#or maybe he just says i should try to lose weight before the surgery but doesn’t like. say he won’t operate

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 27

ao3 link| part 1, part 24, part 25, prev part

A week goes by and Eddie’s able to stand for almost a minute. Legs trembling after thirty seconds and knuckles white as they grip the walker the nurse brings in. But he does it. Sits back down with a teary smile as everything starts to feel like him again. Fighting through the new pain of his muscles stretching to their full capacity again, trying to revel in the fact that he’s getting better.

He's still limited to what he can do. His muscles are slowly gaining back their strength, and his joints vary in their stiffness between the days. Physical therapy is going to start soon. Hopefully to help with the tenseness of his muscles. And maybe the numbing and the nerve pain.

The true health of Eddie’s nerves is still undetermined. The doctors say they had to do some reconstruction during the many surgeries Eddie went through when he first came in. Supposably, it went well. Supposably, Eddie should regain full motion of his limbs. But reality, is that they won’t know until Eddie’s muscle mass comes back.

Until they can’t blame the lack of motion on muscle atrophy.

Wayne knows it’s coming. Can feel the diagnosis in his bones. He knows that there will be a day that Eddie picks up a guitar again, and can’t do it the he used to do. Can’t play the solos of his favorite songs, unable to move his fingers fast enough. Might get so frustrated in it that he gives it up entirely. Permanently lose the one thing he’s loved all his life.

The house won’t rattle with practices that go well past midnight. And he’ll never come home from Garreth’s garage with the excited energy again. The one where it buzzes off of him and onto Wayne. Joy permeating his soul just seeing his boy so passionate about something.

Eddie’s going to lose a part of himself, and Wayne doesn’t have the heart to witness it.

“Henderson,” Eddie excitedly yells when Dustin and Steve walk through the door. “Look at this.”

Eddie pulls the walker closer and gets his legs beneath him. Pulls himself to a standing position just like he did a few hours ago.

Wayne sees the way Steve’s arm twitches out when Eddie does. How his feet move an inch closer. Ready to rush forward at any moment. To catch Eddie if he falls. Rigid concern mapping his face. Falling to a relieved smile when Eddie sits back down on the bed.

Dustin shares the same concern, before he starts to smile. “Woah. What was that? Like a minute?”

“I know right,” Eddie exclaims, proud of himself. “Yesterday I could only stand for thirty seconds, next time you see me I’ll be able to walk without this thing,” he reaches out and shakes the walker. “I’d bet on it right now.”

Wayne wouldn’t. Neither would Eddie really. But this false optimism, this high hope, its what’s keeping him sane in all this. Keeping him in the light at the end of the tunnel.

Dustin finally settles himself. Starting the long explanations of how his day went. Trying to keep Eddie in the loop while he’s stuck here. Limited to his knowledge of what goes on outside these walls.

All while Steve stands tense, leaning against the doorway. Arms crossed and fingers anxiously tapping on his elbow. Staring at Eddie like he’s cracking right in front of them. Breaking and unable to stop it.

Wayne subtly asks him if he wants to pull up a chair. Really trying to not have weight behind his words. But Steve notices that he’s picked up something off. That something is weighing heavy on Steve’s mind.

Steve refuses, as nonchalant as someone can through gritted teeth. Dustin looks up, and asks if everything’s alright. If he needs to go home and take his meds. Steve lies to him and tells him that he’s fine.

The afternoon passes by, and Steve continues to stand there like a bodyguard. Ready for the defenses. Until he checks his watch and tells Dustin it’s time to go. When the stiff line if his stature softens just slightly. Enough for a show.

“Here,” Steve hands Dustin a few quarters. “Go get something from the vending machines, I’ll meet up with you in a second.”

The tenseness returns as soon as Steve shuts the door after making sure Dustin was walking down the hall.

He turns toward Eddie, crossing his arms again. “You’re getting better?”

The statement is still laced with question. As if he’s confirming before saying anything. For what reason, Wayne doesn’t know.

Eddie looks at him confused. “Well, yeah. That’s what I was showing you before.”

He starts to fidget, sensing the tenseness in Steve’s voice.

“But you’re feeling better. More like yourself again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a long question. “Steve, what’s up?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” Steve spits. Fast and cruel.

Wayne wants to stand and push him out of the room. Eddie doesn’t need whatever this is. Doesn’t need whatever taunts will fly out of Harrington’s mouth. Insults or sneers. He had hoped that Harrington was beyond all those tricks.

But before he can even open his mouth, Eddie bites back. Not so defenseless anymore.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t follow the plan. As soon as things got bad, you were supposed to get Dustin and yourself out of there. Not just Dustin.”

Eddie snarls. “Whatever, I get it Harrington.”

“No, I don’t think you do.” Steve says it all with a point that would go right through Eddie’s chest if he were close enough.

Wayne’s convinced they forgot he was even there.

“I told you not to be cute. I told you not to be the hero. We didn’t need that. We had enough close calls already, we didn’t need another one. We didn’t need you to-.”

“To what, play the hero. Cause that’s your job, isn’t it? King Steve Harrington, strong man. Waltzes into danger without a second thought to come out the hero on top. Can’t deal with the fact that someone else is capable of it.”

Pain leeches to Steve’s expression. “That’s not it at all.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Eddie’s volume keeps rising in intensity. “You weren’t there, Steve. You couldn’t make the call, so I did. Not my problem you can’t deal with someone else being the hero.”

“I can’t deal with losing anyone else to this goddamn town,” Steve yells. Shocking Eddie silent.

Steve’s demeanor falls from its anger. Into a place of fear and a sorrow Wayne can’t quite place. His eyes pleading for Eddie to understand the words he can’t say.

He turns to the door and rips it open.

“Steve, wait,” Eddie calls out softly, trying to get Steve to turn back around.

But it's too late. The door clicks shut as Steve leaves.

tag list (capping at 100, only 4 spots left): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[baronessblixen]

I wish you would write a fic where mulder falls asleep on skinner’s shoulder

Another ficlet! Gonna tag @today-in-fic this time 😁

“Is your son all right?” Skinner lifts his eyes to the nurse; one he hasn’t seen before. She’s young, her smile genuine, and her eyes curiously big. He’s tired. Not as tired as the man sitting next to him, whose head keeps ending up on his shoulder.

The first few times it happened, Mulder startled awake, his expression haunted, and apologized. Now, his head is on Skinner’s shoulder, his breath as even as it can be. If he weren’t so tired, or if Mulder were awake, maybe he’d correct the nurse. After the day they’ve all had, he has no strength left.

“His wife is- she’s not well.” It’s a white lie. Mulder and Scully may not be married on paper, but they are in every other way that counts. Once upon a time, Skinner felt the sting of jealousy seeing what they have. Now, he’s glad they have each other.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse says. “Do you want me to go check on her? What’s her name?”

“Dana Scully.” Skinner keeps his voice soft so that he won’t wake Mulder. He should have known better; her name penetrates his sleepy mind and he blinks open his eyes.

“Is she- Dana Scully? Is she out of surgery?”

“I will check on your wife. I’ll be right back.” Her shoes squeak as she walks off. Mulder shakes his head, trying to wake up.

“My wife?” he asks Skinner, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly. Skinner is going to keep to himself that the nurse thought Mulder is his son. That’s for himself to deal with. He’s a mere 15 years older than Mulder. Right now, though, he sees it. He looks like a boy. One who’s scared to lose another person he loves, unable to stop it from happening. Again.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” He changes the subject, hoping Mulder won’t press.

“No, I- I need to know how Scully is before I… before anything else.” The man needs a meal and sleep, preferably in a bed and not a hospital chair. Even if he threatened Mulder, Skinner knows he won’t leave here.

Before he can say another word, the nurse returns. His heart skips a beat until her face transforms into a big smile.

“Good news,” she says. “Your wife is out of surgery.”

“Is she-”

“She’s stable. She’s going to be just fine.” Mulder folds in on himself hearing the words and Skinner puts a hand on his back. “Is he-”

“He’s fine,” Skinner says, meaning it. “It has been a long day.”

“She’s going to make it,” Mulder mumbles, sounding almost delirious.

“She is,” Skinner assures him. “And I’m sure she wants to see you when she wakes up. How about you go home, take a shower and sleep?” He has to try. He knows that Scully would would want him to at least do that. Mulder just laughs humorlessly.

“You know I won’t.”

“The sit back down,” he says, aware that it sounds like an order. Mulder glares at him. “You’ve been using my shoulder as a pillow. Come on.”

“You sound as crazy as I do, sir.”

“Come on.” Another moment passes, but Mulder sits down. A minute passes and Skinner pretends to read the magazine he got hours ago. Maybe he’ll take that quiz again, the one that promises to tell you why you can’t ever keep a man. A sigh from the right, and then a soft weight on his shoulder. Mulder sleeps and Skinner keeps watch.

[mustainegf]

—Masterpost

—Chapter 15

As I held Felicity in my arms, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept soundly, things felt okay. Like maybe if I tried to stay as still as possible, we could be like this forever.

Despite the uncertainty of the future, in this moment, everything felt right. I cherished every second, memorizing the way she looked, the softness of her breath against my chest, the warmth of her body nuzzled against mine.

But as the hours passed and Felicity remained asleep, I knew that I couldn't stay forever. She needed rest, and I needed to let her sleep undisturbed.

With a heavy heart, I gently pulled myself from her embrace, careful not to wake her as I eased out of the bed.

As I stood by her bedside, watching her sleep, a tug of longing pulled at my heart. I wished I could stay with her forever, to protect her.

I had to let her rest, to give her the space she needed to heal.

With a final, tender kiss to her forehead, I whispered, "I love you," before quietly slipping out of the room.

The house was silent as I made my way downstairs, the weight of my footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.

I tiptoed down the stairs, my footsteps silent against the carpeted floor, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to make as little noise as possible.

As I reached the bottom step, I froze, my ears straining to catch any sound from the room ahead.

And then, I heard it – the hushed murmur of voices coming from the living room.

Curiosity piqued, I crept closer, careful to stay hidden behind the wall as I strained to listen to their conversation.

"- transplant," Felicity's mother was saying, her voice tinged with concern. "It's her only chance."

I felt a jolt of apprehension at her words, my heart skipping a beat as I realized the gravity of what they were discussing. A transplant, it was the lifeline that Felicity so desperately needed, the only hope for her life.

"But what if it doesn't work?" Felicity's mother continued, her voice heavy with worry. "What if she doesn't make it through the surgery? She’s already so weak…"

"We have to try," Felicity's father insisted, his tone firm with resolve. "For Felicity's sake, we have to give her every chance we can."

My heart ached as I heard the soft sobs of Felicity's mother, her anguish echoing through the quiet room.

"I can't lose my baby girl," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

It was a heart-wrenching plea, filled with a mother's love and desperation.

As I stood at the bottom of the stairs, hidden from view, I strained to catch every word of their conversation, my heart heavy.

"What about that boy?" Felicity's mother's voice broke through the silence, filled with concern and compassion.

"Felicity loves him oh so much. What's that poor boy going through with Felicity being sick?"

I held my breath, waiting for her father's response, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for what was to come.

"It's rare for a teenage boy to stick by someone's side through all of this," he explained.

"But it's clear that he loves her. You can see in her eyes just how much he means to her.”

She sighed.

"We need to wait for the test results," Felicity's father said, his voice tinged with frustration. “To see if Travis is a match.”

The thought brought me some hope.

What if Travis was a match? Then Felicity would be okay, everything would be fine.

Feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on me, I made a conscious effort to mask my discomfort as I casually made my presence known

“Thanks for having me," I said, stepping out from behind the wall as if I’d just come down the stairs. "I should probably go now."

As Felicity's parents glanced over at me, their concern evident in their eyes, I offered them a small smile, hoping to reassure them that everything was alright.

On the inside I felt sick.

Her mother's soft voice broke through my thoughts, her concern evident as she asked about Felicity. "Is Felicity sleeping, dear?" she inquired, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.

I nodded, my throat feeling tight with emotion. "Yeah, she fell asleep about an hour ago," I replied, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

"That's very sweet of you to stay with her," she said softly, her gaze lingering on me.

"You're welcome here anytime, James," her father said, his words a silent reassurance.

With a final nod of acknowledgment, I made my way to the front door. As I stepped outside into the cool evening air, I couldn't shake the feeling that lingered within me.

As I walked home through the dark night, the street lamps casting eerie shadows across the sidewalk, I glanced up at the sky, trying to gauge the time.

It was probably 8pm.

The darkness seemed to swallow the world whole, enveloping me in its silent embrace as I made my way through the quiet neighborhood.

As the days stretched into a week, each passing second hurt a little more than the last.

With every sunrise, the possibility of Felicity not making it grew more intense.

I tried to be strong for her, putting on a brave face and offering her words of encouragement whenever I could.

But only the people within the walls of my home knew how I was really being affected.

It has become impossible to sleep at night, the tears came quicker than sleep.

Mom would come into my room every night.

“Everything is okay, James…”

She would whisper.

Everything was not okay.

As the days passed, each visit to Felicity's side followed a familiar pattern.

I would arrive, greeted by her bright smile and the excitement in her tired eyes.

Despite her exhaustion, she would do her best to hide it, eager to spend every precious second with me.

We would talk, laugh, share stories and memories.

But inevitably, the weariness would catch up with her, and she would curl up in my arms, fatigue claiming her thin figure.

Watching her drift off to sleep, her breathing steady and peaceful, I could see such a future.

In those quiet moments, as I held her close, the knot that our souls had tied was tightening.

If the world must be as cruel as to take her away from me, I’d hold her hand as they took her.

Maybe if I held on tight enough, they'd bring me with her. I wouldn’t complain.

As I left her side each time, the weight of her illness still heavy on my heart, I would ascend the stairs with a sigh.

Felicity flooded my mind like a bittersweet symphony. I couldn't help but reminisce, each memory etched into my heart.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be transported back to that fateful night on the beach, where our story began. The memory was as vivid as if it had happened just yesterday.

I could still see her sitting there, illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun, her music floating on the gentle breeze.

In that moment, she was the epitome of beauty.

When our eyes met, the world had fallen away.

As we talked and laughed, the hours slipped away like grains of sand through an hourglass, the same sand we sunk into as we danced only weeks ago.

But it was the little things, the details that others might overlook, that I liked to focus on.

I remembered the way her hair fell in gentle waves around her face. The faint freckles on her ears, the ones you wouldn’t notice if you didn’t make note of it.

Our first kiss in the water, the taste of salt on our lips mingling with the sweetness of young love and confusion. The way her hand fit perfectly in mine as we danced beneath the stars, lost in each other.

As I lay in bed, enveloped by the stillness of the night, my mind drifted to thoughts of the future, a future filled with dreams, hopes and desires.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to imagine a world where Felicity lived. I pictured us standing at the altar, exchanging vows, her body draped in the most beautiful dress my mind could think up.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about the possibility of starting a family with Felicity, of bringing new life into the world and watching a child grow.

The thought of holding our baby in my arms, of feeling their tiny heartbeat against my chest.

I’ve never held a baby before.

I’m a 16 year old boy, what am I doing thinking about this stuff?

I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to be hanging out with friends, going to parties, getting into trouble. But none of that was of any interest to me right now.

For now, I was content to fall asleep to the thought of Felicity, the future that could possibly be.

The vows that could possibly be.

The baby that could possibly be.

In my mind, we sat together beneath a blanket of stars, Felicity's hand found mine, her touch gentle yet electrifying. In that moment, it felt as though time stood still, and all that mattered was the connection between us.

I know I shouldn’t continue my daydream.

But then, a faint cry pierced the tranquility of our surroundings, pulling us back to reality. In the distance, a small figure emerged from the shadows, cradling a bundle in her arms. It was Felicity, but somehow different, older, her eyes filled with a wisdom beyond her years.

Stop thinking, James. You’re making it worse.

With a tender smile, she placed the tiny bundle into my arms, and as I looked down, my heart swelled with love. There, nestled against my chest, was our baby, a tiny miracle wrapped in blankets of innocence.

I marveled at the fragile beauty of new life, at the boundless potential held within those tiny fingers and toes.

Stop thinking!

I bolted upright, my heart pounding with a mixture of anger, sadness, and frustration. Why couldn't I stop these thoughts from tormenting me? Why did I allow myself to indulge in these tantalizing fantasies while Felicity was fighting for her life?

The image of Felicity lying in her bed, pale and fragile, flashed before my eyes, shattering the illusion of blissful dreams.

There was no future, no baby, no nothing.

It was me and Felicity. And I feared that soon it may only be me.

How could I have been so selfish? How could I have been so blind to her pain, so consumed by my own desires?

I swung my legs out of bed, my movements jerky and uncoordinated. I paced the room, running my hands through my hair in frustration.

I couldn't bear the thought of losing Felicity, of watching her slip away while I stood helplessly by.

Tears stung my eyes as I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, my body wracked with sobs.

I needed a distraction, I needed to stop, I needed to be okay, for Felicity.

With shaky hands, I reached for my guitar, my fingers trembling as they traced the familiar strings. As I plucked the first notes of the song Felicity had written, I calmed, picturing her face as she played.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing but Felicity.

Taglist: @whatsupvic

[monstersinthecosmos]

can i vent about the healthcare system lol

This year I have health insurance for the first time since I was a child and when I tell you it sucks, I hate this, I hate participating in this system, I miss when I was just in pain all the time and didn't even bother going to the doctor bc I didn't have insurance anyway, I don't love this system where I read my insurance policy and think something is covered and then it isn't except maybe it is and maybe it got processed by a bot and I have to call the insurance to dispute but then I have to call my doctor to dispute and then I have to call the insurance back to dispute like, guys I have phone anxiety I'm gonna just pay you all this money instead of making phone calls I guess.

i have nerve damage and my treatment options so far are a $1,300 shot that might not actually help and I'll have to get another one in a few months anyway or I can go to physical therapy where they want to see me 2x a week for $250 per session. My insurance only covers a certain number of sessions and even if I did go to all of them, I still wouldn't hit my deductible. The PT place has a financial assistance program but it's only for people who have hit their deductible. (What's the point lol).

I'm also at a dead end trying to get diagnosed & treated for hypothyroidism because "weight gain" is listed as a symptom and BCBS says they don't cover "weight loss" treatment even though that wasn't what the fuck I asked and I was more concerned that my hair is falling out and I'm freezing all the time. Like where does it end, every time a symptom of something includes weight gain. What if a skinny person has it. Is this discriminatory? Is it a coding error? Will I pay the $215 I got charged for having my thyroid tested and simply not continue treating it now, because I don't have the constitution to make 100 phone calls and argue with people? lol.

the spine specialist orders an MRI and says I'm too young to have surgery so I should just do pain management. the pain management doctor tells me to lose weight. (it's hard, because, I think my thyroid doesn't work.) he says lyrica might help with my nerve pain but it causes weight gain so he advises against it. i wonder at what point does BCBS decide that spine & nerve pain is because I'm fat and won't help me anymore because it's weight loss related.

And let's not talk about how I was like, you know what, I would rather just build up some medical debt and pay it off slowly because I'm terrified that I'm going to have permanent nerve damage, and I applied for financial assistance with the hospital, and they approved me, but they don't help for any bills which are under $2000. So my $900 MRI or my $400 nerve test or my $1300 shot are not eligible for financial assistance, even though my hospital balance would be over $2000. I go to set up a payment plan and it won't let me set the number I can afford. I manually enter a bit at a time and they won't stop emailing me that I owe them money because I didn't use the official interface for a payment plan. I call their financial assistance to ask why they didn't adjust my MRI bill, they tell me because it's under $2000, I get so overwhelmed and start crying on the phone like an asshole so I hang up before I remember to ask about adjusting the payment plan.

like is better that I'm now $1300 in the hole for tests that told me I have nerve damage and arthritis and disc degeneration when I can't afford any of the treatments? Is it better to at least know? But what's the point if I can't do anything about it anyway except YouTube yoga and Aleve for breakfast, which I was doing anyway when I was uninsured. Thanks, now I know! I cannot feel my leg! Pray for me that I don't wind up paralyzed from ignoring it!

(I think part of me committed to these tests because I was like, well, if there's NO damage I will know and I can stop worrying, but there is damage, so now idk how to feel.)

anyway it's just. I've always known this system was garbage from the outside when like, I've spent years having to treat things by myself at home, I've had so many times where I didn't go to the ER when I probably should've, I've passed on really fun outings with my friends like snowboarding or roller derby because I'm too scared I'll get injured, my mental health is at all times hanging on by a thread because I can't get medicated (put a pin in this one bc I finally got an appointment for an evaluation but my insurance doesn't cover most of the meds LOL). It already sucked on the outside and was already a huge embarrassment to me as an American but like. I finally have insurance and it wasn't' even worth it.

and like. there's stuff I can afford. I'm making better money than I did in my 20s. Like, okay, it sucks but I can pay $215 for my thyroid test at the end of the day. But I don't want to. It sucks and it's not fair. I shouldn't have to. And like it's $215 now and then how much later. It's not sustainable at all. And if there's a way for them to cover it and not discriminate against me for being fat, it's behind so many barriers of me trying not to cry my eyes out on the phone and tbh I don't see it happening LOL.

but elon is on track to become the first trillionaire and our taxes are bombing children in tents, cool cool cool

I just don't understand who the fuck this is even for. WHO is out there with $2,000 to drop every month on physical therapy. Who is this for!!! WHO IS IT FOR!!!!

[nothingweirdhere]

currently waiting to see the surgeon for my top surgery consult!!! i’m so stressed oml xD

[ageofevermore]

Eighteen | T. Holland

Summary → you’re tired of feeling like the world silences you, but after an interview with sebastian and anthony, you start to wonder if maybe it’s your fault.

Warning(s) → mentions of anxiety, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of inequality in gender roles, use of the word slut, fluff if you squint 

Word Count → 1.9k

Note → this is a heavier topic, one that might be personal to some. if you don’t think you can handle the subject matter, please don’t force yourself to. this is relatively watered down, but it doesn’t take a genius to see what’s not being said. the ending features boyfriend!tom consoling the reader, so it does end on a fluffy note, but don’t hold out for those few ending paragraphs. 

add yourself to my taglist 

It’s getting hotter in the interviews. A thin layer of sweat sparkles on your skin, and even though the air conditioning has been turned down multiple times, there are too many people in the room to feel any drastic differences. It’s unfortunate for you. Hot flashes are a lovely addition to your anxiety disorder, and press always sets your nerves ablaze. It doesn't matter what project you’re promoting, who you're partnered with, or what you're wearing-- you’re always hot. 

Your cheeks are flushed dangerously when the last interview before lunch is called for yourself, Sebastian, and Anthony. This is your first press tour as an adult. You joined the marvel franchise years ago, when being eighteen felt like the equivalent of turning thirty, and you weren’t blind to the changes of tone. People were harsher to you, more forward. If they weren’t shutting you up, they were hinting at something less then appropriate, usually something sexual. 

The next interview started with a short introduction to the media outlet, and your interviewer. He was middle aged, kind smile, salt and pepper hair. He asked for your names, then he told you his, and one by one he shook your hands. His grip on you was criminal, lasting longer than was comfortable. Sebastian and Anthony we’re oblivious to the few extra seconds of contact between you and him, but it made your skin crawl in a familiar discomfort. 

Your fingers curled into fists, heart high in your throat. The questions started out easy. They were mostly directed towards the boys, like always, but this time you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed. You had dealt with handsy and sexually charged men before, but he set a fire beneath you. It wasn’t behavior you should tolerate, but being a woman in the industry, inappropriate touches and glances we’re easier ignored then dealt with. When you spoke up you caused drama, made headlines, attracted nasty social media comments that called you a whore. It was easier to just internalize. 

“Y/N.” 

You hummed, looking towards the call of your name. He was smiling sweetly at you again, a predatory glint in his eyes that put you on edge. You shifted your weight closer to Anothony unconsciously giving the hungry man your professional attention and a nod. 

He shuffles through his index cards, but his eyes don’t read the scripted questions his employers have supplied him with. It’s not often male interviews do their own research, usually they’re briefed by a colleague and handed a set of questions and topic point by a higher level employee, but this man doesn’t even read the card before he’s staring you down and opening his mouth. 

“You finally got the Stark suit update,” He says, motioning towards the promo poster that shows off your CGI suit in all of its edited glory. Although the actual costume is breathtaking, the computer effects give it an entirely different, more technologically charged, feel. 

“Yeah,” You nod, a forced smile on your lips as you try to ease the uncomfortable tension from your tone. “She’s finally--” 

He cuts you off before you can give him any explanation for the upgrade. He isn’t the first one to address your new wardrobe, but he’s the first one to leave you antsy and uncomfortable. Sebastian frowns when you’re cut off, but he doesn’t think much of it. He lets the man continue, though a professional sharpness pulls his grin into a scowl. 

“Were you able to wear undergarments underneath it? It’s tight, doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Was there ever a moment where you reflected how much your wardrobe has changed through the years?” He asks, a dirty grin on his lips. 

Sebastian and Anthony are shocked at the blunt, inappropriate construction of his question. The public eye knew nothing of your battles with body image, or health concerns that lead to surgery. Your mind was plagued with doubts and self-criticism, and his invasive, pervy question both infuriated you and broke you apart. 

You stutter to find an answer, heat overwhelming you. Your hand grips onto Anthony’s arm, and you can’t decide whether anger is what burns your skin or anxiety. Are you making a big deal of this? You don’t know. You feel like you have every right to feel violated and uncomfortable, but you’re a young woman in the entertainment industry, isn’t this the kind of ignorant commentary you signed up for? You don’t know anymore. You grew up with people always having an opinion on your appearance, sexualizing you as early as twelve. You’ve carried around pepper spray and  self-defense keychains long before you even had an understanding towards predatory men and sexual assault. You’ve been conditioned by the world and the media to carry on with your day, no matter the broken boundaries or disrespect. You’re tired of remaining silent, feeling like your less than your male counterparts. Women and men should hold no differing values in society, and yet you walk to your apartment with keys between your fingers and Tom doesn’t even lock his front door. 

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.” You choke out, voice hard and nowhere near the soft and frilly pitch it usually obtains. You’re livid, absolutely pissed to the point of a quivering cupids bow. You’re humiliated, and horrified. Your feelings are everywhere, but you remain as professional as you can. If you yell, try to defend yourself at all, you’ll be painted as a diva in every media outlet for the next week, subliminally inviting backlash and slut-shaming comments into your social media messages. If Sebastian and Anthony come to your defense, they’ll be sung high-praises. 

The double standards men and women are held to, especially in the industry, is infuriating. 

He stumbles out a response, but his time is already up. For the first time today, you’re thankful these interviews are only ten minutes. He leaves the room, shown out by security, and even then he still sends you a wink over his shoulder as if your glimmering eyes meant nothing. 

“Hey,” Sebastian's voice is soft, his hand on the small of your back. You flinch away from his contact, head heavy in memories you’d rather forget. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, voice trembling with tears that you refuse to let fall. You’ve already been humiliated, you don’t need to further paint yourself as some helpless teenage girl. “I’m sorry. I’m going to go find Tom.” 

Anthony and Sebastian nod tightly. They watch as you quiver in your heels, hands clenched into fists at your sides. They’re proud of the way you handled yourself, though still absolutely enraged that any adult would find it appropriate to address you like that, especially in a professional setting. 

You stumble into the dressing rooms, right into your boyfriend's chest. Your mind is racing, but the minute you attach yourself to him, you break down. Shy sobs break Tom’s heart. He holds the back of your head to his chest, other hand on the small of your back and wrapped around your waist as you cry. You’re trying to stay quiet, but the attention is already on you. Chris and Robert are worried, and Zoe’s trying to act like she hasn’t noticed, but they don’t all watch as you try to console yourself with your boyfriend's warmth. 

“What happened?” Tom’s voice is soft, trying to keep this a private moment. He tries to move the both of you back into a corner, but you panic and squeeze around his waist tighter. “Baby,” 

You and Tom have been dating for six months, and although you’ve shared with him stories of your traumatic experiences as a woman living in LA, he’s never seen anything upset you like this. 

“I’m such a slut.” Your words come out so shy and small, you aren’t even sure you can hear yourself. No matter how  many times you tell yourself that your makeup and clothes don’t give men permission to make passes or feel you up, it’s getting harder to believe that your verbal consent is as strong as your clothes. Maybe you are asking for it, and in a wave of nausea, disgusted with yourself, your arms leave Tom’s waist to pull at the bottom of your borrowed dress. 

You’ve been hit on in sweats before. In ball gowns and crop tops. Somebody’s even pushed themselves against you while you wore Tom’s hoodie, but you still convince yourself that it’s your fault. That you we’re asking for it. 

Tom’s jaw sets harshly into place, and he tilts your chin upwards to meet his eye. His brown stare is hard, only adding to your distress. Maybe he agrees. Maybe he’ll blame you for what just happened. He’s probably going to break up with you. Other guys just can’t keep their hands and eyes off of you. He doesn’t want a slut for a girlfriend. 

“What the fuck did you just say, Y/N?” His tone causes you to flinch, words bouncing off of the dressing room walls. Everyone flinches, hearing only his heavy response. You try to divert your attention, but Tom squeezes your jaw, forcing your eyes back on his. “Say it again.” 

“I’m such a slut.” You sniffle, submitting beneath his fiery glare. Tensions are high as you try not to break down again. Apart from Tom, everyone in the room has watched you grow up, never losing that shy and sweet sense of yourself. You’re an exuberant light, a brilliant scene partner, a rising star who has big things in store for the future. You are many things, but a slut, isn’t one of them. 

Tom looks behind you, glaring straight at Anthony and Sebastion who are both stone eyed and still. They’ve not calmed down any since leaving the production room, instead, it seems their anger has only risen. The sight of you so distraught churns their stomachs. 

“Some asshole tried to make a pass.” Sebastion said in short, words angry and delivered as such. 

Tom’s breath hitched, his arms tightening around you and pulling you closer to his chest. His chin digs into your crown, eyes pinches shut as his hot exhale feels heavy. 

“You aren’t a slut, Y/N.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument, but you try anyways. Tom has no patience for it, and so he tilts your head back and plants his lips against yours harshly and eagerly, desperate to show you love and intimacy. “You. Aren’t. A. Slut.”

You nod, ducking your head back down into his chest as you try to believe him-- try to remember that you never asked for hands around your waist, or cupping your boobs. Wolf whistles, or handshakes that turn into forced frontal hugs. You didn’t ask for any of the harassment, no matter the outfits you wore and what they revealed.  

Tom lowers his voice, whispers melting into your hair, “This isn’t your fault, baby. Please believe me. None of this, is your fault. It’s disgusting and inappropriate, and you don’t deserve to deal with any of it.” 

You sniffle. You can’t tell him you believe him, not yet. Not when your heart is so heavy. Maybe one day you’ll believe him, but that’s just not now. 

taglist (urls with a strike through won’t let my tag) →

@deionswannabegirl @killingbxys @mauvesdior @mischiefandi @dmonchld @waddlenut @tanakaslastbraincell @hollandsxheart @quacksonhehe @tothemoonandbackx3000 @stiles-o-dylan24 @tikapollak @tomthetease @spookybooisa @geminiparkers @teen--marvel @rogersparkerbarnes @sarcasticallywitty15

[ssahoodrathotchner]

Lover, Please Stay

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Summary: you get shot and Hotch worries about you while trying to keep it together. 

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: swearing, shooting, blood, injuries, hospitals, some angst and then fluff, mostly just wanted to write some worried!Hotch 

A/N: here we go! this is my first fic, so enjoy

Masterlist

---

As far as dates go, getting shot in the stomach twice was definitely not the way you wanted the night to end. Especially because you actually cared about the man sitting across from you in the dim lighting of the restaurant and you definitely had something else planned involving him, your clothes hitting the floor, and then the wall, kitchen counter, possibly the sofa, and of course, your bed and maybe the shower—but all that would have to wait as you slump back in your chair, stunned and bleeding. To his credit, however, Aaron Hotchner is not about to let the man who shot you get away with it, and swiftly tackles, disarms, and subdues the shooter, in record time, you think hazily to yourself with a small smile. After making sure the unsub won’t do anything else –not that he could even if he wanted to– Aaron turns to you. Eyes wild, he finds you –rather dramatically if you say so yourself—bleeding out and losing consciousness. So much for after-dinner plans.

“How romantic,” you gasp out and suddenly at your side, Aaron tips you out of your chair and lays you on the ground, immediately shedding his jacket to apply pressure to your abdomen and the growing red spots staining the dark green dress you had worn tonight. Fuck you loved this dress. And his jacket.

“….Sweetheart? You still with me?” Aaron’s voice wavers, and you realize he’s leaning over you and trying to gauge how you’re doing, aside from the obvious, of course.

You huff a laugh out—big mistake—and a small cry tears out of your throat as the pain in your midsection makes you regret your actions. Turning your head with a surprising amount of effort, your eyes float over him, taking in the way his hair sticks up, the frantic gleam to his eyes (tears?) and then down the black button-down he wore to his bloody hands on your body. You try for a reassuring smile—it doesn’t land—and then there’s some sort of commotion on the other side of the restaurant which you belatedly realize is the stampede of patrons out, as the ambulance slams to a halt outside, sirens blaring.

“Love, y’need t’figure this out,” you grit out, knowing that he won’t—can’t—argue with you as you look up at him.

“Y/N...”

“No, Aaron. Get th’ team,” your eyes are closing and breathing is getting harder so you stop, and hope that he figures this out. He has to. You know Aaron will want to protect you and go to the hospital this instant, but you can’t let him do that just yet. Not this time. It’s not everyday a BAU agent gets shot in a crowded restaurant in front of her boyfriend, who is also a BAU agent. It’s too weird to be random and the rest of the team needs to get here now.

The next few moments pass in a blur of shouting and pain, as you are lifted on to a stretcher and poked and prodded. Tiredly, you try to keep your eyes on Aaron, but in the noise you find your head rushing and with a sharp pain in your stomach, you fall into darkness.

Barred from climbing into the ambulance with you, Aaron has never been so scared and enraged. The ambulance screeches towards the hospital as he quickly fires off a text to the team –you’ve been shot, it doesn’t look good, meet him at the restaurant. And then he sits on the sidewalk. And thinks. And seethes.

How could he not have noticed the man advancing toward your table sooner? How could he not have noticed how out of place the man looked and the way that he kept a hand in his jacket pocket? And finally, why didn’t the man shoot him before getting taken down? Head in his hands, Hotch lets out a sigh before clenching his fists and closing his eyes, waiting. There are police officers milling around, taping off the restaurant and the unsub is in a car around here somewhere, or maybe already on his way to the police station, but Aaron can’t shake the fear in his mind. He should be speeding off after the ambulance, keeping you company, and pacing the hospital lobby until he knows you’re okay. You need to be okay. But your words ring in his head, figure this out, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try. You need him to try. He needs to focus.

A hand claps down on his shoulder and Aaron jerks his head up to find Morgan and Prentiss looking at him with sad eyes. Accepting Morgan’s hand, Hotch stands, and after a beat, straightens up and becomes SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and not Aaron Hotchner, concerned and, quite frankly, terrified boyfriend.

“Garcia is pulling security footage from the restaurant and surrounding area. She’s also keeping tabs on the unsub at the police station and will let us know as soon as the cops figure out who this guy is.” Morgan says as Hotch looks around at the crime scene that’s sprung up around him.

“Unless she figures it out first,” Prentiss adds “which she probably will, it’s Garcia.”

A black SUV pulls up, and Reid, Rossi, and JJ emerge. Rossi immediately takes stock of the blood on Aaron’s hands and the usual chaos of a crime scene. Reid looks shaken to his core, and JJ isn’t much better, although she is valiantly trying to put on a brave face if only for her own sake.

“Aaron, you should be at the hospital. We can handle this,”

“Dave, she told me to figure it out. It was one of the last things she said and if I don’t and she…” Aaron trails off as the rest of the team looks at him, worried.

“I need to do this for her,” he says softly, thinking of how you looked as you were whisked away by the ambulance. How you passed out, face contorted in pain and then still.

“Hotch…” JJ lays a hand on his arm and squeezes.

“We got this. You can run point from the hospital with Garcia,”

That shakes him a bit.

“Garcia is running point from the hospital?” he wants to smile, but he can’t. Not while you’re possibly fatally injured.

“Of course she is,” says Morgan with a small smile.

“She went directly there after you texted us. She said she doesn’t want Y/N to be alone, ” Spencer supplies, and Hotch can’t help but be startled by how much he appreciates the thoughtfulness of his team in this moment.

Looking around the circle, he realizes that he doesn’t have to take on the investigation and your injury alone. No shit, he can hear you say. That’s what they’re here for, dumbass. Teamwork.

Halfheartedly, he tries “but the police need to take my statement and—“

“—and they can do that from the hospital after we’re done here, I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the Unit Chief of the BAU since his girlfriend got shot,” Rossi finishes for him. “Aaron. Go.”

“Come on, Hotch, I’ll drive,” and as JJ pulls him into the SUV, he watches the rest of the team disperse amongst the police and crime scene techs with a determination and focus he wishes he could emulate right now. Instead, he tries to focus on getting to you and how good it’ll feel to hold your hand again.

---

The ambulance ride is blurry and the lights are too bright and the noises too loud as you slide in and out of consciousness after initially passing out. Vaguely, you hear something about a perforated something or other and blood loss, but that’s really all you can understand before going back to being unconscious. Again. If only falling asleep was this easy.

---

Aaron never particularly liked hospitals, but now, with your life in danger, he hates them. Striding into the lobby, JJ at his side, his eyes find Garcia, furiously typing and wiping away tears as fast as she can. As his feet carry him to the desk, JJ breaks off to comfort Garcia.

“I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner, and I’m here for Agent Y/L/N she should have arrived half an hour ago with two GSWs to the abdomen,” his voice is surprisingly collected, as the nurse looks up at him from her computer.

“She was rushed into emergency surgery almost as soon as she got here. I don’t have an update for you now, Agent Hotchner, and it could be awhile until I know something for sure,” the nurse replies with a sad smile.

With a curt nod, Aaron walks over to Garcia, who now has JJ’s hand firmly in her own. Upon seeing him, Garcia springs up and sets her laptop and JJ’s hand aside to instead throw her arms around her stoic Unit Chief. Stunned but not unwelcome, Hotch reaches around to hold the crying tech analyst. Pulling back from the embrace and sniffling, Garcia looks at Hotch and her eyes widen almost comically.

“Blood. Oh my God, blood,” she states in a hurried breath and it’s only then that Hotch realizes that his arms and torso are covered in your blood still; he hasn’t had a chance to wash it off. Looking down at himself, his vision blurs for a second and the weight of his appearance takes a toll. Stumbling to the bathroom as JJ and Garcia reach for him, he staggers through the door and to the closest sink before throwing up. Leaning heavily on his hands, he hangs his head and catches his breath before turning the tap on. Slowly, methodically, he cleans his hands, then up his arms. Splashing water on his face he looks in the mirror, noting the bags under his eyes, the way his hair sticks up on one side, and the dried blood on his black shirt as it catches the shitty fluorescent lighting.

You’re laughing at him and he can’t help but smile back at you. In the light of the restaurant he loves the way your eyes shine when you look at him. Something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye, but you’re still laughing and he loves the way you look when you laugh. Bang. There’s screaming. Bang. You slump in your chair across from him. His stomach drops and there’s a roaring sound in his ears and years of training take over. The unsub stands still, gun in hand, and Aaron moves. Takedown. Push the gun out of reach. Hold the guy down. Swift punch to the face and the guy is out. You make a sound—a whine? a scream? his name?—and Aaron turns. You. Hands on your stomach, but Aaron can see the blood seeping through your fingers. Gently, as gently as he can, he gets you to lie on the ground and uses his jacket to try and staunch some of the bleeding. Your eyes flutter and he calls your name, asks how you’re doing, something to keep you awake and talking and with him and—

A knock on the door draws him out of his mind and JJ pokes her head in.

“I found a sweatshirt in the back of the SUV and thought you might want to put it on instead of having to stay in your shirt since…” she trails off and gestures to his bloody clothes.

Wordlessly, Hotch takes the sweatshirt from her. It’s one of his, he knows that, but he can’t remember why it’s in the SUV, especially because he hasn’t seen it since—You. You had it last. Inhaling your scent off the piece of clothing almost shatters him again and he holds the sweatshirt to his face as he tries not to cry. Slipping into a stall he slowly undoes his shirt before crumpling it up and dropping it on the ground. Pulling the sweatshirt over his head, he takes a moment to collect himself before stooping down for his shirt and walking out the bathroom door back into the waiting area.

Sitting next to Garcia he can see that there’s a picture of the unsub on her screen, as well as general demographic information and stuff streaming past that’s too fast for him to read.

“Garcia, what have you found.” Business as usual. Except for the part where he doesn’t know how you are or if you’re alive.

“Well, Sir, the bastard who shot Y/N is Parker Harrison and from what I can tell, he’s a creep. Like look-through-your-windows-and-take-photos-while-you-change kind of creep so—“

“—so it’s weird that he came up to you two in a crowded room and shot Y/N when there is nothing that Garcia’s found to suggest that that’s even something Harrison would even consider,” JJ finishes while continuing to glare at the photo on the screen.

Hotch sighs and puts his head in his hands. Again. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he looks at JJ.

“Call the rest of the team and let them know that we know who the unsub is, but he doesn’t fit the profile for the crime and see if they’ve found anything out of the ordinary.”

With a nod, JJ moves to her feet and goes out the front door to make the call. Garcia makes a noise somewhere between frustration and surprise before renewing her furious typing. Aaron looks towards the nurse at the desk, the same one he had spoken to earlier, and catches her eye. She shakes her head and he tips his head back against the wall behind him, eyes closing.

---

You don’t think you’ve died. At least, not yet. Maybe this is some fucked up afterlife precursor, but you really, sincerely, hope you aren’t dead because that would suck for you and for Aaron. And Jack. And the team. Fuck you really hope you aren’t dead, but the fact that you can’t feel your body really isn’t helping you figure out what the hell is going on. There’s pressure building in your chest and as it expands, it feels like you are going to explode. You fight against whatever is happening—it hurts, dammit—and then back to nothingness.

---

He waits for hours. Pacing, sitting, standing, silent. Garcia mumbles to herself as she works, and calls the team with possible updates, but Aaron can’t bring himself to focus on anything but you. JJ comes and goes, standing, sitting, pacing, leaning over Garcia’s shoulder. She calls Will and the team a few times to give or get updates and for that, Aaron is grateful. He knows he should be doing more, as Unit Chief and as the person you told to get the unsub, but you you are his focus. He nods when Garcia shows him something and shakes his head when JJ appears with food and coffee. And he waits. At some point a police officer shows up and Hotch mechanically rattles off what happened. There isn’t much he can say since they have the shooter in custody already. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the team show up and all of a sudden Hotch is suffocated by the amount of people in the waiting room. Prentiss moves to JJ’s side and Morgan to Garcia’s, talking quietly. Reid and Rossi trade glances before descending on Hotch.

“Any news?” Rossi asks, but Hotch shakes his head.

“You guys find anything at the scene?” And Hotch is hoping for something anything to make this make sense.

“Well, according to the security cam footage, the unsub was dropped off at the restaurant and then walked inside, bypassing the hostess and making his way to your table. It seems like Harrison knew exactly where you were going to be and when, which is concerning. But after you take him down and he got to the station, he didn’t talk—and still hasn’t which indicates that he may be trying to protect someone which furthers the idea that he really didn’t come up with this on his own given that his previous criminal record didn’t indicate that he would shoot someone that he deemed a target, although Garcia is currently going through the contents of his electronics to see what she can find and—“ Reid is effectively cut off by Rossi, who states “and so we still don’t know enough about this guy to draw any concrete conclusions, but this isn’t an ordinary unsub and if he does have a partner, we need to figure out who that is before someone else gets hurt; possibly someone on this team.”

Aaron frowns to himself at this information. He thought that the team would be able to find something find more about Harrison, but it seems the universe is making him wait not only on you, but the fucker who shot you as well. Collapsing down on to the nearest chair, Aaron tries to come up with a plan, a preliminary profile, something that will help him figure out what exactly you’ve been drawn into. Staring down at his shoes, he fails to notice the way the team looks at each other, and then at him. With a sigh, Prentiss moves from JJ’s side to Hotch’s and sits. He doesn’t look at her, or even acknowledge her presence, but doesn’t shake off the hand that she lays gently on his shoulder as he continues to study his shoes.

It’s well into the early hours of the morning when the team is alerted to a development in your wellbeing by the loud squeak of the swinging door that leads to surgery. Half asleep, Rossi wakes the others from their various levels of slumber as Aaron stumbles to the doctor after he announces your name, eyes wide and hopeful.

“First, Agent Y/L/N is alive. She coded in surgery about two hours ago,” Aaron swears he stops breathing “—but we were able to revive her and finish stitching her up and repairing the internal damage. The bullets entered her abdomen and tore through her large intestine, and she did suffer more blood loss that I had hoped, but in time, she will recover.”

Aaron’s breath rushes out all at once and he almost collapses with the weight of his relief. He hears the gasps and murmurs of the team behind him which confirm their own happiness that you are alive.

“Can I see her?” the words leave him quickly, and he knows you won’t be awake, but he needs to see you. Needs to make sure you’re still here, with him.

“As you can imagine, she won’t be awake for quite some time. Her body has sustained major trauma, and we will be keeping her under watch for at least a week, depending on how long it takes her to wake up and then the rate at which her body’s healing process takes place. However, you may see her, one at a time, and are welcome to be here during official visiting hours tomorrow.”

Without turning to the team, Aaron nods and gestures for the doctor to lead the way, mind spinning with relief and worry, a dizzying rush of feelings at knowing that you’re alive. Stopping outside of a room, the doctor looks at Aaron before opening the door and stepping aside. Making his way to the side of your bed, Aaron can’t help but take stock of your appearance. Eyes tracing your face, fingers lightly following the same path before coming to hold your hand as he sits in the chair next to your bed. Exhaling slowly, he raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles, eyes finding your sleeping face and finally, Aaron allows some tension to leave his body. You’re here you’re here and you’re alive and breathing.

---

Your return to actual conscious reality is slow, to say the least. The steady beeping of your heart monitor catches your attention first because it’s just so damn annoying. But hey, it means you’re alive—what a relief—so you really can’t find it in your hazy mind to care too much about the incessant beeping noise as you drift into consciousness. The next thing to draw your focus is the scratchiness of the sheets surrounding your body—are hospital sheets purposely so uncomfortable?—and the way that you can feel someone holding your hand. Aaron. Fighting to open your eyes damn those fluorescents you manage to squint your way awake. Well, as awake as one can be after what you just went through, but it’s an improvement to whatever semi-alive state you had been in even if you are still in a moderate amount of discomfort.

“…Sweetheart?” there he is. You squeeze his hand and turn to see him more fully, eyes raking over his face. Teary-eyed and smiling, you’ve never seen him look more handsome (okay besides when he was wearing his black button-down and black jacket at dinner before you got shot, but that’s obvious).

“Aaron,” his name leaves your lips on a breath and you smile back at him as he kisses your hand before leaning over and kissing your forehead.

“I was so worried, Y/N. So worried about you,” he continues down to your nose, your cheeks, and finally, finally, he presses his lips to yours. Hands intertwined with his other one coming to cup your face, you pull apart just enough to look each other in the eye. And to think you might not have survived to do this ever again. The thought is enough to bring tears to your eyes and as they fall down your cheeks, Aaron kisses your forehead again before leaning his head against yours.

“You’re okay, Sweetheart. You’re here, I’m here, the team is in the waiting room. We’re all okay,” he says gently, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You continue to cry, soft whimpers escaping you as the pain in your midsection sets in and you realize how much you could have lost if you died.

“Th’ team. Need t’see ‘em,” you mumble through your tears, and Aaron nods before reaching for his phone and texting someone, staying by your side the whole time. Your tears continue to fall, but Aaron’s presence and steady reassurance calms you and soon you’re just staring at each other, hands clasped, reveling in your closeness.

A nurse enters the room and checks your vitals on all the machines you’re connected to before remarking on how good it is to see you awake and then she’s gone; Aaron doesn’t leave your side.

A swift knock on the door turns your head, and a smile breaks across your face as the team shuffles into your room and gathers around your bed. You watch them as they come in, looking for injuries or something out of the ordinary. However, they’re all okay, looking at you with sad hopeful eyes, but they’re okay just like Aaron said.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, wide-eyed.

“We’re okay? Mama, we should be checking on you. You’re the one whose been unconscious for a day and a half,” Morgan chuckles.

“’M okay. Good. Great. Sp’tacular,” you assure them with a smirk and a wave at your general hospital-chic appearance. You don’t have to turn to Aaron to know he’s rolling his eyes as the others let out small laughs at your answer.

“Glad you’re awake, Y/N,” Rossi states with a smile as Reid nods behind him.

“We were worried,” JJ adds.

“Don’t you ever do that again! I mean it,” Garcia says, pointedly. You huff out a laugh and grimace as your abdomen twinges in pain. Note to self: don’t do that again. You catch the rest of the room in a collective wince out of the corner of your eye, but your focus is now on Aaron, as he leans impossibly closer to you, gauging your level of pain through his furrowed brow.

“We’ll be back later,” Emily suggests, laying one hand on JJ’s arm and another on Reid’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Y/N.”

“Will do,” you grit out, pain subsiding only slightly in your stomach. Your eyes shut and over the sound of your heavy breathing, you hear footsteps retreating and the closing of the door. Aaron’s hand brushes your hair back off your forehead and comes to rest on your cheek. With your eyes closed, you realize just how fucking tired you are now that you’ve confirmed everyone is fine with your own eyes. You squeeze Aaron’s hand, and as you give in to your exhaustion, you feel him kiss your knuckles with a sigh.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, and then you’re out.

---

You wake up to a hushed argument taking place between Morgan and Rossi at the foot of your bed and surprise surprise Aaron’s scowling at both of them.

Fighting through a yawn, you mumble, “G’morning, everyone,” pointedly glaring at Morgan and Rossi who at least have the decency to look sorry for disturbing you.

“Afternoon, princess,” Morgan says with a nod. “Nice to see you awake again.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but notice the careful way Aaron’s watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Squeezing his hand—has he let go of it since he got here? A thought to pursue at a later time—you turn your attention back to the agents at the end of your bed.

“What have I missed?” Rossi looks at Aaron before taking a breath and facing you.

“We think the guy who shot you has a partner and we’re trying to figure out who it is.”

Well shit. Schooling your face into a somewhat neutral expression, you repeat “…a partner…?” and something akin to fear washes over you. There’s someone out there who wants you dead. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Steeling yourself, you look over at Aaron for confirmation and the hard look in his eyes is all you need. Fuck. Sinking further back into the pillows behind you, you stare at the ceiling and try to fully comprehend what you’ve just learned. Breathing deeply, you try and quell the panic that’s rising in your chest. Shit. Now what happens. Eyes clenched shut, you address the room.

“So, what now? There’s another guy so what do we have on him what do we know has the unsub said anything that might help us? Something? Phone calls at weird times, unusual credit card activity, change in schedule, unexplained absences from work, something has to stick out,” Your words rush out before you can stop them.

“Well—“ Morgan starts but you cut him off, rambling.

“—and what’s the name of the unsub anyway? What’s the name of the fucker who shot me two times?” you ask, eyes flying open at the realization that you only know him as “the unsub” and not his actual name.

“Parker Harrison,” Hotch states with enough contempt for you to stop and squint at him, worried.

“Sounds like an asshole,” you remark, but Hotch doesn’t smile like you thought he would.

It’s at this point that Morgan wisely makes some excuse about seeing if Garcia has found anything new and he herds Rossi out the door before the other man can protest. The click of the door behind them is deafening as you continue to watch Aaron’s face while he stares down at your joined hands on the bed. Tracing your knuckles, he doesn’t elaborate on the unsub and so you wait. You focus on your own breathing, Aaron’s hand in yours, and his presence next to you.

However, there’s only so much silence you can take when you have so many questions that you would like answered. Tugging on his hand, you wait for him to look up at you before speaking.

“Aaron, who is this guy?”

Silence.

You try again.

“Aaron, I can’t help you profile the partner if I don’t know who Harrison is. Let me help you catch this fucker,” and that catches his attention. With a small quirk of his lips, he exhales and leans closer to brush some hair out of your face.

“You shouldn’t be profiling or working at all, Y/N. You got shot. You need to rest,” he says as his hand settles on your cheek.

You snort and roll your eyes. As if.

“I can multi-task, love. Also, I need to work this case. Do you really think I’ll be able to rest and recover knowing there’s someone out there who wants me dead? Harrison is the first step to figuring this out and I can help, Hotch. I’m a profiler and he’s an unsub. This isn’t anything we haven’t faced before and we will catch him. So, once again, I’m asking you to let me help,” you implore. “I’m on bedrest, not dead. I can be semi-useful, even while lying in a hospital bed.”

With that, Hotch sucks in a quick breath and his eyebrows pull together.

“But you did die,” he says lowly. “You died you were dead. The doctor said you coded on the table. I could have lost you,” and with that last admission, his voice breaks. Bowing his head, the slight shake of his shoulders is the only sign you have to know that he’s crying. Crying over you. Oh, Aaron. Carefully sliding over in your bed—ouch—you pull on Aaron’s hand insistently.

“C’mere, love,” you whisper, and Aaron maneuvers his way on to the bed. Has he always been this tall or are hospital beds just smaller than normal ones?

Slowly, mindful of your injuries even in the midst of his own emotional turmoil, he curves himself around you as tears continue to fall. You lift your hand to card through his hair at a steady pace and eventually, just rest your hand on his face, catching tears and brushing them away. You raise your other hand, which is still holding his, to your lips and softly kiss his fingertips.

“I’m here. We’re here and we’re okay, and I love you,” you repeat gently until the shaking in his shoulders subsides and his breathing evens out to match yours. Holding your hand to his face, Hotch gives it the gentlest kiss imaginable before clearing his throat.

“I love you too, Sweetheart. So much. I was scared you weren’t going to make it, and then to find out you almost didn’t?” he trails off with a heavy sigh.

“It’ll take more than a few bullets to take me away from you, Aaron Hotchner,” you say. “I mean it.”

Instead of responding, Aaron nuzzles the top of your head and moves impossibly closer to you on the bed.

“I just—“ he stops. “I waited for hours to hear how you were doing. I was basically useless to the team because all I could think about was you and how you told me to get the guy and figure it out, but I couldn’t. Not without you.”

“Oh, Aaron,” you shift so you can smile at him warmly and then he’s leaning down to you, cradling your face, and kissing you with a desperation that makes your heart ache. You return his kiss with all the reassurance you can offer. I love you. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sorry. Tilting your head, you move a hand to his chest, over his heart trying to do what you can to get closer to him. I love you I love you I love you. 

Breaking for air, Aaron presses one last lingering kiss to your forehead before settling back into your side. Heart racing, you smile contentedly at the man in front of you before trying to get comfortable. Leaning just a little too far forward, your breath leaves you in a whoosh before the pain sets in, letting you know you’ve overdone it just a bit—and just when things were getting good, too. Ever the protector, Hotch readjusts your pillows and presses the call button for the nurse as you let out a whimper. Soon enough, a nurse makes her way into the room and asks you how you are—brilliant—and what level your pain is at—an eight—before giving you a very welcome round of pain meds.

As your body relaxes and your mind starts to drift, you turn your gaze to Aaron, still by your side. He kisses your cheek and then your forehead softly as you close your eyes. Safe for now.

[i-arch-my-backula]

This is just a trans rant because I don’t have anywhere else to go and a lot of cool trans people are on here. 

Obviously talking about transphobia in this and strong language is used, brief mentions of an ed and toxic relationships

I hate having to tone down my gender identity for cis people. If I explain to them that I’m like more of a genderfluid man who uses he/they/it pronouns they get confused and ask a ton of questions or just judge me for using it/its pronouns. My mutual @the-slasher-madame described gender the best by saying its a sea creature at the bottom of the ocean made of mystery meat that jiggles when you poke it. That’s kind of like gender for me. I know I am 100% not a woman but I prefer more general labels like genderfluid guy because that’s what I am. 

Don’t get me started on how annoyed people get about me not sticking to the gender binary. Other trans people often are like “You’re the reason people are transphobic” like mf you have a single wrinkle in your brain if you think transphobes didn’t exist before it/its and neopronouns. Like why do you care if I use masculine and gender nuteral terms even though I’m afab. I’m literally a 5′4 17 year old who can’t do a push up and is scared of thunder storms and the leper from it, calm your fucking tits I’m not going to murder your family or make you transition. 

Don’t get me fucking started on people constantly sexualizing me for being trans. I think it’s the combination of me being trans, chubby and sometimes being fem that makes people think it’s ok to call me sexual terms even though I clearly state I am a fucking minor. Even if I was an adult it’s not fucking ok to call a stranger a slur I don’t want to say becaus typing it let alone saying it makes me feel gross. I had an interaction with an ex of mine who complained when I told him to stop misgendering me because he “finds it really hot” and “thought I was into it”. Also speaking of exes I have had many exes try to explain to me, a trans person, how gender dysphoria works and how I don’t have it because sometimes I wear a skirt and do makeup and don’t bind 24/7. A lot of my exes have been from the UK which makes me want to hate the region as a whole but Brahms Heelshire and Christian Bales exists (along with other actors I’m forgetting) are from the UK so for now they get a pass. 

People act like because I’m a minor I don’t know I’m actually trans but the moment I become and adult I’m “grooming” kids by talking about being trans. Hrt and other gender affirmations have saved my life. For the first 14 years of my life I thought I was a girl was hell for me. It only got worse as puberty went on. If I could have gone on hormone blockers before I started puberty I would have 100%. I remember being excited for puberty because I always felt like something about me was off so I thought thats what would fix it. 

Also I don’t have to and am not going to debate my basic human rights and happiness with you. I deserve respect as a trans person and I deserve healthcare. On a side note America should step up like most other wealthy nations in the world and make heathcare free. Also I hate the fact the only trans men I really ever see are skinny, masculine and maybe cis passing trans men. Along with gender dysphoria I have body dysmorphia which makes me feel even worse about my body. It crushes me to think about how I’ll never look like other trans men or even cis men because of how big my rib cage is and how my shoulders are never going to be right. How I can’t get rid of stretch marks and I most likely will have to pay out of pocket for facial masculineization surgery. I struggle to lose weight for many reasons which has led to eating disorders and so much fucking guilt. 

I remember being told by an ex that I’ll always be an ugly fat t slur and I often think back to those words. I’ve never felt healthy true romantic love and I feel like I never fucking will because I’ll always be an ugly, fat t slur. Even in friend groups I’m the odd one out, even among other trans people. I have to constantly explain I can’t do this or that because of my bone structure and weight and how I can never feel comfortable wearing anything and most of the time all the “help” or “tips” I get is equivilent to me asking for maple syrup and everyone telling me to go lick a maple tree. 

This kind of explains why my comfort characters are slashers along with Carrie White and Ben Handscome. I can relate to what they deal with and while none of them are trans men (canonnicaly) I can still find comfort in knowing that someone else understands what it’s like. I know this is kind of over sharing and literally no one cares but I just have to vent these feelings somewhere and this is my blog where I can do what I want. 

[babymetaldoll]

As long as you are safe (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Yes: could i request a spencer x reader where she’s on the team and she ends up sacrificing herself for him and she gets hurt because of it. and can it end fluffy cause i don’t think i can take a non happy ending! 

Summary: People say “I would die for you” a lot, but never actually mean it. She never said it, but she was willing to take a bullet for Spencer Reid if she had to.   

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Reader

Word count: 2K

A/N: This is my first angst request, so bear with me, ok? 

Masterlist 

.

Nothing had ever hurt so much. But it didn’t matter to (Y/N). Spencer was safe, that was all she cared about. 

- “Pressure dropping���- one paramedic warned and kept checking (Y/N)’s vitals- Stay with me- he looked at her right into the eyes- I need you to stay awake, ok?

- “She’s hypoventilating”- someone else warned 

- “Come on (Y/L/N)”- Morgan held her hand as he rode with her to the hospital- “Come on pretty girl, hold on”. 

- “She has to be taken to the ER now!”

Derek was sent with her in that ambulance, Reid wanted to go instead, but he was a nervous wreck, he was no help at all. No one had ever seen him lose it before, not the way he had when he saw (Y/N) bleeding next to him. 

It all happened too quickly. And it felt it was all his fault. 

He could see the moment she got shot, repeating in his mind, over and over again, the whole drive to the hospital: The unsub was right in front of him, he was sure their job was done. Derek was already handcuffing him when Reid felt (Y/N) jump on him and push him to the ground at the sound of a gunshot. 

Spencer shook his head and tried to wipe off the tears from his cheeks, as the image of that specific fragment of his life kept coming back. But the tears kept falling, and he couldn’t stop sobbing. 

He should have seen it. He should have foresighted the idea of a second unsub, an accomplice… it was now too clear, but also, it was now too late. 

Reid quickly grabbed his gun and shot the killer right in the middle of the forehead. But he didn’t care about him that second, he did it out of instinct, all he could think about was (Y/N). He quickly crawled by her side and started yelling for a doctor. 

- “I’m ok silly”- she whispered and tried to calm him down. She was lying, and he knew it. It was frustrating how even bleeding on the floor, she would always try to make him feel better. 

- “Shhh, come on, stay with me, stay with me, (Y/N)”- Spencer was trying to keep her awake, but it wasn’t working, (Y/N) was bleeding out too fast, even when Reid kept pushing his hands against the wound on her chest. 

- “You are ok, that’s what matters”- she whispered and made her best to smile, but she couldn’t, her eyes shut, and Spencer lost it. 

- “No! no! no! no! (Y/N)!! (Y/N)!!”

Medics took her from the ground and onto the ambulance, as Derek held Spencer back. He was sobbing and yelling, no one had ever seen him like that. He blamed himself and if anything happened to (Y/N), he was never going to forgive himself. He couldn’t pull himself together for a second.

That’s why Hotch took him to the SUV and asked Morgan to go with (Y/N). Reid yelled and argued, he didn’t want to leave her side, but he was forced to. It felt it was a movie, it was… wrong, everything was wrong. An hour ago they were laughing in the same car he was now sitting in. And now… now he might never see her again. Now the last thing he had said to her was “Stay with me”, and if she didn’t, Spencer didn’t know how he was going to survive.

Reid loved (Y/N) more than he actually loved himself. But never said a word about his feelings. He was sure she knew and didn’t reciprocate them, so he settled for best friends, and that was ok, he was happy that way. But now, suddenly it hit him: she might die, and he might have never told her how he really felt. If he did, he might even get a chance to be happy, and he had been wasting his time, all because he was afraid. (Y/N) wasn’t afraid when she jumped to save him, even if that meant getting shot. Why should he be scared? why was he allowing himself to be so afraid? 

.

- “Spence, listen to me”- JJ tried to talk to him, but he was lost in thoughts, standing in the hall of the hospital, waiting for any news from (Y/N). His friend stood in front of him and rubbed her hands on his arms, trying to comfort him, but all she managed was to make him flinch. He wasn’t good with physical contact, everybody knew that, but after all those years, you could think he was going to be able to be comfortable with his friends. Apparently, he wasn’t. Or maybe, it just wasn’t the right time.  

- “You should get some rest”- he shook his head and kept looking at the door, waiting for a doctor, anyone that might tell him (Y/N) was ok, that it was nothing, just a scratch, that she was going to be ok in a day or two. 

- “Reid, you have to rest, there's nothing you can do standing here”- JJ insisted, but the look in Spencer’s eyes was a dagger. She knew he could be cruel when hurt, and maybe it was better to let him alone for a moment. Penelope walked over and gave him a cup of coffee. She didn’t say a word, just smiled and saw him thank her with his eyes. JJ nodded and walked back to the waiting room with the rest of the team. 

(Y/N) didn’t see her whole life pass flash before her eyes. She just remembered a loop of her favorite moments with Reid ‘cos that was what she wanted to hold onto. She knew what she had done, and she knew she could die. But she didn’t care. She honestly didn’t care, as long as he was ok. That was how much she loved him, and she was hoping if she died, he could understand it. 

People say “I would die for you” a lot, but never actually mean it. She never said it, but she was willing to take a bullet for him if she had to.  

Rossi looked at Hotch sitting next to him, and he could read it on his friend’s face there was something he was hiding, maybe not to worry the team even more. If possible. 

- “What aren’t you saying?”- he asked and watched the team leader close his eyes. In that job, you get used to pain, but nothing prepares you for these kinds of situations. 

- “I spoke with one of the paramedics that brought her in, it doesn’t look good” 

Waiting was agony. Emily kept walking around the room, trying to keep herself busy just moving. Morgan, JJ, and Penelope sat together, in silence. They were repeating in their heads over and over again everything was going to be ok, that (Y/N) was tough. She was, but… they all knew it was a hard thing to recover. 

.

After four hours in surgery, a doctor walked out. Spencer nearly jumped and looked at him, hoping he was there to give him some good news. 

- “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

- “Yes!”- the whole team walked over quickly. All of them looking weary after a whole night awake. 

- “The bullet went in her chest and ricocheted into her abdomen… it was hard, she lost a lot of blood, and we almost lost her, but we were able to repair the injuries”. 

- “Is she going to be ok or not?”- Spencer snapped at the doctor, and Derek quickly put a hand on his shoulder, to calm him down. 

- “One centimeter over and it would have torn right through her heart”- Spencer wasn’t breathing- “But happily, she is going to be ok, and she will be able to leave in a couple of days”

The way Spencer sighed relieved could never be described. He felt the weight of all the books in the world had been taken off his chest. 

- “When can I see, I mean, when can we see her?”- Reid asked and reformulated his question not to look as desperate as everybody knew he was.  

- “She needs to rest, you can see her in the morning…” 

- “Is there any chance I can stay with her tonight?”- he asked and the doctor looked at him confused- “I think someone must be here when she wakes up”

- “Are you family?”- she felt like family, but technically, he wasn’t. The doctor sighed and nodded- There’s nothing comfortable to sleep on in the ICU

- “I don’t care, I’m not gonna sleep”. 

The team hugged Spencer on their way out and promised to come back early morning. Then, he walked into (Y/N)’s room, and tears blurred his vision. She was pale, asleep, looking dead. His jaw tightened as he stood next to her. He was afraid to touch her, afraid he could hurt her, so he just ran his thumb on her hand and bit his lips, trying not to make a sound. 

- “I’m so sorry”- he whispered and just stood there, looking at her for a few minutes. He knew it was a miracle that she was still there with him, and he wasn’t going to waste any more time. He wanted to share his life with her. 

.

When (Y/N) woke up, in the most excruciating pain she had ever felt, the first thing she saw was Spencer’s messy hair resting by her side on the bed. He was sitting on a tiny chair - that looked incredibly uncomfortable- and he had fallen asleep with his head on the bed. She smiled - even that hurt a little- and made his best to move slowly her hand to him and run her fingers through his hair. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes, confused, and looked at her. 

- “(Y/N)”- he whispered and she nodded

- “Still me, yes”- talking hurt too, so she just whispered and made her best to hide the pain. 

Spencer couldn’t talk. He had no idea what to say. He had thought all night of all the things he wanted to tell her, but at that minute, it was too much, everything was too much. His eyes filled with happy tears and he leaned in to kiss her forehead. 

- “I thought I had lost you”- he managed to murmur, even when his chin quivered and his voice cracked- “I thought I was never going to see you again” 

- “You are not getting rid of me so easily”- she whispered and sighed

- “Are you ok?”

- “Yeah… don’t worry... “- Reid stayed close to her and tucked a flick of hair behind her ear.  They just stared. No one had ever been so glad to see each other ever before.      

- “When I was in the ambulance”- (Y/N) broke the silence and held Spencer’s hand tight, feeling him caressing carefully her fingers- “I kept flashing in and out of consciousness, everything was so bright around me… and I remember thinking it didn’t matter what happened to me, as long as you were ok”   

Spencer shook his head, crying, and leaned in to kiss her forehead again. He had never done it until that day, and he couldn’t stop now. He just wanted to kiss her, forever. 

- “You shouldn’t have done it”

- “I wanted to do it…”- she made a pause and closed her eyes. When you defeat death, you start taking chances, I guess- “I wanted to do it because I love you, Spencer, and I couldn’t stand the idea of you being hurt”

Reid had no idea what to do. He just looked at her in adoration and sighed. She loved him. Of course, she loved him, she had taken a bullet for him. He could be happy with her, he had a chance to make it right. He had a second chance to make her happy. 

- “You shouldn’t have done that, because I love you too much to live without you”- Spencer said and moved a little closer, resting his forehead on her, closing his eyes. She sighed and did the same, holding tight onto his hand 

- “I love you, Spencer” 

- “I love you too”- he smiled and whispered- “I love you so much, and I am going to say it to you every day until we die... if you have me”

He looked at her and kissed her lips sweetly, slowly... carefully, still afraid to hurt her.

- “Then, you will have to hear me saying “I love you too every day””- (Y/N) smiled and kissed him again. She never imagined it took a bullet to finally make her confess her feelings. But it had been worthy.   

[iamwhoami]

Are You With Me (Grey’s Anatomy)

Grey’s Anatomy

   When Y/N unexpectedly find out that she’s expecting, she suddenly finds herself having to figure out how to tell Jackson.

Warnings: Pregnancy???

Requested = Yes

“No...no, please no,” You whispered quietly as you stared at the stick in your hand.

   You were starting to lose hope that the first one you took was a false positive.

   It had all started a few weeks ago actually when you missed your period. That didn’t really alarm you since you were never regular and plus with all the stress that was on you right now, you figured that those were just the reasons. 

   Then, you started getting sick. Feeling nauseous, throwing up...all that fun stuff. 

But only in the morning. 

   Even then, you kept brushing it off, telling yourself that you had probably caught a stomach bug from a patient.

   It was the one and only Arizona Robbins that forced you to grab a pregnancy test (or two) from the pharmacy.

   So now here you were, locked in the bathroom in your apartment with three positive pregnancy tests. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

   You and Jackson hadn’t even started talking about kids and now you had to tell him you weren’t just thinking about having kids in the future, you were having one now.

This couldn’t be happening.

   You were deep in your swirling thoughts when your phone suddenly went off and you looked over to see a text message from Jackson.

Hey, do you wanna come over? I’ve made dinner for two...

   Did you? Not really. But at some point you’d have to tell him right? You quickly texted him back saying that you were leaving now

   Sighing, you decided to shove one of the pregnancy tests into your purse along with your phone before grabbing your coat and heading over to Jackson’s.

~~~

“Hey!” Jackson’s smiling face greeted you as he opened the door. “Come in!”

   You walked in and shook off your coat before hanging it up. Usually, it felt more casual but today you couldn’t help but feel out of place.

“I made fettuccine alfredo,” Jackson said, not noticing your tense body language, “Do you want some?”

   You swallowed, “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

   You took a seat on one of the bar stools at the island and Jackson soon placed a plate filled with a generous amount of pasta on it. He then helped himself to a plate and took a seat on one of the stools next to you.

   Normally, you would have finished the pasta in seconds, but your stomach was too nervous to have any sort of appetite so the best you could do was a few bites before you ended up playing with the food on your plate.

“Is everything okay?” Jackson asked, now noticing your strange behaviour. 

   This might have been a good time to tell him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Yeah, just a long day you know,” You replied, not completely lying. 

   It had been a long day but that wasn’t why you were acting different. 

   Jackson nodded, “It was a long day, do you want something to drink? Wine?”

“No,” You quickly declined, earning a strange look from Jackson. 

You had to think quickly to prevent any suspicions. 

“I think maybe I caught a bug or something from someone,” You explained, “I don’t think wine’ll make me feel any better.”

   Jackson nodded and for now, it looked like you were able to steer clear of the topic. 

   The rest of the dinner, you and Jackson talked about all the patients the two of you treated earlier in the day. By time he had finished, you had still barely touched your plate. 

   You knew he was concerned about that but he didn’t ask about it, much to your relief. 

   Before he could invite you to stay over, to quickly came up with a lame excuse about forgetting to your laundry in one of the machines in the apartment laundry room and thanked him for dinner.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” You told him.

   Jackson nodded, “Yeah, see you.”

~~~

   Okay, you were going to admit it. You were avoiding Jackson and there was no way around that.

   He had texted you last night once you got home and when you didn’t reply, he had called you multiple times though every time you just let the phone ring until it stopped by itself.

   When you had gotten to the hospital the next morning for your shift, you spotted Jackson talking to a nurse at the front desk and made a quick beeline for the hall that lead in the opposite direction. 

   While Jackson had specialized in Plastics, you specialized in Peds after realizing that there was just something special about working with kids. 

“Hey! Look who made it!” Arizona greeted you as she watched you start to go through the charts of the patients you had to see today.

   You sighed, “Yeah, I made it all right.”

“So what did the test say?” Arizona pried. 

   You knew what she was talking about but you played dumb anyway.

“What test?”

“You know what I mean,” Arizona said and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your eyes that were now slowly filling with tears on the charts.

   Arizona noticed your tears and quickly placed a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t need to say anything for her to know your answer to her previous question. 

“Have you told Jackson yet?” She asked you softly.

   You shook your head, “I was going to last night, he invited me over to dinner, but I chickened out.”

“You should tell him,” Arizona told you, “The sooner he knows, the better.”

“I know, I know,” You said, “And it’s not like I don’t want to tell him because I do. I want him to know.”

   Arizona nodded understandingly, “But you’re scared.”

   You scoffed, “More like terrified. I’m pretty much dropping a bombshell on him.”

“Well, my advice would be to just tell him,” Arizona said, “Get it over with.”

Both of you knew though that it was much easier said than done. 

“Yeah...okay,” You took a deep breath, “After shift, I’ll tell him, but right now, I have to check on Tracy Jenkins. It looks like she took a turn for the worst overnight.”

“Okay, yes, good luck!” Arizona told you before you hurried off.

~~~

   After a very long, exhausting, and horrible shift, you collapsed on one of the beds in the on call room. 

Today had been an awful day.

   Tracy Jenkins ended up coding and you weren’t able to restart her heart. She was eight years old. 

It wasn’t just Tracy though.

   Little Billy, born premature five days ago, had caught an infection and was now in critical condition. 

   Sixteen year old Molly Thompson was walking home from school when she was hit by a car. The driver was drunk. 

   She was still alive, but she was currently facing the possibility of paralysis while everyone waited for her to wake up from surgery.  

   You heard the door open before Jackson’s face suddenly loomed over you. 

“Long day huh,” He commented as he took a seat next to you.

“More like a rough day,” You groaned.

“Yeah...same,” Jackson sighed and you sat up.

   You were exhausted and felt like crap but you had said you were going to tell Jackson the news after shift and you didn’t plan on chickening out this time so...

“We need to talk,” Jackson said before you could say anything though.

   You nodded, “You’re right. We do.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Jackson kept going, “I keep racking my brain for anything I could have done but I can’t think of anything-”

“Jackson, stop,” You cut him off, “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong Y/N because you know I know something’s wrong,” Jackson raised his eyebrows. 

   You took a deep breath, “Jackson, I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

“You’re...” Jackson’s voice faltered.

   You nodded, “I’m pregnant.”

“Okay...well...” Jackson seemed to be at a lost of words, “Maybe it was a false positive?”

“Maybe,” You bit your lip, “But I took three and they were all positive so unless I got three false positives...”

“Which is very unlikely,” Jackson said.

   You swallowed, “Yes. Which is very unlikely, but, I haven’t actually gotten any blood drawn or anything.”

More silence.

“Jackson, I need you to say something,” You finally told him, “I need you to say how you feel about this.”

“I mean,” Jackson put his hand on his head, “You just told me you were pregnant, I’m still comprehending things.”

   You sighed, “I’ll put it differently then. Are you with me or not?”

“Of course I’m with you,” Jackson quickly took his hand off his head and placed it on your hand instead, “I’m not leaving you, not now, not when you need me the most.”

   At those words, you burst into tears, not able to keep your composure any longer. 

“Hey...hey,” Jackson said softly as he scooted closer towards you, “It’s okay. We’ll figure things out.”

“I was going to tell you last night,” You spoke between your sobs, “But I got cold feet. I’m sorry.”

   Jackson wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you told me.”

“I was scared,” You admitted, “I’m still scared.”

“You know what? So am I,” Jackson whispered, “But we’re gonna take this one day at a time. Together.”

You nodded and buried your face into his chest. 

“Does anybody else know?” Jackson asked you as he started stroking your hair. 

   You nodded again, “Only Arizona. She was the one who told me I should take a pregnancy test.”

“I think we should talk to her again,” Jackson said, “Get some blood drawn to see if those tests were right and then if they were, get an ultrasound done. You know, to check on our little bean.”

   You smiled, “Our little bean?”

“Well, little bean probably does exist so they need some sort of name,” Jackson explained, blushing a little. 

“Okay well...we’ll do what you just said in a little bit,” You agreed, “But I just need a moment with you.”

   Jackson opened his mouth to say something but before he got the chance, your pager went off and you quickly picked it up.

“Molly Thompson’s waking up,” You said and started getting up, “I need to be there.”

“Yeah of course,” Jackson replied, “I’ll meet you on the OB floor then when you’re done.”

   You nodded, “Sounds good.”

   You left the on call room feeling as if all the weight had just been lifted off your shoulders and you could now breathe again.

Everything was going to be okay.

[marjansmarwani]

such strange uncharted territory 

1.4k || ao3

A conversation leading to the intervention, and some conversations after. ------- A 2x10 Coda

Just some firefam and tarlos content for your Tuesday. Beta’d by @silvarafael

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

“Well we have to do something, we can’t just ignore this.”

“Can’t we though,” Mateo asked hopefully, “because it seems like that is exactly what he wants us to do.”

“Yes, but when you care about someone, you don’t let them get away with stuff like that,” Marjan reminded him and Judd nodded. 

“Exactly. Besides, do you really think Cap would let any of us get away with that? No, the man forced me into therapy when I was too stubborn to admit I needed it, it’s time to return the favor.” 

“What favor?” a new voice asked and they all turned to see TK approaching, grin on his face. His grin faded though as they all looked between each other, unsure how to broach the topic. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, per se…” Marjan tried, but he gave her an unimpressed look. 

“Okay, then what is it you don’t want to tell me?” 

They all looked at each other again before Marjan gestured towards Mateo, “Probie?” 

Mateo looked between the others and TK and when no one else rose to the occasion he sighed and started talking: “Well, the other night when we were drinking,” he began, and TK gave him a baffled look.

 “Wait, you were drinking with my dad?”

“Yeah,” Mateo confirmed, “because I was staying there and he said it was tequila time.”

“You're staying with my dad?” TK asked again, the confusion on his face only growing. 

“Yeah because my house blew up so I needed somewhere to stay.”

“Wait,” TK exclaimed again, leaning forward, “your house blew up?!”

“That’s not what’s important here,” Mateo said dismissively, eager to get to the point of this conversation. 

TK gave him an incredulous look. “That sounds pretty important, Probie” he said dubiously, voice tinged in concern. Are you okay? Your roommates?” 

“Yeah everyone’s fine, they’re just idiots who messed with the gas line, but we can talk about that later. What’s important right now is your dad.” 

TK glanced around to the others and took in all their grim looks. Whatever good humor that had been lingering in his expression was chased away, and he swallowed.

“What about my dad?” he asked quietly. 

---------

“Stubborn sonofabitch,” Judd muttered as they stepped out of the house and into the bright afternoon sun. TK was in the front, back to all of them since he had led the exit from his father’s living room but even from this angle, they could all see the tension he held in his body. 

“He is certainly that,” he said darkly, turning and leaning against Carlos’s car, running a weary hand down his face. His jaw was still clenched and he was the very picture of anxiety as he glanced back at the house. Carlos stepped closer but didn’t reach out to touch him, settling instead for leaning on the car next to him, offering him his silent support as they all looked at each other. 

“Thank you all, for being here,” TK said eventually. “I’m sorry you had to get involved, and I’m sorry he’s like this.” 

Marjan gave him a sad smile, “He’ll come around. Maybe this was just the wake up call he needed.”

“Either way,” Paul added, “of course we’re here. All you need to do is ask, man.” 

Mateo nodded, though he looked back at the house with a nervous gaze, “Though I don’t think Cap is too happy with me at the moment.” 

Judd clapped a hand on his shoulder, “He’ll get over that quick, Probie. He’s not one to hold a grudge. And though he may be stubborn as hell,” he added, glancing at TK as he spoke, “he’s not stupid. He’ll see sense, you’ll see.” 

“I hope you’re right Judd,” TK responded with a weary, sad smile. “I just hope it happens soon, before it’s too late.” 

---------

They part ways, after that. 

Judd goes home to Grace and Paul, Marjan, and Mateo all head out together. TK and Carlos go home. 

The moment they step through their front door, TK almost wilts; heading directly to the couch and sinking into it, placing his head in his hands. Carlos shut the door quietly behind them and followed, settling beside his boyfriend. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s really on your mind?” he asked lightly, not wanting to pressure the other man into speaking if he wasn’t ready. 

TK raised his head to look at him, meeting his expectant gaze and sighing, “I just feel bad, Carlos. I should have seen it.” 

“TK…” 

“No,” TK insisted with a shake of his head, “I should have seen it. I’ve been so wrapped in everything that I didn’t see it and I should have. He would have if it were me.” 

“You’re allowed to live your own life TK, and your dad would be the first one to tell you that. It’s not selfish to focus on yourself. Besides,” Carlos added, “it’s easy to miss what someone is trying to hide from you. Your dad didn’t want you to see any of it so he made sure you didn’t and that’s not on you.” 

TK sighed and sank further into the couch and Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that even though he was right there he was a thousand miles away. 

“But that’s not all, is it?” Carlos prompted gently, “There’s more.” 

“It’s stupid,” TK said so soflty it was almost swallowed by the open air of the room.

“I doubt it is.” 

“I just,” TK began but trailed off. He looked away from Carlos and tried again, “I’m just scared. Of losing him. If he doesn’t go through with the surgery, the cancer could come back. And I’m angry,” he added, voice harsher.

“At who?” Carlos asked gently, “or what?” 

“At my dad for not wanting to stay alive!” he exclaimed, finally looking at Carlos, who was unsurprised to see tears in his eyes. “And at myself,” he added, voice quieter but full of a sadness that made Carlos’s heart ache for him, “for not being a good enough reason for him to want to.” 

“TK,” Carlos started, though he didn’t know what to say.

TK shook his head and the tears that had been held in his eyes finally breached their confinement. Carlos reached out without a word and pulled TK into his arms, his heart breaking with every sob. 

“You are enough, TK.” He assured him quietly, gently. “You are more than enough and you always have been. I can’t say that I have any idea what is going on in your dad’s head right now, but I know that’s not it.” 

“How can you know that?” 

The question was uttered so softly that Carlos almost missed it. As it was if it hadn’t been breathed into his chest, he would have. 

“I know because I love you,” he said simply, firmly. “And because I know your dad does too.”

He felt a soft movement against his chest. It felt almost like a shrug, and it was almost enough to break his heart all over again. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, focusing on the man in his arms.  

“We’ll get through this, whatever it is,” he assured TK. “Even if we have to do this a hundred times. We won’t stop until he sees sense, until he is okay. I promise.” 

“Carlos, I love you,” TK finally said, voice still sad and quiet as he sat up and met Carlos’s gaze, “but you can’t promise that.” 

“I can’t promise it will work,” Carlos agreed, “but I can promise that we will keep trying. I am with you, every single step of the way, okay? You are not alone in this. Or anything - not any more.” 

And when TK smiled, Carlos felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. “Thank you,” he said softly, leaning forward to give Carlos a soft kiss, “for reminding me.” 

“As often as you need,” Carlos assured him, flashing him a warm smile of his own. 

“And for loving me.” 

It was Carlos’s turn to lean forward, reaching out and placing his hands gently on either side of TK’s face as he kissed him, slowly and sweetly. When they pulled apart for air Carlos found TK’s eyes, still shining from tears and held them as he made another promise. 

“Every day,” Carlos assured him, “for as long as you’ll let me.” 

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

True love survives arguments. Sometimes it even survives break-ups, so you have to live, and then you have to fight for him. Just hold on and fight. In which Jo calls Alex and he actually picks up.

“Alex, I need you to call me or so help me, I will fly to where you are and…”

Jo snaps, she'd been practicing her speech over and over in her head all day, she’d not even considered what she’d do if he actually answered. Which much to her surprise he had…it had taken her moment to even notice she wasn’t listening to the familiar sound of his voicemail but instead the sound of his steady breaths.

“You answered?” She mutters almost in disbelief as she pushes herself up off the couch, pacing around the loft. All she’d wanted all week was for him to answer and now he has the silence is deafening.

“I know you said you were going through something and that you needed time and I wanna give it to you I do, but I spent a lot of the last year pushing you away…”

“Jo…” she pauses as the sound of his voice comes over the line. She has to cover her mouth to stop herself from crying out, three weeks he’d been gone, three weeks of sitting by the phone, three weeks of not hearing his voice. Three weeks of conjuring up the worst possible scenario.

She takes a shaky breath, leaning against the cold window. She needs to get the rest of her speech out before she loses her nerve before she breaks down and begs him to come home. “I know it wasn’t my fault but I did, I pushed you away, but you held onto me then. You did, you held on and you refused to let me go or give up on me. You held on to me. So I’m holding on to you, I’m holding on for dear life.”

It’s quiet for a moment. So quiet she thinks he might have hung up but a quick glance down at her phone screen shows they’re still connected.

“It’s not that easy Jo.” He sounds tired, defeated maybe…either way, it turns her stomach.

“I love you.” She whispers, gripping the phone tighter in her hand. Her eyes watering as she hears his low sigh, like that was the last thing he wanted to hear. “Alex, I love you and whatever this is, whatever you’re going through I wanna go through it with you.”

They fall silent once more. Jo grips to her phone like she’s gripping onto him.

“I love you too.” Jo closes her eyes savoring his words. It should fill her with relief but she knows the but is coming. She thinks back through all her fears, all the scenarios that she’s conjured up these past few weeks. He loves her…he still loves her, so can it really ever be that bad?

“You do?”

“Always.” He confirms.

“Then talk to me, just talk to me. I’m right here.” There’s desperation in her voice as she pleads with him. “For better or worse….”

“What?”

“For better or worse.” They’ve promised it to each other more times than she can count at this point. On a ferry boat in June in front of all their friends. They whispered it against each other's bare skin late into the night. They’ve muttered it in passing on a busy workday when the world felt like it was caving in. He’d promised her it outside the facility the day she was released and he’d promised it to her again just over a month ago in the courthouse.

“Did you mean that?” Jo asks, she’s clutching the phone so tight now she’s sure it will break. She’s holding on for dear life.  “If this is the worst, Alex I can handle it.” She lets out a shaky breath, as she tries to calm herself breathing in for a count of three. “I can handle it...I can handle whatever it is but I need you to tell me what's going on.”

Then nothing.

Silence.

Just their quiet breaths filtering through the line.

Jo can taste her salty tears as they slip down onto her lips then…

“I’m with Izzie.”

He’s so quiet she almost doesn’t hear him. Her mind takes a moment to grasp what Alex had just said.

Izzie

“I called her for Mers hearing and we got to talking…”

“She wasn’t on the list.” It’s the first thing she thinks of, all her worst-case scenarios coming true at once.

“What?”

Her legs feel like jelly, shaking too much to support her weight as she drops to the ground, leaning back against the couch, “She wasn’t on the list.”

“I didn’t put her on there.” He says it like it’s simple. Like it’s an obvious explanation for any of this. He sounds more confident now, his voice clear and concise like he’d practiced it. Maybe he had. Maybe it’s why he’d avoided answering her for so long, he just hadn’t figured out the right words to say.

“She had my kids Jo.” She couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in the room. “She had twins Eli and Alexis and they're here in Kansas.”

“You have kids?”

“I have kids. Twins. They’re five years old...say something, Jo, please.” He urges after a minute's silence.

She can’t though. She’s clawing at her chest desperately trying to remember all the stupid breathing techniques she’d learned. Trying to get to her happy place, her happy place that had him written all over it.

“I’m so sorry Jo.”

“Do you love her?” She manages through ragged breaths. She’s already on fire, might as well throw on the accelerator.

He hesitates. She hears his breath hitch like he can’t find the right words and then a quiet yes. Yes, he does love her.

“But not like that. Not like I love you.”

The words that had felt healing only moments ago hurt now, causing her heart to tear further into two, now they sound more like pity than hope.

“What does that mean?”

She hears a slight sniffle before he’s clearing his throat. “That I love you...but I can’t come home, I can’t leave them. Can you come here?” He sighs but Jo's mind is still whirling, her body still shaking. She can’t quite comprehend anything that he’s saying.

It’s like all she can see is a huge blinking sign that reads.

He’s with Izzie. He loves her. He has kids.

“You have kids.”

“Jo…”

“You have a family?”

“Daddy?” Jo can feel the gasp falling from her lips before she has a chance to stop it. He’s there now, he’s there with them while she’s sitting alone.

“You’re there now? You’re with them?”

She hears the phone muffle. Obviously, he’s covered the speaker but she can still hear him as he asks his children to go play, that he’d come and join them in a minute. He’s a dad. Something he’d wanted for such a long time. Something only weeks ago she’d been considering bringing up for them.

He understood her. It’s one of the reasons she loved him so much. Since Bailey’s wedding, they’d just had this uncanny ability to understand the other. Even if they didn’t agree with each other. They were cut from the same cloth.

Right now though that feels worlds away. Right now they feel like two pieces of different puzzles. She’s here and he’s there and he’s a parent and she’s not.

His voice breaks through the overwhelming thoughts clouding her brain. “Can you come here, Jo?”

“I can’t.”

It's a low whisper before she does the one thing she could never imagine herself doing before she pressed his contact tonight, she hangs up.

She lets him go to voicemail twice before the phone falls silent. She thinks he knows better than to press the issue, especially when all he’s done is ignore her calls for weeks. She needs time. Time to figure out what this all means.

It’s easier said than done. She manages to drag herself to work, detaching herself from everyone she knows, pushing through by focusing on her patients. He doesn’t call again. Weeks go by in silence. Jo falls into the same routine of working until she might drop, only dragging herself home when she’s so tired she's sure her brain won’t be able to torment her.

It’s only when she’s ransacking her wardrobe having neglected the growing laundry pile for too long that she finds them. Tucked into the back behind an old shoebox. Three tiny baby hats.

She clutched them carefully in her hands, trailing her finger along the detailing. They’re made with such love and care for babies she used to be able to picture so clearly. She doesn’t wanna give up that dream or Alex for that matter she's just not sure how to hold onto him.

For the first time in weeks, she finds herself staring down at her phone, her finger itching to hit call. She doesn’t though. She’s not sure what she’d say about this mess, still feeling too big to wade through alone.

The second time she’s overwhelmed with the need to call Alex comes only days later. She’s just finished discussing surgery options with a new patient when she spots him. He recognizes her immediately, his face lighting up.

“Dr. Wilson…it’s so nice to see you again.”

It’s Charlie Peterson. The heart transplant kid from years ago. He’s older now obviously, he looks healthy and it gives Jo a warm feeling to know she was a little part of that. She so rarely gets to see her patients again.

“Charlie…it’s good to see you. Or I hope it is…are you here for treatment?”

“Just a check-in with Dr. Pierce.” Jo nods offering a soft smile before turning her attention down to her phone. She has to run, she has surgery in a little bit. Sensing their conversation is almost over she watches as Charlie sways back on his feet almost nervously. “Dr. Wilson…there’s something…there’s something I wanted to say. Wanted to thank you for really. It’s something you said to me when I got my transplant.” Jo doesn’t say anything, she can vaguely remember talking to him. She knows it was the day she’d propose to Alex. “You said I had to promise to survive, that true love survived fights and breakups. You said you have to live, and then you have to fight and it always stuck with me you know. So just thankyou.”

Jos' speechless. She’d remember it now, her and Alex arguing. He was so sure she was leaving him that he’d spent the night away from home. Her heart had felt heavy as she returned home that night to an empty loft, it felt cold without him much like it did now. She’d hated it so much she’d refused to let that be her permanent reality. She’d fought for him back then. She got down on her knees and told him she wanted him forever. Where had that gone? Where was her gumption? That need to fight for him?

She wishes Charlie well before excusing herself for surgery but her mind is miles away. It might as well be in Kansas because that’s where her heart is. It's where she should be too.

She’s not sure what happens next. She’s not sure how Izzie and the twins fit or how she fits with them. But she knows how she fits with Alex. She knows that nothing has ever felt that scary when he’s been standing there beside her and if she can just get to him she’s sure they can work this all out.

She scans her phone buying the plane ticket out to Kansas without a second glance. Reading the confirmation email she feels at peace for the first time since Alex had walked out that door. The kinda peace that only came from knowing where your heart truly lied. Tomorrow she’d get to see Alex and no matter how bad or how scary everything else around them was, he’d be there to hold her hand. All she had to do was hope he still wanted to.

Tomorrow she'd be with Alex. Her first love. Her last, her only. He was all of it. He was her everything.

It’s late when she arrives back at the loft, so late she doesn't even notice how the lights are already on as she climbs the steps. It’s only when she spots a familiar pair of boots lined up by the door that she realizes the change. The air seems warmer. Looking up abruptly she spots him standing across the room, leaning against the kitchen island like he’d been waiting for her.

“You came home?” She mutters in disbelief, her keys clattering to the ground as she takes him in. He’d let his beard grow, which makes sense considering she’d been crying at the sight of his razor for weeks. He looks tired though, with deep bags under his eyes.

He nods, taking quick strides until he’s standing before her. She could reach out and touch him if she wanted. She watches his own hands twitch with the same urge. Like he too wanted to confirm she was real and standing in front of him. “I came home.”

Suddenly Jo bursts out laughing. Her hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she tries to keep her giggles at bay. Alex's eyebrows drop in confusion as he eyes her carefully. “I booked a flight.” She admits through uneven breaths.

“What?”

“I booked a flight for tomorrow morning. I was gonna come find you.” She laughs again, finding it overwhelmingly amusing that on the day she’d decided to go find him, he’d come home.

Alex frowns but nods as if he has an understanding of what she’s laughing about. “Jo look…”

“Do you still want me?” She asks abruptly. It’s the only question she has. She can deal with the twins and Izzie and Kansas, she can deal with it all as long as he still wants her.

“What kind of question is that?” Alex settles his hands on her waist, the heat of his palms seeping through her. “Of course I want you. I always want you.”

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

And they do figure it out. They head back to Kansas together the next morning, Alex’s hand clutched tightly in her own. Jo’s nervous and scared and a whole other host of emotions but those feelings soon fade when they step out of the rented car. Alex’s face lights up as two five-year-olds come barreling down the front steps, skidding to a halt in front of her. Their eyes are wide and hesitant as they say a reluctant hello. Jo is struck with the love that flows through her as soon as she sees them, no they’re not her’s but they are his. Little pieces of the man she loves so dearly. She can see parts of him so clearly, he’s in Eli’s lopsided grin and Alexis’s eyes. They’re a part of him; it's impossible not to love them.

She lets Alexis guide her up into the house, accepting a cup of coffee from Izzie who seems genuinely pleased that she's there and they sit for the rest of the afternoon playing tea party. Jo mainly spends the day watching Alex who seems more himself then she’s ever seen him before as he chases the two around.

Later that evening Izzie finds her on the porch swing. Jo feels her stomach turning at what she’s about to say, but she is surprised when Izzie apologizes. She apologizes for keeping the twins a secret, for not calling Alex sooner, and then she apologises the way she’s sure she’s uprooted Jo's life. The funny thing is it doesn't feel uprooted at all. It’s only day one but nothing has been as bad as Jo had made it out to be in her head. The day had flown by in an unexpected bliss, Alex had been the husband she knew, constantly touching base making sure she was okay, a reassuring hand squeeze or a mouthed I love you across the dining table. He needn’t bother though, she was more than okay.

“Do you think she can hear me?” Alexis shouts, making Jo startle out of her daydream. They’d been in Kansas almost a year now. It’s not a picnic by any means but it’s definitely worth it. They’re a family, a real proper family. It’s not just her and Alex and their friends anymore and Jo loves it, every messy second of it. She’d cried when the twins had shown up at their house the day after Mother’s Day with a card that read ‘Not all stepmothers are wicked’ and a bunch of flowers that Izzie had let them pick from her garden. Her life is so far from what she’d imagined it to be after she’d called Alex a year ago. Back then she could never see herself leaving Grey Sloan Memorial or even Seattle but they had and it was better than whatever life they ever had planned.

“What about now?” Alexis yells again, pressing her chin into Jo’s stomach as she looks up at Jo expectantly.

Jo just laughs, their poor baby would probably be deaf by the time she was born. “She can definitely hear you and by the time she joins us she’ll know the sound of your voice.” She runs a hand through Alexis' hair softly as the girl settles her ear against Jo's stomach.

“Can she hear me?” Eli yells suddenly, crashing down on top of his sister as they fight for a place on Jo's stomach. “I want her to hear me.” He cries, making Jo and Alex chuckle as he places his ear against her bump expecting his new sister to talk back.

“Everyone can hear you, ya little monster,” Alex growls, lifting the boy up off the picnic blanket they’d laid out, making him squeal in delight as he tips him upside down, one hand tickling his side.

“Ooo she definitely heard you,” Jo winces, feeling a sharp kick to the ribs. “Here guys come to feel her.” She takes Alexis's outstretched hand moving it about as she traces her daughter's kicks across her stomach until she seems to settle in one spot. She watches Lexs face light up in pure delight, her mouth falling open in wonder.

“Can you feel her Lex?” Alex grins taking the seat beside Jo, placing his warm hand against her bump just slightly to the side of Alexis’s.

“Yeah…yeah, I can feel her,” She nods excitedly.

“Hey, I wanna feel her too…” Eli pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as that famous Karev scowl crosses his face.

Jo shakes her head, reaching her arm around Alex and holding it out towards him. “Come over here then bud,”

They all fall silent for a moment, a very rare moment for the Karevs. The happiness seems to radiate out between them all as they feel the little movements of their newest edition.

The warm sunny day sends a golden filter over the image before her. Alex’s lopsided grin, his hand stretched out across her belly, two smaller hands pressed either side. Eli’s tucked under her arm while Alexis lays across her lap. She knows this perfect moment won't last so she takes extra care to commit it to memory while it happens.

As predicted the moment is broken, the sound of the ice cream truck drawing the children’s attention as they go racing across the grass in a flash and they both know Alex has about ten seconds before he has to go catch up to them. He takes the time to press a chaste kiss to her lips before he goes. Soft and sweet and way too short for her liking.

“Thanks for holding on to me.” He whispers against her lips when he pulls back, shooting her a wink before he’s off and running in the direction of the twins.

“Always.”

She calls back, laughing when he almost trips over as he turns back to grin at her. Jo runs her hand across her bump lovingly, thinking back to how only a year ago she was ready to give up this dream of a life completely. She’s glad she didn't.

[ladyalienist]

Health, size, and honestly fuck everything.

I wouldn't want to write this post, but here we are. I mean, this is the most anonymous I can get.

In January 2020, before this whole Covid mess started, my head started spinning at random.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but I could do stuff while slightly uncomfortable. I'm used to doing stuff while in pain.

In March 2020 I received an endometriosis diagnosis - after thirteen years of pain and bathroom gore one week a month, five different oestrogen pills that worsened the situation (to this day, I haven't spent ONE DAY in my adult life without taking some hormonal pill) and TWO YEARS OF ME SAYING "I have endometriosis, I have every symptom, PLEASE HELP ME!".

Finally I had a therapy that made me feel better - no more The Shining blood-in-the-corridor scene! No more pain! Just follow religiously the regimen of progesterone and supplements for the side effects and you'll be fine! Still fatigued as fuck, still suffering from dyspareunia, but who cares.

My head kept on spinning at random. I didn't bother.

I don't go to the doctor unless it's extremely necessary. It's not a matter of money - my country has free healthcare, thank you very very much - it's about how I was treated. Not listened to, my problems overlooked, diagnosed at best with "fat" and at worse with "maybe it's all in your head, sweetie", the very few time I was in for somethig that couldn't possibly be reduced to "fat" the exams were invasive and painful and included screaming at me for flinching. And then a "lose weight, anyway".

I won't go on and on with rambling about my misfortunes with doctors, but anyway, in late June my head spins a lot and it's not just being slightly uncomfortable, it's "I'm risking to fall and hit my head every morning when I get up and I can't do shit". I go to my doctor this morning.

This woman who had me as a patient for about a decade makes her visit and assumption - not that important, it's not the point - prescribes me more in-depth exams and one medicine that should help, and then proceeds to tell me "you must really be sick to come, you're not the type who ever goes to the doctor". Yeah ma'am, maybe if you had listened to me when I came the first two times I'd trust you better. Then she sends me to a very kind nurse who needs some information to make a new file about me. Including height and weight.

Based on BMI I am obese. And I am fat. Like, I'm a really big and intimidating sturdy woman. But I have unbreakable bones and a strong build and even when I'm not doing any sports I can still lift most of my friends up and spend a whole day marching. I am undeniably fat and I'd need to lose weight, but I'm far from being the kind of obese most people imagine when saying the word. Like, many people including males in seeing me genuinely don't think I'm in any way medically problematic.

BMI is shit. It's shit on so many levels. Everyone knows that. Yet the nurse kinda frowns, she didn't expect those numbers.

I go out from the doctor. It's a nice, sunny day.

I am thinking about killing myself once again.

I think about all of the desperate work I put into learning how to take pleasure from food and still eating healthy - once a week I have pizza. Once a week I might have a sandwich with a bit of mayo or a sushi lunch. No soda of any kind. Some biscuits at breakfast because in my culture breakfast is carby and sweet - but my breakfast is overall not that big deal. I don't drink alcohol. I don't smoke. I don't do drugs. I try to be intuitive and follow the needs of my body. I take long walks whenever I can - if I can't it's because university is a fucking full time job nobody ever recognizes and I get TIRED.

I'm fat and no amount of salad can change that. My weight stayed the same for seven years after school no matter what and how much I ate. Science is telling us that size is 90% genetics and epigenetics and diet culture is killing people.

I tried to learn how to enjoy eating and how to do it in front of other people and how to share. But now I'm having thoughts about how much I need to lose and how to do - no more weekly pizza? No more sushi? Never again? A sad sad life of counting calories and going back into massacring my body in sports the way I did when I was a teenager? Or maybe I could finally fit (haha) the criteria for bariatic surgery, so I can have exactly one slice of pizza per week and be satisfied with it for the rest of my life. Still a bit sad but fine, I guess. I wasn't meant for pleasure anyway.

I think about how people were grossed out by my body and mocked and ridiculed me and whoever looked like me. Thin was the price to pay for being free to exist, for being at least a girl/woman - not even a person, misoginy still counts, but a girl/woman. A fat girl, a fat woman, is less than that, she's scum.

I think about how the men (boys actually) I partnered with were delighted with the fact that they could hit me and be rough - I could take the pain and no serious damage was ever done. But fucking me and hitting me did not make me their girlfriend. Their reputation could be ruined, God forbid. The very first male friend who didn't actually bother about being seen in public spaces with me... well I met him at 20, exactly 20, it was my birthday.

I think about the repulsion I feel in the morning when I shower and I see and feel my naked body.

Yesterday a friend of mine, a friend of mine who says I'm beautiful, who calls me "hottie" on a regular basis, and I were drinking a cocktail. She took a picture of me for Instagram and I was OK with it. Now I think about how people might see me and feel the same repulsion. I get them.

I think about a woman my age who just died in my country because of bariatic surgery. She went under and never woke up. She was just like me, big and sturdy but healthy, happy. She had a boyfriend and friends - one friend in common with me indeed - but the job market wanted her to be skinny. So she died.

I raise my gaze and see a man, his lower abdomen so bloated it hurts to watch, slowly walking to somewhere. I don't want to blame a guy who has done nothing but exist, but... has he ever thought about his body in the same terms I think of mine? Look at his slow slow walk... entirely different from my fast and nervous pace, the one that has my acquaintances and friends screaming "where the fuck are you running please wait for us short-legged people you valkyrie", fast and nervous not only because I have places to go but mostly because I have calories to burn. Does he know that fast walking makes you healthier? He doesn't seem to know. Health for him is a non concern.

I'd deserve a healthcare system that does something for me. What I have is ineffective measures for serious problems and a useless culture that would rather have me die in an unnecessary surgery than just reconsider it's priorities. Tell that woman that it was for her health. Please, go on her grave and tell her.

I get to a bar.

"Good morning, may I have a coffee cream, please?"

My head has not stopped spinning yet.

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

Lots of banter, a shared kiss, and the promise of a future.

The last chapter? Maybe... (Chapter one & two & three)

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3,237

--

Resuming from previous chapter

Once Trinh left after delivering the tray of food, Namaari and Raya sat on the opposite ends of the couch, the tray of food laid between them. Raya's prescribed diet was liquids, so that's what Namaari ordered for both of them as she wasn't going to eat solid food in front of her, trying to be accommodating.

After surgery, a patient is placed on several diets as they recover: Starting with clear liquids and ending with their regular diet. 

Raya looked down at the tray and chuckled as she looked back at Namaari, who was grinning at her. "We had very few options." Namaari snickered, raising an eyebrow, making Raya roll her eyes.

"I had very few options! You didn't." Raya said as she pouted her bottom lip, causing Namaari to nibble ever so slightly on her bottom lip.

"We had very few options," Namaari stated, emphasizing on we. She hadn't noticed what she had said until she saw the initial shook on Raya's face before a grin replaced it.

"Well, we should eat," Raya purred as she looked down at her options; on the tray were two soups, two juices, and two smoothies, but she had no idea what any of them were. She must have looked perplexed as Namaari quickly started pointing and describing the options.

"The soup choices are between tomato basil or chicken broth. For juices, I ordered orange and apple juice. Finally, either a  mixed berry or tropical smoothie,"  Namaari chuckled, presenting the tray with her right hand. "The full liquid diet was very limited. I know its not much of a breakfast, but I tried my best--"

"It's perfect, Namaari. Thank you!" Raya beamed as she reached for the broth, placing it on her side of the tray before pushing the tomato soup towards Namaari. She then looked briefly at the other as she tilted her head towards the tray. "Have your pick!" She beamed as Namaari quickly grabbed the apple juice, moving the orange juice towards Raya.

They then looked up at each other and, in unison, "Want to share the smoothies?" 

Namaari was quickly flustered and cupped her hand, brushing her hair behind her ear. Meanwhile, Raya wore a smug look.

"I'll love to share smoothies, Namaari! Great idea," Raya stated smugly as she watched a blush creep onto the cheeks and the tip of Namaari's ears. Raya then found herself wondering: Was Namaari embarrassed, or does she have a praise kink? It's definitely a kink, she thought. "I appreciate it...I appreciate you," she said, testing out her theory, slightly biting her bottom lips as Namaari's brush grew darker. Praise kink. Raya made sure to make a mental note of that.

"It was a mutual idea," Namaari said as her eyes focused on everything but Raya's eyes.

"Why do you do that?" Raya said somewhat aggressively; anytime she tries to thank Namari: Namaari just wholly shoots her down and doesn't allow her to feel thankful.

"Do what?" Namaari asked, confused. 

Did she say something she shouldn't have? 

Did she order the wrong food? 

"Anytime I thank you, you give credit to anything or anyone that isn't you. Stop that!" Raya announced with a pout, eyebrows frowned and arms crossing on her chest.

Namaari chuckled at Raya before sighing, "I don' mean to! It's an old habit; my mother raised me never to be self-absorbed and to include others in the big picture." 

Raya raised her eyebrows, and a small frown formed on her lips, "Accepting my gratitude doesn't make you self-absorbed...And trust me, I see the big picture; I know you didn't save my life by yourself, but god damm it, Namaari; YOU still aided in it so please just take the compliment!" She declared.

"In that case. You're welcome," Namaari said in an exaggerated tone while wiggling her eyebrows, trying to mock the pouting girl in front of her. "It was a pleasure saving your life." She winked, and she ducked her head slightly while swaying her left arm motioned as if she was bowing. To this, she just received a slight hit on the back of her head. "what was that for" She said, regaining her posture, laughing.

"Mock me again!" Raya said, raising an eyebrow, " I can take you," she declared as she wore a proud grin. Namaari just rolled her eyes.

"Not right now!" Namaari chuckled as she lightly threw her head back.  

Raya was only watching in awe as she noticed the smizing of Namaari's chocolate brown eyes, the slight scrunch of her nose, and her two little fang teeth making an appearance in her wide smile. At this point, Raya felt a rush of confidence, and she just wanted her. 

Right then and there.

The next thing Namaari hears is clatter as Raya just tossed the tray of food off the couch. Her chuckle dying as she focused on all the liquid puddles on the floor, feeling quite confused. 

Raya watched as Namaari's face portrayed her confusion as she looked down at the mess. The frown between her eyebrows making Raya's heartbeat that much faster. 

What are you doing, Raya?

Raya took a deep breath closing her eyes for a second. "Fuck it," She exhaled as she opened her eyes. Namaari finally bringing her gaze back to her as a small smile attempted to appear. Raya just bites her bottom lip as she pushed off the left leg. Within a second, she was an inch from Namaari face. Her left knee retaining all her body weight, her hands found themselves resting on the other's shoulders, stopping her from actually slamming into Namaari. 

The sudden movements resulted in a painful sting in Raya's chest, causing her nose to scrunch as she winced in pain. Namaari felt her face enlight as she thought about their close proximity, but before she could comment on the sudden outburst, Raya placed a gentle peck on her lips. 

Namaari sat still, even more confused, as Raya began to worry she went too far. 

Raya was pulling away when Namaari's arms rest on her waist, gently squeezing them, causing Raya to giggle in response. "You could have said you wanted me to kiss you; truly, you didn't need to make a mess of our food." Namaari proclaimed as she licked her bottom lip all so subtly. 

"Stop talking," Raya groaned as she ran her hands up Namaari's neck, gently pulling on it to close the gap.

"Gladly," Namaari whispered as she pressed her lips onto Raya's. 

The kiss was gentle and soft as if they both were making sure the other wanted this. Raya's lips were incredibly soft, while Namaari's were exordinally plump against Raya's. And as much as Namaari wanted to introduce tongue, she reframed from it as Raya's medical staff has a habit of interrupting them.

Raya was taking the kiss at Namaar's pace, not deepening it until the other was ready. Even so, the kiss still caused Raya to feel this rising heat within her, somewhat overwhelming but very much a good sensation.

As Raya moved on her hands to scratch at the back of Namaari's head, Namaari moved one hand to the couch, as the other steadily held Raya's waist. Namaari craved more of Raya, so she ran her tongue across Raya's bottom lip, forgetting anyone could walk in at any second. 

Raya happily let Namaari deepen the kiss, exchanging salvia and gently fighting each other's tongues to show dominance. But Raya quickly found herself losing as Namaari gently guided her back towards to couch.

Namaari gently laid Raya against the couch as not to further injure her. She knew she was in control when Raya moaned against her lips as they pulled away for a quick breath before continuing their passionate kissing.

Namaari knew this current situation was so dangerous and wrong because she's WEARING scrubs. Someone could walk in and think Raya is her patient, yet she was choosing to ignore it.

Because Raya is amazing!

She even tastes fantastic! 

How was she ever supposed to stop?

She questioned herself as time seemed to stand still as she hooved over Raya, finally separating their lips to whisper, "You're trouble." to which Raya chuckled too before gasping for air. Her sudden deep breathe presenting a slight slur. Namaari's eyebrows frowning. "You're in pain! Raya Fuck...you're punctured lung," Namaari blurts as she gently pulls away, causing Raya to let go of her neck, laughing.

"Worth it!" Raya whimpered as the pressure in her chest was beginning to ease with each breath she took. "More please," She says as she perks her lips towards Namaari, who wears a stern look on her face and is now sitting in her old position. Raya soon realizes Namaari will not kiss her again, at least not as passionately TODAY. So with a big sigh, she starts to shift into a sitting position. "Technically, it's no longer punctured: I had surgery to fix that, Dep La."

Namaari just rolled her eyes as she crossed her hands over her chest. The warm sensations still lingering in her body. "Technically, you shouldn't be straining your breathing while recovering," She stated as she stared at Rayas swollen lips; having noticed this, Raya runs her tongue across her bottom lip, trying to be a temptation to the Namaari.

"You aren't my nurse soo.." Raya says as she sits up properly, leaning her face closer to Namaari.

"DEWDROP," Namaari hears as she turns her head, spotting a man pulling the curtain open. He's wearing a blue and green military uniform with several pendants and badges. She can only assume this man is Raya's father. She watches as his eyebrows knot in confusion, seeing the mess on the floor and seeing how closely she's sitting to his daughter. 

"BAA?" Raya expressed in confusion, "What are you doing here?"

"Tong told me he would be visiting you in the hospital today, which was a surprise to me! So, of course, I make my way here immediately," He states as Namaari awkwardly smiles and waves. Not necessarily intimated but feeling guilty for almost being caught.

"I didn't tell you so that you wouldn't worry. I'm fine! I promise," Raya says happily as she looks over to Namaari whose busy looking her father. "This is Namaari, my soon-to-be girlfriend" That statement caused Namaari to look at her smiling as the tips of her ears redden. 

"Dewdrop...this is unethical," Benja replied as he stepped closer to his daughter, noticing the eye roll of his daughter and the sudden shift in Namaari, where she chuckled and lightly pumped out her chest.

"I know how it looks, but I'm not a member of her healthcare team. Yes, I work in this hospital, but I didn't pursue Raya the brief moment she was my patient. I waited a few days, " Namaari confidently stated because honestly, she didn't do anything wrong. 

Benja chuckled as he stopped walking inches away from the puddles of drinks; before extending his hand out to Namaari while narrowing his eyes towards Raya, "Do I want to know?" He asks as Namaari reaches over and shakes his hand firmly before smiling.

"I can't disclose that even if I want to," Namaari looks over at Raya. "But she can, and hopefully with time, she will." Benja tightens his grip on Namaari's hand, causing her to shift her attention back to him; when she does, he smiles.

"Raya is quite the character, so I wish you luck!" Benja states as he begins to belly laugh, as he loosens his grip. Namaari herself begins to chuckle as she's only known this girl for a few hours, and she can see that!

"The gesture is appreciated, general Benja." Namaari manages to say between her laughter.

"Benja is adequate," Raya's father says as he nods at Namaari, finally recovering from his laugher.

"What just happened?" Raya questions. When her father returned from war when she was 18, he became very protective. He claimed he wanted Raya to be happy but was cold towards anyone she pursued. Most of the time, he just acknowledged their existence but didn't quite engage in conversations. "Everyone's call's you general; everyone besides me!? Even Sisu does," Raya blurted as her eyebrows went up in confusion.

Benja just stared at Namaari without breaking eye contact, both unwilling to blink or look away first. After a few seconds of that, Benja laughed, "Because she can hold her own; meaning if one day I'm not there to protect you... She will" Namaari looked quite puzzled with the answer. "She's the only person I've ever met that doesn't allow me to intimate them. So I know she's a keeper," He says smugly as he looks over at Raya, winking at her.

Namaari smiles, thanking her mother at that moment. She was raised not to show weakness or let anyone make her feel as she was less of them. Besides, she could see right through Benja; he wasn't mean. He was relatively gentle, but he must feel obligated to hide that part of him with his general title. Yet Namaari, within seconds of seeing him, was able to read him as a non-threat. "My mother is a sergeant, so I was raised to know of authority but never to feel repressed by it." She stated warmly, watching serval emotions wash over his face until he found an answer in his head.

"Namaari as the daughter of sergeant Virana," Benja asked, completely taking Namaari by surprise. She just found herself nodding. "She's excellent at recruiting, breaking soldiers during training, and then rebuilding them into powerful and loyal soldiers!"

"WAIT, VIRANA FANG! ?" Raya screams excitably, surprised by how small the world of Kumandra is. "Your mom was my trainer!"

Namaari sits and thinks for a second, and it suddenly hits her. "YOU'RE THE DRAGON SOLDIER!" Everyone bursts out in laughter. "She's described you as a strong, bold, confident, but a somewhat dense soldier who she adopted as her military daughter." She quickly tucked some hair behind her ear as she remembered her mom was actively trying to set them up, and Namaari always came up with the lamest excuses. 

Guess destiny has a way of catching up on you!

"Well, that's one way to describe me! But yes, I was the only dragon nerd in our military branch. Sad really," Raya confidently stated while she winked at Namaari. Raya was about to speak again when she heard Ba clear his throat. 

"Dewdrop, sorry to interrupt, but we need to talk," Benja commands while he fixes his posture out of a relaxed state and more of a power stance. 

Namaari can feel the tension in the air. It's not directed to her; that much, she is sure. She can see the worry, pain, and disappointment in his gaze towards his daughter. Namaari realizes she's not wanted, so she turns to Raya. 

Raya notices Namaari reading the air before turning to look at her pulling out her phone. She swipes and types for a few seconds before passing her phone to Raya. Raya cannot help but smile when she realizes Namaari is asking for her number. Raya types in her number without hesitation, saving it and then sending a quick message to her own phone. As she turns off the phone and hands it back to Namaari, she hears her phone ding, and she smiles. 

Namarri likes her! 

Why else would she want her number?

Raya really likes Namaari and feels disappointed her Ba suddenly showed up. She wanted more time with her; no, she needed more time. The truth is, she's liked other people, even loved others but Namaari. She can't explain the difference. It's scary; she knows she can get lost in the feeling and possibly come out broken-hearted in the end. But Namaari is worth it. Raya knows she still has so much to learn about the other, but that makes her excited. Because with time, she will learn everything about Namaari, uncovering all the hidden secrets within her if she is given the opportunity. And so far, it seems they both are on the same path. 

"Cheif Benja, it has been a pleasure to meet you; thank you for your service," Namaari states as she quickly bows her head towards Raya's father, who chuckles at her. She then turns her gaze to Raya. "As its Noon, I feel comfortable leaving with your Ba. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about before your friend arrives at 2." Namaari softy says while finding herself lost in Raya's brown eyes. They are so memorizing--but she quickly shakes herself out of it and, by instinct, leans over to Raya placing a quick peck on her lips. When she pulls away, she realizes how dangerous Raya truly is for her. She wasn't just a conquest to Namaari because that peck felt so natural and right, almost as she had been doing it for years and could keep doing it for the rest of her life. It felt easy to speak to Raya, and when they did encounter silence, it wasn't uncomfortable. 

Was she smitten? 

Was she falling in love? 

No, not love... just smitten, right? 

Well, whatever Namaari feels, it's just so RIGHT! And honestly, she was tired of fighting her mind on this; she was taking the jump! She's throwing herself into this new feeling. "Can I call you later today? I...umm...just want to continue learning about you?" 

Raya was taken aback for a brief second by Namaari but nodded as a broad smile plasters onto her lips, "I'll love that! Thank you for today, Namaari. Get home safe, please."

Namaari lets out a happy "mph" as she nods yes and begins to stand up, only realizing the mess on the floor. Lucky she missed it by an inch. "I'll send someone in to clean this!" She giggles slightly as she remembers what lead to the mess before recognizing the other presence in the room and correcting herself to be in a more serious tone. "I'll send in housekeeping to clean up the mess and have Boun order you some food!" She states as she maneuvers through the spill. 

"It's been interesting, but a pleasure to meet you," Benja commented as he raised an eyebrow at Namaari maneuvering through the mess. Once she is clear, she's next to him and smiling before walking towards the door. 

As Namaari is about to exit the room, Raya screams, "Goodbye, beautiful! I'll be waiting for your call!" She then watches as Namaari stops at the door and can barely see the tint appearing on the tips of her ears. 

"Goodbye, gorgeous," Namaari whispers back, hoping Raya didn't hear her; however, she hears Raya purr in response as she steps out of the room. She couldn't help but smirk as she left the room. 

She did it. 

She chose to listen to her heart and take a chance on her past patient.

Now she's going to anxiously and excitedly wait till nightfall to call Raya.

She is confident that this is only the start of their story and much more is to come. 

Namaari knows deep in her soul that she doesn't need to fear this feeling because Raya will catch her, and Namaari will catch Raya. 

Ohh, how excited she is for their future.

Maddening and intoxicating love...

And lots of sin; once Raya fully recovers...

--

I kinda wanna add a SMUT chapter... I think I’m going too 🤔😏 

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

White Lies (Pt. 13 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

<- Previous part (12)

Next part (14)->

{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

×

Change Of Heart

“You and Daniel were in a relationship that ended sometime before we met,” Keanu says, gathering his stuff as you do the same, both starting to take the baggage to the living room. “He is Mrs. Davis' son, and I guess she didn't like much when you two broke apart.”

“And where is this Daniel now? I'd like to meet him if he's part of my past.” You stop by the door, as Keanu checks on his phone for the car he just called.

But he puts his phone away, eyes on you. “Daniel passed away a week before your accident.”

“Oh...” You whisper, looking down. “So that's why Lucia got so sad when I said we weren't considering the name.”

“Yeah.”

Furrowing your eyebrows at his weird expression, you step forward and tiptoe, placing a kiss on his lips. “Let's go home, babe.”

•••

Going back home happened without any incidents. But the next days were filled with medical appointments. You assure him you're fine, but Keanu seems to be in an urge to make sure you're completely fine. You try not to complain about it, but things get weird when you notice a strange expression on his face. For too many times to count you caught him looking like he was just about to say something, but for some reason, he gives up. It makes you confront him a couple of times, but he assures you he's just worried as the pregnancy goes on.

Some weeks go by, and you're getting impatient to find out the baby's sex. On your many ultrasounds, they're always on a position that makes it impossible to see it. But you're hopeful for today, and, as you lie on the bed with Keanu, your back against his chest, you take in the soft morning light.

Keanu has an arm around her waist, a hand caressing her belly. Her bare back keeps his body warm, and despite the constant feeling that time is running short, he places kisses on her neck.

He was supposed to tell her the truth weeks ago, the moment they got back from Miami, but he just couldn't. This went too far, he went too far. In every possible aspect. Keanu didn't only fell for her, but he was intimate with (Y/N) too many times to count, and that makes him feel more guilt than anything else.

Her second trimester is just about to end, and now, he's caught in between. Again, for the millionth time, Keanu is caught in between two feelings. His love and his morals.

In his defense, Keanu did try to break the news several times. The words, the destructive, dangerous words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to desolate his life. But they got stuck, and he was too weak at the thought of losing her. Of losing the baby that he loves so much. It doesn't matter how many times he reminds himself the kid isn't his, he's failing to get this fact to grow roots in his heart. Keanu loves the child as if it's his own.

Guilt threatens to devour him entirely sometimes, but right now, in this moment, happiness suppresses everything else. This is his personal paradise, with her, the baby, healthily growing inside her.

Keanu always wanted a family. Settle down, take less and smaller roles. But nobody ever made him feel like he could. Of all the women he dated, nobody ever made him feel like he would give up everything. He thought he knew what love was, and he thought it wasn't as strong as people say... But now, life proved him wrong. This is love, a wrecking ball that came and destroyed his walls, his heart, his wrong perceptions. If only it happened some other way. If he wasn't caught up in this web of lies.

Dr. Harris wasn't happy to know he was sleeping with her. (Y/N) told her, of course, and even though it was in her usual shy and reserved way, the psychologist got the meaning behind the words. And she confronted him, very harshly, and Keanu could do nothing but listen and agree. Because this is wrong. This is the worst kind of betrayal.

(Y/N) moves a little, breathing deeply as she wakes up. A hand finds his, pulling it to her chest, placing a soft kiss on his fingers. “Morning.” She whispers, voice still clouded by sleep. She's used to it now, Keanu is always awake first.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He replies, fingers caressing her chin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, but I miss lying on my stomach.” She complains, turning around and snuggling into his chest. “What time is it? We have an ultrasound.”

“I know. And we should probably start getting ready.”

“Alright.” (Y/N) mutters, but doesn't give any signs she'll move anytime soon.

But he knows what today is all about, and it will certainly make her excited. “Hopefully we'll finally find out if this little one is Sophie or Liam.”

“Yes!” Immediately, she pushes herself up, an arm sustaining her weight as she looks down at Keanu. And he tries not to stare at her nude figure, even though this is silly compared to everything they're done. Still, he thinks he should at least try. “The baby must be in a good position today. I can't wait anymore.” With that, she's up, smiling as she makes her way to the bathroom.

And Keanu is left behind on the bed, surrounded by his bad decisions. Maybe this is the right time. Maybe, being this happy, she won't hate him so much.

With a lump in his throat, he goes on with his routine, until they're almost ready to go. Keanu waits by the bedroom door frame as she fixes her hair, the bathroom door half open. This is way too sudden, but if he doesn't do that now, if he waits any longer, he'll never be ready. He'll never be brave or strong enough to do this. He took too long already. Now, he can only hope, pray, that this will somehow end up the way he wants.

That he won't lose her.

The moment he sees (Y/N) walking out of the bathroom, Keanu gives a step forward, arms crossed, heart beating so fast it threatens to jump off his chest. The words are at the top of his tongue when his eyes take in her posture. (Y/N) holds the skirt of her blue dress up, all the way to the top of her thigh with one hand, and on the other, there's blood. Bright and red, staining her fingers and the palm of her hand. His eyes turn to her face, blank, scared as she looks at him.

Without thinking too much, his mind on the verge of collapsing, he forces himself to move, quickly making his way over her.

You hate the smell of the soap they have here. You hate this hospital and what it means when you're brought here. It's only far worse now. You're still trying not to burst into tears, trying not to break down again. There's no pain, so that's good. And no more bleeding, which is even better. The feeling you got when you found blood on your underwear was the worst thing in the world. For a moment, a desperate moment, you thought you were going to lose the baby. You wanted to yell, but you didn't have it in you.

If it wasn't for Keanu, you don't know what you'd do.

Now, still walking terribly slow out of nervousness, you leave the hospital bathroom, finding Keanu seated on the edge of your bed, already looking at you.

“Hi, beautiful.” He says, and you remember this was one of the first things he said to you. “Come and lie down. Why did you put the dress on again?”

“Because it's clean and I don't want to stay here.” Instead of doing as he said, you stand before him, your forehead on his chest. “I thought I was going to lose our baby.” Your voice cracks as some tears roll down, arms around his midsection.

“I already spoke to the doctor.” Immediately, you pull away, just enough to look into his eyes. “He assured me you're both alright.”

“Are you sure, Ke?” You plead, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I almost lost my mind.”

“He wants you to rest and that's all. He–” He's cut short by the door being open, and you see Dr. Wright and your obstetrician.

“First of all, you must know the baby is alright.” Dr. Williams says as she comes closer, a tablet on her hands. “Sometimes, such discharges happen, mostly as you progress from the second to the third trimester.” She kindly smiles. “Everything you two need to do is keep up the good job. Make sure to rest, eat healthily, and exercise. But I'll recommend you to lie down for the rest of the day, ok?”

“Ok.” You quickly agree.

“It would be good to avoid surprises. The bad ones at least.” Dr. Wright adds, oddly staring at Keanu. But that's normal, he still needs to look after you, so some things are directed to him. “But we have good news today, right, Dr. Williams?”

“Yes.” From under the tablet, she takes a picture from the ultrasound and hands over to you. “The baby was in a good position and we already know the sex.”

“Oh my God.” You exclaim, smiling for the first time since the incident. “What is it?”

Dr. Williams smiles, exchanging a glance with Dr. Wright. “Mr. and Mrs. Reeves, you'll be having a baby boy.”

“It's Liam!” You yell, throwing your arms around Keanu again. “I was right!”

“You were right.” He agrees, a second before you kiss him, not minding the audience.

“Well, you're free to go home. And call me if you need anything.” Dr. Wright says and the obstetrician agrees before they both leave.

At least something good happened today. You'll finally be able to paint the blank white walls of the baby's bedroom, and buy what you still need.

“I was right.” You repeat, smirking at Keanu. “But we can try again and maybe it'll be a girl. I mean, if we ever spoke about having more than one kid.” Blushing a little, you bite your lip. There are still a lot of things you need to be updated on, and you still get a little sad when it happens.

“I'd love to have more kids if that's what you want, sweetheart,” Keanu says and you smile, kissing him again. “But now let's go home. You need to lie down for the day.”

“Can we stop and buy the paint for Liam's room? We already know the color so it'll only take a minute.” You know you have to rest, but you can't help but feel excited for finally being able to finish off the baby's bedroom. “Please? I'll stay in the car.”

Keanu gives you a look because sometimes you don't always do as you said you would. “Fine, but you won't be painting anything. I can do it myself.”

Nodding, you watch as he takes your bag and guides you out of the hospital room you hate so much. Hopefully, there will be a day you won't have to keep coming here, not because of some incident and not for any appointments.

You did wait in the car this time, and as much as you wanted to hit the mall and buy everything blue and green, Keanu forces you to give up the idea and head straight home. And when you get there, you have his undivided attention. He doesn't only make an incredible lunch, and an incredible dinner, he gives your legs a massage, and it takes a lot of effort to just lie down instead of jumping on him. But this is peaceful, slow, and sweet.

In the weeks that follow, nothing bad happens. You feel great, but you also heavier. Liam is growing fast, and you can't wait any longer to meet him. And neither can Keanu. He gets even more protective with time if that's even possible. And after you almost slipped in the shower, you're not even allowed to shower by yourself. Of course you pretend you're annoyed, but the truth is that you love it.

Despite feeling uncomfortable during this period, Keanu makes everything perfect. There are still no signs you'll get the memories back, and that's a fact now, but you'll follow your psychologist's advice. And Laura's advice, since they're pretty much the same. Living in the past will only get in the way of what's happening now. You have an amazing husband, who loves you deeply, and a child on the way. The present is wonderful, and you won't let anything ruin it.

You're around week 37 now, marking it on the calendar on the fridge door, a hand on your back as you make your way to the kitchen table. Keanu is still upstairs, and you take this chance to pour some honey on your plate. You're still eating the awkward combination when he comes to the kitchen, and you try not to let him see. But Keanu sees everything, and when he takes his place across from you, you feel his eyes burning.

“What?” You innocently ask, shrugging your shoulders.

“Are you eating bacon with honey?”

Biting your lip, you raise an eyebrow at him. “I happen to love honey. And bacon. So it makes sense.” He giggles and you kick his leg under the table. “Don't mess with the pregnant lady.” Warning him, you push the plate away. “I'm done anyway. I'll move to the couch if you don't mind, my back really hurts.”

“Sure. I'll join you in a bit.”

“Ok.” Dragging yourself to the living room, you lie down, hands on your swollen belly. You're almost drifting off to sleep when you feel Keanu sitting down, lifting your legs so he can move closer, caressing your thighs. “Ke, I'm huge.” You complain, eyes on the bump.

“You're beautiful.” Bending down, he places a kiss on your exposed belly, since you have the shirt pulled up. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yeah, I doubt that.” Pouting a little, you try to hold back the giggle when you see his eyebrow raised.

“I would love to show how beautiful I think you are, but Dr. Williams told us to give it a little break.”

“Don't even remind me.” You never complained about anything with your obstetrician, but when she told you and Keanu should probably avoid sleeping together, you had to speak up. Even though your cheeks were burning. But in the end, you did comply. And you wouldn't have much of a choice anyway, since Keanu does everything the doctors say. “I heard your phone beeping. Everything alright in Arch?”

“Yes. That was just Lucia.” He says, obviously a little annoyed. “She just moved here. She's renting an apartment not so far away.”

“What the hell.” Sighing, you roll your eyes. This woman won't leave you alone, it doesn't matter what you say. “Why is she doing that? Isn't it obvious we don't want her around?” A couple of weeks ago she showed up again, and another argument happened. Keanu had to kick her out because the recommendations were that you shouldn't be put under any kind of stress.

“She loves you and the baby. That's why she wants to be around.” You don't get it. Keanu doesn't like her either, so why does he still speak like this?

“I know you can't stand her, you don't have to fake it with me.”

“But this isn't about me, sweetheart, it's about you and the people who were in your life before.”

The kindness in his voice makes you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You're amazing, did you know that?” Placing kisses on his face, you smile. “I love you. I'm worried to death and I'm trying not to get anxious with the labor, but you're making everything perfect. You're the best husband I could ever have.”

“I'm just trying to be the husband you deserve.” With a hand caressing your cheek, Keanu kisses you full on the lips, and you take no time before kissing him back. You don't know what you'd do without him, but luckily, you won't ever have to find out.

×

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303