#in another life: the trauma of labor. of holding her her son in her arms

[jilyandbambi]

#premise up for adoption bc Im too busy to do anything more with this #in my head: they go back and live at jackie's house #it's bigger + Jackie's family has the $$ to keep reporters off their property so the girls are safer there #when it’s discovered that jeff is the father. jeff--who was raised right--starts going to school part time #while working full time at the furniture store #soon becoming assistant manager #jackie's parents BEG her to go to rutgers. not to give up her future for a baby that's not even hers #that belongs to the bf and bff who BETRAYED her no less #(jackie stops talking to them for a month. not for bringing up the cheating thing)#(for daring to say that LD isnt hers' too) #jackie does eventually go to Rutgers though #but not bc her mom promises to stop giving shauna a hard time #she decides to go when Shauna finally tells her about applying to Brown and getting her acceptance letter days before they left #they never would've been roommates at Rutgers. she isn't leaving Shauna behind. she never has #shauna makes a joke about having a hot meal ready every day when jackie comes home #jeff saves up enough money for a dowm payment for a nice house with a lawn and a yard #for him shauna&jackie and the baby--BECAUSE HE WAS RAISED RIGHT��#he and jackie build a backyard playset for Luke (Dylan's his middle name now. It's also Jeffs mothers maiden name it all worked out) #yes sometimes they have threesomes #no Randy. Jeff's NOT going to talk about it w you #(he was raised right!!!!!) #a few years down the line Shauna gets pregnant again #all 3 sets of parents' heads tilt to the side #but they keep it amongs themselves so they can keep seeing Luke and baby Callie

so a Yellowjackets AU where mari says something to get herself kicked out of the cabin, and she dies of exposure and gets eaten at the bachanalian banquet instead of Jackie, who LIVES, who's there at Shauna's side when she goes into labor, stroking her hair and letting Shauna squeeze her hand hard enough to sprain her fingers, who keeps Shauna calm enough she has a (comparatively!!!!!!) easier delivery, who is the reason the(ir) baby lives.

who finally, after months of feeling adrift and useless because she’s not a hunter or a butcher or a prophet or a captain (anymore) finds her purpose in the wilderness. who painstaking sews patchwork baby onesies and cloth diapers from the girls' spare clothes (Offerings, not donations). who makes a baby sling from animal pelts and backpack straps. who makes a rattle from sticks and pinecones and some light blue pebbles Jackie found by the lake one day and saved. who makes sure the cabin stays warm and clean for Luke Dylan (from 90210--they couldn't decide whether to go with the actor or the character).

who builds them another shelter from blankets and animal hides after the cabin burns down. who keeps shauna and their baby warm through that first terrible winter and the one that followed.

and one day in 1998, Canadian forest rangers happen upon that American high school soccer team that went missing 2 years back. they find a group of starving teens and a baby, a little over a year old, two of the girls wrapped around him--and each other

and when the rescue team tries to separate them the one with tangled, golden brown hair bears her teeth and Growls

[mctherofdragons]

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny​ @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

[nukapind]

i am loved (that’s enough)- todoroki siblings

hi yes hello, i am appearing again after like three months??? anyways have some older sister trauma with wholesome sibling relationships peppered in, crossposted to my AO3.

Masterlist

i changed (it was worth it) - Touya’s

Fuyumi is born on a cold winter night, Enji is nowhere near the Todoroki estate and Rei goes into labor with only a midwife and her one year old son nearby. The labor is short, it's a breeze compared to the agony that Todoroki Touya had brought to Rei– such a healthy baby, the midwife coos over the newborn. The mother of two holds her daughter for only a minute, before quietly asking the midwife to take the child away. It’s Fuyumi’s first night alive and she spends it alone in an empty room, with only her crib and the midwife to keep her company whenever she cries.

Fuyumi is not a day old when she’s already discarded by her mother, left to the care of the midwife and the next few days she is met with her elder brother and their newly appointed caretaker. Her mother is nowhere to be seen, but Fuyumi brings a different sort of life into the house with her presence.

Touya doesn’t seem to enjoy it, but he’ll get there, the caretaker assures their uninterested mother.

Enji meets his daughter the next morning, holding her for nearly a full minute before tucking the child back into her crib and getting ready for another day at work. It's just like his first meeting with his son: quiet, brief, and soulless. Todoroki Fuyumi never had a chance. Yet the caretaker is kind for the few months they keep the older woman, Fuyumi is kept with Touya. Each night they share a crib, and while the old woman is the caretaker, little Touya rarely lets his sister out of his sight. The old woman must have figured that’s how their life would be, seeing as she raises them almost as if they were twins.

It seemed she had given them a head start.

Fuyumi is still a toddler when Natsuo is born, she is three and Touya is four. Natsuo was an easy pregnancy, the midwife says, not as easy as Fuyumi of course but still easier than the case of Touya was. Fuyumi is bright and giggly as she meets her baby brother, the midwife has a somber smile on her face as she helps Fuyumi with holding Natsuo. “That poor girl is going to have a lot on her plate growing up.” Fuyumi doesn’t know what they mean by that, and like the good child she is, she doesn’t ask.

She sees the reflection of her own eyes in Natsuo’s, and though his hair is perfectly white unlike her own, she knows that this is her brother and that is enough for her. She’s his big sister, she’ll be good like always. “Natsuo.” She coos, the newborn stirs slightly, and slowly wakes up only to fuss in her arms with a loud wail.

The baby is quickly taken from her, and Fuyumi freezes as the child is hurried over into the other room. Had she done something wrong? Was it her fault or was it just because Natsuo was a baby? She’ll be a good sister, a better sister. Touya doesn’t play with her anymore, so she’ll play with Natsuo when he’s old enough, she decides contently. She wipes at the tears in her eyes because she’s good, and good girls don’t cry. Fuyumi is good and she will watch Natsuo from afar until she can be the big sister.

When Shouto comes around, it's easier for her.

Fuyumi is seven years old when Shouto is born, she is seven when she is met with the cooing of all the caretakers as she holds the newest Todoroki child. “She’s like a miniature mother, it's just not right for the poor girl.” She hears them gossiping to each other as she props Shouto’s bottle with one hand and clicks through the tv channels with the other. Touya says they say a lot but don’t help, Fuyumi doesn’t like hearing them talk about her but always stays silent. She relishes in the small praises she’s able to get whenever she is able to feed Shouto without help or helps Natsuo get dressed.

“Such a smart girl!” There’s always pity behind their words, yet Fuyumi doesn’t pay attention to it. Fuyumi knows she’s smart, she knows she has her mother’s beauty, yet she accepts everything with a much too knowing smile for a child. Touya has told her everything from behind the scenes, as children raised in a home with emotional warfare she knows exactly how to behave.

She resists the urge to scrunch her nose as she’s taught to change a diaper, and accepts the overly peppy clapping from their caretaker once Shouto is clean and happy. The nannies will only be there for a few more months— Touya says their father is having money problems and that's why they can't afford the nannies— she  reasons that she should know how to care for Shouto herself just in case.

Fuyumi is thirteen; the top of her class, a devoted older sister, and loyal daughter.

Fuyumi also finds that she has nothing else to give. She no longer strives to reach new heights, she has willed herself to become the very person her father craved her to be; she finds that the payout wasn’t as satisfying as she’d dreamed of. Every awards’ ceremony she’s had has been met by her parents’ absence.

The walls still shake when Enji comes home, she hasn’t pleased him any. She made no difference in his life by placating his demands— she’s only wasting her time, she knows there will never be an end to his greed. Fuyumi walks home in silence as she realizes she does not want to get better. There’s no point in getting better anymore, she’s fulfilled all her father’s demands and yet there’s no satisfaction: no response as she tells him of all her achievements.

Yet the walls shake as she reaches her home and finds that she’s alone; her dresser is shoved to the ground, clothes are ripped out of drawers and tossed around, her screams are loud and tears are hot as they run down her face. Her room is a mess as she kicks and screams on her bed, chest heaves with rage. It's all a mess and it's always been a mess; she tells herself this is what she needs. She doesn’t feel sad, she isn’t disappointed for once; the burning sensation in her chest is a red demon that rarely makes itself known— yet she’s seen it all her life.

Rage.

It barely takes a second for her to register before she tugs at her own hair, almost pleading for the proof of being her parents’ daughter to leave. She doesn’t want to be like her mother anymore, she doesn't care for her fathers’ approval anymore. Fuyumi no longer cares what either of them could bring to her life, she just wants her brothers, and to go home.

Fuyumi is thirteen when her three brothers pile into her room— worriedly following the anguished cries— only find her a mess, she is ushered out of her room and into Touya’s room. Her room is messy and that night the siblings all sleep side by side on a cramped floor; she is home.

Fuyumi is sixteen years old when she decides her house feels sad: no pictures of her and her siblings anywhere, no pictures of her parents’ wedding, no proof of any love anywhere. All she has to do is flash her perfect report card to her father to get a nice flashy camera. (She knows the camera is only a gift to get her to shut up and leave her alone rather than a reward for her hard work; she likes to think it's a fair transaction.)

She gets to work quickly, making up for all the lost memories that were never documented. She wants to leave proof in the world that yes, she is here, Todoroki Fuyumi exists. The Todoroki children exist, and she’ll make sure that there’s proof of it out in the world. And though she doesn’t dare to leave a trace of their existence throughout the house, Fuyumi’s room is a different story. Her walls are littered with photos, barely a blank spot in sight.

Her siblings watch over her, every moment that has even remotely made her happy shines to her. From Shoto’s time at an actual restaurant, to Touya falling off his skateboard, and Natsuo playing soccer with some of his friends. Memories speak out to her, proof that she is alive and has something beyond her good grades and attitude. The house is still cold, but her room is filled with family and warmth.

She has come to realize that her brothers are enough of a family for her, how could they not be when she finds Natsuo and Shoto’s selfies on her camera reel. Though that part in her still yearns for her mother, that same part that wishes she could have that same familial love she sees whenever she visits her friends’ houses, she is fine for now. She is fine as they all pile together in Touya’s room, the younger boys helping her pick which photos to use for the scrapbooks and Touya complaining about the bad photos she got of him.

Fuyumi is sixteen, surrounded by love and warmth in the comfort of her brothers– her parents are nowhere to be seen and yet this is enough for now.

Fuyumi is now nineteen years old; she has her mothers’ beauty yet it's no longer upsetting to her reflection, she carries her fathers disappointment on her shoulders each day and yet is able to get out of bed each morning. Her mornings are filled with studies and afternoons she’s off to work at the campus library— turns out rent is expensive after you find a better apartment for your older brother.

And brothers she has.

Fuyumi is awarded custody of her younger brothers, she cries into Touya’s chest as she leaves the courthouse— her chest heaves as she tries to comprehend how Enji and Rei surrendered her brothers over to her care as if they were nothing, she thinks they must truly be empty to cast aside such bright children. She is filled with both relief and grief as her brothers move the little belongings they own into her and Touya’s apartment.

Her grief is quick to fade as soon as she sees the joy on their face— after all, the four of them were free.

Evenings in her room studying were now practically scheduled with an extra three particularly annoying guests— Touya cackling on the floor of her room as she stared at her statistics homework completely unsure of what to do next, Natsuo laying on her bed as he and Touya tossed a football to each other, and Shouto absolutely not taking the hint as he sat next to her doing his own homework and telling her about every little detail about his day; and yet she doesn’t seem to mind it all too much.

Pictures of her and her brothers run throughout their apartment, there is life and there is love. She is a good sister as she cooks dinner each night and helps Shouto with schoolwork and scours endlessly to find just the right college for Natsuo. She passes out on the couch every Saturday afternoon, legs thrown across Touya’s lap as they share a couch like they did a crib as toddlers. Fuyumi is nineteen; the top of her class, a devoted older sister, and an estranged daughter.

Yet she is surrounded by her family, she is loved and that’s enough.

Masterlist

[thebookreader12345]

Doctors in Danger

Pairing: Natalie Manning x Best Friend! reader (plus Crockett Marcel x reader)

Summary: Y/N and Natalie are kidnapped just before their shift at Chicago Med, so Will and Crockett work with the CPD to try and get them back

Requested: Yes, by anonymous

Warnings: slight swearing, mentions of injuries, blood, and guns

Word Count: 1,826 Words

Note: This takes place during Chicago Med Season 5 Episode 6, Who Should Be the Judge

Reverse Perspective Story Link Here

....................................

“All I’m saying is that he’s totally into you,” Natalie spoke as the two of us climbed out of her car. My car was in the shop this week, and since Natalie and I were best friends, and we had the same shifts, she agreed to drive me to and from work. But I was no regretting that decision because of the conversation it led to.

I rolled my eyes. “Crockett isn’t into me, Nat. And I’m not into him either.”

“You called him Crockett,” Natalie pointed out.

“Yeah. And?” I ask.

“You call all the guys by their last name. To you, Will is known as Halstead, and Ethan is known as Choi. So why don’t you call Crockett by his last name?” Natalie asked.

“You know, I think I hear Maggie calling us in the ED,” I interject to get out of the conversation.

“No no no. You are not getting out of this,” Natalie stated. Just before she could say another word, a middle aged man ran up to us. I should also probably note that his hands were covered in blood, and there was also some of the red substance staining his dark gray hoodie.

“Help! Help, please!” the man begged. 

“Sir, what's going on?” I quiz. 

“My wife. She's in labor. She's bleeding real bad,” the man replied and started walking off. Natalie and I glanced at each other, and both of us shared the same look. With that, we followed after that man, who led us down an alley and over to a big blue van. The front of the car was pretty busted, making me believe there had to have been a car crash that took place. 

"Were you in an accident?” I ask. The man nodded, not giving me any more information. As I neared the van, I started getting nervous. Something didn’t seem right.

“Did she have problems with her pregnancy before today?” Natalie questioned. 

“I’m not sure,” the man responded curtly. When we reached the back of the van, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I got the feeling that something bad was about to happen, and my fears came true when the man opened up the back of the van to reveal another guy whose leg was bleeding badly, and he had a gun pointed at us. I turned around to see if Nat and I could run away, but the man from earlier was blocking the exit, and he also had a gun aimed at us. “Give me your phones, and get in,” the man demanded.

“W-what?” I stammer out.

“Give me your phones and get in the van!” the man ordered again. This time I didn’t hesitate, and once I handed the uninjured man my phone, I climbed into the back of the van. Natalie climbed in seconds later with the door shutting behind her, and the unharmed man jumped in the driver’s seat, revving the engine. And with that, he stepped on the gas and drove off.

......................................

“Well, since we’re going to be here for what looks like a long time, can we at least know your names?” I ask.

“My name’s Jim,” the driver greeted. “And that’s my brother Tyler, so you better not let him die.” I sighed and turned to Natalie, who was holding pressure to Tyler’s leg, but by the looks of it, he was still bleeding pretty badly.

“Shit,” I curse upon further examination of the wound. “He nicked his femoral vein. Jim, we need a surgeon for this.”

“Well we’re not going to a hospital, so you’ll just have to make due,” Jim retorted.

“Y/N, you work with Crockett a lot. You’ve seen enough traumas to last a life time. You’ve got this,” Natalie assured me.

I nodded and took a deep breath. “You’re right. Hand me that paint brush.” Natalie handed me the paint brush that was lying around, and with a loose piece of fabric, I tied it to Tyler’s leg, forming a tight tourniquet. “Okay, you won’t take us to the hospital, but what about the pharmacy right down the road? We need supplies.” 

“The security's too tight there,” Tyler noted. “Is there still a gas station on Cermak, Jimmy?”

“Y-yeah,” Jim stuttered. “We’ll go there.” A few minutes later, Jim stopped the car in the parking lot of a gas station, and I turned to Natalie.

“All right, I need you to make sure his leg stays elevated,” I inform her. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. She comes with me. You stay here,” Jim commanded. 

“Listen, I know what to get,” I start, only to be cut off by Jim, who aimed his gun at Natalie.

“Cuff her,” Jim told Natalie and tossed her some handcuffs with his free hand. “Do it!” 

“Okay,” Natalie muttered and trapped one of my hands in the cuff. Before she could cuff my other hand, Jim stopped her. 

“No, no. Hands above her head. That bar,” Jim ordered and motioned to the bar above my head. Natalie nodded and followed his instructions, and seconds later, she exited the van with Jim, leaving me alone with Tyler. Minutes passed, and suddenly, Tyler lost consciousness just before Natalie and Jim got back into the van.

“What the hell did you do?” Jim asked me. 

“Nothing!” I argue. “He just passed out.” Natalie rubbed his fist along Tyler’s sternum, and just like that, he woke regained consciousness. 

"See? He's alive, okay? But his calf is rock solid. We need to move,” Natalie exclaimed. 

“I also need my hands to work,” I add. 

“Pull around the corner,” Tyler declared to his brother. Once we got parked, and I was uncuffed, I cleaned Tyler’s wound with alcohol, and Natalie stopped the bleeding with a blow torch. It wasn’t much, but it was all we could do at the moment. I thought that after we helped out Tyler, Jim would let us go, but I guess that wasn’t the case because Jim just kept driving. The car didn’t stop until we pulled into a driveway. Jim then parted ways and left us with Tyler, who forced us inside of a red brick house. In the living room, there was a younger man lying down in a bed with wires connected to him. He looked severely ill, and my guess was that he was dying.

“He's ill. Maybe we can help him,” I offer. 

Tyler shook his head. “You can't. Grab these chairs. Put them back to back and sit down.” 

“But we can help,” Natalie interrupted. 

“Just do it. Please,” Tyler pleaded. Natalie and I shared another look and followed his orders, placing the chairs back to back before sitting down. Tyler then cuffed our hands together and to our chairs so that neither of us could move. For awhile, Natalie and I just sat there, watching as Tyler spoke to his dying son. But finally, I heard sirens echoing outside, and I knew that help was here.

“Tyler, this is Detective Jay Halstead with the Chicago Police Department. We have you surrounded. I want you to come out the front door with your hands where we can see them. No one's going to shoot you unless they have to. I know you're with Natalie Manning and Y/N L/N. As an act of good faith, have them come out first. If you don’t do as we ask, we will breach the house,” Jay announced.

“Here. Uncuff her,” Tyler said and tossed me a pair of keys. I turned to the side and unlocked the handcuffs, freeing them from Natalie’s hand. “Okay, you can go.”

“Go,” I breathe out to Natalie.

“What? No. I’m not leaving you,” Natalie countered.

“Nat, please,” I beg. “Do as he says. I’ll be okay.” Natalie hesitated and didn’t move from her chair. “Natalie, I’m begging you. Get out of here.” Natalie paused again, but this time she listened and headed to the front door before disappearing outside. For a few seconds, Tyler and I sat in silence, but I finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry about your son,” I confess. “I didn’t know him at all, but I’m sure he didn’t deserve this. Hell, nobody does.” Tyler turned to me, his gun pointed at my head, and for a moment, I thought he was going to shoot me. However, he did quite the opposite.

“Go,” Tyler murmured and nodded towards the door. I uncuffed my hand, the handcuffs clattering to the floor, and stood up, making my way towards the exit. Just before I could get there, I turned around to find Tyler holding the gun at his head.

“No!” I cry out and rushed towards him, grabbing his hand that was holding the gun. A small scuffle then took place between the two of us, and it ended with one single gunshot.

.....................................

“Y/N!” Natalie sobbed and launched herself into my arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You had me worried.”

“I’m fine,” I assure her. “I promise.”

“Y/N!” another voice called out. I turned around just in time to be engulfed in a hug by the one and only Crockett Marcel. I melted into his embrace, glad to be in his arms. What Natalie had said earlier was true. I was into Crockett. He makes me feel different than Will and Ethan and all of the other guys I worked with do. He makes me feel special, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Crockett? What are you doing here?” I question.

“Will and I, we were helping the CPD look for you,” Crockett answered. “I couldn’t just sit around while you were off being kidnapped. The whole day I’ve been worried out of my mind, thinking that something bad had happened to you, and to see that you’re okay-”

I cut Crockett off by leaning up and smashing my lips to his. Crockett responded almost immediately, his lips attacking mine hungrily. Our bodies were pressed closer together than ever before, and for a few moments, the two of us expressed how we felt for each other through our kissing. Finally though, we pulled away from each other.

“I uh, I know this is kind of a weird ask, but would you maybe want to hear how Natalie and I saved a guy’s leg? Perhaps over drinks?” I ask.

Crockett smiled. “I would love to hear about that. Saved a guy’s leg, huh? I didn’t know you were a surgeon.”

“I learned from the best,” I admit and smile up at him. “Now, about those drinks...”

Crockett laughed softly. “Let me take you back to your place first so you can clean up. Then we can get drinks. I promise.” I leaned up and pressed a peck to Crockett’s lips.

“Great. Then lets get going. After today, I really need some alcohol,” I state. And with that, the two of us left the crime scene to go have our first official date.

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @king-crockett​

[cherryblossomriot]

i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out. 

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins. 

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls. 

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty. 

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn’t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there. 

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?” 

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.” 

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.  

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please. 

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time. 

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down. 

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

[chaos-in-the-making]

If Sesshomaru knew the outcome of everything, do you think he wouldn’t have married Rin? This is a hard question to ask 😭

Part of me says he wouldn’t change things because he wouldn’t want to take Rin’s choice away. She loves their daughters (as does he) so even with the rough situation now, he wouldn’t want to take them from her life.

Another part says he doesn’t want to ever see her suffer, especially because of his choices/enemies.

Oh friend. I don't think you meant to unlock my Parent Feelings, but you totally did. I'm gonna get way deeper into this than you actually asked for, so I hope that's ok!

Hindsight is always 20/20. When you go through something bad or horrible in your life, you can't help but ask "if I had known then, would I make a different choice?" Ans that is such a HARD question, because you are weighing your suffering and trauma against the person that you were at the time you made the decision. The question is, do you REGRET that decision?

When you have the privilege of family planning, and things didn't just happen by accident, you weigh the pros and cons of having children. And by that I mean the risks. The BIGGEST risk factor that Sesshoumaru had to face was Rin dying in childbirth, knowing he can't bring her back, and knowing he can't prevent it from happening. That was probably his biggest fear throughout the entire pregnancy. The cost of Rin's life. So how the HELL did she convince him to be ok with it?? I would say I would like to be a fly on that wall, but I don't think my heart could handle it. Rin would not only have to be ok with trading her life for any child, but also make HIM ok with it as well. How anxious was he when she went into labor? How relieved was he when he walked into the house and she greeted him with health and joy? Just because he doesn't show his emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel them.

I think if Rin had died he would have regretted his decision. It certainly would have been a regret of his for the rest of his life. But does he regret having children with her and having a family even if it is brief to his lifetime? If the babies survive, and even if Rin doesn't, would he regret having a piece of her to watch over and care for in her stead? Even when Rin grows old and he has the grief of burying her, he could still look forward to the years spent with their children, and maybe grandchildren in the future.

There is so much grief, but also the potential for so much JOY. It's impossible to make that decision for a fictional character, but I think that Rin is the voice that finally convinces him that it is worth it. Oh boy, is it worth it.

As a person who has always wanted to have my own biological children, carry them and suffer through labor just to hold them in my arms, to me it was worth ALL the risks. I'm not even being metaphorical, my son was an emergency c section, I COULD HAVE DIED. I think Rin facing her own mortality for the chance of sharing this wonderful moment with Sesshoumaru, the man she loves with her whole heart, was worth the risk. And it's funny, because it's the same risk that all mortals have, it just FEELS heavier bc he is an immortal being and also has the ability to bring people back to life, but only once. The risk feels so much heavier. And it makes me think of all the child bearing people who have some sort of high risk factor, like a bleeding disorder, and STILL choose to carry, even though they know they are risking their lives.

That takes so much LOVE. Those twins were LOVED and WANTED. Oh my god, I am making myself cry.

But then knowing how the twins lives would be affected bc of his decision, that's another regret. He knew their lives would be hard. He knew they would struggle. And he knew he wouldn't always be there to protect them, so he had to give them the tools to protect themselves, and that takes hard love.

I ask myself, if I had known about my BRCA genetic mutation when I was younger, would it have stopped me from having children? My kids have a 50% chance of inheriting this gene from me, and it raises their risks of breast and ovarian cancer. Prostate for my son. Is that a high enough risk to NOT want to pass on to my kids? And the truth it, I don't know. This is a risk that my kids will have to face when they are ready to start a family. But with the medical advances being what they are, I would very likely have chosen to take the risk, and trust that medical treatment would be more helpful for them in the future. And that's just one example, it's not even the worst kind of genetic mutation. My mother had the gene, and she has not developed any cancer yet.

Do I regret having children? Absolutely not, I have always wanted to be a mother. Would Sesshoumaru regret marrying Rin and having a family?

I think he would regret the years of loneliness without her even more.

[invaderlynx]

Booker and La Campagne de Russie

I just watched The Old Guard and honestly, it was one of the best movies I’ve seen in a VERY long time. Of course, now I’m having all sorts of thoughts about the whole thing and particularly about Booker because his backstory intersects perfectly with my historical interests. I know that all the immortals in The Old Guard have experienced all sorts of terrible trauma, but because I am a history major with an affinity for the Napoleonic period, especially the Russian Campaign (and because Booker is my favorite character), I’d like to give you guys an idea of just what sort of torture he faced even before the pain of losing his family (also for fair warning, I have not read the comics):

Please place yourself in Booker’s shoes. You are one of over 600,000 men mustered to march into Russia. You’re serving in an army you never wanted to join, taking up arms for the glory of an empire that’s never done anything for you. You’ve been separated from your three beloved sons and your wife whom you love more than life itself, and have been sent off to fight in a foreign land that’s nothing like the home you’ve left behind. That much becomes evident immediately. 

The invasion starts in the summer of 1812 and it is hot, unseasonably hot. You feel it, laboring as you are under the thick heavy materials of your sweat-soaked uniform. Each step is its own torture in the heat as you struggle through mud left behind by hard summer rains. More than a few men kill themselves at this point and although this is just the beginning, you can hardly blame them. Some of your comrades get the bright idea to start discarding some of their extra layers of clothing—underthings and the like. Perhaps you join them, anything to lighten the load. You can’t be expected to carry all this over the long miles ahead. You’ll live to regret that decision.

The fighting itself is worse than the conditions. You never quite get used to the violence. No matter how many times you’re thrust into battle, your mouth still goes dry, your heart still thunders as loud as the military drums’ tattoo, you still choke on that thick gunpowder smoke. You nearly threw up the first time you killed with a bayonet. You remember sticking the man in between the ribs, a swift stab and he is bleeding out. It is only then that you see his face and realize just how young he is. He is a boy, maybe a few precious years older than your eldest. He cries as he falls. You didn’t speak Russian at the time but you didn’t need to to recognize the word “Мама”.

The only thing that makes it possible to keep putting one foot in front of the other (besides your family, of course) is your comrades-in-arms. Against all odds, you’ve found friendship here, men with whom you can share stories and jokes and drinks. You find a few men of around your own age with families, wives and children that they lovingly speak of, but many of these soldiers are young, young enough to be your sons, far too young to be out here slaughtering and being slaughtered. Over your meager meals you tell stories of home and it is enough to hold off the impending horror, at least for a moment. When that doesn’t work, you turn to drink. You drink an awful lot.

The conditions of this foreign land are mercurial at best and your woes are only compounded by your lack of proper supplies. The Russians have been scorching nearly everything in the wake of their retreat, making it difficult for you to forage for food. Your search parties turn up very little by way of provisions and your food supply continues to fall in tandem with the temperature.

Borodino is hell. You see the man to the right of you receive a cannonball to the chest and fall in a spray of red, you see the man to the left crumple as a shot rips through his handsome, hard-lined face. One of your friends, one of those boys that you’d come to regard as a surrogate son who was barely old enough to grow hair on his chin, catches a bullet in the leg. He dies in agony four days later, one of the thousands of casualties of that damned battle. In your lowest moments, you wish you would have joined him.

You were never a particularly happy man, even before the war. Prone to fits of melancholia, they would have said back then. Your darling wife and your three sons certainly helped to alleviate that heavy, aching emptiness that resided in your chest, but it never went away, not fully. It resurfaces with a vengeance now. Sitting with your gun in your hands and far too much liquor in your belly, you think about ending it all. How easy it would be to put a bullet in your brain and finally die. In the end, it’s your family that saves you again. You may not want to live for yourself, but for them- for them you can keep fighting. Besides, Moscow is only 70 miles away and once you take the ancient capital, Russia will have no choice but to surrender. That’s what everyone is saying and you force yourself to believe that it’s true.

Moscow was a lie. You took the capital but there was no peace. There was no food either. The Russians took it all when they abandoned the place, leaving almost nothing for your starving army. Nothing but liquor, which you are very grateful for at least. Your superiors probably aren’t, you think wryly as you raise the bottle to your lips and drink, drink, drink.

Moscow passes in a drunken haze for you. You drown yourself in Russian booze, drinking yourself absolutely insensate. There are entire days you spend propped up against the wall of some ramshackle Russian establishment, surrounded by empty bottles, too drunk to even stand. You remember bits and pieces, shattered memories drifting in and out of the fog. The looting and the things you took (a fine scarf, a silver flask, maybe more), a ladies’ fur shawl wrapped about your shoulders to keep out the chill, the burning heat of a terrible fire and the screams in French and Russian, the acrid taste of bile in your mouth as you splutter sick all over yourself only to raise the bottle to your lips again for another drink. In the end, you’re forced to leave Moscow as the position becomes untenable, the abandoned city burned to a shell of its former self. You never do learn who first started the fire, even years after the fact. 

The retreat is hell on Earth, worse than anything else that came before. La Grande Armée is hardly an army any longer, you’ve lost practically all discipline. By now, you’re just a bunch of exhausted, cold, starving men who want nothing more than to just make it home alive. Most of them won’t. The temperatures have dropped to below freezing at this point and you are wishing more than anything that you still had those infernal layers that caused you so much pain in the summer months. The clothing you and your comrades drunkenly plundered in Moscow—silken scarves stolen from abandoned trunks, heavy furs pilfered from store inventories, ladies’ shoes that hurt your feet but do a better job of keeping out the slush than your tattered boots—help, but not enough. Your fingers stiffen to near icicles in the cold as you try your damnedest to massage even a little warmth back into them, your face is wind-chapped and scabbed. You feel as though your very marrow has frozen, and you are one of the lucky ones. Men freeze to death in their sleep in less than an hour. Fifty men will sit down at a fire and only the twenty or so closest will ever get back up again. You all begin to loot the bodies of the dead and—as you grow more desperate—the dying as well. Corpses are stripped naked and left in the snow as the survivors squabble over their threadbare uniform pieces. Sometimes the corpses still twitch and moan but you try to ignore that.

There’s no food either. In addition to freezing, you’re starving too. The lot of you fight and quarrel over moldy crusts of bread, and in some cases even kill each other for them. The more clever turn to other sources to fill their writhing, empty stomachs. Some eat their boots, but there isn’t much leather left in any case. Some carve their meals off the horses as they walk, tearing bits of bleeding flesh off of the warm, moving flanks in a short-sighted attempt to get even a few morsels of meat in their bellies. Others, in mad desperation as the march (if you can even call it that any longer) wears on, turn to each other.

Perhaps you take part in this, perhaps you don’t. Perhaps you sidle a man out of the way to get closer to the fire, perhaps you take a coat off a corpse that you don’t know for sure is dead yet, perhaps you accept a piece of meat that you do not quite know the origin of. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

In the end it doesn’t matter. You die anyway. You don’t really remember how it happened the first time. Maybe you were finally picked off by the advancing Russians, maybe it was exposure, exhaustion, starvation, sickness, any of the hundred ways that you could die in this frozen wasteland. All you know is that one moment you were on your feet, shambling mutely forward, the next you were lying on the icy ground, gasping air back into lungs that had fallen completely still. Four faces are burned into your memory and from one you can still hear the gurgling, watery screams.

That’s when the dreams start, after that first death. Though, you wouldn’t classify them as dreams, they’re far more alike to nightmares. You see that screaming, drowning woman often. You feel her fear as she slams her body against her metal coffin. Even awake you can’t get the sound of her choking out of your head. Sometimes there are soft moments interspersed with the horror. You see a woman with short hair (it reminds you of a coiffure à la victime) laughing, you see two men resting in each others’ arms, foreheads pressed together gently, blissfully happy. To be quite honest, these ones hurt worst of all because they make you regret ever waking up.

You die a few more times before you finally decide to desert. You can’t take it anymore. That tyrant Bonaparte has abandoned this army, why can’t you? You take flight under the cold cover of night, trying to get to the Russian border. You don’t make it very far. You are dragged back—aching, tired, and hungry—and are hanged by the road as a deserter. Perhaps there still is a little discipline left in these ranks, at least enough to allow these soldiers to kill their comrades in the name of orders. You have to wait three days for the road to clear before you can finally run. In that time your body is almost entirely picked clean by looters. You continue your desperate trek back home in spite of it all and die many more times in the weeks (or was it months?) that follow. It never gets any easier.

 It’s near the border into Prussia that you finally meet one of the figures from your dreams. Perhaps it is the woman with the short hair who offers you a drink and a coat to put around your shoulders, and tells you bluntly but not unkindly that you’re immortal. Perhaps it is the curly-haired man who helps hold you upright when you stumble and is careful and caring with his words as he gently explains the situation. Perhaps it is his lighter-haired lover who catches you when you fold in on yourself from the weight of his words and offers you affirmations and condolences in a voice reminiscent of a priest. Whoever it is, they ask you to come with them and explain that there are others like them- like you out there.

“What about my family?” you stutter out, almost unconscious of the words as the tumble from your mouth “My wife? What about them?”

They favor you with a sad smile and try to explain, but you will hear none of it. They do not stop you when you tell them that you are going home, and you are glad for it.

With the supplies they give to you, you manage to hobble your way back home. You’ve been taken for a dead man, you realize, everyone you pass seems to think you’re a ghost. You don’t care. You only have one person on your mind.

Your wife answers the door dressed in black. She starts to cry when she sees you and throws her arms around your neck. You nearly crumple, weak as you are. “Bastien, Bastien,” she sobs against your shoulder “What happened?”

That question fills you with icy dread. Your stomach drops as you realize you cannot explain to her what you’ve been through, not in a way that she’ll understand. Even if you explain the immortality and she believes you, she won’t understand the horrors you’ve seen. No one will. A soldier’s burden.

You stay silent and instead cradle her closer as your boys appear in the doorway. You have them and, for now, that is enough. You won’t forget, you will never forget, but for now at least you have this.

[ms-rampage]

Eden’s Gate: The Mother Chapter 10 - The Lost Girls

Warnings: slight violence, slight language. 

Word count: 2.2k

Where it all began. 

Summary: Timeline of the Winchester family lives and deaths. Flashback chapter. 

Guest OCs: Joel Winchester (FC: Josh Brolin), Marie Campbell (FC: Fairuza Balk), Mandy Winchester (FC: Cristina Scabbia).

Guest Characters: Jacob Seed and Miller in war flashback. Archangel Michael, Raphael and Gabriel in flashback. 

Note: The italic red indicates different time periods so bare with me on this chapter. They’re all short mini chapters within one big chapter. 

********

June 1988

Joel Victor Winchester has enlisted into the U.S Army, and his father Alfred isn’t happy about it.

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna do?” he asks his son, “You’re gonna throw your life away?”.

“Dad, I don't want to hunt anymore. I want to travel. See the world” he explains to his father.

“Yeah sure, getting yourself killed will definitely help out with that” he sarcastically tells him. 

Joel grew tired of hunting monsters for a living. He wanted to change his life for the better, he enlisted into the U.S Army. His girlfriend Mandy was against it, but at the same time she didn’t want to hold him back. Within a few months he went off to training in Georgia. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders once he stepped off in that training base. 

Aside from the Sergeants getting into his face, and yelling at him. Making him do 100 push ups in 1 minute. Joel actually liked it there. Better than stabbing a demon in the face, or cutting off a vampire’s head. It’s better than getting chased by Hellhounds. 

________

November 1990

Iraq, the Gulf War. Operation Desert Storm. Joel along with his unit of 10 other men are passing through a desert town somewhere near the Persian Gulf. When an ambush causes Joel and his fellow soldiers to get separated from each other in the middle of the desert.

“This is Winchester to base do you copy?” he says into his radio, “Base this is Winchester do you copy?”. 

Nothing but static on the other end of the radio. 

“Now what?” Miller asks him. 

“We keep moving forward” he answers.

“Are you sure?!” another soldier asks. 

“Yeah, I’m sure” he replies. They all push forward through the hot desert as the sun shines bright on them. 

“I don’t think I can push forward” a young Jacob Seed tells Joel. Panting and stumbling through the hot sand. 

“C’mon Seed we have to keep moving” he tells him.

After several minutes of walking through the sand an explosion sends Joel, Miller, Jacob and a few others flying several feet away from each other. They all manage to find each other after god who knows how long. Almost dying of dehydration.  

“We gotta keep moving” Joel’s second in command tells him.

Joel looks around and notices they’re missing a few of their men.

“Where’s Seed and Miller?!?” he asks them. They look around for them, and accept that they were either killed, or they got lost in the explosion. 

“We have to look for them” Joel tells them. 

“Sir, we have to keep moving forward to base” his second in command tells him. They move forward through the desert and make it to their base. Not wanting to leave two of their men behind, knowing they could still be alive. 

__________

December 1991

It’s been over almost a year since Joel came back from Iraq. He wasn’t the same after all that shit. He suffered from PTSD, night terrors and insomnia. He has burn scars on his right shoulder, bicep and 30% of the right side of his body. 

Thinking that Mandy would leave him because of his trauma and disfigurement of his skin. She stood by side through all of it. She didn’t see him any differently, she still loved him regardless. With the help of her sister Marie, he planned on proposing to her. On December 22 1991 just before Christmas. He proposed to her at a Christmas party in front of all their friends and family.

Taking a knee, the usual way of proposing. 

“Mandeline Lucille Campell will you marry me?!” he asks, ring in hand. The crowd of their friends and family “awe” in response. 

Her hands covering her mouth, she nods her head and softly mutters “Yes” to his proposal. 

Tears filling her eyes as he places the ring on her left ring finger.

________

September 7 1992

The wedding of Joel Victor Winchester & Mandeline Lucille Campell. 

"Are you ready?" Marie asks her older sister. As she dusts off her white wedding dress. 

Mandy nods her head, taking a deep breath, "Yeah, yeah I'm ready!". 

Preparing to walk down the aisle, and marrying the love of her life. Her long-time boyfriend, then fiancée and soon to be husband. 

“Do you Mandeline Lucille Campell take Joel Victor Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband. In sickness and in health. For good, or for worse. Till death do you part?” the priest asks.

Looking up at her soon to be husband, “I do” she answers. 

He asks Joel the same exact thing, and he gives the same exact response.

“I do” he says, looking down at his now beautiful wife. 

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride" the priest tells Joel, and he kisses his new wife. 

_______

May 1994

Mandy announces her pregnancy with her first child. Waiting patiently for the results, sitting on the bathroom floor as Joel sat on the opposite side of the bathroom door. She got the results, and she is indeed pregnant. She opens the door, and immediately runs into Joel’s arms, tears streaming down her face. 

“What is it?!, what is it?!” he asks, excitedly. 

She shows him the stick, and he lifts her up. Kisses her.

“We’re gonna be parents!!” he mutters, excitedly. Lifitng her up off the floor.

____________

July 1994

Joel and Mandy get the results on the sex of their first child. The ultrasound technician puts the gel on her stomach and uses the sonographer to scan her belly.

Joel holds onto Mandy’s hand in anticipation. Squeezing it.

“So let's see what we got here” she tells them, as she scans her stomach. 

“It looks like you’re having a girl!” she tells the soon to be parents.

They look at each other excitedly, in shock and in tears. 

“We’re having a girl!!” Mandy mutters to Joel, kissing him. 

___________

January 19 1995

Mandy goes into labor a few months early, and gives birth to a healthy baby girl at the Phoenix Regional Hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. After being in labor for 7 hours.

Weighing 7 pounds 6 ounces. Born at 2:15pm. 

“She’s so beautiful” Mandy says, cradling her daughter. A nurse walks into the room, with a clipboard in hand and asks “So what are we naming her?”.

“Paige Hannah” Joel tells her. She writes down the name and takes it to file it for records. 

“And you wanted to name her Dawn Mercedes” Mandy mocks him, looking down at her new infant daughter. 

He chuckles, “Yeah, I’m glad you changed my mind about it”. 

A few moments past and a man walks into the room.

“Joel and Mandeline Winchester?'' he asks, walking into the hospital room. They both look up at the man. 

“Yes?” Joel questions him, “Who are you?”. 

“I’m Michael” he tells them, “Archangel Michael”. 

They look at him in confusion, Joel stands up from the hospital bed and becomes defensive. 

“What do you want?” he asks in a threatening tone. 

He puts his hands up showing that he means no harm. “I mean no harm to you, your wife and the new addition to your family”.

He goes on to tell them that he is baby Paige’s Guardian Archangel. That he will protect and watch over her until the day she dies. 

"So what? Babies are assigned Archangels when they're born?" he asks. 

"Yes, I believe Raphael is Mandeline's guardian Archangel, and I'm yours" Michael tells them. 

__________

August 5 1998

Mandy gave birth to another girl at the same hospital where she had Paige. 

Almost having her at their home which is 15 minutes away from the hospital.

Weighing 7 pounds 8 ounces born at 7:42am, now with baby number two in the family. 

Mandy’s sister Marie watched over Paige while they went to the hospital. 

After 3 in half hours of labor pain and contractions, she finally had baby Katella. 

“I can’t believe it” Joel mutters, looking down at his new infant daughter “We now have 2 beautiful girls. She’s so beautiful”. 

They both stare down at their new addition to the family. 

“I’m so glad Paige stopped me from naming her Sasha Georgia” he says to Mandy. 

She chuckles, “Yeah me too. Katella Evyanna is a better name for her”. 

“Gabrielle would’ve been better” a man tells them, who appeared out of the blue in front of them. 

They both look up at the man, Joel scoffs at him, rolling his eyes and looking up at the ceiling “Let me guess. Gabriel? Archangel?”. 

He smiles at them, and says with his hands up “Guilty!!”. 

“What do you want?” Mandy asks him, Already knowing what this is all about. 

He sighs, sitting at the foot of the bed “The same route my big bro Michael did with little Paige. I’m this little one's Guardian Angel. I will protect, watch over her and blah blah blah until she dies. All that jazz”. 

They both look at him in confusion, and also in a way underestimating the youngest Archangel.  

"It's not too late to name her Gabrielle Tricksterina" he tells them. 

"We'll stick with Katella Evyanna. Thanks Gabe". Mandy says to him. 

________

November 14 1998

Baby Katella is 3 months old, Paige is 3 years old. 

“What time are you gonna be off?!” Mandy asks Joel, from the kitchen table. 

“Same time as usual” he tells her from their bedroom “5:30pm”. 

He continues to get ready for work while Mandy feeds Kate her bottle, and Paige is sitting in her high chair eating cut up fruit.

He walks into the kitchen, and kisses her, and his daughters goodbye.

“I’m leaving for work now” he tells her. Kissing her head, as well as the two little girls. 

Going to his job at the auto shop where he works as head mechanic. 

Mandy is taking maternity leave from her job as a receptionist at a dental office.  

________

April 19 1999

The night where it all happened, the night where Azazel took Joel’s life by causing a house fire.

Killing him when he went to check on baby Katella. 

Confronting the demon that took his life. Killing him and pushing him up to the ceiling. 

Mandy woke up to the smell of smoke, thinking Joel was cooking something. 

She went to check on both Paige and Kate. Upon checking on her youngest daughter, a droplet of blood lands on Mandy’s hand, she looks up and sees her husband laying against the ceiling. 

Within seconds the whole ceiling was engulfed into flames. Killing Joel instantly. 

Paige runs to the room, and sees everything. Mandy grabs Kate from her crib and hands her to her eldest daughter.

Telling her to take her sister and run as fast as she can.

Running out to the front lawn as the house is engulfed in flames. 

_______

September 2011

“Mom what’s going on?” 16 year old Paige asks her mother.

Des Moines, Iowa. A teacher from Paige and Kate’s high school had reported to Child Protective Services about some cuts, bruises and other wounds on Kate’s arms and hands. 

A cut on Paige’s left cheek, and bruised, bloody knuckles. 

Reporting that the 2 girls are being abused by their mother. 

Mandy would never lay a finger on her kids. Wasn’t able to convince the police and CPS that she would never hit her kids. 

Even with Paige and Kate coming to her defense. They still took them away from her.

“Everything is fine girls” she tells them. 

“Girls you’re gonna have to come with us” an officer tells them. 

They both look at him, and everyone else in confusion. 

“What’s happening?!” 13 year old Kate asks. Hiding behind her elder sister. 

“Girls I’m Nancy from Child Protective Services. You’re both gonna have to come with us” she tells them. 

“Why?!” Paige asks. 

“You both attend Des Moines Junior high?” the officer asks.

“Yeah” Paige answers. 

“A teacher reported some wounds, and other physical injuries on you” he tells them. 

They take the girls away from Mandy after they both resisted. Taking them away in separate vehicles. 

Mandy later would have child abuse charges against her, and she would flee Iowa shortly after. Paige and Kate were sent to live with their uncle Brent and aunt Laura. 

Mandy was charged, and had a restraining order against her. Forbidding her from seeing, or contacting her daughters until they turned 18. Once Paige turned 18 she took off and searched for her mother. 

__________

January 2012

"There's a man in Hope County, Montana that needs protection" Raphael tells Mandy. 

"Okay, what's his name?" she asks. 

"God hasn't given me his name, but you are the one that must protect him" he tells her. 

Not understanding what the job is actually about, she reluctantly agrees to protect this man whom she has no idea who he is or what his name is. Not knowing what he looks like either. 

"Okay, I'll go to Montana and protect this man who I never met, nor seen" she tells the Archangel. 

[somepinkthing]

A/N: so when I think about it, while we know the nies are half brothers, its up to interpretation how that came about. Now, I've seen a variation of either the father remarried, poly parents, OR nhs was a bastard. But its generally agreed upon that NMJ was the undisputed rightful heir. I.... wanted to see what would happen if that weren't the case.

Idk where this is going exactly or if it'll go further than this but 🤷‍♀️ I just wanted to see nhs standing up for his brother this went so far

---

Hong ChangHe was as sickly as she was beautiful. Pale, thin, and with a genteel nature. The perfect wife, were it not for her weak constitution. Every winter, she was bedridden for at least a week. Every spring, she had to stay inside most of the days for fear of the pollen in the air. Luckily, she’s had access to the best doctors around since childhood. Luckily, she was cautious and diligent. Luckily, according to all sources, she would grow to live a long and prosperous life so long as she avoided any major traumas.

… like childbirth. 

“I did not marry you for you to bear me a child, my love,” Sect Leader Nie murmured to his wife, lips brushing the top of her head.

“I know,” she whispered back, “and yet the lack of an heir will hang over our heads for as long as we don’t produce your sect a child.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you, my love,” he replied.

Madam Nie looked up at her husband defiantly.

“As did I. I married the man I loved… and the leader of a great sect. We said we would cross this bridge when we got here, and here we are.”

Nie LuYuan sighed, pushed his wife’s hair out of her face, and wiped her tears.

“And here we are. So, what now?”

---

Nie Mingjue’s birth was a cause for celebration, albeit a very private and almost shameful one. 

The woman who birthed him was attended to by the best doctors and midwives a woman could ask for, but she was all alone otherwise. The man who impregnated her, her sect leader, was not allowed in the room. His wife… preferred to wait with her husband. 

For hours upon hours she labored and screamed alone. Push, breathe, push, breathe. Rinse and repeat. 

And at the end? At the end, a healthy 9.5 lb baby was placed into her arms, allowed to feed from her breast, and cradled against her.

“Give me one hour,” she pleaded with the waiting couple. One hour to hold him, to be his mother. She dare not ask for longer, though she likely could. 

Any longer and she feared she might change her mind. 

“Of course,” the sect leader agreed, nodding in understanding.

“We will wait outside,” his wife said, smiling at her with pity shining in her eyes.

Alone with just his mother, the baby in her arms slowly settled and stopped crying. His face scrunched up when she kissed him on the nose, unused to such a sensation. He was so pink, almost red. 

“Like a lobster,” she giggled. The babe immediately began to cry again, as if offended, sending his mother into hysterics.

"You have a good set of lungs, little Nie. That's good."

The baby grunted in response.

"Now, don't pout like that. You are a future sect heir. You be a good one now, you hear? Righteous, upstanding, a protector of the weak. Ah, but have fun sometimes too! And don't forget to be kind when possible. Make lots of friends. Listen… listen to your parents…"

The baby had long since fallen asleep to the lull of his mother's voice. 

"And remember, there is always someone in your corner. Even if you don't remember me…."

In his sleep, the little newborn gurgled happily, surrounded by warmth and love.

---

Three weeks later, a maid left the employ of Qinghe Nie. She went north, to return to her family.

She was escorted home by an armed guard. In her hands, she held enough gold for her or her family to live well for generations. Her children, her parents, they would never want for anything ever again.

She never got to speak to the baby she birthed again. She never asked to either.

She did not regret her decision.

---

"You will be a good boy, Mingjue," Sect Leader Nie whispered tenderly, tickling his new son's belly and laughing with him. "I can already tell. And us? We will do our best for you."

Changhe watched her husband, giant bruiser of a man, cradle this newborn against himself so gently and she smiled. She tucked the hesitation bubbling in her gut as deep as she could and reached for the baby. This was her idea, come to fruition. Her husband had been so against it, hating the idea of laying with another and hating having to lock his wife up for 9 months with no reason, but had relented at her insistence. She could be nothing but pleased on this joyous day.

"Let me," she requested. 

Her husband beamed at her and placed the baby in her waiting arms.

Nie Mingjue. Her son. Her heir.

He was a hefty thing. The midwife had told her he was one of the biggest babies she'd ever birthed. Changhe certainly could never have pushed him out. And yet… he was still so tiny. Were all babies this small?

Small as he was though, she could see her husband's strong jawline and structure already in him. His huge nose too, she thought to herself with a giggle.

"That nose takes up half his face," she griped.

"It runs in the family, it's not our fault!" her lord husband protested, pouting. 

Changhe laughed and pressed a kiss to her husband's cheek. Finally, she felt the anxiety and hesitation in her gut abate. This was her son, despite it all. She had done it. She had given her family an heir, she had completed her duty. For the first time in ten months, it felt like everything was coming together….

… and then the baby opened his eyes.

They weren't her husband's eyes. Naturally, they weren't hers either. They were someone else's. Some other woman. These eyes belonged to the woman who birthed him. Sharp and judgemental, trapping her in their golden-brown gaze, reminding her of her failure--

"Oh! He's looking at us," her husband whispered over her shoulder in awe.

"Th-the midwives said he can only see shapes, don't be ridiculous."

Luyuan chortled. "No. He's looking. A father can tell."

A father can, perhaps a mother could have too (if only she had been this baby's mother).

"You'll be a good man, son," her husband murmured.

"Yes," Changhe agreed, killing the hesitation threatening to bleed into her voice with extreme prejudice.

"He will be a fantastic heir. I'll see to it."

---

Almost six years later, Sect Leader Nie was delivered an urgent message in the middle of a meeting. Without any explanation, he tore from the hall at a running sprint to go find his wife.

He found his sobbing child first.

"Mama's sick …" his young son cried, sitting outside the master bedroom.

Heart dropping to his feet, Nie Luyuan scooped Mingjue up and entered the room. He pressed the child's face into his shoulder, ready to set him outside again if need be.

"My love…."

Hong Changhe was bent over a bedpan, a doctor by her side. She had been throwing up, she was barely upright, and she was beaming.

"My husband," she whispered through happy tears, "My dear, I am with child."

"With… with child?!" Luyuan asked, disbelief and worry mixing together in his tone.

Changhe nodded eagerly, the usually proud woman clearly acting out of it. She had ignored the doctor's insistence that she rest at once, holding out to deliver this news herself. Her exhaustion was clear for all to see but she would not have had her husband hear this from anyone else.

"Finally, I can provide you a child."

Luyuan felt his stomach lurch, holding Mingjue tighter against him.

"Finally, we can have a real son."

[detectivejay-chuckles-halstead]

Jay Halstead x Reader

Description:  Write a story about someone cleaning out their attic. They find an old piece of clothing, and inside of its pocket is an old keepsake.

Words: 4238

Warnings: MCD

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader

Sammy was at school, so you took the opportunity to do some much needed cleaning. You hadn’t touched the attic in months, not since...You didn’t like thinking about it, tried to avoid it. Most of his stuff had been shoved up in the attic with the help of his team. You’d told them you’d go through it when you were ready. It had taken a while, but you were finally ready. 

It was a slow process to even get into the attic, trying to tell yourself it wasn’t the right time. But if it wasn’t the right time now, it would never be the right time. 

There were three stacks of boxes, about nine boxes total, all labeled with his name. Jay. You couldn’t figure out how his life could be boxed into nine boxes. He had taken up so much room in your heart and in your life. There were things that weren’t in the boxes, that were around the house. Pictures. The cased flag from his funeral, his badge, his dress blues hat. His favorite clothes. His ashes in an urn on the mantle. You couldn’t help but finger his wedding ring on the chain around your neck. 

You brought the first box down from the stack, sitting cross legged in front of it, methodically going through each item. You weren’t going to get rid of anything, but you knew you had to go through it, to process everything. 

It had been six months since you’d lost him, the hardest six months of your life. There was no doubt about that. Each day was a little easier than the last, but you couldn’t help but remember those first few weeks which had been the hardest. You couldn’t help but remember the day you found out he was gone. 

-----

Six Months Ago

It was a normal day like any other, smiling as you woke up next to your amazing husband. His arms held you close to his body, perfectly molded to him. He’d always said you were his missing puzzle piece, how perfectly the two of you fit together. It was a nice calm morning, until your five year old came bounding in, joining the two of you in bed.

He was the best thing that had happened to you. For a long time, you’d thought it had been Jay, until Sammy came around. You would kill for your little boy, and would definitely die for him without a second thought. And you knew Jay felt the same way. Sammy was your miracle. For a long time, you thought a child wasn’t part of your plan. You’d suffered through two miscarriages, countless doctors appointments. There had been countless nights crying into Jay’s chest as he held you close, as you wondered why the universe thought it wasn’t meant to be. You’d been hopeful when the pregnancy test came back positive, but very reserved. Nothing scared you more than losing another baby. Jay had been the optimistic one for the two of you. And the day Sammy was born, you thought you were dreaming until you held that crying baby in your arms with Jay smiling at your side. 

“Do you have to go?” you asked Jay when his phone went off on the bedside table. He just gave you a smile and a kiss. 

“You know Chicago. Crime stops for nothing. I’ll call you when I can,” he assured you as he got up, your eyes scanning over his perfect body. You no longer counted the scars, or the bruises when he had them. You still worried, but it was something you were used to by that time. 

“Just no visiting me at work, got it?” you reminded him, getting a laugh. 

“I promise I’ll do my best.” A visit at work usually meant he’d gotten hurt. Most of the time, though, it meant a victim or criminal was the one that got hurt. 

“You better, Jay Halstead. I love you too much to lose you.”

“I love you too,” he seconded, kissing you before kissing Sammy. The little boy -- who was a spitting image of his father -- giggled, smiling as he pulled his dad in for just a second longer. “I love you, little man.” 

“Love you, daddy.” 

You’d gotten Sammy off to school without a hitch, which was a miracle in itself. Usually, there was a lot of kicking and screaming and crying. You were thankful for the easy morning, strolling into work like any other day. 

“How’s my favorite sister-in-law?” Will asked you from his locker as you hung up your jacket. 

“How many times do I have to remind you that I’m your only sister-in-law?” you countered with a smile, pulling out your phone to show him pictures of his nephew. 

“I swear, he’s looking more and more like Jay every day.” You couldn’t disagree with that.

“Yeah. Eighteen hours of horrendous labor, and he comes out a carbon copy of his dad,” you joked before heading off to start off your morning in the ED. 

There’d been no texts from Jay that day, which didn’t worry you too much, considering it happened sometimes. Especially when caught up in a case. It was a little suspicious, though, when you got a call from Voight to not expect Jay home that night. Usually, it was Jay letting you know he’d been gone for the night. Again, though, it didn’t worry you too much. 

Going to bed that night, you’d just had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right, but didn’t ask. Oh, how you wished you’d asked. 

Getting Sammy to school the next morning was harder than the previous day. You couldn’t figure out why, the boy kicking and screaming. He’d been crying for Jay all morning, and you wanted to do nothing but swing by the station to show him that Daddy was okay. But something in you stopped you. Instead, you dropped him off at school with tears still on his cheeks. 

You went to work, trying to shake off whatever feeling you had. It was difficult, not letting it affect your job, but it was doable. That was until you heard the ambulance report on the radio. You were on the trauma doctor that day, but Maggie quickly pulled you, telling Ethan to meet the crew in Baghdad. That didn’t mean you didn’t hear what the paramedics were saying.

“Forty year old male, CPD officer, shot by offender. GSW to the left chest, no exit wound. Hypotensive and bradycardic. GCS 8, blunt force trauma to head and face. Pupils are equal and reactive. Two large-bore IVs bilateral ACs with 2 litres fluid wide open. Five out.” 

You didn’t know it was Jay, but at the same time you did. In your gut, you knew. And your fears were proven correct when they wheeled him through the door. The short glimpse you got of him told you things were not looking good. 

They’d cut off his shirt, the same one he’d left the house in the previous morning. EKG stickers were stamped across his chest. A non-rebreather was strapped to his face, giving him oxygen that was much needed. Blood covered his face, matted in his hair. His eyes were closed, chest heaving with each breath. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, even as they pulled the curtain to block your view. Not until you felt a firm hand on your shoulder.

Anger grew in the pit of your stomach, quickly drowning out the worry and fear. Voight stood next to you, a look of pity on his face. You couldn’t help it, it was your instinctual reaction.

“You were supposed to keep him safe!” you yelled at the older man, but he didn’t flinch. “He is supposed to come home every night, safe! And you couldn’t do that?” 

“Y/N, let me explain,” he said, voice unwavering, as if he didn’t care. You knew that wasn’t true though, Intelligence being a family after all, which at this point you scoffed at. What family would let something like this happen?

“Explain? Explain what, Hank?” you continued, cutting him off before he had a chance to say anything further. “Explain how you couldn’t keep my husband safe! Huh? Explain that to me, because that is your job! It’s your job to make sure he comes home to his wife and to his son every night!” You felt Will grab your elbow, shaking him off quickly as you shoved your hands into Hank’s chest as you continued. “Explain to me how my husband is in that trauma room fighting for his life! Because you better have a damn good reason, because it’s your life on the line too! Because if he doesn’t make it, I’ll kill you myself.” There was anger and truth in your words, spitting them out like fire as the rage began to consume you. Because it was easier to feel rage and anger than it was to admit how terrified you actually were. 

“We were chasing a lead, weren’t expecting the deal to go south. Jay was caught in the crossfire.”

“He better pull through, Hank,” you reminded him again, before letting Will walk you to a chair at the nurse’s station, knowing you didn’t want to be far from Jay. 

It didn’t take long for him to be whisked away to emergency surgery, and for Will to take you up to the surgery waiting room, along with the Intelligence team. None of them said anything to you, or even looked your way until you mentioned something to Will.

“Sammy’s at school. Usually, Jay would pick him up,” you said softly, not knowing any of them had heard you. 

“I’ll go get him, take him back to your place,” Kim assured you, taking Adam with her. You nodded, not wanting to leave the hospital. Not until you knew Jay would be okay. 

Honestly, you didn’t know how long you’d been sitting in the waiting room, eating when Will brought you food and drinking when he brought you water. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, worried you’d miss when the surgeon would come out to tell you what was going on. 

“Dr Halstead,” Marcell said when he walked out, taking a seat next to you. A quick glance at the clock told you it was going on eight hours since ay had been brought in. “He’s out of surgery. Luckily the bullet missed a lot of the important stuff. Just a small knick on his subclavian artery, which we were able to fix fairly easily. His internal bleeding is also controlled. What we’re most worried about is the extent of his head trauma, which time will only tell. He should be waking up soon, if you want to see him,” he told you, letting out the sigh of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding in. 

Sure enough, there he was, skin pale, but chest rising and falling. You sat next to him, taking his hand in yours, waiting. Just waiting. For some sign he was really okay. Even when Will told you to rest, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. There had been times before where you thought you might lose him, but this was different. This felt like the real deal, and you didn’t want to waste a second away from him. 

Around two in the morning was when you felt the pressure on your hand, looking up to see his eyes fluttering open. Your eyes met his, those beautiful ocean eyes. Those two seconds of looking into his eyes felt like an eternity until they closed again, a deep breath exiting his mouth, and the worst sound you could think of. 

All of your medical training went out the window, as you sat there as the wife. Not as the doctor. Because if you were the doctor you would have known that his heart was no longer beating. But you did know that, your instincts kicking in as you pressed the blue button on the wall, hands pushing hard on his chest, feeling his ribs cracking underneath your hands. The sound of his flatline piercing the silence of the room, mingling with your heavy breathing as you held back your tears. 

Hands were on your arms, pulling you away. Vaguely you heard someone say your name, but the sound of the blood rushing in your ears was too loud to hear what they were saying. Not as you saw them keep pushing on his chest, shove a tube down his throat, push multiple medicines to try and get the electricity flowing through his heart again. 

“Time of death, two fourty eight,” Marcell said to the team, to you. Whoever had pulled you away was the entire reason you were still standing as your legs gave out from underneath you. The love of your life was gone, and you weren’t sure what that would mean for the rest of your life.

-----

Remembering that day was difficult, it would be for anybody. But for you, it hit a little harder every time. The fact that there was nothing you could do. They had later told you it was a blood clot. One blood clot took away the love of your life. 

As you continued through the boxes, you couldn’t help but remember some of the better moments between the two of you, flooding back with some of the items you’d pull out. Like a tie. Who knew one tie could remind you of one of the best days of your life.

-----

Six Years Ago

Your mom had tears in her eyes as you stood in front of her, white dress hugging your body tightly. Your hair was in a loose updo, makeup done up. The last thing you needed to do was begin crying as well, considering how long it had taken for the makeup artist to do your makeup. 

“You look so beautiful, honey,” she told you, taking your hands in hers. You couldn’t help but smile at her. “I wish your dad was here to see you. He would have loved Jay.”

“I know he would have, Mom. But at least I have you.” You hugged her before pulling away again, glad you had the photographer capturing these seemingly small moments. 

“Let’s go show Jay how beautiful you look.” 

The two of you walked out, waiting for the bridal music to begin before beginning your walk down the aisle. As soon as your eyes met Jay’s, a smile was on your face, and you could see the tears welling in his eyes. You weren’t expecting him to cry when he saw you, but it was a nice surprise. As soon as you reached him, he took your hand in his, wiping away tears with his free hand. 

“You look absolutely, stunningly beautiful,” Jay told you softly, squeezing your hand before you had the urge to straighten his tie, which apparently Will hadn’t done for him. Then, the priest started talking. You didn’t pay much attention, too focused on looking at Jay. That was, until it was time to speak your vows. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Jay started, clearing his throat with a smile when you heard it crack. “When I met you, I never thought we would get to this point. Mainly, because I thought you would have the common sense to run far, far away from being with a cop. But you didn’t, and you have given me the best three years of my life. And I cannot wait to spend the rest of our lives together, and creating as many memories as possible. No matter how good or how bad it gets. Because I love you, and that’s what love is about,” he told you. Afterall, the vows weren’t for the guests, they were truly between you. 

“There was a split second when the reality of your job came crashing down, where I had the instinct to run far, far away, but I couldn’t. Because I realized how much I love you. There was no describing it. I knew that I had to be with you until I died, because we work. We work perfectly, even when everyone thought that we wouldn’t. A part of me knew that it was meant to be the second I saw you, as if our souls were already connected, even before you asked me when your suspect was going to wake up, no hello to begin. And here we are, three years later, Jay Halstead. I sure didn’t think we’d get here either, but I wouldn’t want to be here with anybody else. Because I love you, more than anything else,” you told him. 

The priest finished, the two of you sliding rings on each other’s fingers before sharing a kiss that conveyed more emotion than you thought possible. But it was official. You were Jay Halstead’s wife. 

-----

You knew he’d kept his suit from the wedding, but coming across that tie reminded you of that moment more than a picture ever did, if you were being honest. You couldn’t help as the tears welled up in your eyes. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do to have Jay back with you. 

More memories came back as you went through the boxes methodically, gently handling each item as if it were treasure. Because it was to you. These were the things you had left of Jay. You’d take no boxes, no possessions at all, if it meant he was alive. 

There were things you’d kept downstairs in your bedroom, things that were too hard to pack away. So, when you came across his favorite black hoodie, you were a little surprised, thinking it was downstairs in your closet. There were a lot of memories associated with this hoodie. Slipping it on, it felt like he was holding you again, and if you closed your eyes, you could imagine it for a little while longer. That was, until you felt something in the pocket. 

With a shaking hand, you pulled it out. It was a note and a small box. The note you recognized, it was one you’d written years ago. 

-----

Eight Years Ago

“Detective Halstead!” you called from across the ED.

It got some head turns, but the only one you cared about was Jay’s. Which as soon as you saw him, you smiled. It didn’t take long for him to recognize you, getting a smile in return. You were holding a small piece of paper in your hand, not letting him see it as he walked over. 

“Doctor Y/L/N,” he said as he approached. “I came to see Will. Have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he took a patient upstairs to the ICU. He should be back soon. Do you maybe want to go get a cup of coffee while you wait?” you asked, hopeful. 

“Sure, but please tell me it’s the kind you pay for and not the free watered down shit in the waiting rooms?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod in agreement, shoving the paper in your pocket for the time being. The two of you walked in silence out the coffee cart in front of the hospital, thankful for the warm weather. This wasn’t the first time or second time you’d ran into Jay, having enough of a working relationship to randomly ask him for coffee, but this wasn’t a random thing. This was something you’d been wanting to do for a few weeks now. 

“So, Jay,” you said. “You seeing anybody?” You weren’t expecting him to choke on his coffee when you asked, but couldn’t help but chuckle when he did.

“Can’t say that I am. Why do you ask?”

“I’m not usually this straightforward,” you answered. “But, here’s my number. You should give me a call sometime soon, go get dinner.” You handed him the note. It was more than just your number, but that’s what you played it off as. He unfolded the paper, a blush flushing across his cheeks when he read it, clearing his throat again. 

“I’ll give you a call,” he assured you, tucking the note away in his pocket. “Thanks for the coffee.” You nodded, watching him walk away. 

Three days later, you were sitting in your living room at home, a rare day off. It was nice, to just lounge around, not worried about anything. No life or death or decisions needing to be made, nobody calling for a doctor. You had a glass of wine, and a stupid reality show playing on the TV. You weren’t really paying attention to the TV though, more focused on a phone call that you weren’t sure was coming. Or maybe he was just busy, you weren’t sure. You were pulled out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. 

You didn’t even look through the peep-hole, not worried. There stood Jay, holding up the note in his hand. 

“Bold move putting your address and your next day off on here,” he told you as you stepped aside, letting him in. 

“Do you want something to drink? I just opened a nice bottle of red, or I have beer?” you offered, ignoring what he’d just said. You knew it was true, but you figured you needed to be bold to get his attention. 

“I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.” You nodded, going to the kitchen to grab another glass. You brought it back, pouring him a glass as the two of you sat on the couch. Jay looked at you hesitantly before kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable. “This isn’t something I normally do,” he told you.

“And you think I give every cute cop I come across my phone number and address?” you countered with a smile as you handed off the glass. 

“I don’t know what to think, Y/N. I mean, it’s very straightforward.” That definitely wasn’t a lie. 

“Well, it seemed like you were never going to make a move, so I did it for you. Plus, if you weren’t interested, you wouldn’t be here,” you reminded him. 

“When a pretty doctor lady invites you over, you don’t just turn that down,” he added, taking a swig from the glass. 

“You always have a choice, Jay.” He just smirked and shook his head. You had a feeling it was more than that, that he actually wanted to be there with you. 

The night was full of good wine and laughing. A few hours later, you looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly midnight. The two of you had naturally gravitated towards each other, your head resting on his chest with his arm around you. It was natural. 

“You should stay the night, Jay,” you told him, knowing he probably shouldn’t drive. He’d graduated from a couple glasses of wine to a couple of beers. 

“I can call a taxi,” he assured you. “I don’t want to impose.”

“What if I told you I wanted you to stay?” you asked with a sly smile. You really did want him to stay. The night was still young, plus, you were really enjoying his company. You’d learned more about Jay that night than you had in the weeks of knowing him. 

“I’d ask if you were absolutely sure, because me staying the night means everything is going to change between us.” 

There wasn’t a second thought when it came to what you wanted. Your mind had been made up, kissing him softly. It seemed to take him by surprise, but he seemed to go with it pretty fast. He was a really good kisser, better than you had originally imagined. 

“Jay,” you said against his lips before repositioning, straddling his lap with hands in his hair. 

“I’m kind of glad I took you up on this offer,” he told you before kissing you again, hands on your waist as he pulled you flush against him. This was definitely your best idea yet.

-----

You wouldn’t have believed anybody if they told you you’d end up married to the man. But you were. You eventually brought yourself to open the box that had been residing in the pocket of the hoodie for at least the past six months. 

“What?” you asked softly, carefully opening the small box to reveal a locket. Quickly popping open the locket to look inside. 

“Jay…” You saw a picture of the two of you on your wedding day. On the other side was a picture of Jay and Sammy right after Sammy was born. The smile on Jay’s face was as bright as the sun. He loved every second of being a father. You figured he’d gotten it for your anniversary since it had been coming up right after he died. There really was no other choice than to wear it.

When you looked at your watch, you saw it was getting to the mid-afternoon, and Sammy would be home soon. Carefully, you packed the boxes up again, still wearing his hoodie. It still smelled like him, comforting. As you began your descent down the attic ladder, you could have sworn you heard his laugh, saw him out of the corner of your eye. You were a firm believer he was still there with you, and all of this -- the memories, the locket, the memory of his laugh -- just solidified that even more.  

[edelweiss123]

It still baffles me...

...that the writers of a kid's show who were willing to blatantly address various heavy topics on-screen such as revenge, war, torture, racism, famine, sexism, ableism, child abuse, abandonment, and fucking GENOCIDE, with gravity and aplomb...

...still somehow thought that "literal 12-year-old doesn't end up with his first crush" would be a deal-breaker.  Like...?

Okay.  First, a disclaimer.  I am a die-hard Zutara shipper. I'm also really fond of MaiLee and Taang, independent of that, and really don't care for Maiko, but that's topic for a different post.  None of the points I’m going to go over have anything to do with those pairings.

But EVEN IF I didn't feel that there were far better canon characters for Katara and Aang to end up with respectively...

Kataang, as it is written in canon, is sad and weird and uncomfortable to me, and here's why:

The Dynamic

Maybe if the characters had been, say, 16 and 18 when they first met, this wouldn't be a problem.  But Aang is 12 and Katara's 14.  And their maturity gap is far larger than a mere two years.

Aang, despite being well traveled and the burden of Avatarhood on his shoulders, is also a very *young* 12.  Remember, up until the iceberg, he's lived a pretty idyllic, mostly responsibilty free life.  He's only known he was the Avatar for like, a month, tops, before that.  Sure, the other monk children don't play with him after this reveal, but it's well established he has friends all over the globe; he's a prodigy, yes, with all the pressure that can bring, but it doesn't appear he was pushed to master air so fast?  He just very much enjoys airbending.  And Gyatso is a loving guardian.

Which is why he runs away at the first sign of something difficult in his life--the possibility of losing Gyatso.

Compare this to Katara, who was born in a hostile landscape amongst a struggling people.  She is, as far as she knows, the last of her kind, with no teacher to guide her.  She suffers a traumatic loss young, and it is *explicitly stated in the show* that she stepped up to fill her mother's shoes at what, 7? 8? While her family grieved.  Her father leaves, possibly to never return, when she is 11.  She is laden with responsibility beyond her years.  Her time and energy are not for her to spend on herself--she has too much to do.  *She is not a child*

So of *course* she starts mothering this wide-eyed cheerful boy, who got taken away by the same people who murdered her mother within a day of meeting him.  He's the Avatar but he's also an innocent kid in need of protection and care.

Now, does that mean she never acts immature?  No--she *is* still a teenager, and prone to occasional bouts of typical teenager dumbassery. (see: waterbending scroll).  But she does most of the chores and nags the others about their misbehavior and tries to console them when when they're down. She literally poses as Aang's mother at a PTA meeting.  For fucks sake, at the end of Season 2, when she's holding a dead Aang sprawled in her arms and looking pleadingly at the sky, there is NO WAY you can convince me all those art students storyboarding that scene WEREN'T making an intentional reference to *La Pieta*--You know, that super famous statue where Mary is cradling her dead Savior son (before he gets resurrected) and that is widely considered one of the most poignant examples of MOTHERLY LOVE AND GRIEF in the whole WORLD.

And I don't know about you... but it's really, really creepy to me for a *romantic* relationship to result from something with that much mother/son energy deliberately coded into the show.

The Lack Of Development

At what point does Katara reciprocate the crush? It's very well established that Aang has a crush, of course.  But we've got 61 episodes and basically no definitive evidence that Katara feels anything for Aang beyond platonic affection.  There's the time a fortune teller says she'll marry a powerful bender and she's like, 'huh' (let's ignore the fact that Aang at the time is like the only powerful bender she really knows).  There's the time she (almost?) kisses Aang in a cave because, you know, she thinks they might stay lost forever and starve to death if she doesn't (romantic!)  

The other two times Aang kisses her--she's just kind of shocked after the first one, and gets mad after the second one because she *had just expressed a desire to not do so seconds before*  And the fourth kiss is in the literal last 30 seconds of the show, with no dialogue, no lead-up, just a fade to black "welp this is happening, aaaand, SCENE."  It very, very much has the feeling of "hero gets the prize/girl" instead of "two people who have been mutually longing for each other come together", and that's really, really gross to me.  It does such a disservice to both their characters, but Katara's especially.  It feels like she had no agency in this result, that they got together because Aang wanted it so much, but it matters so little what she wanted that we don’t even need to bother showing her wanting it.

The Stunting/Regression of Character Growth

What does Aang sacrifice? The answer?  Nothing.  'Now, wait a minute', I can hear you say, 'he lost his entire people and culture!  How can you say he's lost nothing!'  I didn't say he's never suffered *loss*.  But having something taken away from you and giving something up for another's sake are two entirely different things.  Aang, in the end, gets everything he wanted--the girl he wanted, his pacifist morals intact and unchallenged, his culture eventually restored.  Hell, he even somehow gets the Avatar State, despite never explaining how he manages it when it was EXPLICITLY STATED he couldn't do so without letting go of certain attachments.  Wow, guess it turns out he never needed to sort out all of his emotional trauma to acheive inner peace and enlightenment after all--just needed a good acupressure session to get those chakras flowin'! One quick magic whack to the back!

I don't think 'the hero is always right' is a good message.  The theme of 'just because you want something doesn't necessarily mean it's what's good for you, or others' is a pretty recurring theme throughout the rest of the show, and having the universe warp itself to accomodate the beliefs of the protagonist  (lookin' at you, deus-ex-machina turtle) so he is always right, no matter what, means that he never has to reevaluate his beliefs, never really has to *grow* as a character.  

Kya, Ursa, Yue, Iroh, Hakoda, Katara, Sokka, Zuko--hell, even Toph, who makes the decision to let Appa get taken so she can save her friends...

Over and over it's shown that Love is Sacrifice, and I think Aang should have been shown making some personal sacrifices for the sake of the world, instead of showing that the power of clinging to his absolutist morals is enough to solve all his problems.

I understand why the writers, despite showing many characters die off-screen, hesitated to show Aang killing someone, even someone unredeemably evil, because there would be no way to do it OFF screen, and it IS still a kid's show.  (On that note:  couldn’t they have just somehow...idk, trapped Ozai in the Spirit World or something?  Have him literally sent to not-hell?)  

BUT, that doesn't mean they couldn't have shown Aang doing something that made him realize that, as the Avatar, even if a necessary action went against his personal beliefs or wasn't what he wanted, his needs are superceded by the needs of the world he claims to love.  He ignores this in S2 and nearly pays the ultimate price... but it's never properly addressed again. And thus, because that never happens, I honestly don't consider 13-yr-old Aang all that much more mature than 12-yr-old Aang, and I think that's a waste of potential.  

And as for character regression...

Katara? Master Waterbender and war-hero?  Who grabbed onto the first opportunity to explore the world beyond her tiny home, who fought for every scrap of skill and recognition she had--against a world determined to see her as lesser because of her race, her gender, her age?  Who never backed down from what she thought was right, even when her own family and friends didn't support her?  You're telling me that, according to canon, *that same Katara* was perfectly content to retreat to the South Pole and do nothing of note for the next 70 years except for being a good little housewife and healer?  Get the fuck out of here with that misogynistic horseshit.

IN CONCLUSION

I could go on.  I could talk about the unequal division of emotional labor between the two--with Katara constantly having to be mindful of not upsetting Aang too much lest he fly away and/or have an Avatar State tantrum.  With Katara constantly reassuring Aang, but Aang, for instance, offering unsolicited advice about revenge instead of trying to understand what she needed, or kissing her without asking--twice!--and expecting them to be together without him ever even asking if that's what she wanted.  I could talk about Katara not taking Aang to task for things he does wrong and Aang not being willing to see that Katara isn't perfect--how he puts her on a pedastal and Katara is afraid to leave it and break his illusions by being her real self.

But ultimately, what it boils down to, it that the most unrealistic thing about AtLA was not the magic, or the spirits, or the hybrid animals.

No, the most unbelievable thing about this show is that the ending was ruined just because more than creating a consistent thematic and emotional throughline, a couple of white dudes wanted to vicariously live out all of their "hot-for-babysitter" childhood fantasies.

And that's all I have to say about that.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part one) Fandom: Supernatural AU Main characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually)  Word count: ±4350 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part one: Y/N arrives at the airport, but getting to her new internship is easier said than done, when no one shows to pick her up. Meanwhile, at the ranch, Dean learns that his uncle Bobby hired a new intern and assigned her to the head wrangler, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: ‘Along The Way’ - Sunday Kids (check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify!) Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @coffee-obsessed-writer and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish for helping me take this story to a higher level. 

Ride With Me Masterlist

     “This is just great…”

     After a long, turbulent flight next to a rather large and sweaty nervous flyer - who had way too much garlic for lunch, by the way - Y/N thought she was done. But now that she’s waiting outside Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with no one in sight to pick her up, it seems that the universe isn’t going to stop toying with her just yet.

     To top it off, the weather decided to throw a curveball as well. What happened to the lovely sun rays and dry heat from the brochure? Right now it’s so humid that the fabric of her clothing clings to her skin as if it’s trying to hold on for dear life, and to make matters worse, rain begins to fall from the clouded sky. Right; monsoon season. Oh, well. At least the entrance of the arrival hall offers the traveler some shelter.

     With a sigh she sits down on her oversized suitcase, scanning her surroundings for a driver. She should have picked up something to eat in the arrival hall; she could eat a horse, as a figure of speech that is. Obviously, Y/N would never eat a horse, since she loves them more than anything. They are the reason why she touched down in Phoenix in the first place.      From the age of four, she’s been riding the majestic animals. Being on the back of a horse is one of the first memories she can recall, now that she thinks of it. When she was a little girl and was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, the answer was always the same: she wanted to be a professional rider with her own ranch. 

     That’s the dream. No, that’s the goal.

     Despite her unconditional love for these noble creatures and an overload of motivation to execute this plan, her parents encouraged their daughter to go to college. She even got her master's degree, but truth be told, all she ever wants to do is ride. So when she graduated a few weeks ago, Y/N thought that was exactly what she was going to do from that point on. Her father wasn’t impressed with her business plan, though, and decided that he was only going to lend her the money to start up her own company if she would complete half a year of ranch work. ‘No quitting, no complaints’, is what he said.

     Clearly, he’s underestimating her, because how hard could ranch life possibly be? Sure, in the past she spent most of her time riding and not so much mucking out stables. After all, employees at the boarding facility did that for the clients. But she had insight, management skills, and other great characteristics that will help run a business. What are six months of hard labor going to contribute, besides a good waistline?

     Although she believes her father’s plan is completely unnecessary, she is going with it. Those twenty-six weeks will pass by in the blink of an eye. It’s gonna be a walk in the park. Smooth sailing, right? Except for the fact that she’s already stranded, alone, and with no clue where to go. Hopefully, the rocky flight to the desert wasn’t an omen for what is yet to come. 

    After fifteen minutes of waiting, she takes out her phone again. For a second her thumb lingers on the speed dial that would put a call through to her father, but then she looks up the number of the ranch owner in her email and calls him instead. Running back to Mom and Dad is not going to deliver the message of an independent woman who is ready for the big world. Looks like she will have to dig herself out of this mess. Arizona might not have been her Dad’s best idea, but she’s here now. Pride forbids her to give him, or all the others who are skeptical, the satisfaction of being right. 

     “Bobby, are ya gonna pick up the damn phone or what?”

     Dean sets his bottle down on the bar next to the buzzing phone. He glances at the screen, unable to identify the number, and looks up again, searching the saloon for his uncle. At the long table in the center of the lounge, the man in his mid-sixties is enjoying a game of cards and a glass of whiskey, accompanied by a few members of the crew. Bobby hasn’t heard Dean, too busy laughing over the dirty joke Ash just told. Right when his nephew is about to call out his name again, the phone on the wooden counter stops ringing. Oh well, if it’s important they will call again, right?      Even though he feels drained from last days' events, he will not let anything take away this carefree feeling. Together with Jo, Benny and a couple of regular guests, they moved the young cattle from the summer pasture up in the Superstition Mountains back to the ranch. It took two days to locate the herd, but eventually, they found them at Weaver’s Needle.      After hours spent in the saddle and camping out for several nights, they all needed a shower, a good meal and a cold beer. Bringing the cattle in is one of the highlights of the season and worth a celebration. It didn't take long before wranglers, workers and tourists gathered in the saloon to celebrate. The place hasn’t been this crowded in years and smile appears on Dean’s face as he takes it all in. An upbeat country song - that he recognizes as ‘Along The Way’ by the Sunday Kids - fills the air together with growling laughter and cigarette smoke. Cheers rise when the beer bottles are heaved into the air, overruling the sound of billiard balls colliding on the pool table. 

     He lets a sigh slip from his lips when he glances aside at Ellen, who just brought back a full tray of empty glasses. As she sets the load down on the counter to give her arms a rest, his aunt smiles, witnessing Dean’s pleased expression.

     “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” she asks.      Dean nods, circling the bar to grab two new bottles of Corona from the cooler. “It’s a good night.”      Ellen grants her eyes another look at her saloon as she takes the beer that is handed over; she can only agree. “It sure is.”

     They toast to that and take a swig, but before Dean can swallow his drink, the phone on the counter starts ringing again. He guesses it apparently is important and calls out Bobby’s name, a little louder this time.

     “I’m in the middle of a poker game, son,” he replies, not looking up from his cards.      “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy,” Dean notifies as he approaches the old man, noticing the pair of queens in his hand.      “Is it ringing, really? How come I can’t hear the damn thing?”      Ellen scoffs from behind the counter. “Maybe because you need to start using your God-forsaken hearing aids.”      “Woman, my ears work just fine,” he returns, continuing to mutter much softer to prevent his wife from hearing him. “I can hear you jappin’, can’t I?”

     Dean - who did pick up on his words - smirks in amusement and checks on his aunt if she really didn’t hear her husband, but when she looks from one to the other confused, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Meanwhile, Bobby grumpily turns his cards upside down on the table surface and takes the phone. The ranch owner adjusts his worn baseball cap a little as he looks down at the screen, puzzled, obviously not sure how to work the piece of modern technology.      “How the hell do I pick up?” he wonders out loud.      “You swipe it, Dad.”

     Jo walks over, interrupting her game of pool momentarily, and leans over her father’s shoulder, still holding her cue stick. With a simple movement, she lets her finger slide across the touchscreen. Somewhat clumsily, Bobby presses the phone against his ear, letting out a hesitant ‘hello?’ as if he’s not completely sure if the little magic trick actually worked.

     “You really had to give him your old iPhone, huh?” Dean sniggers when Jo walks past him, back to the pool table to finish the game.      “Anything’s better than that old Nokia,” his cousin returns, throwing him a look as she whips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “That thing was prehistoric.”

   Dean grins at the remark and observes the game that is in motion on the green quarried slate. Jo is acing it, it’s her turn to shoot the eight-ball in already, while her opponent still has several balls on the play field. The petite blonde positions herself behind the black number eight, throwing a seducing glance at the slick-looking young man on the other side of the table. With a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes, she allows her low-cut tank top to show a little more cleavage as she bends over. It doesn’t go unnoticed with the men in her company, but unlike the guest that she’s reeling in, Dean has the urge to cover up his little cousin. It’s not just a game of pool that these youngsters are going to be playing tonight.

     “Sure you want to aim it like that?” Dean asks, amusedly waiting for her to pick up on the double meaning.      A deadly glare comes his way and his smirk reaches even wider. Not granting him another second of her time, Jo focuses on the final ball again and pockets it, winning the game. Victoriously, she holds up her hand in front of tonight’s loser, who reluctantly hands her a twenty-dollar bill. A chuckle escapes Dean’s throat and he takes another swig of the sparkling yellow brew called Corona. As he lowers the bottle, the cowboy’s attention shifts to his uncle, who is still on the phone.

     “- I’m very sorry, It’s been really hectic today with the cattle comin’ in and it slipped my mind completely.”      The apologetic tone in Bobby’s voice piques Dean’s interest. Jo joins him, leaning against the table while resting her elbows on the rails.      “Any idea what that’s about?” Dean wonders, but she shakes her head.      “- that’s no problem. I’ll send someone to pick you up right away.”

     After having made that promise, Bobby eyes his employees, then his wife and daughter, hoping that someone is sober enough to keep his obligation. It triggers Dean to check with his friend, Benny. The brawny wrangler answers the unspoken question by shaking his head, however; he’s not volunteering, and neither is Garth. The skinny stable boy now turns to Ash, catching the ranch hand peeking into Bobby’s cards while his boss is occupied, and he elbows him. Shrugging his shoulders the guy who is rocking a mullet lets out an innocent ‘what?’ under his breath. It’s obvious, though, that Ash is in no shape to drive, since he already drank half a crate of his favorite Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It’s heading towards eleven PM and after an exhausting couple of days, no one is thrilled to drive out to Phoenix. Not to mention that the amount of liquor they’ve consumed might actually jeopardize getting the person Bobby is talking to from A to B.

     “Balls!” the boss curses after he hangs up.      “Forgot somethin’?” Ellen assumes from what she picked up, as she continues to polish a glass behind the bar.      “Yeah, that new intern from Maine,” he mutters as he gets up.      Ellen’s jaw drops, staring at her husband in shock. “You didn’t! That poor gal is at the airport right now?”      “Landed forty-five minutes ago,” Bobby admits, embarrassed.

     “Whoa, wait! New intern?” Dean’s eyes slide from Bobby to Ellen and back, unable to follow.      “Did I forget to mention that? She’ll be under your supervision,” Bobby breaks to him.      “What? I wasn’t even notified?!” he exclaims, his voice pitching a little higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, don’t be such a drama queen,” Jo scoffs, placing her hand on her hip as she looks at him sideways. “Like you would mind a chick working under you.”

     Stunned by her bold comment, Dean cocks his head back as he stares at her wide-eyed; she’s got some nerve! He is about to counter when Jo’s mother already intervenes.      “Joanna Beth!” she warns.      “Oh, come on. It’s the truth, ain’t it?” her daughter mumbles, stubborn as ever.      Ellen doesn’t answer. Instead, her attention shifts to the man who is moving towards the double doors. “And where do you think you’re going?”      Bobby turns around, a confused furrow on his forehead. “Well, to pick up the gal, of course,” he returns, stating the obvious.      “Like hell you are! You had three glasses of whiskey, Robert Singer. You ain’t getting behind the wheel and that’s that,” Ellen decides with her shoulders back, arms crossed and eyes stern.

     Annoyed, but smart enough not to fight the strong-minded woman he married thirty years ago, he addresses Dean with a hopeful look.      “Don’t look at me, this is my fourth beer,” he returns, holding his hand up innocently.      “Same here, boss,” Benny copies, his southern accent thick on his voice.

      “I’ll go.” Jo straightens her back and takes her cowboy hat from the corner of the pool table.      “You sure, honey?” her mother checks with her.      “I had one drink, Mom. You’re not gonna find a more sober person on the ranch at this hour,” she claims bored. “Keys?”      That last demand was meant for Dean.      “Keys to what?” he questions, furrowing his brow.      An eye roll, a sigh. Jo’s typical routine when she’s done with her cousin. “Your car, asshat.”      “What’s wrong with yours?”      “I have a flat. Now, are you gonna hand me the keys, or what?” she says smartly.

    Jo holds up her hand and with a reluctant grunt, Dean tosses the keys of his precious ‘67 Chevrolet El Camino pickup. Skillfully she catches it, beams at him in triumph, and makes her way to the double doors.      “If I find a scratch on her, I’ll make you regret it!” he shouts, loud enough for her to hear.      “I’d like to see you try!” she scoffs.

     A few moments later, the V8 big block under the hood of his beloved car starts up. Jo doesn’t even bother to warm up his baby before she races down the dirt road towards the big city down in the valley, skitting gravel from under the tires. Dean cringes when he hears her take off; someone’s gonna pay for that.

      He will deal with her when she gets back. Until that time Dean settles down at the long table, watching the poker game. Obviously, Ash folds the moment Bobby raises the stakes, leaving the ranch owner with fewer chips than he hoped to win.      “Can I talk to you for a second?” Dean requests before Garth starts dealing the cards.

     Bobby looks at his nephew from under his cap, observing him for a moment. He knows that kid. He spent a few years of his childhood on the ranch and the young man has been working here since the age of fourteen. The boy is like a son to him, so no wonder he can read Dean like a book. Something is bothering the wrangler, and so he gets off his chair and moves away from the crowded table. Shadowed by the cowboy, Bobby heads towards the corner of the bar, seeking a little privacy. They sit down on the bar stools, facing Ellen on the other side of the counter. Her husband doesn’t bother asking her to pour him a drink, because she is on it before he barely has the chance to settle in his seat.

     “Here you go, boys.” She puts down the filled whiskey tumblers on the varnished wood.      Dean thanks her and takes the glass in his hand, clanking it into Bobby’s, who mutters ‘cheers’ as he does so. After watching Ellen enter the kitchen, the older man shifts his gaze to the man accompanying him.      “What’s on your mind, son?” he asks.

     Dean adjusts himself a little, preparing for the upcoming conversation. He doesn’t like to question his uncle, who also happens to be his boss. This is the part where it gets tricky to keep work and family separated. He has to speak up, though, because lately, he has the oppressive feeling that Bobby might not trust him entirely when it regards the management of the ranch. Obviously, the owner calls the shots, but he used to involve Dean whenever decisions needed to be made. It’s bothering him and he needs to get it off his chest.      “Why didn’t you tell me you hired an intern?” he wonders.

     Bobby grunts softly, averting his eyes to his drink as he circles the tumbler  on its edge. He knew this talk was coming and instantly regrets keeping Dean in the dark about recent developments. His nephew is an exceptional horseman, loyal to his family, a trustworthy worker. A little relentless when it comes to risks and danger, and yes, an impulsive womanizer, but there’s one thing he isn’t and that’s stupid. He’s Bobby’s right hand for a reason, he should have known he would pick up on something.

     “Because I knew you wouldn’t approve,” he admits, taking a sip.      Dean scoffs at that. “If you knew I wouldn’t be okay with it, why did you hire her?”      “Because she’s free help, Dean.”      “Is she any good? Did you look into her?” His head wrangler eyes him, trying to make out how thorough he has been in his research.      It doesn’t take long before his uncle’s guilty expression gives it away.     “You didn’t even interview her, did ya? You just said ‘yes’? Look, I know things have been a little difficult since Gabriel left, but we’re managing fine now,” he assures him. “Educating a wannabe cowgirl is actually gonna cost me valuable time and there’s a lot of shit that needs sortin’. We have to bring in the two-year-old stallions, the calves need branding, the young stock has to be moved to the winter pastures--”      Bobby interrupts Dean’s ramble by holding up his hand to shush him, intervening the moment he has an opening. “You don’t have to worry about the young stock, I’m selling it.”      Stunned, Dean stares at him. And when was Bobby planning to tell him this?      “Why the hell would you do that?” he questions, unpleasantly surprised.        Before his boss can answer, Dean can make an estimated guess already. The concerned look in Bobby’s eyes when they meet his green ones confirms it; money is tight, very tight. The crisis has laid the ranch in a thick suffocating smog of debt and so far it doesn’t look like the air is going to clear anytime soon. Hay prices are sky high while their stock sells for half the price they used to go for. It has been hard to keep their heads above water, but so far they’ve been able to ride out the economic recession, so Dean thought. But now that Bobby’s telling him that the one-year-old cattle has to go, it dawns on him how serious the situation is. 

      His jaw clenches as he observes the ice in his glass for a moment, pondering in silence. And just like that, the careless happiness he was experiencing a moment ago, is gone.      “You wanna sell all of them? Or just the steers?” he checks.      “All of them,” Bobby sighs, downing his drink.       “How you wanna handle that next year? Buy in again? It’s gonna cost you a lot,” Dean responds, trying to think of another way.      “Right now, all we need to worry about is surviving this year, son.” Bobby pauses, now comes the bit that he wanted to avoid. Drastic measures are necessary for the survival of their home. Maybe the term ‘sacrifice’ is a better way to describe what he’s about to announce. “That’s why I need you to let one of the wranglers go.”      Shocked, Dean stares at the man in his company. Not looking him in the eye, Bobby forks his fingers together, resting his elbows on the counter.      “You want me to fire one of my men?” Dean recaps in disbelief. “No, let me correct that, you want me to fire one of my friends?”      “What you do with your colleagues in your spare time should not influence a layoff,” the ranch owner counters.      But his nephew disagrees strongly. “That’s bullshit and you know it. These guys are practically family, Bobby.”      “You think I don’t know that, boy? I ain’t happy about it either, damn it! You think I’m proud of having to send one of those guys home?”

     He nods at the workers, who are laughing loudly as Ash folds his tattooed arms around the mountain of chips that are stacked on the table, reeling in the win. Neither he, Benny, or Garth have a clue what is hanging over their heads, but it’s probably better that way. Only now does the head wrangler understand why Bobby didn’t tell him before. The poor man simply didn’t want to burden him.

     “I have to. For the future of this place, Dean. And I wish I didn’t have to ask you to do this, but you know your crew best. You know who’s most needed and who we can miss,” Bobby explains with empathy.      Dean wants to fight this, he wants to object and argue in every way possible. Who he can miss? He can’t miss any of his men. Shit, after they let Gabe go, they were barely able to round up the daily routine before dinner. But he knows how this works and he knows Bobby would do anything to make sure that the boys can keep their jobs. There is no right or wrong answer here, every option behind any door is a bad one. There’s nothing the boss can do about it and Dean understands that.      “I know. I’ll handle it. Just give me a couple of days and I’ll let you know,” he assures, patting his uncle on the shoulder.    Bobby nods, but is unable to break a smile. He’s carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, go figure when you have to play God like that. It’s exactly the reason why Dean took on the task to fire one of the workers, hoping that it would relieve his surrogate father a bit.

     “I need another drink,” Bobby mutters, reaching for the Jack Daniels behind the counter.      Dean checks on his uncle from the corner of his eye, but then puts his glass down next to his. “You and me both. That intern better be good. Do you know anything about her?”      “I know she’s a reining rider, pretty damn talented too. Not much experience in ranch work, though,” the ranch owner tells him.       “Blonde? Brunette? Cute?” Dean smirks as he fishes for more information, but Bobby doesn’t reply with a straight answer.      “Oh, hell no. Not under my roof,” his father figure decides, having seen this play out numerous times already. “She’s staying for six months so tie a knot in it and keep it in your pants for once.”

     “If she sticks around that long.” The young man scoffs, triggering Bobby to glare at him. “What? We had plenty who went home crying within a week. This work ain’t for everyone.”      “I know you’re not happy with the situation, but do me a favor and just give her a chance, will ya?” Bobby pressures. “She seemed like a go-getter. She might surprise you.”      “Maybe. We’ll see,” Dean downs his glass and slides off his stool.

     Bobby watches his nephew walk away from him. It takes only a second before the charismatic cowboy put on his poker face, just in time, because Garth signals him to come over. So he does, but his next step shows a hint of hesitation. He turns on the heels of his boots, the thumb of his left hand casually hooked behind his belt buckle.      “What’s her name?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes a little.      Bobby huffs and casts his gaze at him. “Her name is Y/N,” he states. “Y/N L/N.”

     Dean raises his brow, nodding satisfied. Y/N. Sounds good, has a nice ring to it. Curious he imagines what kind of person would fit a name like that and as a perky smile starts to form on his lips, he joins the guys.

     Bobby can spot the up-to-no-good sparkle in his nephew’s green eyes and he can’t help but smile into his refilled glass of Jack. He can point a parenting finger at Dean all he wants, but if this intern is his type, he’s going to charm her right into his bed like he has done with so many women already. Oh, well. We’ve all been young, he thinks to himself. Dean being a wrangler only stacks up the number of girls dwelling at the pretty boy’s feet and he never failed to take full advantage of that. Who can blame him, really? He hasn’t committed to anyone yet, why not make the best of it? It has cost the ranch owner some money, though, since a client or two never returned after getting their hearts broken. The boy better listen this time.

     For a moment he takes in what’s playing before his eyes. His wife having a good conversation with a group of guests, the crew gathered around the long table where Ash just revealed a full house, causing the men to go out of their minds. It’s a nice moment that will make a great memory. Bobby can only hope that those moments keep coming, because no matter how precious, no man can live on memories alone.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part two here

[amenomiko]

Thank you for the request ❤. No I don't find it uncomfortable. It seems interesting.

In this story I will make that she is pregnant before travelling back to the past. She went to Kyoto to escape from her abusive husband and planning to go to her parents' house, but then she is transported back to 500 years ago.

When she's arrived, she is already 6 months pregnant. This makes the Warlord (especially Hideyoshi) goes easy on her (so practically she didn't go to the war and such, or even riding the horse in such amazing speed).

MC is still MC and her personality, but with a secret, painful backstory that will be explored as her time goes by with the warlords.

Warlords Chosen : Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Masamune, Ieyasu, Kenshin, Shingen and Sasuke

Nobunaga

Eventhough she is pregnant, she is a brave woman. This what makes him attracted to her. Brave and not like those typical delicate woman of her time.

She is someone else's wife. But that didn't stop him from flirting with her. However as he locked her movement by pushing her onto the wall..

She started to tremble in fear, which surprised Nobunaga as her tears started to fall, apologizing non-stop to him.

Ever since then, he had stopped teasing her that way. He learned to respect her, and come to love the baby in her belly as his own. When they started to love one another, she is afraid whenever he wanted to undress her.

After a moment of reassurance, she slowly undress her Yukata, revealing her old scars.

Nobunaga was fuming when she told him the whole story. Right at that moment he swears that he will protect her no matter what the cost.

As he learned on how wormhole works, he had followed MC to the future (for her to give birth there) and with Sasuke's help, he track her ex-husband down.

To end his life completely.

Hideyoshi

He is reluctant at first. Typical Hideyoshi to be alert and sensitive and all.

But seeing her pitiful state, it took only a while for him to break the ice in his heart.

Why? MC has a habit of apologizing over a smallest thing, asking for forgiveness and a repeated words of "I'm sorry..! Please, please, please,..! I'm sorry!!"

He had loved her ever since then. He wanted to protect her at first, yet the feeling slowly emerge into a new kind of feeling, other than just a mere concern over her.

His calm and gentle demeanor makes her feel at ease and safe. And so she is the first one to tell him, why she has always been afraid even over a simplest thing.

When he knows, he was shaking. Shaking with anger. He gradually calm himself down, then automatically proposed to her right away. Swearing he will protect her forever.

Few months after the marriage, she gave birth. He loved the child just like his own--he is more than a happy father. The child looks exactly like MC, and he is glad for that. So she won't bring any trauma in her daily life.

Masamune

He had helped her a lot.

They had started as friends, and Masamune had made her happy throughout their friendship.

He find her laugh is more precious than anything, he wanted to keep it there, forever, and he will make sure that she won't be afraid or traumatized again.

He have experienced when MC suddenly faint from the fatigue that she got from her lack of sleep. Her nightmares has been eating her from the inside, to the point as the month due had come, she is overwhelmed by depression. He have seen how she jolted awake and cried for help when he watch over her.

"It's him.. The father of this poor child. He had come to kill me even in my dreams..!" She sobbed and at that moment, he finally get to understand all the reasons behind her tiredness, and.. The scars and swollen injuries on some part of her arms.

He swore that if he could find the previous generations of that man.. He will make sure he will kill the whole clan so he will NEVER exist AT ALL.

"Unh..! M-masamune..! The baby is..!"

Her gasp of pain brings him back to reality. Screw that demon. Now it is his duty to protect her, and her child.

"Hey, Lass?" He brush among her hair locks before taking her hand in his as she is ready to push.

"Marry me after you give birth to my child okay? I will be here to make sure you give birth to it safely so for you to be my wife will come true." He kissed her as she whispered a "Yes", and stayed with her until the baby is born.

Ieyasu

At first he find it annoying.

To appear out of nowhere, and with an unborn child even.

He choose not to get involved. But when there's one time she had screamed for help even when Masamune is joking by raising a hand to hit her playfully from their teasing to each other, he throw that thoughts away.

She had been abused by her ex-husband even before her marriage with him. Ieyasu clench his fingers tight when she showed them the bruises all over her arms and legs, and some huge scars on her back that is almost similar to a war scars.. Ieyasu find himself attached to her.

Because he had the same past.

Ever since then, he unconsciously protected her, making him out of his character by nagging at her just like Hideyoshi when she's about to carry heavy items.

When she chooses to go to the war to help around, despite the due is coming near, his heart nearly jump out. She insisted, saying "I couldn't imagine if those who can't be save.. How about their children who are waiting for them to come home."

He clench his fists as she rub her belly, "At least for this one.. It doesn't have to know about its father. My baby have me--unlike the children who are waiting for their own, who have a loving father--that is why I wanted to help, I-"

"I get it already. Just stay in the camp and never leave it, you got me? And another thing--"

"Mmmf-"

He pulled away from the kiss. "It do have a father, MC." Her orbs widen, surprised but confused to his words. "H-huh? But he's- he is not--" He cupped her cheeks in his hand, resting his forehead on hers. With a blush on his face, he continued, "...I will make sure I come back to you and to our child safely. So wait for me."

He then rushed into the battle, aiding the other warlords. As for her, she have helped to tend to the wounded as much as she could. Then at the end of the day, they have won, joyous screams echoed the whole field. Again, as for her..

KLANG! The grip on the bowl of water in her hand fell as she moan from pain.

"Ieyasu-sama..! The Princess!!"

He had immediately return back to her, aiding her for her labor. Now all of them are nervous of the war between life and death and as the sunrise come..

A melodic cry fill the camp. He is the one who hold the baby as it come out of her, hear it cry in his ears, craddle it in his arms and taking care of MC throughout the process.

"It's a girl, MC. Our beautiful princess." He kissed her forehead and hug MC close to his chest. He look at the little bundle, feeling the enormous amount of love growing inside him, swearing an oath that he will protect both of them forever.

Kenshin

He didn't bother about her at first, as for the hate of towards woman. Despite that, the moment she trembled from his touch, his heart hurt so much. It reminded him of Isehime, so fragile and so delicate.

He came to be possessive over her the moment he had saw her scars and old wounds, more of the reason to cage her.

But the thoughts of him to think that she is similar to Isehime had failed when he saw the fire of bravery in her eyes. No matter how broken she is, she is willing to fight for the sake of her loved ones, and this is why he came to love her for who she is, and not because of his old lover.

The moment she went out from the prison of him, the more he is worried about her well being. She may be strong, but she would always have nightmares about her ex-husband. Kenshin swear that once the wormhole has come, he will go to the future and kill that man and no mercy shall be given to him. And he did. MC didn't stop him even though she is against violence.

He loved her child as his own even before she gave birth, being protective the little princess after she is born, sharing some knowledge of swords fighting with her so she won't face the same trauma like her mother and she can protect herself too, and her siblings that is soon to be born into this world.

Shingen

First of all, the only thing that he know about her is that.. She is mysterious from where she had come from, saving Nobunaga and such.

The name of her husband is unknown, more like, she refuse to tell. She will change the topic whenever it touches about her marriage life.

He pitied her, wanted to protect her. He admit that he fell in love at a first sight, despite her being married. Yes. It was pity. But not anymore as he came to know the real story of her and how she ended up in the era.

They've come to love each other, and so is he to her unborn child. She had brought him to the future to cure his sickness, and he was there to help her with her labor.

With the help of Sasuke and her bravery, he accompanied her throughout the process of report for her ex-husband, for the sake of the child's future and her own.

Shingen had punched him so hard when he had the chance, it was very bad to the point his jaw mislocated (ouch).

"That's what you get for treating a Goddess with your violence."

Luck was on their side afterall, especially when they had returned back to Sengoku Era, making the ex-husband jailed in rehabilitation centre for trying to sue against someone that didn't exist (in the modern era), making the people think that he has gone crazy.

Shingen is married with MC happily, raising their eldest son with full of love.

Sasuke

He had loved her for 4 years, waiting to meet with her again.

Eventhough he is surprised that she's already with a child, his feelings for her never changed. He loved her despite the child is not his; he even find himself fuming when he knew the reason she came to Kyoto in the first place.

He vowed to protect her for the rest of his life. She deserves so, he thought. She deserves it. For someone who is in need of a desperate help like her, still had the empathy and kindness within her to save him when the wormhole had came back then.

When she knew his feelings for her, she was afraid. "My body has tainted with that man's touch. I.. I can't, Sasuke.. I.." She trembled, hugging all over her swollen belly with her arms, "He forced me. At times I can't help but wanted to end my life but.. My baby is innocent..! It is innocent, Sasuke..! I- nnh-"

He kissed her. Washing all the pain away. "Let me help you, MC. Allow me to help you. Let's get through this together. I loved you so much, as well as your baby too."

He had helped with the labor when the time has come, he had eased her pain by doing water birth so the process will be slightly better. He knew how afraid she were, and to avoid those depressing thoughts, he make sure that he is there all the time.

"She looks just like you, MC." He smiled, kissing the bundle in his arms. "I'm glad.." She whispered, hugging Sasuke to nuzzle together with their child.

[drenchen-gang]

Gurjin and Brea's daughter oneshot -Tieraney

Okay I did it!!! Finally.

Brea's Labor thing

As the pains of contractions overwhelmed her, Gurjin listened in agony as his wife labored to bring forth the life of their first childling. Her moans and sobs tore through his soul like a blade, and suddenly he could not stand sitting outside the labor tent for another moment.

"No, I can't do this, I'm going in," he said to Rian, standing up from his place beside his best friend.

Rian caught him by the cape of his cloak, "Gurjin, you know fathers aren't allowed--" but Gurjin was already ducking under the tent flap and sealing it behind himself. Rian took a deep breath, sat back, and took a big gulp of his ale as his son ran after Drenchen childlings playing a game of Gelflings Versus Skeksis.

Inside the tent, there were herbs and potions Gurjin had never seen before, bowls of hot water and dozens upon dozens of towels. Brea's brow was wet with perspiration, tears streamed down her cheeks as she rolled her body onto her side to prepare to push.

"Gurjin!" His mother snapped, "You should not be here, it is blasphemy in the face of the three sisters!" The Blue Stone Healer, as his mother was called, was serious about her work. Midwifery was only a small portion of the medical work the Maudra did for their clan. Veterinary work, trauma recovery, and minor wounds took up most of her time. But she would be damned before she missed the birth of her first grandchild, or let a lesser midwife attend the birth.

"I want to be here for her," he said, kneeling beside his wife and stroking her smooth, straight white hair. He brushed a few wet strands away from her sweat-and-tears streaked face and planted a kiss on her forehead, "you're doing wonderful, my love," he said tenderly.

She gripped the front of his jerkin so hard her knuckles, impossible as it sounded, turned whiter than they already were. "Gurjin I swear to Thra itself I'm never doing this again!" She screamed, "oh, Aughra's Eye this is horrible, I think I'm dying!"

"You're not dying, dear," Maudra Laesid said, gently stroking Brea's hand until she let go of Gurjin, "it is simply the pains of bringing life into the world. I went through it thrice, once I had to birth two in one night! We women are the most magical force of Thra, able to create life and nurse our childlings until they are able to feed themselves." Her soothing voice did not seem to change Brea's mind.

"Never!" She wrenched her head back and screamed like a wounded landstrider, "Never again!"

Gurjin exchanged a horrified look with his mother, "I see now why men aren't allowed," he said, but nevertheless he stayed.

Suddenly his mother's hand disappeared below Brea's birthing gown, "It is time. She has reached the final stage," she said, withdrawing her bloody hand and wiping it clean with a wet towel. "Brea, my dear, it is time. Gurjin!" She looked at him as a commander would look at a soldier, "make yourself useful and bring me a bowl of that water and a stack of towels! And when you've done that hold her leg up! She needs something strong to bear down on when she pushes and my strength is waning in my age."

Gurjin did as his mother told him, and once he had done that he held onto Brea's leg and leaned back, allowing her to bear all her weight down on him as she pushed. He had never felt more useful, more proud. He was helping his wife bring their childling into the great song.

Brea screamed in pain, and she cried. But Gurjin knew she would be okay. He had heard countless women in Sog scream exactly the same way, with his mother there to help them. She was not alone, and she was not the first nor the last to yell and carry on this way.

"One more, big push! You're doing great my dear!" Maudra Laesid said, and Gurjin beamed at his mother. She did not return his smile, and he faltered for a moment, something was wrong.

After the last push he saw what it was.

Their baby was born, but she was not crying. She was not moving.

"What's wrong?" Gurjin asked, and Brea tried to sit up but winced in pain and struggled to look from where she was laying. "Why isn't she crying?"

"Its a girl?" Brea asked, looking tired. "What's wrong with our baby?" She cried, looking down at the pale childling that laid at her bottom.

"I do not know," Maudra Laesid said, keeping her composure, but Gurjin knew she was panicking inside. He knew the look on her face. Blue light radiated from her hands and she placed them on the baby girl's chest. "Her heart is beating. She lives, but she does not breathe. Yet. I will do what I can."

Gurjin sobbed as he watched his mother work with all her might to bring his daughters lungs to life. It felt like ages, but after what could only have been a minute, his daughter took her first deep breath and let out the most ear-ringing, wonderful cry he had ever heard. He reached down as his mother finished wrapping the darling girl in a warm towel and cradled her in his arms, she was a tiny little thing. She was pale like Brea, with a hint of clay green upon her cheeks and brow, her arms and legs and little fat stomach. She sure was Drenchen. Her tiny gills opened and closed as she learned to breathe air without being surrounded by fluid, but she had long Vapran fingers and toes. Her hair was beautiful, little white curls that would surely grow into long white dreadlocks. She looked every inch the mixture between a Drenchen and a Vapra, the most beautiful baby girl he had ever seen.

He handed her to Brea, who sniffled and let out a cry of relief. The baby stopped crying instantly when Brea held her to her breast to nurse, and Brea's warm tears wet the baby's head. "Tavra," she said, "she's my little warrior, Tavra."

That night the Drenchen clan sang like they had never sung before, thanking Thra, the three sister moons and anyone else who would listen for the life of their Maudra's first grandchild.

[leowenila]

Strength Runs in The Family

Hello!! If I am being honest I am not sure what inspired me to write this and the title isn’t the best; but the moment I saw this prompt idea, I knew I had to go through with it and create a one-shot immediately… and I LOVE it so much! I planned on posting this story this weekend, but I was so eager to share it!

Part two of “Shepherd’s Superheroes” is still a work in progress, but until then please enjoy this angst/comfort/fluff Omeleo family, one-shot! 💗

Prompts: “Hey, look at me. Just breathe.” and “Are you okay? Do you need a hug?”

Everything in life felt as though it was moving in the slowest of slow motion as the trauma surgeon and neurosurgeon quickly made their way towards the emergency department after receiving a phone call just moments prior to the current moment. Thousands of possible scenarios ran through the brunette’s mind causing her to become more nauseous than she was earlier that morning while the ginger remained calm because although this was not just any patient, Owen knew that his son was as strong as his mama. Once arriving outside of the triage room in which they were paged to, Amelia had noticed an intern and Leo calmly sitting on the hospital bed. Her mother’s instinct took over just mere seconds before she saw Levi Schmidt snap on the light blue surgical gloves as Owen walked over to the left side of his son.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The brunette questioned what appeared to be very hungover intern. Levi quickly turned around to see the neurosurgeon with her hands now crossed over her chest. He began to speak but no words came out of his mouth, he cleared his throat.

“This laceration looks pretty deep and I was just gonna stitch this little guy up. No neurosurgeon was available and you said to never page Dr. Nelson. And Leo here; said his parents are busy people so I thought I could maybe send him up to daycare?”

“That little guy is Dr. Hunt and I’s son, and yes; his parents are very busy people. Busy people who have to fix the mistakes that interns like you make on a daily basis. Tomorrow begins your first month of scut work.” Amelia firmly told Levi who had a terrified look on his face once hearing what the brunette had to say. He continued to stand there before Owen pointed to the door and requested him to leave. Once the intern left Amelia sat on the green medical stool on the right side of Leo and took his other free hand that Owen wasn’t holding.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Amelia asked, watching Leo casually licking the purple lollipop the intern had given to him. Owen noticed his wife grow more and more anxious as they awaited the response of their son. Constant anxiousness has been very present in the neurosurgeon’s life as late since they moved into their new home and Leo started preschool along with their surprise pregnancy, all in the span of five months.

Leo removed the lollipop to answer Amelia with his rather large vocabulary.

“Mama; why did you yell at Dr. Levi? Do I not have a brain anymore?”

Owen and Amelia shifted their eyes from their son to each other within a matter of seconds, tears collected in the brunette’s eyes at Leo’s comment. Others might have blamed her early pregnancy hormones to be the cause of what was about to turn into an emotional breakdown in only a few seconds; but not ones who knew the story such as Owen. Hearing her son question if he still had a brain and being pregnant but too early to know if the baby was healthy or not, was becoming too much for her. Before realizing it, her chest tightened and her stomach felt as though it was doing somersaults, she calmly asked Owen to page Tom to suture Leo’s laceration and quickly ran outside of the triage room. A few moments had passed until the older neurosurgeon had arrived in the room, allowing the trauma surgeon to finally catch up with his wife who had left about ten minutes ago.

“I will be right back, Leo. Stay perfectly still for, Dr. Tom and you will feel better in no time.” Owen requested of the small boy as he nodded to Tom Koracick who was informed on Leo’s minor accident. Leo watched his dad as he opened the door and walked out of the room, he then placed the lollipop back into his mouth.

“Okay, buddy. Before we begin, I gotta ask; what kind of band aid would you like?” Tom questioned the child with a large smile on his face.

“That one!”

Down the hall Owen searched for Amelia everywhere, opened every on-call room and checked in her office. Finding her nowhere the trauma surgeon grew more concerned as to where she possibly would have went and if she was okay or not, Owen searched the attendings lounge once more and grabbed his wife’s insulated water bottle that sat in her locker beside his; from afar he heard a familiar yet incredibly heart wrenching noise. No amount of hoping and praying could prepare him for what he saw from afar on a nearby and unoccupied hospital bed in the hallway. Amelia who was leaning over the bed, hysterically sobbing; alone. She held her stomach and had her eyes covered with her shaky left hand, Owen sprinted over as fast as he could towards her.

“Leo is meant to be a big brother, what if that doesn’t happen?”

“I can’t make it if this baby, if this baby isn’t healthy.”

“O, what if this baby doesn’t have a brain like Christopher.”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

The brunette sank lower into the bed and released a muffed scream into the sky blue sheets of the bed and quickly created stains from her never ending tears; as if history was repeating itself, the trauma surgeon placed the water bottle down and bent down to the ground. Owen wrapped his giant arms around Amelia to form a hug. He ran his fingers through her hair in attempts to calm her down, only this time unlike many years ago, it didn’t work as she continued to sob and grow short of breath. The man removed his arms to now hold onto her face and took in her features. The brunette’s cheeks were wet with tears, the white part of her eyes turned into a deep red and almost pinkish color that only worsened the more she cried, and her breathing was labored.

“Hey, look at me. Amelia; sweetheart. Just breathe.” Owen said multiple times until he noticed Amelia starting to calm down and her breathing normalized. Just before he started speaking to her again, the brunette placed her smaller arms around him to reciprocate his hug moments earlier.

“His response just took me off gua-“ Amelia began to tell Owen but he knew. He knew that she was not angry or upset at their son, it was that even though a small part of her has come to accept Christopher’s passing she still had a hard time with little things such as comments like Leo’s.

“I know. It’s okay. Let’s take our little man home.” Owen told her as he removed himself from the kneeling position first so that he could offer his hand to Amelia. Both of them were now in standing position and the red headed trauma surgeon gave the brunette her water bottle as they walked hand in hand.

“How did you know I needed this?”

“We know everything about each other but ourselves; remember?” He said to her with a smile on his face when he felt Amelia rested her head on his shoulder, making their way back to the emergency department peacefully.

Once arriving back into the emergency department Amelia saw Tom at the front nurses desk and Leo behind with three of the nurses, the former mentor and student made eye contact with each other. They shared a tired yet understanding smile before Owen and Amelia walked over to their son.

“Did you page Dr. Shepherd yet? I know; she’s busy but she has patients to take care of! And don’t get me started on how many patients Dr. Hunt has. Oh my word!” Tom jokingly told Leo as he acted like he was angry as he searched through all the patients on the tablet in front of him. The little boy laughed at the blonde neurosurgeon, causing all three adults to also laugh amongst one another. Leo removed himself from the spinning chair and made his way to where both of his parents were standing, once near them he saw his mama and looked up at her.

“Are you okay, mama? Do you need a hug to make it feel better?”

Holding back from now crying happy and hormonal tears this time, the neurosurgeon cleared her throat and glanced at Owen. She bent down and took Leo’s small hands in hers before speaking.

“I would love that, baby.” Amelia told her three year old, and before she had time to think Leo wrapped his arms around his mama as tight as his toddler strength allowed and didn’t let go until the brunette picked him up to form a cuddle.

Owen placed his hand on the small of her back as he watched the two loves of his life hug one another. He smiled after yet again adding to his mental checklist at how grateful he is, walking beside his family.

[bloodraven55]

i will be there to take all your fears away (i'll turn your life to gold)

So I wrote this based on a prompt from someone on Discord (thank you very much @darnskippytootin 😄) and I figured I’d share it here too. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy 😊

And if you’d rather read it on Ao3 then you can find it there as well.

Blake can’t even imagine what giving birth must feel like—how difficult it must be, how painful—but it certainly doesn’t sound like it’s a pleasant experience. Yang’s grip on her hand tightens suddenly and Blake winces, not just in discomfort but in sympathy too. She would have been more than willing to change places, but she understands why Yang wanted to be the one to do this.

I’m not her, Blake. I could never just— just walk out the way she did. You know that, right?

Yang, you’re already so much stronger than she could ever be. You don’t have to prove it. I see it every day, and I have never for one second believed that you could do what she did.

I know. Trust me, I know. But I want to do it. For me.

The idea of what comes afterward makes it more than worth letting Yang almost crush her fingers, though, and at least the strong grip on her hand helps to remind her that this is real. This moment has been coming for nine months, yet it still feels surreal to her. Even when Yang told her it was happening, part of her could hardly believe it.

Blake can tell that Yang’s nervous. They’ve known each other so long that it’s become second-nature for Blake to be able to read how Yang’s feeling at this point—though most of the time she hardly needs to since Yang doesn’t tend to be subtle with her emotions—and all evening she’s been recognising the telltale signs that Yang’s stressing over something.

Where Yang normally never missed a beat in a conversation, tonight she was distracted, staying uncharacteristically quiet like she was lost in her own head. And when she sat down with her scroll in the living room, only to get up and switch seats a minute of anxious fidgeting later, Blake knew without a doubt that something was wrong. She sighs, stepping forward into the room from where she’s been watching from the doorway.

“Yang?”

Her partner looked up at her instantly, seeming almost startled. “Yeah?”

“Is everything alright? It’s just that all night you’ve seemed a little… off, like you’re not quite here.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” A slightly guilty expression crossed Yang’s features for a moment, but then a radiant smile lit up her face. “I’ve just been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Blake took an instinctive step closer, now less worried but far more curious.

“I— I took a test a few days ago, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I was absolutely sure, but today I took another one and—”

“You mean…?” She knows exactly what Yang’s talking about—they’ve both been hoping for it for months now—but she still needs to hear the words.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Yang looks almost awed, as if it’s only truly hitting her now what she’s saying. “Blake, we’re going to have a child.”

She’s frozen in place for what feels like forever, trying to process that something which seemed like such a distant possibility is suddenly going to be a tangible reality. Her heart feels too big for her chest, and she’s struck by an overwhelming wave of love for the woman she’s chosen to build her life with.

When she finally manages to move, she crosses the remaining distance between them to pull Yang up and into her arms. Yang returns the embrace without any hesitation, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and holding her close. If she notices Blake’s tears she doesn’t  say anything, their hearts synchronised enough for her to know that they’re tears of joy.

When it’s all over, and Blake can breathe again because she can finally stop panicking over the countless things that could have gone wrong but didn’t, and because her hand is no longer in danger of being crushed, she manages to hold it together until the baby—her baby, their baby—is placed in her arms.

In an instant it doesn’t matter that Yang nearly burnt the hospital down just an hour ago because her Semblance and the stress of labour turned out to be a very bad combination. It doesn’t matter that she’s definitely going to lose so many hours of much-needed sleep because of this new addition to their lives. It doesn’t matter that Weiss is going to insist on visiting ten times more often so she can pretend not to squeal over how adorable their child is.

Because this is her son.

When she was younger she had never dared to imagine that she would ever be a part of bringing life into the world. She’d believed that one day she might take a life—convinced it would be necessary to serve the greater good—but she had never dreamed that she would ever have the chance to help create one.

Everything that had happened—leaving her parents behind, the cold and lonely years in the White Fang, the torture that Adam inflicted on her, finding a new home at Beacon, a new family in Team RWBY, losing it all and then finding it again, facing down her demon and coming out alive, saving the world—all of it had paved the path for her to arrive where she is now.

Blake looks down at the bundle she’s cradling close to her chest and she sees everything good that exists within her, within Yang—within them—in this one tiny perfect person.

She knows it’s ridiculous, but she can already imagine the books she’s going to read him, the video games Yang’s going to play with him, the stories of their most impressive missions that Ruby’s going to tell him, the sweets that Weiss is going to give him even when she knows he isn’t meant to have them.

She doesn’t realise that she’s crying until Yang asks if she’s okay, and she has to swallow the lump in her throat before she can speak.

“I am so much more than okay, Yang. I— I just love you so much. I love him so much. More than I ever thought I could love anybody.”

Remembering the last time she said almost the exact same words, alone even with Sun and her family around her, hoping that her friends would hate her for leaving them, is enough for the tears to come again. She carefully passes their gorgeous son to Yang, a little ashamed that she didn’t give her a chance to hold him sooner, and then she buries her face in her hands, letting the sobs wrack her body as the cacophony of emotions comes spilling out.

She still isn’t always sure if she deserves to have this—a home where she feels safe, friends who will never turn their back on her, a family with the woman she loves, a beautiful baby boy who she can’t wait to raise—but she’s getting better at believing that she’s worthy of it, and she’s too weak to give any of it up regardless.

She wipes away the tears and watches as Yang giggles when a small fist curls around her finger, admiring the pure adoration on Yang’s face. Part of her wishes she could tell her younger self that this is where she’ll end up—that there will be a time when everything good isn’t poisoned or tainted or taken away—but she knows that everything had to happen as it did for her to have this chance, and she wouldn’t change any of it.

Just in case anyone’s interested, the original prompt was:

“So I've always imagined the scenario where Blake and Yang manage to conceive a child biologically thanks to some neat new technology, and Yang decides to be the one to carry as a sort of way to prove Raven wrong, in a way. Like reassuring herself that she's not like her dead-beat mom. So Yang goes into labor and with her semblance it's a miracle that the entire hospital doesn't burn down, but finally their first child is born, and Blake gets to hold her first, and she just... starts sobbing. She can't help it. She just looks down at her an Yang's child and sees all of their best features in this one small and perfect little being, and she thinks about everything that has lead her there: growing up in the White Fang, abandoning her parents, living through Adam's abuse, joining Beacon Academy, finding a new home in team RWBY, losing her new home, learning to come to term with her own trauma, helping Ilia, reuniting with her team, defeating Adam, finally confessing to Yang and saving the world from Salem's reign... all so she could stand here at this moment and get the opportunity to raise a new life with the woman of her dreams, her soulmate, and life-long partner”

To be honest, just reading that prompt made me cry, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write it 😅

I’m not usually at all a fan of the whole “getting married and having kids as a couple’s happy ending” trope because obviously it is perfectly possible to be totally happy without either of those things. For example, I’m not sure if I want kids myself yet, and I very much doubt I’ll ever have a traditional wedding.

But I do think that after all of the chaos in their lives Blake and Yang would want a little bit of peace once they’ve finished saving the world, and I can absolutely see them having a family in the future. Plus the idea of a Bumblebaby/Beeby is just really cute, I’m not going to lie. So I am 100% down for them going full domestic after the show's over.

I was stuck on a title for ages but those lines from Gold seemed to fit even though it is of course a beautiful sister song from Yang to Ruby in canon. It just felt like it would work for a parent to a child too, though, so I went with it.

So yeah, that was where this came from, and I hope it was good ❤️