#badbloodkarev

[emilyclementinehayes-md]

[pureandcorrupt]

seesgood replied to your post: badbloodkarev: do i remake this blog and my stefan...

Mini multimuse!

i think so too.

[answerstosatan]

Tousled auburn hair shielded her windswept expression and wide grin as she collapsed against the mattress, still trying to catch her breath. She didn’t belong here, she knew, but the luxurious sheets against her heaving chest sent a shock of exhilaration through her body. She was addicted, and this was her drug of choice. He’d probably be home any minute, and he’d be looking for her, but she’d lie and cover up her absence, and he’d be none the wiser. It wasn’t like she spoke with her husband about anything real--anything that mattered--at any point in her week. It had been this way for years, and she couldn’t care less about her indiscretion at this point. Expensive hotel rooms, champagne, and hidden key cards in his locker had replaced longing looks, lingering touches, and rushed rendez-vous in the hospital. Addison was more than happy in his company. Not even her husband’s occasional thoughtful gesture could ruin this feeling. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled, pushing her hair from her face. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” There wasn’t a shred of sincerity in the sentiment. Sitting up, she pulled the sheet up over herself in a show of modesty as she kissed Alex’s lips sweetly, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I’d love to keep this going, but...” her smile faltered as sadness flooded her eyes, “----I should really get back. Stay. Enjoy.” She hoped he’d do just that. It was becoming difficult to do this. Difficult to look into his eyes and not want to spend the night. Difficult not to throw the last shred of caution into the wind and just be with him. End things with Derek. But this arrangement was about satisfying her sexually, wasn’t it? Things were so messy, and Alex wasn’t the type to commit, and Addison too eager to fall in love with anyone other than her uncaring husband. She had to respect the boundaries these meetings hinged on. The ones she’d set for her own safety as much as his. “I’ll call you,” she added with an air of finality, turning to scoop the pooled silk dress up off the floor and slip back into it.

[carolinedearest]

‘ my answer is that it’s none of your fucking business. ‘

the girl who played with fire ( book ) sentence meme

     ‘ is that seriously how you want to address the issue? well excuse me for thinking for one second that you might actually be a decent---- You know what, nevermind. It’s obvious that it would be easier to have a conversation with a wall then to try to see how you’re doing. Or to just take two seconds to say anything to you while I’m in town. God, you are exhausting!” 

@badbloodkarev

[xlexiegrey-blog]

@badbloodkarev

      “so. Do you only come around me when you want something?”

[killerqueenpetrova-archive]

badbloodkarev replied to your post:well how many times am I gonna burn my tongue on...

interesting icon choice

thanks for noticing. i have lots

[loveisaviolence2]

    ❛   please don’t ask me to go.   ❜     she knows enough about the brain,  has put enough faith in science, to know that no knowledge is ever truly lost; she can lock her own doors, she can light her own fire place, she can warm her own bed, and if presented with no alternative, she could return to that bed alone.  but she also knows that that bed does not belong to her.  that bed is theirs.  she does not want it without him.  he was her safe harbor, steady through every storm, even the ones she has enough sense to know belong only to her.  she does not want it without him.  she wants these bars.  they’re cold, and her hands ache as fingers wrap around them and face wedges between to look in on him, inexplicable sadness pooling in the bit of her stomach paired with a fear of rejection that runs so strongly it causes her voice to shake just slightly, but she wants them.  if he’s behind them, she wants them. she wants them all night long. she wants him in their bed. she wants      ❛  i        i will, alex. if you ask me to. but please don’t.   ❜   

@badbloodkarev.

[eterniityofmisery]

badbloodkarev replied to your post:I’ve watched an hour of trump, now I need to watch...

cleanse your soul

you got it amigo.

[emilyclementinehayes-md]

Happiest of Birthday’s to my friend Amanda!

We met when you made me fall in love with Alex Karev and your beautiful portrayal of him, and even after everything, all of those years apart, writing with you still feels like my safe place and it all just flows so naturally from my finger tips. Thank you for always listening, for being tolerant and sweet and for inspiring both me and my muse. You’re a wonderful friend that deserves nothing short of happiness, and I hope the next year provides you everything you desire.

Happy Birthday! ♥︎

@badbloodkarev / @ofgallantry

[iputaspxllonyou]

Okay, really? Alex was sure he had seen a lot of crazy shit in his life, but this was something new. He was behind her with his hands out, behind her in case she fell, but soon he couldn't quite stand the thought of her slipping and he grabbed her by the waist, attempting to wrench her down. "For the love of God, you tiny woman, get down from there!"

   “ You must be some kind of doctor or nurse to be so worried about someone you were just mean to.” 

   There. She got her hand on the box. 

   And he got his hands on something else. Her.

   So surprised is she by this, that she squeals and falls right into him. 

   He gets his way. She’s down. With several boxes of macaroni and cheese as a consolation prize. And a sore elbow it feels like. He messed up her fall, the ass.

   “ Owww. . .”

[answerstosatan]

Even lovers need a holiday. }}

Exhaustion had coaxed her to sleep, but it was a short-lived reprieve. Within a few short hours, she was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, the echoes of their fight still ringing in her ears. The shattering glass against the counter top beside him. The way her heart jolted not once, but twice on the precipice of the staircase. The dark look in his eye as he held her so tightly by the arms. The ringing of metal bands hitting the floor and clattering down the pipes with bright, metallic pangs. The scream of complete and utter anguish that followed. Not to mention all of those little digs that just kept right on digging. She’d defended herself so poorly; so blind was her anger and so desperate her attempts to cover up the wreck she’d made of her marriage. His false accusations still stung just as badly as when he’d said them, but more than that----even more painful----was the way he’d looked at her.

Like she’d once looked at Derek.

It haunted her when she tried to close her eyes and go back to sleep, her tired mind mingling memories with the sound of Alex’s soft breathing beside her, and suddenly it became of utmost importance that she go let Buffy back into the house. The poor thing had been unceremoniously thrown from the house hours ago, and it had to be cold outside. Never mind that the dog often spent nights outside on their patio surveying the pool from the comfort of her plush dog bed. Slipping from between the sheets so as not to disturb him, she pulled a robe tightly around herself and disappeared into the hall. She knew he wouldn’t stir. She’d done it enough times to know.

The chill of the night air rushed through the plush fabric of the robe, instantly awakening her senses to a new degree as she stared out into the darkness. In the distance, she could just make out the faint silhouette of trees against a spectacular, sparkling night sky. Her eyes traced the few constellations she could easily make out and she shivered, a cold breeze taking her back to a time and a place years since buried in her memory. Addison couldn’t help but wonder if Alex still knew the night sky like he had on the beach all that time ago, somehow still remembering from a class even further back in time. A bittersweet smile traced itself across her lips for a moment at the thought. She longed for his warmth against her back; his eyes guiding hers through the twinkling expanse above in casual curiosity. In it’s place, she felt the course, chilled coat of Buffy bump against her leg. Looking down at the dog through the darkness, she was surprised to find her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she gave her companion a sincere pat on the head, taking a seat on the nearest lounge chair and patting the spot beside her. The dog jumped up with a little less spring than she’d had in her younger years, laying her head down patiently in Addison’s lap as she massaged between her ears and down her chest. There was a long pause before her voice broke through the cricket-filled silence again. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re a good dog.” Guilt coursed through her as she felt a stream of withering warmth trace down her cheeks and she sniffled. “How did things get like that, hmm? I thought I was past this. I thought I could handle this. I thought I... well, I thought a lot of things.”  Her hand came to rest, arm against Buffy’s back as the warmth finally began to transfer to her skin, and she blew out a breath to calm her tears. “I’m not myself, am I?”

The dog looked up, tilting her head with tall ears cocked in curiosity. Addison couldn’t help but smile as a warm, wet tongue met her other hand. “C’mon. Let’s go inside. You must be freezing.” Of course, the redhead knew the dog was probably fine. She had a thick coat of fur and a nice kennel to retreat to when the temperatures dipped, and it never got so cold that she’d be in any real danger. Addison, on the other hand, was beginning to lose sensation in her toes, and the dog’s presence was just enough to keep her from being self-destructive and staying out all night. With one last, fleeting look up at the night sky, she made her way back inside, absently sweeping the shards of glass from the fine hardwood floor, filling the dog bowl to the brim with food and leaning against the counter to listen to the rhythmic sound of jaws crushing kibble.  

Everywhere her eyes landed, another memory sprang to life. The pool brought back barbecues and little Gabe with his water wings, proudly doggy paddling laps as she swam alongside him in smooth, gliding strokes. Alex grinning at his son’s progress, chest puffed with pride. Pure, domestic bliss to plaster over the unpleasant fact that he’d almost drowned there years prior. The sting around her engagement ring reminded her of that dark page in their history, as well. The terror they’d endured together----they terror they’d survived for the sake of their love and their son. He’d grown so much since then. Leaning against the counter, her eyes scanned the open layout of their home, settling on the door frame that lead into the hall. Addison thought it was a cheesy idea to mark Gabe’s height on the wall, but Alex had insisted. It was important, now, to have that memory. Something to look back on once he was grown. A mark for every birthday, since he was old enough to stand with his grubby, cake-covered hands against the wall.

Her expression soured as she realized it was the only memory she’d had of their son as of late. Alex was right. She was missing everything. Back when her son was small, things were easy. There was the issue of a short maternity leave, and the daycare at the hospital, and nannies, but there had always been time. She’d sneak off to visit him on breaks, or call the nannies so constantly that she was sure they’d quit on the spot. Seeing him had been as easy as walking down the hall and watching him sleep. There weren’t any sports practices or school to take his time away from her. There weren’t all-nighters and endless meetings to keep her away from him. Alex was picking up the slack as best he could, she realized, but it could never replace what she was losing. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time’ for his first home run, his first broken bone, or his first crush.

There might not even be a ‘next time’ for taking the night off to spend with Alex after Gabe was tucked into bed.

It was then that she realized she was shivering, having left the back door wide open in her absentminded midnight stroll. Forcing herself back to reality, she closed and locked the door, giving Buffy one last look before heading back up the stairs. Addison got as far as sitting down and pulling the blankets over her lap before she stopped, looking down at Alex. He was still fast asleep, his expression lax against the pillow. More than anything, she wanted to burrow into his warmth, but she stopped just short of touching him as she laid down beside him. He’d wake the minute her chilled skin touched his, and he looked so tired. Tired from all of the stress she’d put on him. Tired from the ambush she’d planned. The yelling, and screaming, the ‘go to Hell’s, and the insults they couldn’t take back. The damage they’d both done.

So she laid there, watching him sleep, her mind full to the brim as she slowly found warmth soothing her tensed muscles. Would they ever be able to talk about any of this, or would it always be a fight? Were they trapped in a death spiral, or could they be saved? Addison didn’t know. For once in her life, when it came to Alex Karev, she honestly didn’t know. The very idea was suffocating. She loved him so deeply that all she wanted to do was undo it all, but that was impossible. She couldn’t erase what she’d done any more than she could rid her head of the insults he’d slung at her. Insults that could very well have been true, by the way she’d been acting. How could she have hurt him so deeply when her only intention was to be everything he’d wanted?

Heavy lids closed once or twice before daybreak, but there was no rest for her in this place now so full of disillusionment and disrepair. What she needed was to talk, but what she needed didn’t matter. Not when Alex had largely been the victim here, gone to bed with no supper and hardly a marriage left in his battered hands. Still, when he woke, she found herself watching him stir with a gaze intent on conversation. It took everything in her to stifle it down and look away so he wouldn’t notice she hadn’t slept. As if the dark circles beneath her eyes hadn’t been any indication of just how stressed she’d been these past few months. As if they didn’t darken tenfold after the weight of their last night together burdened  her further. It wasn’t until breakfast that she finally spoke, sitting across from him at the table they’d once shared so many wonderful meals at. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

[imissedoncstep-blog]

@badbloodkarev liked for a starter

“I’ve been on my feet for eight hours straight and this is the first moment I’ve had to sit down and r e s t. Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it.”

[gluedtogethcr-blog]

badbloodkarev replied to your post:✧

Alex is just like “Oh you think /I’m/ annoying??’ hahahaha

Mere is like ‘you know you are annoying, but for some reason I love you anyway’ *eye roll*

[lxstfights-blog]

            she didn't know when exactly she ended up there. cabinets were slammed and the fridge was raided by the flustered blonde. she was doing good, great even, until that familiar doom and gloom sensation arose within her and she panicked. god, did she panic. feeling, grieving, was not something she was about to let happen. denny was dead. izzie couldn't accept that, she wouldn't, at least not yet. food allowed her to focus on something other than the tightly-wound chronic ache she couldn't quite shake from her chest.

            the obnoxious opening and closing of cabinet doors continued, as if she was expecting to find something new even though all of the food was gone. it was an obsessive task, one that had an unrewarding outcome. when she heard footsteps approaching from the hallway, she froze. in that moment izzie realized that she had been so caught up in her own catastrophic grief that she didn't even recognize what she was doing. the surgeon slowly turned on her heel, hoping that if she was quiet enough her surely annoyed housemate would forget she was there. which made no sense, but that was simply izzie's reasoning. alex showed his face and she instantly felt ashamed for throwing her sadness over her fiance, whom he hated, in his face like that. ' god, alex, i’m sorry. i think...i think i was loud. did i wake you up? sorry, ' she blabbed in response while her hands shakily threw away the remnants of the izzie tornado.

@badbloodkarev liked for a starter.

[othertxrres]

badbloodkarev

“So, this is the coffee cart, the best coffee cart actually.” Callie grinned as she showed her sister around the hospital. Her wife was already in surgery so Calliope took it upon herself to show her sister around. Aria roled her eyes lightly at her ssiter before grabbing her coffee “Thanks Cal really, but I really should be heading to my Peds Ward though.” Aria smiled as they entered the Pediatrcs Ward, Aria’s face lit up, this place really was her home. She let out a deep breath as she looked ahead at the nurses station where the guy from the bar was last night. He was a doctor too? That’s even hotter. She walked with her sister over to the guy and stood there as they were introduced “Alex Karev, this is my younger sister, Aria Torres, she’s the new Peds Attending starting today.” Callie spoke as she introduced the two before looking down to see her pager going off “Ooops! That’s me, Karev, can you show my sister around please?” Callie asked as she kissed her sisters cheek before running off. Aria smirked and raised an eyebrow in Alex’s direction “So --- you’re Alex Karev huh.?”

[emilyclementinehayes-md]

Crazy Ever After ll Alex, Addison & Emily

          She had come close to cancelling it, the thanksgiving dinner with the father of her daughter, his new love and their son. In fact, she had come so close as to dialling his number before she thought better of it, felt better of it really. Alex Karev had become the accidental father to their illegitimate daughter with possibly the worst timing imaginable, but it wasn’t debatable that he was a good father and that while he mightn’t love her anymore, his love for their little girl was undeniable. Unfortunately for Emily, that made her love him even more, a feeling that had never really left but had began burning holes through her composure the moment Olivia was born. She’d cursed it and hid it well, buried it somewhere deep with all of the other feelings that threatened to swallow her whole if the proverbial pandora’s box of emotion was ever opened, but it didn’t make spending time with him and his family any less uncomfortable for her. Emily could never begrudge Alex of his current life, didn’t necessarily wish things to be different – although occasionally she succumbed to the selfish what-if’s – but she knew that he had everything he’d wanted, a woman (two, if she were honest) that loved him, and children that he’d never lose.

Even if it hurt to still love him, even if it hurt to feel like the outsider in her own life.

Being the proverbial black sheep wasn’t something Emily Hayes was a guest to though, in fact there had been limited moments in her life when the honey blonde had felt anything less than an outcast. The privilege she was raised in wasn’t something she’d been destined for, simply plucked from a collection of other potential candidates to fill the position of baby Hayes, and to paint the illusion of a contemporary family. And it had been just that, a role in a play that never seemed to end, a supporting position in her parent’s twisted and ardent affair with power, where she became accustomed to being laid out like expensive glassware during dinners, in which she was rarely addressed but rather there for appearances sake. It was something she learned fairly early in her life, that she was of little value and often easily replaceable should she step out of line, and that same principle sailed smoothly into her marriage too.

It was the very reason she’d accepted her mother’s formal invitation to Thanksgiving lunch, and also the reason she had seriously questioned just why she had. In the week leading up to the event she’d been crippled with anxiety, a side effect of anything to do with the matriarch of her family, and had purchased several contending outfits for both her and her daughter. That morning they had changed several times each until Olivia was settled in a beautiful Roberto Cavalli dress, all satin and subtle floral print, cap sleeves and tulle under-layers, feet adorned with patent ballerina flats. The eight month old had long unruly blonde curls, much like Emily as a child and she pinned them back gently from her face with a floral headband that thankfully, the infant didn’t seem intent on pulling out. Emily settled, after near an hour of anxious out-fit changes, on her favourite cream coloured crystal embellished silk gown and tall strapped heels. Then the pair had set out on the near half hour journey to the current Hayes family residence in Mercer Island.

Much to Emily’s confusion, the afternoon had been a reasonably pleasant experience, even if it had left her feeling like she’d spent the whole day walking through an indeterminable fog of unexpected pleasantries. Her mother, Elizabeth Hayes had never been a particularly warm woman, in fact that was being generous. She was cold and without a maternal bone in her body, concerned entirely with her image and the career of her husband, and she’d never shown an interest in the daughter she had quite literally hand-picked, nor much more the first granddaughter she had been gifted. But it had occurred to Emily half-way through their luncheon, when her mother had approached a little Olivia that was grasping tightly to the edges of an expensive sofa trying desperately to take more than a few stumbling steps, that Elizabeth Hayes had finally been struck by the daunting cloud of her own mortality. For the first time in her life, Emily had witnessed her mother offer more than a sideways glance at a child, her child, had watched her hold little hands in her own and walk the almost-toddler around the sitting room, and it filled the honey blonde with something she’d never really felt, and was thus quite ill-equipped it to decipher no matter how hard she try.

The entire scene had left her rather reluctant to leave in suspicion that the next time they meet, her mother will have managed to banish the looming suggestion of death and would be back to complete ignorance of anything around her that didn’t immediately benefit her, namely her daughter. But she had agreed to dinner with Alex and Addison and their son, who wasn’t much younger than Olivia, and as much as she wanted to, she wasn’t about to begrudge him the chance of spending the holiday with his little girl, their little girl. And their little girl had grown into the perfect mixture of the pair, all round doe eyes, swimming brown with a suggestion of caramel that reminded Emily of him every time she looked at her. The lightest dusting of freckles over the button that was her nose, curls of honeycomb and the sweetest toothy smile that pulled at the corners of plump rosy lips and dimpled her cheeks. Emily had fallen in love with her the moment that she’d held her, and while she didn’t bare much of a physical resemblance to her older sister, Emily could see Grace in her when she grinned and giggled and held out chubby arms early in the morning in search of her mama’s comforting embrace.

Parenthood had never been a road that Emily had intended on venturing down again, let alone mostly alone, but it had proved freeing and liberating, a blessing in disguise if cliche’s were to be used, and it strengthened her in ways she hadn’t imagined it could. Olivia had been a pleasant infant, easy to care for and too beautiful to complain about even once, but Emily held a silent pride in the knowledge that every night she had cried, it had been her to awake and tend to the little girl’s needs, that she had been the one to take her home that first night, to struggle and find herself in the maze that was motherhood, and she’d done it by herself. Alex had always been there, had been a loving and involved father and she couldn’t fault him in the slightest, but Emily had been always reluctant to call on him in moments of weakness at 3am when nothing seemed to halt the tears, because he was likely at home with his family, struggling through the same thing. It had lessened over the months, that reluctance, but it still lingered.

Standing on their stoop with a lively Olivia on her hip, Emily suddenly felt extremely over-dressed and emotionally under-prepared. She had overlooked a spare change of clothes in all her cluttered mind that morning, and once again she was struck with the quiet desire to opt out of it all, but she rang their doorbell all the same. It had never been something she’d considered, being a guest in the home of her baby’s father, and how she’d ended up there she barely could comprehend. It was a thought that struck her often, the absolute absurdity of the whole situation, but somehow it all just worked. When the door pulled on it’s hinge and swung inward at the hand of Alex, Emily managed her very best soft smile and readjusted the little girl on her hip as hazel eyes swooped to the baby currently fidgeting with her necklace. 


“– -Look Ollie, it’s daddy.” She whispered against the soft cheek of their daughter. A beat and then, “sorry we’re over-dressed, we came from lunch. But I did bring dessert, it’s in the car… If you’d like to take her, I can go get it.” A slender hand gestured behind her as if to emphasise that she had in fact, bought dessert. A squeal of delight sounded from Olivia’s mouth as she was placed into Alex’s arms, followed by the baby’s much loved soft rabbit and Emily turned promptly on her heel back toward her car. She’d have left and returned later to collect her little girl, to avoid the awkwardness that was almost guaranteed to ensure, if Olivia hadn’t held Emily’s entire soul and then some in the palm of her tiny hand.

She wasn’t about to miss Olivia’s first Thanksgiving for anything, and that’s what had her returning mere moments later with a perfectly baked pumpkin pie in a glass dish in her hands, and a welcoming (and hardly dubious) smile.

––A peace offering, perhaps?