass down, “Oh, I better go say hi.” She said with a smile before making her way over to John and taking a seat next to him.

Bucky watched the two closely before being interrupted by Steve patting his shoulder, “I don’t like him.” He muttered over to Steve. Steve nodded, “I know. You’ve never been a fan of Y/N’s guy friends.” He chuckled, “How was the talk between you two, what he say?”

Bucky looked over to Steve, “Brought her some journals from her time serving. Says she deserves to know everything about our relationship, including how we broke up. I need to tell her before she reads those, I think it’ll be better coming from me.”

“I know what was said, but what else happened?” Steve asks curiously.

Bucky’s brow furrowed at Steve, “What do you mean? Nothing else happened, you know what was said and that’s when she left. Why?”

Steve looked over to Y/N for a moment before back to Bucky, “When she finally talked to me about it, she told me everything you said. She was pissed about that for a long time but she said something else had happened that made it worse. So what was it, Buck? Because she’s going to figure it out when she reads those.”

“Nothing else happened.” Bucky said, thinking back to that night, “She came home all excited about her deployment date and I said what I said. She said what she said. Then she was gone. Nothing else happened, we were totally fine before all of that happened.”

“Let’s just hope whatever she knows that you don’t isn’t something that’ll break her.” Steve said, taking another drink of his beer, “I really don’t want her to run again, Buck.”

“Me either.” Bucky said shortly, his eyes fixated on Y/N talking to John and taking the yellow folder from him with a smile before he watched her make his way back over to him. Bucky put on a smile and wraps an arm around her shoulder, “Hey pretty girl.”

Y/N smiled up to Bucky, “Hey.” She said simply and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Having fun?”

Bucky nods, “Better now that you’re over here with me.” He grinned down to her before ordering her a beer.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to be leaning up against Bucky giving him sleepy, tipsy eyes. The ride home was nice and quiet, Peggy driving while Steve held her hand on the center console and Y/N leaning up against Bucky in the back seat as he trailed kisses over her knuckles. Bucky helped Y/N stumble to her bedroom to change for bed while he went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, debating on how he would bring up the conversation about why they broke up. He had to do it soon because who knows when Y/N would start reading those journals. Bucky was nervous for one of the first times in his life. He made his way back to Y/N’s room to find her curled up under the blankets, reaching out for him when she saw him in the doorway. He chuckles softly and pulled of his shirt as he walked towards the bed followed by his pants, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers with her and pulled her close, “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Y/N giggled, “Couldn’t sleep without my warmth.” She said, pressing her face into the crook of his neck gently and leaving a soft kiss on his skin before pulling away and looking up to him, “I got a question, Bucky. It may be a question caused by alcohol but I’m curious.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, keeping a smile on his lips, “What is it doll?”

Y/N studied his face for a moment, reaching a hand up and brushing her finger tips along his bottom lip softly before her eyes returned up to his blue ones, “You said we broke up because you said things you didn’t mean… What did you say?”

Bucky took a deep breath and pulled away a little from her. Shit. He didn’t want to do this when she was tipsy. He didn’t want to do this at all but there was the question staring him right in the face. He looked back to her and sighed, “They were things I didn’t mean, Y/N. You have to know that.” He waited until she nodded before continuing, “You came home one night excited about your deployment date and I… I told you I didn’t want this for you, for us. I knew it was your dream and I told you if you walked out the door to not bother coming back because I wouldn’t be here waiting for you.” He waited for a reply but it never came, instead Y/N was listening and waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t mean it though, doll.” He whispers out, reaching out to brush his hand over her cheek softly as regret filled his eyes, “I was scared you would come back as damaged as I was… I didn’t want to be left alone without you. And I couldn’t leave, couldn’t move on. I waited for you everyday to come back to me.” He leans close and places a gentle kiss on her forehead, “You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I should’ve never said those things.”

Y/N removed her eyes from his face, listening to the story. Her forehead creased a moment as she thought about all that was said before meeting his gaze once again. A small smile curved on her lips and she leaned towards him, kissing his lips softly before pulling away slightly to look at him, “I forgive you, Bucky."

Bucky felt relief flood through him at her words, smiling down to her. He couldn’t find any words to say to her so instead he returned his arms around her body and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. Those were words Bucky had waited to hear for so long and for a while he didn’t know if he would ever hear them from Y/N. Everything seemed right in the world for now, and even though he was worried about what was written in those journals John had given her due to what Steve had said, he hoped that whatever else it was would be forgiven also.

Truth was, Y/N always had forgiven Bucky for what was said the moment she left. She knew it was from his own fears. But what had broken her was hidden in the pages of those journals.

_____________________________________________________________

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[apiratewhopines]

Thanks to @teamhook for the artwork and for helping me pick a movie that wasn’t already done!

Midnight

Chapter 6 — The Mice

Summary: In which our heroine wins the battle but loses the war

Chapter 6 of 7 on AO3

“The way you changed my life

No, no, they can’t take that away from me”

-They Can’t Take That Away from Me, Fred Astaire

After the excitement of the morning passed, Sidney grumbled until they returned to the table. Still shaken by whatever Arthur said on their brief phone call, Killian declined to join them and returned to their room. No doubt to dream up a make-believe pregnancy for her. Most probably twins this time.

“I thought you told me we would have smoked salmon for our bagels,” the man complained to Guin, face upset as if the plentiful choices offered on their breakfast buffet were insufficient.

“I’m sorry, dear. I know it’s your favorite, so I made sure it was on the menu I gave to our chef,” she murmured coaxingly. Looking at the butler who was filling Arthur’s coffee cup, she asked, “What happened to the salmon?”

“There was a mistake, ma’am. It was left out of the last delivery, and since the phones have been out all morning, we couldn’t contact the market. I’ve sent one of the girls into town to buy some, so we will have it tomorrow morning. If the gentleman prefers, we can prepare a plate for him this afternoon.”

“Nonsense,” she replied. “The phones are in perfect working order. We just made a call to Europe to check on the Baron’s daughter.”

“No, ma’am, only the internal phone system is working. An accident took out the lines last night.”

Emma reached over and grabbed Arthur’s hand under the table as they shared an uneasy look when the other three people at the table all glanced at her with questions in their eyes. Lance broke the silence. “I don’t understand…”

“I’m afraid he’s right. I wasn’t on the phone with my mother-in-law. In fact, I don’t— No, I don’t want to burden you with my problems,” she said haltingly, her mind racing with ways to get out of this mess. The words tumbled from her mouth so quickly she didn’t have a chance to think through the consequences, which seemed to be the way she operated these days.

“Oh, please, you can’t stop now. This little mystery is the only thing distracting me from my lack of fish,” Sidney countered. He was studying the wide variety of fruit compotes and toppings for his pancakes and sounded desolate. “Please.”

“Well, let’s just say the Baron’s family has a touch of eccentricity,” she continued with a grimace. She had their rapt attention; even Sidney abandoned his food and gawked at her. “My first hint was at the wedding. I was opening the gifts, and his grandfather gave us a broken compass covered in Thousand Island dressing.”

“Yes,” Arthur broke in, determined to help. “Now I remember hearing there was a streak of madness in the family. His father was known as the Mad Baron of Cambridge. He liked to give people roller skates with missing laces instead of flowers.”

“The truth is…we don’t have a daughter.”

“Oh, this is much more delicious than breakfast,” Sidney gushed, pushing his plate away and moving to the seat across from her. “Tell us more.”

“I don’t want you to think bad of him. Most of the time, he’s lucid and the sweetest man in the world. That’s the man I fell in love with. But when he’s having one of his episodes, like this morning, he can get quite aggressive if confronted. It’s best to go along with whatever he’s saying. It always starts when he first wakes as if he can’t shake some odd dream in his mind,” she grabbed her napkin and dabbed at fake tears. “There was one time about six months ago he woke up convinced he was Captain Hook. He wore eyeliner for weeks and refused to use his left hand. When I tried to make him see reason, he insisted I call him Captain and tried to have me arrested as a mutineer.”

“You poor thing,” Guin said, genuine sympathy in her expression. “I wondered why you called him that. I thought perhaps he served in the Navy.”

“And you’ve stayed with him all these years?” Lance’s gaze, which was always admiring, held a new respect for her now. It didn’t make her feel any better. “You’re wonderful.”

“Hmm, yes, absolutely amazing,” Arthur murmured under his breath. The smirk was back, and she could tell he was enjoying her web of lies. At least someone was. “Is there some medication he can take? Perhaps you should have him committed.”

“No, I would never. I promised to stay with Killian in good times and bad. It will pass eventually. It always does,” she bit out, kicking him under the table. Before anything else could be said, she heard the Captain whistling as he practically skipped out of the house toward them dressed in the sky blue scrubs of a surgeon. The color made his eyes even more beautiful, and the tiniest smattering of hair visible above the v-neck of the shirt did things to her heart.

“Arthur, Guinevere, thank you for the hospitality, but we really must be going. I have to get back for my shift at the hospital.” Everyone jumped at the pronouncement, exchanging loaded glances and trying to figure out what to say or do next.

Guin smiled at him shakily and in a calm voice asked, “The hospital, Baron?”

“Not a baron, I’m afraid. And this woman isn’t a baroness. You notice I didn’t say my wife because she isn’t that either,” Killian informed them as he stopped by her chair and reached down to place a hand on her shoulder.

“Killian, you don’t mean that,” Emma responded. She would have laughed at his look of confusion at the lack of reaction to his revelation if she wasn’t so sure it would come back to bite her in the ass.

With an admonishing look, Lance said, “See here, Baron, there’s no need to insult the woman who has stayed by you through thick and thin.”

“Thick and thin? We met five nights ago, and she couldn’t wait to be rid of me. She’s an imposter. And I’m a doctor who has real things to do in the real world. Come on, Swan, let’s leave these lovely people to their breakfast.”

“Oh, I get it. You think she’s Elizabeth Swan from Pirates of the Caribbean.” Sidney snapped his fingers as if all the pieces had fallen into place.

“What? No, I think she’s a bounty hunter and the most impossible woman I’ve ever met,” Killian argued, determined to make them see the truth. The more he spoke, the more their faces cleared of all emotion like they were afraid a smile or frown would push him further into his delusions. He pulled her from the chair gently, and since she felt like pond scum for the lies she told, she let his arms circle her waist. As an added benefit she didn’t deserve, the position allowed her nose to be tickled by the chest hair so temptingly on display.

“Maybe she’s a mutineer,” Arthur offered.

Looking at the group, Killian shook his head in disbelief. “I think you’re all crazy.”

“Yes, that must be it,” Guin said soothingly. “Why don’t you have some breakfast, Baron?”

“I’m not sure how I can be more clear. I’m not a baron. We’re not married. We met in the middle of the road a few nights ago, and I pretended to be her Uber driver so I could give her a ride to a strip club. It turned into the best night of my life.”

Undeterred, Guin patted his arm, which was still wrapped tightly around her. “What a lovely courtship you’ve had. Now, let’s get you something to eat. Do you prefer coffee or tea to drink?”

“Are you not listening to a word I’m saying? We’re fakes! We haven’t known each other for more than a week. She twisted me around her little finger in two minutes. As infuriating as she is, I fell in love with her smile. The sound of her laugh makes my blood pump faster, and when she talks about not believing in love, it makes me want to prove to her that it exists every day for the rest of our lives.”

She was fading, her will to stick it out with Arthur and give him a happy ending melting in the heat of Killian’s honeyed words. His genuine concern at how nonchalantly they were accepting his confession should have been funny, but all she could think about was how he said ‘the rest of our lives.’

Like he meant it.

“Well, fakes or not, I’m still hungry,” Sidney answered, trying his best in the face of impossible odds. “Maybe your patients could wait a few hours until the salmon arrives. It’s quite good.”

“Bloody hell, this is a madhouse. Come on, Emma, enough is enough. Let’s go,” he urged her again. Taking the napkin from her hand, he threw it on the table and switched his grip to gently hold her upper arm and guide her away from the group.

They were immediately halted by Lance, thunder in his expression and lightning in his eyes. “She’s not going anywhere with you, Baron. We know all about your illness. She won’t be safe.”

“My illness?” Understanding dawned on his face and his head tilted back like he was searching the morning sky for answers. With a wry chuckle, he sighed. “Bravo, Swan. You told them I’m crazy. And I played right into it, didn’t I? Because I’ve been acting crazy, a man driven out of his mind at the sight of his most cherished dream waltzing away from him like he was nothing. Like everything he felt was nothing as far as she was concerned.”

She choked up at the bitter twist of his mouth. He was so brave, declaring his feelings in front of everyone, even convinced she would reject him again. Was it any wonder she had fallen head over heels for him?

And what did she do? She lied. She tricked. She ran. Then she rinsed and repeated.

“Captain,” she whispered, her hand moving to cradle his face when a sickening crack was heard and he crumpled at her feet.

Behind him, looking proud of himself, Sidney was still holding a pan aloft like he thought Killian might jump to his feet and demand a second round. Fear flooded her and she dropped to her knees to cradle his head in her lap. Helplessness, her hands fluttered over his body, her mind trying to sort out the impossible situation that was entirely her fault. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“He looked homicidal.”

Shaking him gently, she begged, “Killian…Killian, come back to me. Don’t leave me here alone.”

“You aren’t alone, sweetheart,” Lance promised, trying to move her away.

She swatted at his hands and refused to leave. The movement caused Killian’s head to lull to the side, and she saw a smear of red dripping from his hairline. “Someone call 911. He’s bleeding!”

Sidney glanced down at them with a mildly alarmed look and then at the weapon he still held. He ran his finger across the bottom and, with some relief, announced, “That’s not blood. It’s raspberry compote.”

—

Arthur’s personal physician made a house call to attend to the victim. Of course, the woman knew Killian Jones, MD, who was apparently the Director of Pediatric Oncology at Storybrooke General and one of the foremost experts in his field.

He was a saint in addition to being her Captain.

He deserved so much more than a lost girl who was too scared to know a good thing when it stopped on the side of the road to save her.

“This couldn’t have worked out better, my dear,” Arthur commented with an eyebrow wiggle. “Lance is beside himself. He just announced he plans to hire a divorce attorney this very afternoon. Run along. I’ll make sure the good doctor makes it back to town safely. I’ll even throw a couple thousand his way for his performance.”

“Shut up, Arthur. This is terrible. An innocent man got hurt, and it’s all our fault. My fault,” she corrected with a whisper, running her hand softly through Killian’s hair. He regained consciousness as the doctor checked him out but fell asleep while she assured them no permanent damage was done. Replacing the ice pack against the goose egg forming on the side of his head, she silently pleaded with him to wake up so she could grovel properly and beg for forgiveness.

“He seems quite taken with you.”

“Maybe he’s crazy after all,” she joked, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She doubted she would find anything funny until she saw his electric blue eyes again. “Can you leave us alone? I want to be able to explain when he comes to.”

“Of course, just call if you need anything.” He gave her a probing stare as if trying to decide whether to say something else before he left.

When she heard the door click shut, she leaned over and brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “I’m sorry. For running. For lying. For putting you in a situation where you got knocked out. I know that’s not nearly enough, but I am.”

“It’s a start,” he groaned as her hushed tone drew him from sleep, one hand moving to cover hers where it held the ice to his head and the other reaching out to play with the ends of her hair. “What happened?”

“I happened. This is why we don’t work, Captain. I’ve brought you nothing but pain and suffering since the moment we met.”

“I didn’t figure you for the melodramatic type, Swan. We had some good times before this farce began,” he reminded her as he shifted into more of a sitting position. “Are you ready to admit there’s something between us, or do I need to jump back into the fray and take a punch bowl to the face?”

“I never denied there was something between us, just that it was a good idea. I believe a raspberry-flavored concussion proves my point perfectly.”

His hand drifted to her cheek, calloused fingers glancing over soft skin. She wanted to look away from his intense gaze, but he tenderly grabbed her chin and held her in place. “Love, come away with me. It doesn’t have to be forever; we can sort that part out later. I’m simply asking for your company now, to give us a chance before you decide against it.”

“I want to, Captain. I want the carrot and everything else behind Door Number One,” she murmured with a watery chuckle. His gentle caresses grew hotter and more insistent. Finally he pulled her to him, her body half-covering his, as he claimed her mouth in the kind of scorching kiss that would burn through her memory forever.

She had nothing to offer him, and she had a long way to go before she would be worthy of this kind of love. Unconditional. All-encompassing. The kind she didn’t even know existed until he rescued her.

“I sense a but coming…”

“But—“

With a sad smile, he interrupted her. “On second thought, don’t. Please. I can’t bear to hear you say the words. To watch you run one more time. Let’s call it a day now so we can remember it fondly in the years to come.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am.” He tapped her nose lightly with his fingertip, observing the tears in her eyes as she fought to keep them from falling. Giving her a bittersweet grimace, he added, “Just promise you’ll take care of yourself, Swan. No more skipping meals. No more pretending to be anyone other than the amazing woman you are.”

The tears that were a threat until then slipped past her defenses, leaving trails down her face. He swiped at them and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Then he was gone.

Arthur found her later in the exact same place, not having the energy to move. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. “This is the last time you’ll ever have to live this day, my dear.”

She knew he was trying to make her feel better, but the knowledge he was wrong caused her to feel light-headed as she turned into his embrace. She would never have to say goodbye to Killian again, but she knew she would relive it over and over until the day she died.

—

He approached her on the shoreline as she watched the blue waters of the Atlantic crash against the rocky beach forming one side of Arthur’s estate. Heat lightning flashed in the distance; the far-off storm robbed of its noise and violence when viewed from the calm of land. Emma knew it was only a matter of time until he sought her out. He was a smart man, a gambler and a rogue, so why not press his advantage?

“You disappeared on me after the baron left.” Lance never referred to him as her husband, always ‘the baron.’ She wasn’t sure if it was his way of skirting the immorality of his pursuit or simply to rob the other man of any claim on her, but it was starting to piss her off. Which was silly considering he wasn’t really her husband. Or a baron.

“He told me he was filing for divorce on his way out. That he hoped you found happiness but had come to realize it wasn’t going to be with him.”

She had yet to look at Lance, but she felt her heart break a little at the scene he painted. It was just like the Captain to try to help her all the way to the bitter end. She supposed he simply couldn’t stop himself. Breathing in the warm salty air, she wanted to let it fill her lungs and sweep out the misery that had taken hold in the core of her.

She was an idiot. She had let someone who had never loved her, never really even cared about her, twist her into someone who would do the same thing to a man who was perfect in every way. If she hadn’t already sworn to get even with Neal Cassidy, this would have driven her to it.

She was damaged now, unfit for human company, clinging to a sham because it was easier than facing the fact she made the biggest mistake of her life. Only this time, there was no boogeyman in the form of a cheating, lying ex to blame. She did this to herself.

But she didn’t have to double down on it.

With a deep sigh, Lance dropped on the sand next to her. He was more casual than she had ever seen him, and somehow it made him more approachable. Barefoot and with his pants legs were rolled up to mid-calf in a nod to the tide, he observed, “He was wrong, wasn’t he? You still love him.”

“Yes,” she admitted, staring at the horizon.

“And you aren’t a baroness…”

“No,” she confirmed, this time chancing a sidelong glance at him. “Everything he said was true. I’ve been here under false pretenses.”

“To come between Guin and me. It has the smell of an Arthur scheme all over it,” he explained with a wry grin. “Well, I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. I never intended for it to go this far, but once it started, we kept getting deeper and deeper until I couldn’t see a way out. And then I didn’t want to. I love her, I probably always will, but she’s not mine. You helped me realize that. A gorgeous wake-up call designed to turn my head and steal my heart. Losing you is my penance. One I can’t regret because I have a feeling you saved several lives by playing along.”

“You’ll be back in the saddle again soon, I’m sure, and the women of the world will be better for it. Do yourself a favor next time, though. Choose an available woman, and once you find her, don’t let her go. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Pick up where I left off, I suppose. I have some debts that still need to be paid and a fugitive to bring to justice. Maybe if I keep busy enough, keep moving, this will all fade and seem like some fever-induced dream.”

“I meant, what are you going to do about Jones?”

“I think I’ve done enough already. The best thing I can do for Killian now is to stay away.”

“For someone so smart about other people, you have a rather glaring blind spot when it comes to your own life. A mistake is only a mistake if you keep making it. You know where to find him, you know he wants you to, the only thing stopping you is fear.”

“Fear is enough, Lance.”

“You know what fear has gotten me: Absolutely nothing. I was afraid to put myself out there, so I only got involved with women who I knew would leave me before the whole thing even started. It’s hard to mourn the loss of a relationship that never stood a chance to begin with. It cost me my best friend and two women I care about. You’re better than that, Emma, and doesn’t he deserve the best version of you? But more importantly, don’t you?”

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[i-love-hobbies]

My happiness with Eda kinda not being rude towards Lilith (ft. Hunter)

I already praised this but I just realized, I should have more!

In this essay I acknowledged everything bad Lilith has done, so I'm not doing it here, but you DON'T need to read it to understand this post!

Here I forgot something really important.

Lilith was in a cult!

We all know about the people that tell cult members stories of how they have sacrificed people to satan and then laugh about it.

They're laughing about someone being genuinely scared for their life!

This is a threat to them!

Sometimes people that run cults use this to make sure their members are scared from the people outside the cult.

They also make them try to "save" others so it gets even worse.

I'm really happy that Eda's answer to "You look like some sort of a trash collector. Oh wait, you are!" wasn't "I was told by wild magic to sacrifice the person that says this to me at midnight! The last time this happened It felt so relaxing! See you then!"

This repeated a few times in my opinion would have stopped Lilith from saving Eda in episode 19, because if she doesn't join the coven she is beyond saving plus Lilith is risking to become just like her. And later on Lilith would have probably had even more mental health issues. I don't want to imagine Luz, King and Hooty.

Disclaimer:

I can't find a way to continue without saying how I think this should be handled. So I should say I'm not an expert.

I'm an atheist, the last supernatural thing I believed in was fortune telling, chakras and so on. But I realized how easily this can be used to scam people.

My parents buy this tea from this people, that say every doctor except for surgeons can be replaced.

Luckily my parents don't believe in everything.

I wouldn't say I have a lot of experience with this as I'm not sure if what I described is called a cult, honestly. But I've seen some stuff.

Like the fear in my mom's eyes, when I don't take tea, cause it "helps with my tics, adhd and mental health".

How did Eda handle it?

We don't know much about how Eda decided to not join a coven or how much she has heard of other people stories.

But we do know at one point she stopped believing in Belos.

Season 1

She never really talked about Belos with Lilith.

I think this was a good choice, cause all she would get is Lilith telling her how clearly in the wrong she is. Plus Lilith is tired, she can barely process new information and everything in her life is about the coven.

I've heard some people suggest that Eda should have broken into the coven and gotten Lilith out of there. This is a horrible idea. It would only scare Lilith and she would try to run away.

She shouldn't be kept captive. This will traumatize her even further. At this point she'll try to kill herself so she doesn't become like her sister.

So what did Eda do? She put on a show for Lilith to enjoy, full of nostalgia.

She gave Lilith what she needs, a break.

She was showing her that things haven't changed.

When Lilith opened up a bit in episode 11, she showed that it isn't dangerous.

When Lilith came to her house, she played a game with her.

The only time she did something resembling her "I'm gonna steal your tongue." jokes was "If anyone is putting you down it's gonna be me."

Which considering what just happened was clearly not gonna be taken seriously and gave Lilith even more nostalgia.

If Belos didn't give Lilith a timer she was on her way out of the coven.

The problems I have with Eda here are her laughing at Lilith for thinking she'd join the coven as if anyone in there is an idiot, making Lilith defensive.

Also her lie in episode 17 which made the game way too important.

Don't get me started on what would have happened if she lost or when Lilith realises she was lieing.

Episode 18/19

Now in episode 18 Eda lost it. She tried to talk Lilith out of it IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT.

She was trying to hurt Lilith the whole finale, both physically and emotionally.

I'm not calling Eda a bad person, this is how humans react, she went through hell, but this was a mistake.

She should have tried sneaking or something and if she got caught only force to the point of getting out. No name calling.

Season 2

It took her less than two weeks to stop guilt tripping her.

They worked on their competitiveness problem in the second episode.

They could trust each other with physical stuff like the other putting themselves in danger for them.

Lilith is in a safe space, wether she believes so is debatable, though.

I'm impressed by Eda except for the guild tripping but again she's "human".

She deserves praise for this impressive response to Lilith being in the coven. It's not perfect but knowing the average person, it's godlike.

Hunter

After episode 9 I think she might try to help, but so far she hasn't.

She threatened him and then got humiliated.

She made fun of him even after seeing Hunter obviously being hurt by it.

"Don't you recognise that annoying voice?"

"Why does everyone say that?"

"You must be fun at parties!"

No wonder Hunter doesn't respect her at all. He has only seen her the episode after the finale and one episode after Eda's requiem.

The last line was after he was trying to help her.

The only good thing is that, she isn't talking about Belos.

I died from second hand embarrassment watching both of these episodes.

[jamespotterthefirst]

October 31st (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.3K Warning: Language Premise: Ethan Ramsey doesn’t do costumes... except maybe for her.

A/N: A pointless Halloween fic

A/N2: For Day 28 of @choicesoctoberchallenge2020​. The prompt is “Costume”.

1. Intern Year

Ethan resisted a groan as an atrocious, remixed version of The Monster Mash blared through the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the drunken crowd. Characteristically, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he wondered why he decided to venture out on the worst night of the year. Perhaps he needed a drink that badly after another full day of dealing with interns.  

“Time for a refill, Dr. Ramsey,” a voice said over the music.

Ethan hated the way his pulse quickened at the sound.

Doing his best to appear collected, he shot what he hoped was an impassive glance at the figure now standing beside him at the bar, the floral notes of her perfume already caressing his every sense. One single glance at her, however, was enough to shoot all efforts of appearing aloof straight to hell.

She leaned casually against the bar, clad in a sensuous, forest green number that molded to every curve of her body and ensnared every bit of his attention. Dark green leaves embellished every surface of the sinfully short dress, tapering off into delicate, curly vines along her exposed shoulders and arms. Her glossy, dark hair was hidden away beneath a cascade of long, auburn waves that made her eyes appear greener still.

“Wig,” she explained with a small laugh when Ethan continued to stare.

At last, he pried his eyes away, feeling his neck flare with heat. Unsure of what else to say, he feigned indifference as he asked, “And what are you supposed to be, Rookie?”

Aside from fucking irresistible, his idiotic, addled brain added on impulse.

He could see Lilac's jaw go slack in a way that was almost comical but somehow managed to be entirely too adorable.

“You're kidding, right? I'm Poison Ivy.”

Ethan had known that. He had been, after all, a comic-book obsessed teenager once. If someone had told him back then that he would one day witness the sexiest version of the character imaginable, his head would have caved in on itself. Adult Ethan, it seemed, was no better because his eyes fell on her once again, unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Lilac, however, was too busy looking at the dancefloor. She nodded toward her group of friends, dancing, laughing, and contributing to half of the noise in the bar.

“We were all supposed to be Batman villains but Bryce and Landry got lazy. They put on a Thing One and Thing Two shirt and called it a day.”

Ethan followed her gaze to where the young surgeon had peeled off the aforementioned shirt, relishing in the attention that decision was earning him from a gaggle of girls nearby. The other one Lilac had mentioned stood awkwardly off to the side, too pale and and gangly to ever be Lahela's counterpart.

“More like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,” he muttered.

Lilac met his eyes at once and to his delight, she laughed, the sound sending his stomach into a dive. It was already maddening enough that the sound was entirely too attractive, but Ethan felt a swelling sense of satisfaction at being the one to inspire it.

When she sobered up, her green eyes remained on his, humor melting into a pensive expression. She continued to watch him with the conviction of someone discovering a new secret. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that very moment.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He had been distracted by her full lips and by how fitting the damn costume was. Much like every weak-willed man in his comic books, Ethan would have risked absolutely everything to kiss her.

“No costume?”

“God no,” he spat, inspiring another little laugh.

“Never say never,” she told him in a sing-song voice.

“I can confidently say never.”

______________

2. A year later.

They paused outside the door to Bryce's apartment, the muffled sound of music and laughter making its way to the hall. Ethan briefly wondered if his neighbors would complain enough to derail the whole affair. It would mean he could go back to the peace and quiet of his home.

As if reading his mind, Lilac turned to face him, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. God, he loved it when she looked at him that way.

“You're not getting out of this,” she reminded him, her fingers moving to play with the orange Ascot tie she had forced him to wear.

“We're well into November. There was no need to dress up.”

As usual, Lilac rolled her eyes lovingly.

“It's hardly dressing up when all we did was put you in a white sweater you already owned, babe,” she explained for the hundredth time. Ethan tried to scowl at the pet name, but he was beginning to enjoy it. Instead, he relaxed into her touch, trying his best not to follow the lazy path her fingers made on his chest. “You wouldn't even wear a wig, so it doesn't count. As for the party being this late, it was the only night we all had off. And we'll be damned before we let a whole year pass us by without dressing up.”

She finalized that sentence with a searing kiss to his neck. His hands banded around her waist reflexively, pulling her soft body flush against his. In their time together, he had avidly learned the many ways to drive her just as crazy.

“You and I can still dress up,” he murmured darkly against her ear.

Lilac shivered, to his immense delight.

“Are you suggesting role play, Dr. Ramsey,” she returned in a poor attempt to mock him.

The formal mode of address, uttered in a low, breathy voice against his ear, made his blood buzz for her. More maddening still was the short, purple dress she wore along with the auburn wig that made a reappearance after a year.

“Got a thing for redheads?” she asked, correctly guessing the contents of his thoughts yet again.

Ethan smiled crookedly down at her. “I got a thing for you.”

The words rang with sincerity and an overwhelming sense of relief at finally being able to say them out loud, without any fear of consequences.

Lilac, for her part, looked as though she wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss him fiercely, but the erupting cheers from inside the apartment interrupted their exchange from advancing further.

“Mystery Gang in the house!” Bryce, dressed as a pirate, hollered as soon as they walked through the door. Everyone else cheered and hooted, the sounds no doubt fueled by the contents of the many red solo cups around the room.

“You guys look adorable!” Sienna commended over the music, greeting each of them with a friendly hug. “Fred and Daphne makes so much sense for you two.”

“Because we solve mysteries for a living?” Ethan asked, voice deadpan.

“Nah, because those two were a thing long before any of the others found out,” Elijah said as he joined them.

Lilac laughed out loud, the sound teetering on the edges of relief. She had been nervous, just like Ethan had been, that her friends would be awkward around them now that they knew of their relationship.

By the way they easily joked with him and included him in conversation throughout the night, their concerns had been for nothing. They even helped Lilac pressure him into dancing a modern pop song he had heard many times on the radio. Not that he needed much convincing when he would gladly do anything just to see her radiant smile directed his way.

By midnight, the party had dwindled down to drinks and board games. There was a raucous consensus to play Clue, which caused Bryce to roll his eyes.

“Of course the diagnosticians want to play the nerdiest game.”

Ethan rolled up his sleeves in preparation, which earned him a coy and borderline lustful look from Lilac. “You're just bitter that we're playing something other than beer pong, scalpel jockey.”

Elijah let out a surprised yet impressed laugh, wasting no time to high five Ethan. Even Bryce couldn't help but grin.

“Trash talk all you want, old man. I'm more than just a pretty face.”

When it came to Clue, however, Bryce had no chance against Ethan, who analyzed every player with sharp precision and correctly guessed the murderer, the room, and the weapon. Several games later, Ethan easily proved victorious while Bryce only laughed graciously, raising his palms up in defeat.

When even the board games ebbed into quiet conversation at the end of the night, Lilac sat on his lap, circling her arms around his neck. They sat like that for minutes, enjoying the nuances of being that annoyingly cute couple at a party.

“Thank you for dressing up for me,” she said as she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Even that sent his heart into a tumultuous rhythm.

“Only for you,” he murmured. “And as a one time deal only.”

______________

3. Many years later.

Ethan plastered the fur-lined hat on his head, a perfect complement to the fur-lined everything else he was currently wearing. Luckily, fall time in Boston was cold enough that the ensemble would prove to be practical as they walked the streets. He stepped into the hallway, not bothering to check his reflection. There was no doubt he looked utterly ridiculous.

But he didn't care.

He would do anything for her and for the unbridled joy in the eyes he loved so much.

Lilac was already waiting when he entered the living room, her smile impossibly wide as she glanced him over. It was the exact reaction he expected and he couldn't help but grin too.

“Is this how it's supposed to look?”

“Yes!” she all but shrieked in delight. The magenta cape of her costume fluttered behind her as she rushed to him, her body crashing against him in an overjoyed hug. “I love you so much for doing this.”

The words still sent a thrill through Ethan, as strong as the first time he heard them. Heart thundering wildly at his chest, he leaned down to kiss her, just because he could.

When they pulled apart, she watched him through half-closed eyes, her teeth catching her lush bottom lip. All Ethan wanted to do was carry her to their bed and tear off the costumes they had spent so much time perfecting. Inwardly, he marveled at how everything had changed over the years, but there were some things that remained the same.

Instead, he captured one of her plaits between his fingers. “These people we're dressed up as,” he started, gently trailing the ridges of her braid. Lilac watched him, captivated by his every word. “Do they end up together?”

She allowed a laugh. “We've watched nothing but that movie for a week straight.”

Ethan shrugged, allowing a sheepish grin. “I tune it out thirty minutes in every time.”

More laughter and Ethan decided then that he could hear the sound forever and not get enough.

“Don't let Dolores hear you say that,” she warned with one final kiss. She moved to break apart from their embrace but he stopped her.

His wife looked at him expectantly and Ethan frowned, suddenly doubtful.

“Do you think she'll like it?”

Lilac's curious expression melted into a fond smile. “She's going to love it,” she assured him, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

Not surprisingly, Lilac had been right because moments later, a delighted shriek of laughter announced the arrival of their toddler daughter. Her godmother trailed close behind, crouching over in an attempt to fix the blue tulle that trailed along the floor as the child ran towards her father. It was futile and Sienna sighed in defeat, shooting Lilac an amused look.

“It's pointless,” Sienna laughed. “There's no stopping little Lolly when she sees her father.”

Proving that point, his daughter flung herself into Ethan's arms and cried, “Dada!”

“Hello, princess,” Ethan laughed as she pressed her version of a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm Elsa,” Dolores corrected sagely.

“Yes, babe,” Lilac added with mock seriousness. “You are in the presence of Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Have some respect.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Ethan said to his daughter with such formality that the child laughed. Sienna watched the exchange with a watery smile, failing to repress a squeal.

A loud roar coming from the threshold informed them that their son had joined them. Sienna laughed as Jonah ran around the room, the antlers of his costume bobbing wildly as he moved. At last, he stopped right before Lilac, who picked him up in her arms.

“I didn't know reindeers roared,” she laughed, swaying her son in her arms.

Jonah roared again to demonstrate that reindeers could indeed roar formidably, at least when impersonated by a five year old. “I'm a Halloween reindeer,” he explained. “He roars to be spooky, but just for today.”

The adults laughed. “You're a good big brother, Jonah,” Lilac informed him with a kiss, closely followed by a tickle.

“Lolly wanted to be Elsa so bad so I wanted to help,” their son said through a giggle, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

It was for Ethan.

As Sienna ushered them together for a picture, Ethan looked at his family, everyone smiling radiantly and far more beautifully than the moon itself. Little Dolores clung to him, laughing and looking happier than he had ever seen her.

His wife caught his eye and shot him a knowing but proud smile. Ethan knew she was remembering the cynical, jaded version of himself who had confidently proclaimed he would never do this.

Ethan had never been happier to be proven wrong.

______________

A/N: I HC they name their daughter after Dolores and nickname her Lola/ Lolly

Once upon a time I used to write for another pairing who canonically dies on Halloween. You have no idea how happy I am to write for a pairing who’s alive and well lol.

Thank you so much for reading! I love these time hop fics so much. I wrote another one for Ethan x MC a long time ago that I will publish on my birthday in November :)

Finally, Chapter 10 of the Pictagram is coming soon. It might be two parts... Yikes. Thanks for waiting so patiently for it! Life has been crazy over here

_______________

tags: @openheart12​​​ , @takeharryandgo​​​ , @trappedinfanfiction​​​, @aestheticartsx​​​, @aworldoffandoms​​​, @paulfwesley​​​, @myusualnerdyself​​​,  @rookie-ramsey​​​, @ohchoices​​​, @colossalpainintheass​​​, @enmchoices​​​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​​, @choicesfanaf​​​, @openheartthot​​​, @octobereighth​​​, @nazarihoe​​​, @utterlyinevitable​​​, @kites-in-our-skies​​​, @maurine07​​​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​​​, @doilooklikeiknow​​​, @snesdudes​​​, @kingliam2019​​​, @perriewinklenerdie​​​, @cinnamonspongecake​​​, @choicesstan1​​​, @queencarb​​​, @ethxnrxmsey​​​, @missmiimiie​​​, @jens-diamondchoices​​​, @adamsdumortain​​​, @apphia12​​​, @kalogh​​​, @lucy-268​​​, @binny1985​​​, @queenbirbs​​​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​​​, @newcolonies​​​, @lilyvalentine​​​, @rigatonireid​​​, @interobanginyourmom​​​, @parkerattano​​​, @custaroonie​​​​, @nikki-2406​​​​, @lilypills​​​​, @chasingrobbie​​​​, @nooruleman​​​​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​​​​, @ruinedbypixels​​​​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​​​​, @tsrookie​​​​, @mvalentine​​​​, @professorkingslay​​​​, @drakewalkerfantasy​​​​, @casey-v​​​​, @helloblueeyedcat​​​​, @mysticaurathings​​​​, @blossomanarchy​​​​, @thegreentwin​​​​, @togetherwearerapture​​​​, @rookieoh​​​​, @ramseysno1rookie​​​​, @rookiemarsswiftie​​​​, @natashajaniphil​​​​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​​​​, @hatescapsicum​​​​, @choices-lurker​​​​, @kiara-36​​​​, @junehiratas​​​​, @danijimenezv​​​​, @macy-ray85​​​​, @adrex04​​​​, @canigetanawwjunk​​​​, @sanchita012​​​​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​​​​ , @scorpiochick8​​​​, @skylarklyon​​​​, @starrystarrytrouble​​​​, @mercury84choices​​​​, @drariellevalentine​​​​, @ethanrcmsey​​​​, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost​​​​, @kaavyaethanramsey​​​​ , @udishaman​​​​, @a-crepusculo​​, @quacksonlover​​

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 11

I have way too much experience with this kind of trauma. One thing I know, the experience isn’t always linear. How you feel jumps from one moment to the next. Maybe this is my way of coping, but for some reason I need to get this all down. Lots of swearing —K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

There’s something totally surreal about trauma.

There’s nothing like the feeling of getting a late night call to get to the hospital and fast. It is pure stomach dropping terror.

Realists would know what it means, rushing to the hospital to see their loved ones, potentially for the last time.

Driving to the compound, gnawing on your thumb, you start to wonder how many traumas there are. How many people a year get a call to hurry to the hospital to see their loved ones. Maybe for the last time.

Out of the those cases, how many people are too late? How many show up and their loved ones still die?

Fuck, how bad was it. You ran your hand through your hair as you sat at a stop light, tears streaming down your face.

How much of a liar was Tony? Would he lie and tell you that they were alive if they weren’t, just so you wouldn’t kill yourself driving over?

You wouldn’t have to rush if this light would fucking turn green.

There was no one around, it was nearly midnight...why wait?

You tapped your fingers on the wheel, maybe you weren’t on the sensor and the light would never turn green and Bucky and Steve would die waiting for you...what’s the harm?

Your foot shifted to the gas, cautiously accelerating.

A horn blares and you slam on the gas, barely avoiding an oncoming car.

You think you might have screamed, either way, you wer suddenly pulling your off the road and scrambling out.

You reached for your keys, your hand missing twice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you finally got hold of your keys and practically fell out of your car. From your knees, you reached for the door handle and pulled yourself up.

Your head swam as you leaned against the car and made your way to the passenger side. As soon as you were off the road, you tossed your keys into the field of grass in front of you.

And immediately regretted it.

“Oh, shit,” you leaned against the hood and stared out at the dark field.

You remembered a rule of dealing with trauma. Take a breath and get control of yourself.

Fact, you shouldn’t have been driving. You cradled your belly, where your children were kicking furiously. You weren’t thinking straight. You were thinking about your boys, not the babies inside of you.

And there was no way you were finding your keys tonight.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Natasha, she answered on the first ring, “Where are you?! Is everything okay, you should be here by now!”

You closed your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths, “Can you please come get me? I’m fifteen minutes out from the compound, sitting on the side of the road. I just about crashed my car.”

Twenty minutes later, Natasha’s car pulled up behind yours and both Natasha and Clint hoped out. At this point, you were spiraling, your breath coming in short pants.

“Fucking Tony!” Natasha slammed her door. “I said, don’t let her drive. You can’t let her drive after telling her something like that!”

“Yelling at Tony isn’t going to solve anything!” Clint snapped at her. He came to stand in front of you, both hands grasping your shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Now, where are your keys?”

You pursed your lips, looking over his shoulder at the field. “I kinda...tossed them...”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his head jerking to look out at the long glass. “Oh. Okay. We’re all just gonna get in Natasha’s car. Then I’m gonna go get a metal detector and find your keys!”

You nodded, pushing off your car and stumbled, your head swimming.

“Alright, kiddo,” Clint wrapped an arm around your waste. “Let’s get you in the car.”

“What if they’re dead and Tony’s a liar?” You asked, stumbling as Clint guided you towards Natasha.

“Oh, no,” Natasha open the car door. “We talked to the field team. They’re stable, just a bit of a mess.”

You slid into the passenger seat, stroking your belly, trying to soothe yourself. Clint got into the backseat and Natasha got into the drivers seat.

“I keep thinking about all those silly medical shoes I watched in university, where there’s a trauma and they go from fine to dying in a minute and then the family doesn’t get there on time,” you murmur.

You weren’t sure either of them heard you until Natasha quietly answered, “I’ve seen that happen, in the field. It can happen, but right now, all signs point to them being stable and we will getting to the compound at the same time as they are.”

The light pollution started getting worse the closer you got the compound. For some reason, all you wanted to was run away.

“The babies kicked today for the first time,” you said numbly. “They’re gonna be here soon. I n-need to get a crib, and, um, a diaper bad. Other stuff too. I need to book, uh, birthing classes. Maternity clothes...”

Natasha exchanged a quick glance with Clint, “We can worry about all of that later. We’ll make a list!”

You frown and murmur, “I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

Clint squeezed your shoulder, “You’ll learn, it’s okay!”

You laugh dryly, “Buck was learning. Every spare minute. He was so excited to change diapers.”

“Okay, she’s gonna need something to calm her down,” You hear Clint mumbled to Natasha. You ignore him, choosing to curl up towards the window, watching a helicopter fly towards the compound. Your boys were up there.

———

Panic was surging through your veins, but you shook your head as you strode towards the medical wing.

“How bad is it,” you shout at Tony, trying your best to keep a level head.

He looked up at you from his phone, his hair a mess. “I don’t know,” he called back. “I just know they’re stable and we have two ORs prepped just in case.”

Your eyes focused on the door behind Tony, the boys would come through those door at any second. You came to stop beside him, fiddling with the dainty necklace you always wore.

“I fucking told you she shouldn’t drive,” Natasha hissed at Tony behind you.

You were vaguely aware of Tony throwing his hands in the air. “I just said—”

You turned at spat, “Not fucking helping.”

They exchanged a look, both turning to sit in the waiting chairs and you started to pace.

“I’m gonna kill them,” You say calmly, stroking your belly, your eyes constantly checking the elevator.

Natasha leaned over and whispered to Tony, “She’s gonna need a sedative.”

The elevator dinged and a gurney rolled out. You almost puked.

“What. The. Fuck!” You glared at Tony, who was already scrambling to his feet.

“No one said it was this bad!” He said.

You swallowed, hard, looking down at Steve. He was sedated, his face was bruised and battered, and he had a massive branch through his abdomen.

“It didn’t hit anything serious,” the nurse behind the gurney said. “We’re gonna go straight to the OR and get this taken care of right now.”

You couldn’t helps yourself as you looked down at his face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Steve.”

“Ma’am,” she said.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you said to him.

“Ma’am,” she insisted. “We have to go now.”

You stepped back, making a point of raising your hands in the air defensively.

You watched them until they turned down the next hallway.

Natasha came up and put her hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay? Do you need to cry?”

You looked up at the ceiling, counting the lights as you let out a long breath, “Not yet.” Not until you saw Bucky. Pregnant or not, hormonal or not, he was not going to see you cry.

The elevator dinged again and chaos erupted.

It happened so fast, Natasha grabbed you and pulled you away from the door. Tony was yelling. So was Bucky.

He was thrashing wildly, despite the restraints.

“Head trauma,” the nurse wheeling the gurney already had a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Buck!” You shouted. He roared in anger and you flattened yourself against the wall.

And he was gone, down the hall.

Natasha looked down at you as you slowly started sliding down the wall.

They weren’t okay. No matter what Tony had said, that wasn’t okay. Steve had a fucking tree through his stomach and Bucky, poor Bucky was stuck in his own head. His most feared prison. This wasn’t going to be like taking the home tomorrow and putting a bandaid over a scratch, this was far, far worse.

“What do you need?” She asked, kneeling in front of you.

“A change of clothes,” you said numbly.

She rubbed your thigh, “Okay, I’ll call Clint to stop by your place, okay?”

You nodded, “Can you ask him to grab my black bag on the stool by the breakfast bar? It has, it has my meds.”

“Of course.”

“And t-there’s this god awful, ugly b-brown blanket on the bed. It’s Bucky’s.” Your voice started to waiver, tears welling in your eyes. “It totally ruins the aesthetic of the room.”

She grasped your hand and you wiped your tears. “I’m sure it does.”

“And, there’s one blue pillow on the bed. The pillow case is blue. Steve sleeps with it every night.”

And the flood gates opened and you started to cry.

———

“The surgery went better than expected,” the surgeon told you.

You wiped a stray tear from your face. “It-it did?” You hiccuped.

“Absolutely it did,” she gave you a warm smile. “And with his DNA, he’s gonna be just fine and walking around in no time.”

You nodded, “Thank you.” Your voice broke and she gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not normally a m-mess. I’m just pregnant.”

She laughed, “It’s okay, I can tell. He’s gonna need some support, but remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, “Can I see him?”

“Of course, this way,” she directed you to walk down the hallway.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw him. He looked massive in that bed. He didn’t really fit, it didn’t look right to see Captain America in a hospital bed. Monitors beeped steadily at his side, the only real proof to you he was alive.

You hugged his lumpy pillow to you left chest. It still smelled like him.

You stared at the monitor, counting the insistent beeping, making sure he was still breathing...

“Is that for him,” a nurse said, rubbing hand sanitizer on her hands as she came in. You were still standing in the door way, starring, twenty minutes later.

“Um, yeah,” you answered, shaking your head to get out of whatever spell the monitor had put you under. “Can you...”

She smiled at you warmly, “Of course, hon.” She gently took the pillow from you, breaking the spell.

You stumbled forward, sitting down in the chair beside his bed.

“You can hold his hand,” she said, readjusting his pillows.

“We haven’t been in a good place,” you admitted, “for months. He wanted me to get an abortion and then he didn’t and I just, I pushed him away. I don’t know if he’d want me here but I-I can’t not be here.”

The nurse paused, coming to sit down in the chair opposite to you. “He’s going to want you to be here when you wake up. No matter what happened, he’s going to want you by his side.”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. “I don’t know what to say to him. Because I’m still mad, honestly. I want to kick his ass.”

She laughed and so did you, wiping a tear from your face.

The nurse cleared her throat, “It isn’t my place, but you don’t have to forgive him. But you’re going to end up throwing everything away if you’re not here when he wakes up.”

You nodded your thanks, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

———

“Y/n?” Steve voice woke you from your sleep on the cot beside his bed, you scrambled for the light before reaching for his hand.

His deep blue eyes looked up at you with so much pain and confusion.

“What do you need?” You asked, cupping his face. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, trying hard to swallow. You reached for a cup of water, knowing his throat probably felt like sandpaper after intubation.

“Where’s Bucky?” He asked.

You looked up at his monitors to avoid his eye, “They won’t let me see him. The meds aren’t working, he’s in a fury. They said that they’re giving him medication to calm him down, sedating him, and they’re going to try to wake him up soon.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened. “You should be with him.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, “This fight between us is no where close to over but you are still a big part of my life and I love you. I need to be here for both my boys and he will need me soon.”

There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, for everything. Bucky and I had a fight about it and, I’m not ready for everyone to know about the three of us.”

You nodded, understanding his fear.

“But,” he continued, “I don’t want to be the uncle. I want to be the dad. So, I’m here and I want to be here, for both of you.”

A tear dripped down your face, you leaned forward and brought your lips to his.

“Mrs y/l/n,” a man cleared his throat at the door. You turned to see some poor intern wringing his hands at the sight of Captain America.

“Yes?” You asked.

He broke his stare with Steve and said, “I’ve been asked to inform you they’re waking up Mr Barnes and you said you wanted to be there.”

You exchanged a look with Steve. He squeezed your hand and you walked to your bag in the corner, pulling out Bucky’s blanket.

Steve asked quietly, “Will you see if Bucky can be transferred into the same room soon? That way she doesn’t need to go in between our rooms.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the intern nodded and scurried off.

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze, “I’ll be back soon.”

You walked down the hall until you found the room where they were administering some medication to wake Bucky up. Your mouth went dry, he was still restrained.

“Can we get some of these restraints off,” you asked coolly, striding into the room and sitting beside the bed, the blanket in your lap. “He’s not an animal.”

“Mr Barnes is prone to violence following sedation,” the doctor tells you. You grit your teeth at that but let it go. “This could take some time, someone will be just outside if he acts out.”

You didn’t bother to point out that they had him chained down and he couldn’t right now.

Instead, you played with a frayed edge of the blanket. Steve adoringly called it Bucky’s baby blanket. It obviously wasn’t, but it was the blanket he’d slept with since living in Bucharest, it was with him in Wakanda, and he slept with it every night since.

At this point, it was more patch ups than blanket though. When the boys had moved in, the only thing Bucky brought was this ugly blanket full of holes. Trying, in vain, to make it look better to preserve the feel of your room, you learned to patch it up. It was now an assortment of browns and fabrics, but it didn’t seem to change the spirit of the blanket.

“Hey,” Bucky said. You looked up to find him looking at you, a frown on his face. “Did I hurt anyone?” He asked.

“No,” you lie. “You were just a little, um, enraged. You had some head trauma.”

He nodded, “Can I get out of these things?” He moved the restraints for emphasis.

You nodded, calling out to the nurse outside the room. He came in, and after assessing Bucky, removed the restraints.

“How’s Steve?” Bucky asked.

“He’s okay,” you answer. “He had tree go through his stomach but he’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded, not bothering to sit up. But he ran his hand through his hair. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes focusing on the blanket.

“Is that my blanket?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, “I thought you might want something to give you some comfort. Do you want it?”

His eyes crinkled from a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You stood, unfolding the blanket and spreading it over him. You looked up at him to see if he was satisfied, but Bucky was staring at your belly.

“Buck?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten...bigger,” he murmured.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand down your belly. “Yeah, and they’ve been kicking up a storm, would you believe it?”

He frowned, “I didn’t realize you were sleeping with anyone.”

Your blood ran cold.

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

[linyi-is-dreaming]

The Drop Of A Tear - 14

BTS V x Y/N (Reader)

Summary: Tae meets a woman who is very manipulative. Before he even notices anything, she got him around her finger. He decides to leave his wife Y/N and his four kids to start a new life with the new woman. This perfect house of cards that he had just started to build, starts to unfold as she starts to show her true face. Piece by piece it makes him feel sick. Tae notices his wrong doing as his house of cards starts to fall apart. Regret and hate towards himself makes him wish to turn things around. Will he be able to safe his house of cards and to get back what he once threw away?

CHAPTER 14

It’s been minutes since Y/N keeps starring at the ceiling. The words Jungkook said, felt like medicine to her soul. Even if he might have not meant it one hundred percent the way he said it, it still feels good to hear that she would still be looking good for a mother of four. A smile escapes her lips the longer she thinks about his words. It has been a long time since any compliment was directed to her looks positively. The insecurities about her looks are coming back into her mind as she sits up. Her eyes fall immediately towards the mirror. She tilts her head slightly as she brushes her right hand through her hair. As she steps out the bed, she sighs softly. Y/N puts on her slippers and steps towards the light switch to turn on the light. Her eyes immediately look into the mirror once again as she sits down on the corner of the bed.

“Where exactly, am I still beautiful?”, she asks herself as she looks up and down her mirror image. It might be a short question but it felt like a minute until she noticed that she did not care about her looks for a long time. Her hair is long, but the ends are damaged. Her nails are slightly broken and her nail polish is barely left on her nails. “I am surprised I even got the job...”, she says as she takes a closer look on her nails. Y/N’s eyes move from her knees, to the floor and back to the mirror. “I look so much older than back then...”, she sighs. “My eyes are still swollen. Even as a mother, I got those stupid pimples on my cheek. Why would Jungkook even say I am too beautiful to be an insect? He obviously did not look...” As her hand slides over her thigh, she gets up to step closer to the mirror. The eyes of her keep going up and down her legs. The shape, the stretch marks. Every inch of her body, she keeps looking closer at. “Those legs had better days.”, she comments as the memory of her honeymoon reminds her on how beautiful her legs looked like when they were crossed with Tae. The sunset above the sea, the only thing she heard was Tae’s heartbeat whilst she hugged him. All the memories come back at once like a wave rushing over her. In realization to where her head is heading, she shakes her head to stop  herself up from dreaming away.

It does not take long until she finds another spot on her body that she so deeply dislikes. “Stupid tummy. Why do I not get rid of you? Stupid fat roll...” Her hands find their way to her stomach and starts to squish it. “I was toned. I used to work out before I had a family of my own... I will have to start working out again. Next goal after everything has been taken care of, I will be getting fit again.”, she says confidently as she lets go of her stomach. “It would have been nice, if I went through with the surgeries that the surgeon suggested... I could look so much better today.” She keeps turning in front of the mirror as she stares at her butt. “The only good thing about my body change after becoming a mother. I finally have a nice butt but my breasts... God, I hate the way they look!” Upset of her current look, she takes the closest jacket next to her and covers up the mirror. “So much better.”

“Are you done?”, Jungkook asks as he makes himself being noticeable.

“Huh?”, she says surprised as she turns to look at the door, unaware that anybody had opened the door whilst she was in front of the mirror.

“I actually forgot one of my USB sticks over there.”, he explains slowly as he points at the USB stick next to her on top of the earlier washed clothes. “I brought it to the bedroom but forgot to return it to the studio.”

“Oh.”, Y/N comments as the redness in her face starts to show. Slowly, she picks it up and walks to Jungkook who just closed the door behind him. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.”, Jungkook says as he takes the USB stick from her. “Uhm, Y/N. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you say those things about yourself?”, he asks carefully as he looks into her eyes intense.

“Sorry, but I do not know what you are talking about...”

“Why are you so judgmental with yourself? You were never vocally this judgmental to anybody around you. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”, she lies again with a fake smile on her face.

“I think I already told you, do not use a fake smile on me. I can see that something is wrong and I think I even heard what it is about. Just tell me, why did you say that? You always courage your daughters to love themselves. You also tell them how perfect they are, why are you not saying the same thing about yourself to yourself?” Stunned by Jungkook’s words, Y/N clears her throat whilst she plays with her fingers.

“I don’t think that is any of your business.” Her voice sounds quiet and guilty. As Jungkook wonders what else he could say, Y/N looks away to sit down on the bed whilst looking almost everywhere but into his face.

“I think it is though.. I am here for you, which makes it my business.”

“But it is not your business. So, forget what you heard. It was just a ‘i-cannot-sleep-let's-talk-about-something-else-conversation with myself to get sleepy.”

“If I should forget what I heard, you need to listen to what I have to say. I can see on your face that you do not feel happy that I heard you...”

“Jungkook, my thoughts are my thoughts. You understand that, right?”

“Yeah. Yes, of course. Just as I understand that becoming older, looking older is a normal thing. Look at me and at the photos when I debuted. I am not the same person either. Not physically not mentally. That your eyes are swollen is normal due to the situation you are in. Not just that it is almost midnight as well and you are standing here hating your body.”

“Jungkook. You can stop as-”

“I am not done, so listen.”, Jungkook interrupts. Annoyed by Jungkook's words, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You might have pimples, but here is some news for you. Even I still get them. Your legs, they might not look like they did in your twenties, but trust me, they still look amazing. Your tummy? Oh, come on. It looks more than fine. When you sit down, there is barely a, how did you call it? Oh yeah, fat roll. You were toned, okay, it might have looked different back then. We can work out together if you want your toned body back. I have some weights here and trust me, the couch is great for training.”, he jokes. “But there is no fat that I can find on you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t you get it? You are very beautiful. I noticed that people turn their heads when you pass them. Did you not notice that? Y/N, you are so attractive. Do you know what makes you look unpretty?”

“Jungkook, I appreciate what you are trying to do here but-”

“Answer. Just answer me. Do you know what makes your body look unpretty?”

“I don’t know. I seriously don’t know, Jungkook.”, she sighs as she wishes Jungkook would finally be quiet and just leave the room.

“Then let me tell you. You are feeding this poison to yourself.”

“Hey, I watch my diet!”

“I am not talking about your diet. I am talking about what you just did.”, Jungkook explains as he walks to the mirror to uncover it. “You cover up the mirror to not look at yourself. What does it tell your mind once it is covered? That is your poison, Y/N. The more you say those bad things, the more you feed yourself with this negativity, the more you will believe every single letter of those negative words. Stop asking yourself why anyone says something good or bad about your body. You are the one within it. Embrace it.”

“Jungkook-”

“I am not telling you how to do anything else, because you got that figured out. But I am telling you, as somebody who cares for you, stop poisoning yourself with those thoughts. Do you have any ideas how pretty you actual are? Trust me when I say, that there are women who are adoring other women for their looks. You have no clue how many of them would like to have a killer smile like you. Do you know that there could be someone who would like to walk into a room and get everyone’s attention just by appearing? You do that get this attention!”

“Jungkook, thanks but if I do not see it this way... Thank you, thank you for your kind words but I do not see any meaning in what you are saying.”

“Maybe you should spend time thinking about my words instead of what you do not like about yourself.”, he says in a tone which sounds like a father who is talking to his daughter in a strict tone.

“Why are you talking to me like that? You are behaving like I am a kid. I am an adult like you and a friend of yours. Who do you think you are to talk to me in this tone?”

“I talk to you like that because it drives me crazy!” Jungkook takes a long breath before he steps back to her. “How can someone, who looks like you, not see how damn pretty you are.”

“I am sorry! That is just how I feel...”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to yourself!”

“Why are we even having this conversation...?”

“God damn, Y/N. If I could just simply confess to you and show you how pretty-” As soon as Jungkook notices what he just said, he stops himself from talking.Y/N watches as Jungkook’s eyes get bigger as he freezes on the spot. Confused, about what he said, she steps closer to him to have barely any distance to him.

“Confess what? What did you just mean by that?”, Y/N asks puzzled as she looks at him with widen eyes.

“Good night, Y/N.”, Jungkook says quickly as he walks outside the room and closes the door behind him quickly. “I am an idiot!”, he curses himself. “Why, why did I say that?” As he leans his head against the door, he hears some steps coming from around the corner towards him.

“Jungkook, why were you in mom’s room in the middle of the night?”, Y/N’s oldest daughter asks.

“How much did you hear?”, he questions concerned with one eye brow up.

“Nothing. I just came out of the bathroom and saw you walking out of mom’s bedroom.”

“Good. Time for bed. Let's go!”, he says in a fast pace as he puts his hand on her back to lead her back to the bedroom.

“Are you okay? Jungkook, why were you in mom’s bedroom?”

“None of your business, princess.”

“Did you confess?” Shocked, he stands still and looks at her. “You did? Finally!”

“Shh. Keep it down. Princess, listen closely. I did not confess to your mom and if you remember our conversation, I told you that now is not the right time. If you say it out loud like that, your siblings will hear you and tell your mother and if that happens, your mother will not believe a single word I would say. You understand that, right?”

“Absolutely. But when will you finally...?”, she asks innocently.

“When the time is right, I will do it but until then, get some rest.”

“Why are you not asleep yet?”

“I have to work on this one song.”

“Maybe you could read a good night story?”

“I do not want to wake up your siblings.”

“We are all awake.”

“What? You all should be already be sleeping since at least last two hours.” Y/N’s daughter walks fast towards the kids’ bedroom door to open it.

“We could not sleep and stayed up to talk about a few things.” Still surprised by the girl’s honesty, Jungkook walks into the room and closes it behind him as soon as the girl is sitting next to her sister.

“That still does not explain why nobody is sleeping.”

“We could not sleep and our little brother wants to hear a good night story.”, the older girl explains.

“I will not even ask why your little brother is not in his own bed. Your mother won’t be happy about it.”

“She does not need to know.”

“Princess!”, he calls with a warning tone.

“Okay, I will not do it again...”

“Good. Why did no one tell us that you need a good night story?”

“Because he wants this book.”, the older boy says as he hands the book to Jungkook. “I am not in the mood for reading such a long book nor are the girls. Mom wouldn't have read this one as this one is for the afternoon reading and I thought you were too busy.”

“Okay.”, Jungkook sighs as he looks at the book. “Fine, I will do it but then you must sleep. Even you, Champ.”

“Wait!”, the younger girl whispers. “You have to lie down with us.”

“But then I can’t leave for the work that is waiting for me without waking you up.”

“That is not my problem, uncle Jungkook.”

“You are very friendly tonight.”, he comments with a smile as he turns off the light. “Alright. Here we go.” Jungkook turns on the flashlight of his phone as he walks towards them.

💧💧💧

“Where are you?”, Y/N wonders as she checks the toddler’s room once again. “How can a toddler just disappear? Okay, I got this. It must have been princess who brought him to their room.” Nervously, she leaves the toddler’s room. Once she opened the kids’ bedroom door, she found her four children sleeping peacefully with Jungkook lying in the middle with a big book on his chest. “Good morning everyone.”, Y/N says softly as she walks closer to them. “Good morning, good morning.” As soon she holds her son to her chest, he hugs her and it feels to her as he would continue his sleep in her arms soon. “So sleepy, young man?”

“Morning, Y/N.”, Jungkook says in a deep voice. “I must have fallen asleep after reading them a story.”

“You read them a story?”

“Well, to my surprise they were all awake after our conversation.” Just as he finishes his sentence, Flashbacks of the end of their conversation pops up in his mind. Quickly, he jumps up and runs pass her. All the eyes within the room, seem to follow Jungkook.

“Is uncle Jungkook alright?”, her younger daughter wonders. “He never ran in the morning. I think I never saw him running except when we played soccer.”

“He probably must use the bathroom urgently.”, her older son jokes. Whilst everyone laughed for a moment, Y/N fakes a smile as she turns back to her kids. “Who wants pancakes?”

“You made pancakes?”

“I was about to make some.”

“I’ll help!”, her girls say in unison.

“Alright.”, Y/N laughs. “I guess we three will make it together. Clean your teeth first and wash your face. I will be waiting in the kitchen.” Y/N announces as she leaves the room.  As she sees that Jungkook is almost out the door of his apartment, she steps closer to him. “Jungkook, do you have a minute?”, she asks as soon as she stands in front of him.

“Uhm, no. Sorry. I have to, you know, with... With someone and I cannot be late. They are waiting and I... You know... So, I got to go.”

“We can talk later. No big deal.” Jungkook nods as he storms out the door. “Your uncle did not even clean himself before leaving... You know what we call that?”

“Dirty.”, the toddler answers.

“Yes, that is right. That is dirty.”, Y/N laughs as she pets his head.

💧💧💧

Jungkook quickly runs into the building of Big Hit once he gets out of his car. He tries to greet as friendly as he can whilst he tries to get to the practice room. Once he is inside the practice room, he looks around.

“Who are you trying to escape from?”, Jin asks as he sees how out of breath Jungkook is.

“Are you the only one here?”

“No, Jimin has arrived too. The others might come in later.” Jin watches curiously how fast Jungkook finishes his water bottle. “Are you alright?”

“No. No, I am not. I am actually not alright.”

“Does it have anything to do with Tae?”

“Somehow it does.”

“Somehow?”

“Yep.” As the door opens behind Jungkook, both turn to the door.

“Uh, Jungkook is practicing with us.”, Jimin says happily. “What happened? You are so out of breath.”

“I tried to figure it out.”, Jin explains.

“And?”

“The answer I got it has somehow to do with Tae.” Jungkook steps closer to Jimin with a glare that makes Jin and Jimin a little nervous. “Why are you looking at him like you want to tear him apart?”

“You will help because of you I am in the situation!”, Jungkook tells Jimin in a warning voice.

“Did something happen between you and Y/N?”, Jimin wonders.

“Almost.”

“You confessed and kissed?”

“No!”

“Just confessed and she told you she does not feel the same?”

“Worse.” Confused, Jimin looks to Jin.

“Worse? What did you do?”

“If I would have not have let her stay at my place, I would have not heard her and I wouldn't be in this stress.”

“Tell me slowly. What happened?”

“I heard her speaking badly about her body and it annoyed the hell out of me and I found an excuse to walk inside.”

“Sounds alright…”

“Yeah, but somehow between telling her to stop thinking like that I said that if I could confess…”

“Congratulations! You finally told her.”

“Not exactly...”

“What do you mean?”, Jin wonders. “Did you or did you not confess to her?”

“I think I did… I am not sure.”

“Hold on.”, Jimin says as he scratches his forehead. “What happened afterwards?"

"I said good night and stormed out.” Jungkook watches his friends who keep exchanging facial expression before they start to laugh.

“Okay, that was funny. But honestly, what happened?”, Jin asks as he holds his stomach.

“Guys, I keep trying to stay away from her.”

“Are you for real? You needed so long to finally tell her and now you try to stay away from her?”, Jimin questions as his facial expression changes into a focused one.

“Yes. The horrible thing is she wants to talk with me about it tonight...”

“What is horrible about it? Don't you want to know how she feels for you or if there could be more?”

“Not anymore.”

“Damn, you are starting to sweat again.”, Jin says as he discovers how sweaty Jungkook’s face is becoming. “She really means something to you! Sorry Jimin. I truly thought you might be wrong.”

“It’s fine. At least I am not the only one who heard it from him right now.��, Jimin says as he touches Jin’s shoulders.

“Guys, help!”, Jungkook begs. “I feel like I am dying.”

“Listen, we will practice a little bit and during the break we talk about this, okay?”, Jimin suggests.

“Fine.”

“Maybe I can help you with something ahead of your upcoming conversation.”, Jin suggests. “I still remember talking with Namjoon and Yoongi, before I confessed to my wife. I felt similar to you. Trust me, if it does not horrify you to hear a ‘sorry, i do not feel like you’, then she ain't the one for you. I bet she feels something for you, I can sense those stuff trust me.”

“You only try to relax me, aren't you?”

“Kinda.”

“I sometimes hate you for doing that.”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Only until you came up with the sense thing.”

💧💧💧

Y/N puts the fork down after taking a last bite from her pancake and continues to feed her toddler. As she hears how the conversation of the kids become louder, she clears her throat to get her kids attention. “So, now that you all have eaten. I got some news.”, Y/N announces happily.

“News?”, her older daughter asks carefully. “What kind of news?”

“I will start my new job this Monday.”

“You got a job, mom?”, her younger daughter questions cheerfully.

“Yes. I will work together with Uncle Jimin’s wife. Which is why I needed you all at the table. Because of my new job, me or her will bring you to school or bring you home from school. Depending on who has to work in the afternoon, you will always be at the house of the person who picks you up after school.”

“That’s cool. That means we can go to their house after school?”, her son wonders.

“Probably. That brings me to the next point; you will all behave, okay? It can happen that your little brother will be picked up from her as well. I do not want you to cause any troubles, got me?”

“Yes.”, her kids answer in unison.

“As usual.”, her older daughter says confidently.

“Mom, I know it is something we do not like to talk about, but dad texted me yesterday.”, her son mentions nervously. The eye roll of her older daughter was the biggest one she ever did. Whilst ignoring her, Y/N tries to make an eye contact with her son.

“Oh really? What did he say?”

“That he will not make it to the game... He meant they got a recording on the day and if we could film it for him.”, he explains sadly. “I told him no, because he will not watch it anyway.”

“He would watch it. Your dad loves to see you play.”

“I think dad only tried to tell me that he does not want to come at all. He probably has nothing to do on that day.” As a tear rolls down her son’s face, his mother gets up to hug him tightly.

“I understand why you think like that but I do think that he wants to see his boy shooting a goal after the other. He always talked about how proud he is that you are the number two of best players in your team.”

“Why can he not just come? He just has to be there. I do not even expect him to cheer anymore.” Hearing her son’s disappointment makes her feel bad as she did not know what to say to cheer him back up. Carefully, she wipes his tears off his face.

“I have to bring the divorce papers to your father next week. I will ask him if he sees any chance of coming even if he is just coming for twenty minutes.”

“Even if just for ten minutes...”

“Text him that you want to see him there for a minimum of ten minutes and I will talk to him when I see him if he has not answered you by then, okay?”

“Okay.” Y/N presses a strong kiss on her son’s cheek.

“I will give you a new plate. Your tears landed on your plate.” As soon as she was far away from her kids, she tries to take a deep breath as she takes a new plate from the shelf. If Tae would miss this game as well, she knows that there is no chance that her son will forgive his father for it. There are only two games left for this season. Tae never missed the most important games, which were the last two. “Here we go.”

“Thanks, mom.”, he thanks her as he takes another pancake.

“You are welcome. Eat up kids. There is still some left even though I am sure that uncle Jungkook would not mind to eat them.”, Y/N plays with her toddler.

💧💧💧

Nine o’clock. It has been twelve hours since Jungkook has not shown himself in his own apartment. As Y/N leaves the bathroom in her pajamas, she thinks about how to speak to him without him running away from her. Y/N follows the sound that seems to come from the kitchen. The closer she comes, the surer she is that it must be Jungkook.

“Hi.”, Jungkook greets whilst he takes a pancake.

“Hi.”, Y/N says as she walks closer.

“I have to take a shower.”, Jungkook says as he puts the pancake back into the fridge to walk away from her.

“Jungkook, will you keep on running from me?” Just as he thought, he stopped in his track and turns back to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are avoiding me since last night.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Can we please talk this out like adults?”

“Let’s sit down on the couch.”, Jungkook suggests as he grabs two small water bottles. He places both water bottles on the coffee table before he sits down. He waits until Y/N has sat down before he turns his body towards her. Nervously, he plays with his fingers as he can feel the anxiety building up within him.

“So, let’s talk about it. Why are you acting so strange?”

“Look, I am supporting you as much as I can, I know you know that. If the kids need me, I am here for them, you know that as well.”

“Yeah, I am aware of that and I am super thankful about that.”

“The last months, were hard on you, but they were not easy for me either. Not because I was helping you, but with all the emotions.”

“I thought we might talk about that...”

“You know what I am trying to say?”

“I guess you want to talk about the pressure that I had put on you...”

“That is not what I want to talk about.”

“No? Sorry, I thought that might be the reason why.”

“No, that isn’t it... Please, answer me honestly about what I am going to ask you next.”

“Okay.”

“How do you feel about Tae?”

“Tae? Why you are asking me about him?”

“Please. Just tell me.”, Jungkook begs. His face shows how emotionally he feels on the inside to Y/N’s surprise.

“I have a lot of anger towards him. I hate him for what he had put us through but on the other side, he is their father and I want them to have a father in their live. I know how hard it is to be without a father...”

“Do you still love him?”

“I don’t think so. Look, there has been moments in which I felt like I am becoming weak but then I remember what he did and I cannot forgive those things. But there are also moments which remind me on his old personality.”

“Do you want him back?”

“No.” A sigh leaves his lips as his hands wipe over his own lips. “Why are you asking me those questions?”

“Because I would have just died if you would have said that you still have feelings for him and that you think about going back to him.”

“I don't think that I could ever try to have what I had with him again. That train left months ago. Feelings might still be there but they do not mean a thing.”, she explains slowly as she notices the nervous and insecure facial expressions of Jungkook. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am just in disbelief that you think you might be still in love with someone who treated you like that.”

“I cannot help it. Maybe it is me trying to forget what happened to move on that I get these damn flashbacks of beautiful moments we shared. I mean, it has been twelve years. Jungkook, thirteen years is not something that I can just forget.”

“Isn’t the pain killing you?”

“You have no idea how much it hurts. Especially when I look at my little boy, knowing that there could be a little brother next to him. You have no clue how much it hurts that I send my daughter to spend time with her father even though she doesn’t want. When I think about my son this morning, when he talked about Tae missing his game, I thought I die with him. When my little girl asks me why kids in school are so mean to her lately whilst she cries and I try to cheer her back up. It all hurts.”

“You never showed how much in pain you still are...”

“I couldn’t do it. The kids saw way too much of things they should not be involved in. Hold on, is that why you thought I would go back to him?”

“The option was always there, but I kept hoping that you would not do it.”

“Trust me. I am done with him.”

“Good.”

“You do look like there is something else... What’s wrong?”

“Y/N, I will tell you one thing and I do not want to make things weird between us but I need to get it off my chest. Not saying a thing is killing me even though I do not know how it will affect us.”

“Okay. I promise you. Nothing will change between you and me-”

“As I said, nothing will change no matter how you feel about what I am about to tell you.” Y/N nods as she leans forward to make sure to catch every facial expression to the fullest. “Y/N, the reason why I am asking you about Tae is because I do not want to push myself between you and Tae.”

“Your worries are unneeded. Tae and I are past. Promise.”

“Good. I do not think you got what I tried to say though... Okay, I will try it like that. The last few months, I do not know why but my feelings for you have changed. You are not just a sister to me; you became so important to me. Look, I... God, it is harder than I thought.”, Jungkook comments as he takes a deep breath. “Y/N, I fell in love with you.”

“You fell in love with me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh wow. Since when are you in love with me?”

“Honestly, since Tae introduced you to us. That is why I was so distant until I had my feelings under control.”

“But the two girls you introduced as your girlfriends... Did you not love them?”

“I did not. But I needed to get over you as you were getting closer and closer to marry Tae. The feeling I have for you, it is stronger than what I ever felt for anybody else. The feeling I hid so well inside me, is coming back stronger and stronger by day.”

“I do not know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. I am not expecting you to give me your answer to what I just told you right away. If you excuse me, I need to calm myself down. I feel like I am about to fade.” He adds before he leaves the room.

💧💧💧

“Hyung, you know I will not appear this late if it is not necessary.”, Tae says. “Can I not do that all on another day?”

“Why did you not mention it earlier on? All the production has been set for those three days. Everything is organized by now. I talked with my son that I will not be able to watch the game as I have work to do.”, Namjoon answers. “I cannot cancel anything anymore for you. Sorry, but it is simply too late.”

“But this is the second last game for this school year! As you just said, your son is playing too, you must know that it is very important for our sons for us to be there. I missed the last two games. This is one of the important ones. Namjoon, please. Talk with our manager once again.”

“What makes you think that I can change our manager’s mind? He said no to you and even contacted me already about your request. I cannot believe that you complained all afternoon to him that you must see your son play.”

“I had no other choice... You were not able to do anything?”

“No. Not even that you could leave for watching him from the car for a few minutes. Absolutely no chance.”

“What about your son? Will you not watch him either?”

“My wife will call me and I will watch it via FaceTime.”

“That is a great idea! I will watch it with you.”

“Will your son believe you when you say you watched it without anyone proofing that you did? He wanted you there. Tae, this game has been fixed for at least six weeks… This shooting was settled four weeks ago.”

“I will try to get someone to FaceTime me during the game.”, he comments as he picks up his jacket.

“Where are you going? You have just arrived…”

“Shopping. Y/N said she will come over this week. I got to prepare some stuff before she comes.”

“She comes over to your place?”

“Yes. I do not know the reason but I do not want to miss a chance to make things alright between us. I got to go!”, Tae says as he winks at Namjoon as he leaves.

“He truly believes that he can get her back, huh?”, Namjoon’s wife asks when she notices that Tae left.

“You were listening again?”

“Could not help myself. I do not like him being at our house, Namjoon.”

“He is my friend and band mate. What do you think I am supposed to do? Plus, he did not even say anything about him coming over.”

“I know. But right now, it might be better to keep him away. I said to Y/N that she could come over anytime, any day. She will not do that when she sees his car in front of the house.”

“I get that. But if I tell him that that is the reason why, he will camp outside.”

“He still does not know where they are at?”

“He doesn't. I want to keep things like that at least until after the next comeback.”

“I understand.”, she says as a long breath leaves her lips. With a little smirk on his face, he hugs his wife. “He is such an asshole.”

“I know your friendship with her hasn't been the same since.”

“I feel like she only talks with Jimin’s or Yoongi’s wife. I have no clue what happened the last two days.”

“Oh come on. You could call her, what do you think?” Smilingly, she pushes him away.

“Hey, I got a degree in psychology. I am licensed and you think I did not think about calling her?”

“Just saying.” The silence might lasted a half minute as Namjoon’s phone starts to ring.

“Tae again?”

“No, it is Hoseok.”

“Pick up and I will get the kids to bed. I see you in the shower?” With a big grin on his face, he nods as his eyes follow her body. “Don't forget to pick up!” Reminded by his wife, Namjoon picks up the phone.

“Hey. Make it short.”, Namjoon says as he walks towards the window to look outside.

“Nice greeting. Am I calling at the wrong time?”

“Kinda. Listen, I finally got some alone time with my wife without us being super exhausted.”

“Ooh.”, Hoseok says as he laughs for a moment. “Okay, I’ll make it short. Why is Tae asking me about Y/N living with Jungkook?”

“He asked you what?”

“He called me a minute ago.”

“He was at my house like five minutes ago but he only mentioned that he will meet up with her this week.”

“Well, Jungkook is totally through the wind, I was barely able to talk with him normally and Tae is mad at Jungkook for telling him to stay away from Jungkook's apartment.”

“What else did Tae say?”

“Nothing but that he does not understand why Jungkook is taking Y/N’s side… the typical things.”

“You did not say a thing about her living with him?”

“No. I said that the wives know where she is at but they won't tell us.”

“Do the others know about your excuse?”

“No, not yet.”

“Text them to let them know.”, Namjoon tells him.

“Honey, the kids are in bed and I am about to hit the shower. I thought you might want to know.”, Namjoon’s wife whispers as she places a kiss on his neck.

“I am coming.”, Namjoon confirms. “Hoseok, please text the others. Thanks for letting me know but I got to go.”

“Yeah, I heard her… Another Bangtan Baby?”

“No, my kids are enough.”

“Yeah, especially Mini-Me Namjoon.”, Hoseok jokes.

“Okay. I really got to go. We will talk tomorrow. Bye!”

“Bye. Have fun!”, Hoseok says laughing.

[cicinicole-14]

maybe then

hey hi hello, have a new jolex fic! 

dedicated to @thejolexgroupchat! it was nice knowing y’all!

tw: brief mentions suicide

Meredith remembers the days very clearly. 

The dreary day someone was knocking so frantically on her door close to midnight already, and she hurried down the stairs in hopes to answer the door, yell at her visitor, and pray her children wouldn’t wake up. 

She just wasn’t expecting to see Jo on the other side of the door, brown paper bag clutched in her hand so tightly and rain making her hair stick to her face. 

“Let me in, it’s freezing!” She remembers the demand and the slight panic in her voice. 

“Jo! It’s midnight, what are you doing?” 

Jo doesn’t give her an answer, just shoves the soggy paper bag towards the blonde and she takes it, peaking inside and examining the contents before looking back up at her. 

“Okay, so, here.” She says, shoving the bag back towards Jo. 

The brunette takes it but stands there, frozen, unmoving, entranced, staring down at the bag in her hands. 

“Go take the tests.” Meredith pushes, giving her a nudge towards the bathroom. 

She remembers the agonizing moments she spent waiting with Jo before the ever so small smile creeps across the younger woman’s face as all five tests show the same identical answers. 

Meredith remembers she doesn’t need to ask if Jo was happy about this or not, or if she needed told hold her hand for an appointment and drive her home later that day because this…this made Jo so unbelievably happy she could see it from a mile away. 

She remembers the warm hug Jo gives her because the woman had just been shivering cold from the rain just moments ago and she thought it was contradictory. She remembers the joyous and happy tears falling from big brown eyes amidst a bit of sorrow and pain, grieving the loss of their best friend for not getting to experience this, yet the wave of mutual understanding in them both when she’d asked her to not tell Alex. 

She remembers how Jo thanked her for giving her the benefit of the doubt, even with such loyalty to Alex, but by now, she thinks Jo had earned it. After all, she remembers her own pain and betrayal she felt from the man. Jo deserved someone on her side, in her corner for once. 

She remembers the days and weeks and months of prepping the loft with Jo. Helping her go through old bins and boxes of leftover baby things Amelia and Link hadn’t wanted, helping bring them over to the loft. 

She remembers the happiness on Jo’s face, the complete awe in her eyes as they picked out countless outfits for the new little boy who’d soon be making his presence in the upcoming months. 

The long days she spent in the OR with Jo, chatting and discussing names for the little boy, sharing Zola, Bailey and Ellis’s suggestions for their newest cousin to be. The few moments she got to spend next to Jo’s side as they watched Carina perform ultrasounds as the little boy grew. 

Meredith remembers all the good and happiness happening for Jo, surprisingly. 

She just doesn’t remember where it all went so wrong. 

                          —————————

Everything had been a blur since he’d gotten the phone call. Everything felt numb. He barely registered the voice on the other end of the line, the entire three and a half hour flight, the cab ride from the airport to the once familiar hospital. 

The only thing constant was the shaking of his hands, the racing in his heart, the sheer panic written all over his face at the prospect of something being wrong, so utterly and completely wrong. 

The call came, interrupting his surgery. 

Meredith. 

He ignored it at first. But then she called again,

and again, 

and again. 

And his blood ran cold. 

She hadn’t called in so long. It had been months since he’d sent the letters. Months of utter silence, cut off from everything, everyone. So initially, he was already on edge before he’d even instructed one of the scrubs nurses to hold the phone to his ear. 

In the many years he’d been a surgeon, never had he passed over the rest of the procedure onto a resident and left his OR. Not once, until that phone call. 

Not once until he heard Meredith’s voice on the other line. In a tone that made his body run rigid cold and sent shivers down his spine. 

In a tone he prays he never has to hear again. 

“It’s Jo.” Is all she says, all she has to say to flip his whole world upside-down. Nothing else mattered in that moment. No one else. 

He leaves the hospital after that, in the middle of his shift, not really caring about the people yelling for him as he’s ripping his scrub gown off and throwing it aside. He yanks his scrub cap off and pockets it before he's running. 

He’s running down the halls of his hospital as his chest pounds. He makes sure to grab his keys from his office before he’s out the front doors of the hospital and heading for his car. 

It takes him a little under an agonizing hour before he’s pulling up to the airport, slamming his car in park and tearing out of his car, frantically running towards the front of the airport. 

He’s yelling. He knows he’s yelling but he can’t even hear himself, because everything feels so numb. 

Something was wrong. 

Something was wrong, and he wasn't there.

He just needed to be there.  

He needed to get there soon. 

The flight to Seattle had him completely dazed. 

They’d called his boarding number and it was all he could do to sit in silence for three and a half hours. Three and a half hours of hell. 

The stewardess came and went and he ignored her. The lady in the row across from him had attempted to hit on him and the dude next to him was trying to chat with him, but Alex ignored them all. He didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t. He needed to focus. 

He needed to focus, to get to Seattle, and to find out what happened that Meredith wouldn’t tell him. 

                          —————————

The hospital feels horrifying. 

He’d walked these halls for years. 

He’d been shot in these halls. 

He’d been married in these halls. 

He’d fallen in love with the love of his life in these halls. 

It had never felt this terrifying, ever. 

Not until now. 

It makes his skin crawl, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, chills shiver down his spine, his blood run cold. 

Something had happened. 

Something had happened and he didn't know, but he needed to. 

Meredith finally pulls him out of his reverie 

He’s just not sure if he’s relieved to see her.

                          —————————

She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to start. 

They teach you a lot of things in med school. She learned a lot there. She learned a lot as an intern, and then a resident and hell even as an attending, chief of her department, she was still learning. She’d taught interns something similar to this, even.  

She just never learned how to do this. 

No one teaches how to tell a loved one about their loved one.

She never learned this, nor would she want to. 

Taking a deep breath, she leads Alex into a private room, encouraging him to sit down. 

That was the first step; location. 

“Mer, what’s going on? Will you just tell me? I need to know what happened. No beating around the bush or half-truths, I wanna know–need to know.” 

“She had a baby, your baby.” She clarifies, because language–step two–was important. It makes her smile a bit. She’d been there right beside Jo. She got to hold him right after he was born, too. He was beautiful. “A little boy–“ she doesn’t get to finish before Alex is on his feet and interrupting her. 

“Oh God, Meredith. God, you scared the crap out of me! I thought someone had died. This is a good thing. I mean it’s awful because I haven’t been here. I guess Jo told you you couldn’t tell me or whatever because why wouldn’t she tell me I have another kid?” He rambles on, pacing around and completely ignoring Meredith’s expression. "We have a son? Where is he? I need to see him. Where’s Jo? Is she okay?”  His voice becomes frantic the longer she stays silent, the longer she remains still, sitting in the chair that was beside his. 

“She had him two weeks ago.” She swallows the lump in her throat as her voice grows shaky. “Alex, I’m sorry, he didn’t make it–“ 

“Why didn’t you call? Why wasn’t I called? Who was her OB? Did Robbins get notified? Could she have helped? Tell me what happened!” 

He’s yelling now. And she should be used to it, patients’ families yelling, screaming, shouting, crying as they begin to process and grieve.

But it only scares her, watching the man she called her best friend, her person, begin to grieve over a child he never knew he had, a child he never got to love, a child he should’ve been there for, to see, to hold. 

“There was nothing anyone could do. Jo had developed placental abruption and it wasn’t caught. It was missed and went untreated. You of all people know how it can just start. She had some spotting in her second trimester and then it had stopped. Carina said that there was nothing to worry about, and Jo even called Robbins to confirm. She was okay.” Meredith tells. “And then she wasn’t. She was thirty-one weeks when an intern accidentally shoved a gurney a little harder than necessary, and it bumped into her. It wasn’t much, she didn’t even stumble, but apparently the force of it caused her placenta to detach. She started uncontrollably bleeding. There–there was so much blood.” 

She watches the tears fall from Alex’s face as he buries his head in his hands, his whole body shaking. 

“Carina took her up and was on the phone with Arizona the entire time. Robbins was still six hours out so she was talking Carina through the surgery, except it was already too late. The baby wasn't breathing when he was born. He’d been deprived of oxygen for too long at that point and everything was too late. So they were able to close Jo up and she got to see him, I got to see him too. He was beautiful Alex. All Karev, that one. His head’s big like yours. He had her nose, though.” She smiles through her own tears at that point. Sharing every detail she remembered of the little boy. “She held him. He was cold, and pale, and blue, but he was still so beautiful.” 

“No. No this isn’t happening. You’re lying, Mer, why would you do this to me? Why would you say crap like this?” 

She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know what else to say. Sorry doesn’t help. Sorry doesn’t fix this, fix the fact that their baby, a baby he never knew existed, would never get to grow up, and to have to explain that it just happened sometimes. That there really wasn’t a full explanation as to how it even happened, it just did. She knows that doesn’t give him much closure and it never will. 

“So Jo’s okay? Where is she, the loft? Your house? I need to see her. You–you know how fragile she must be right now. Someone needs to be with her.” He’s up on his feet again, pacing around and she’s afraid his walking in circles is going to make her sick. 

“Jo went home after her c-section. Link and I did our best to empty the loft of all the baby things. His nursery in the corner of the loft,  where your heavy bag used to be, had been almost completely finished. She’d put his clothes in the dresser and set up a baby bath in the bathroom. There was a crib and a changing table and a bouncer, the stroller, the carseat, the toys, even a rocking chair. Your mom had even sent some hand-knitted blankets, hats, booties, Alex, they were adorable. I’d never seen Jo so happy and excited. She was ready. She was sad you weren’t there with her, but she was so happy and ready for that little boy.” 

Hesitating for a moment, Meredith shoves her hands in her scrub pockets and then pulls them out as her hand falls on something. She glances at the piece of paper in her hands and then hands it to Alex.

He stares, with tears in his eyes, at the grainy ultrasound photo, one of the last ones taken before Jo’s emergency c-section. 

“I’ve never seen someone so ready for a baby, but Jo was. She had this ultrasound picture hanging on the fridge. I forgot I’d shoved it into my pocket.” She says the last part quieter, but Alex still catches it, making eye contact and urging her to continue, knowing she hadn’t told the full story quite yet. 

“She was happy, until her world came crashing down on her. And then everything was dark. She refused tp willingly check herself into inpatient care this time, and I’m not married to her so I couldn't do it. Link isn’t legally her brother, so we were out of options–”

“You called me here to send her to psych?” Alex asks in disbelief. 

“No.” Meredith says softly as the tears well up in her eyes again. “Jo doesn’t need to be admitted to psych because she’s dead.” 

And with that, Alex’s whole world seems to completely shatter. 

“She’d tucked away a few ultrasound photos and some letters she’d written to you and never sent. Link and I must’ve missed them because when I came back to the loft this morning, there she was, curled up in one of your worn out t-shirts, clutching his baby blanket, and the letters were next to her. She wasn’t breathing when I came in. Her pain medication from her surgery was completely gone, but the bottle was on the nightstand and there was an empty bottle of tequila next to it too.”

Alex gets up, throwing the chair he was sitting in, across the room in anger. “Why wasn’t someone with her?! You knew she shouldn’t have been alone! I should’ve been there! You should’ve called me!” He screamed. 

“There was a mass casualty last night, a huge nineteen car pile up on the main highway, and all traumas were headed our way. It was all hands on deck and no one could be there with her. She said she would be okay. It was the middle of the night. I even waited until she’d fallen asleep before I left.” She explained but she knew nothing she said would help. Nothing she said would fix it. Nothing she said would make Alex feel better.

So, he continued to scream, and yell, and throw things. He punched the wall until his hand was bloody and bruised and there was an Alex Karev’s fist size hole in the wall, but he didn’t care. Nothing he could possibly do would bring Jo back to him. Nothing he did would bring the love of his life back to him. 

And he’d never forgive himself for leaving her in the first place. Because maybe then he could’ve been there. Maybe then he could’ve saved her. Maybe then they’d both be alive. Maybe then he’d have never lost the love of his life completely. 

Maybe then he wouldn’t hate himself as much as he did now, and forever. 

                          —————————

listen, if you want to come yell at me, by all means, please do. I deserve it. I am ready. I have accepted that this will be the fic that causes me to lose friends.