#so I’m staying aware of it but also not planning to go to the doctor about it unless it gets significantly worse

[wosoamazing]

Birth

Baby x3 | Baby, Baby... Baby?

Summary: The triplets are born.

Warnings: Surgery, Hospitals

“You’re okay, bebé, just focus on me,” Alexia told you, causing your roaming eyes to focus on her, and she smiled at you from where she sat, just next to your head on a stool, you smiled back slightly, clearly nervous, you didn’t like surgery, it scared you, and truth be told neither did Alexia but she had to stay strong for you, “I love you, you’re doing amazing bebé, just try and relax for me,” you nodded before closing your eyes, willing yourself to be anywhere else. 

Alexia didn’t know if you would actually be able to last the whole time needed for the procedure, especially when a tear rolled down the side of your face, followed by a few more. She quickly wiped them away before squeezing your hand, and kissing your forehead, she couldn’t help but feel this was her fault, you opted out of having general anaesthesia for many reasons, but one of which was that Alexia couldn’t be there if you had chosen it, and it was only fair that she got to witness this too. 

Alexia watched as your midwife asked the doctor something quietly, to which he nodded before she went to the anesthesiologist and asked him too, and he nodded before starting to set up something else, whilst your midwife approached Alexia.

-

“Bebé, would you like to try some nitrous oxide? See if it helps? It’s okay if not but we just thought to offer. Maybe see if it will help you relax slightly?” Alexia asked you softly and you gave a hesitant nod.

Alexia was handed the mouthpiece from the anesthesiologist, and she then turned all her focus back on you “bebé, I’m just going to separate our hands for a moment, okay?” she did so and soon your hand was placed over hers. She gently brought the mouthpiece to your mouth and you took a few breaths before pulling it back, and after a few more breaths you felt yourself relax slightly more, enough so that you felt comfortable enough to open your eyes and look at her, giving her a small smile.

——————

“Okay, everyone ready, first baby will be out soon,” you looked at Alexia and she smiled and nodded, you both weren’t going to really get a view of the babies before they had to be taken away, being born at 33 weeks there was a large unknown as to how much support they would need and what complications would arise meaning each baby having a NICU team ready for them in the OR.

After what felt like forever the surgery was finally over and you were wheeled back to a private recovery room. Where Alexia sat by your side once again, watching you as you fought back sleep.

“Bebé, if you’re tired sleep, I’ll wake you up if the doctors come in, and I promise I won’t leave you, I love you so much, and I am incredibly proud of you,” you nodded your head at her, mumbling an “I love you too,” before falling asleep.

Your midwife walks in just minutes later and Alexia goes to wake you, “No need to wake her, I’m just checking her blood pressure and other vitals,” she says and Alexia nods, “Also the babies are good, they obviously still have to do all the tests and things could change especially within the next hour or so but so far everything is looking good,” Alexia nods once again, worried she might cry if she opened her mouth.

“Is it alright if I let a visitor in?” your perinatologist asks as he walks in, and Alexia nods hesitantly, “as we spoke about in your plan I’ve already explained everything that happened to her,” he continued as Eli walked in and over to her daughter.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said before he left, your midwife following him.

“You’re a Mami now,” Eli said softly, hyper aware that you were sleeping just beside her.

“Sí, I just hope it was the right decision,” 

“What do you mean?”

“She was so scared Mami, they gave her nitrous oxide to help her calm down and it did help slightly but not that much, it’s why she is sleeping now, she was on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, she’s exhausted, and I feel bad, it’s because of me, she stayed awake because of me,”

“From what I heard you were very very good to her though, and you both had many conversations about it, she’d even spoken to me about what to do and ultimately I think she wanted you there with her more than she didn’t want to be awake,” Alexia just nodded and hummed, before getting out of her chair.

“Sit,” she practically ordered her mother, before she moved to stand beside your bed, softly brushing some strands of hair out of your face, causing you to stir slightly.

“Ale,” you said groggily.

“Sorry bebé, you don’t need to be awake, are you feeling okay though?”

“Mm-hmm, lie with me?” you said, you were already positioned over to one side of the bed, and so Alexia carefully slipped into the bed beside you, before you placed your head on her shoulder, promptly falling back asleep.

“She is definitely not mad at you,” Eli laughed slightly, earning her a harsh glare from her eldest.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered as you held two of the babies against your chest, a blanket covering you and them, Alexia sat beside you, holding the other against her chest.

“You did an amazing job Bebé, thank you,” she replied, as soft tears fell down her cheeks

“I can’t believe we’re mami’s now,” you told her, and looked at her. 

“I love you bebé,” Alexia said before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

Mapi was sitting on the bus, with her headphones in as the team travelled up to Bunyol for their game against Levante when she received a message from you and Alexia with a photo. You both looked to be shirtless as you sat side by side on the small hospital bed, two small babies laid on your chest covered by a blanket, and beside you one baby laid on Alexia’s chest, also covered by a blanket. You and Alexia both looked absolutely exhausted, and at the bottom of the picture Mapi could see several wires coming out from under the blankets that were clearly connected to the babies. Yet you were still both beaming. 

Your god daughters are here. Meet Estella María Putellas, Mila María Putellas, and Livia María Putellas born 21 March 2020 at 11:00am.

As Mapi felt tears begin to fall from her eyes a collective gasp was heard from the rest of the team. Alexia had sent the exact same photo to the team group chat just minutes after the message to Mapi was sent.

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #3 (Spencer Reid x Fem!reader)

A/N: I am exhausted this weekend so if at some point you feel like the writing shows that DON'T BE ALARMED. It is simply just me fighting back the urge to go to bed. The chapter does contain a good amount of sexual assault and violence so please, please, please be mindful of that while reading. I love all the comments here and Ao3, they make my day! I have also been noticing a lot of love towards the original of this series and I appreciate everyone for taking their time to read the remake! Please know that as of right now this thing IS NOT PROOFREAD I JUST NEED TO GET IT OUT! Stay safe, healthy, and happy! -Love, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #2 > Next Chapter: Tape #4

WARNING: Cancer mentioned, sexual assault, blood, knife, cutting, mentions of death, death threats. Remember that you are not alone.

Tape Contents: Spencer and Derek are sent to discuss your abduction with Adeline. You fight back a sexual and physical attack from Heather. Heather reveals her plans for what will happen if anyone finds you.

Word Count: 4,029

March 5, 20XX

Spencer wasn’t too fond of hospitals, but he was fond of children. He interacted with them, loving that he could see how they processed information–new and old—every day. He loved Henry to bits, the way the kid was so willing to listen to Spencer’s ramblings or the way he was so amazed at a magic trick Spencer was doing. 

Sick kids were a tragically different story, not that he didn’t like them. He always felt like… well, he was having a hard time conceptualizing it as he weaved through the crowded lobby. The pediatrics oncology unit was too packed for his liking. Statistically, he knew that one in two hundred eighty-five children could be diagnosed with some form of cancer before they hit twenty. That didn’t mean he had to like weaving through a small crowd of parents, doctors, and nurses on the way to room two hundred thirty with Morgan. There it was –the words for that feeling– watching someone younger than himself not being able to experience life at thirty. 

After finding the friendship keychain, Hotch decided that Reid and Morgan should find your alleged ride-or-die, Adeline Smith. Meanwhile, Hotch and Prentiss would drive to Norfolk to talk to your mother. Rossi and JJ were handling some information with the police, so they were all paired away. 

Derek and he slipped into the hospital room that housed Adeline and her daughter, Nicole. His chest tightened involuntarily at the sight of a mother stroking her daughter’s head, a smile on both of their faces. Derek was quick to speak, “Excuse me,” The mother and daughter jumped at the noise, and their eyes snapped to the hospital room door. “I’m Special Agent Derek Morgan, and this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We just have some questions.” His hands dug into his jacket pocket to pull out the badge, muscle memory for both.

Adeline’s hand fell from her daughter's hairless head to her shoulder, her fingers giving it a light squeeze. “Questions regarding?” She asked with a curious expression as she stood up, a skeptical look in her eyes. 

Spencer’s eyes met Nicole’s for a second, a small smile rising to his lips, and she gave him a nervous smile right back. He moved his gaze over to Adeline, who was now standing with her arms folded across her chest as she waited for the two men to answer her question. Derek looked over his shoulder at Spencer, then back at Adeline. He gently motioned for her to follow him to a slightly more private area to talk to her, the two moving to a corner of the room near the bathroom.

“Were you aware that Y/N L/N was being stalked?” Derek’s voice was calm as Spencer approached Nicole’s bedside chair and sat in it awkwardly. 

Spencer motioned towards the girl’s stuffed animal, a bright orange cat that sat in between her legs. “I love cats,” he said in a soft voice. 

Nicole beamed at him, grabbed the stuffed cat, and happily petted the top of its head: “Me too! This is Bee.” 

“Bee? Do you like Bees?” 

Adeline’s eyes strayed to Spencer's conversation with her daughter, and she nodded a little at Derek’s question: “We talked about it. She went to the police.” She said, a little numbly, before her head suddenly snapped towards him. “Why?” 

“She was taken from her apartment on March third. She recorded videos for the police to send to us, the Behavioral Analysis Unit, to help find her.” Derek explained gently as he watched Adeline’s face go pale. 

Adeline grabbed her clothed chest and searched for a breath, her eyes wild as she looked at Derek’s face. Her eyes began searching for some hint in his face that he was lying, but she found none. She couldn’t stop the tears that were filling her waterline, and she turned her body away from her daughter and Spencer in a desperate attempt to hide her tears from her daughter. Her knees felt weak as she tried to breathe. 

Spencer glanced back at Adeline and Derek, scooting a little to obstruct Nicole’s field of vision. He didn’t want the young girl to see her mother cry. Nicole shook her head slightly at his question, “No, not really. Auntie Y/N got her for me, and she loves bees.” She laughed softly, her words making Spencer’s heart melt a little. 

“Is Bee your favorite?” 

The girl covered the cat’s plush ears and smiled like she had a secret. “No, but she is my second favorite.” Her fingers scratched the stuffed animal’s ears gently. “Mr. Business is my first,” she whispered to him. 

“Ah, and where is Mr. Business?” His eyes searched her hospital bed, and then he spotted a stuffed cat, a tuxedo cat. He grinned a little, and he motioned to the stuffed animal with his eyes, “Mr. Business is a very fitting name, I think,” 

Adeline held out a hand for some space from Derek, and the hand clutching her chest came up to her mouth as she tried to keep from vomiting all over him. She had been stuck in this hospital when you had called her that first night. Having always loved talking to you, she answered enthusiastically. Still, the more she listened to the situation, the more she realized she didn’t have the emotional strength to comfort you the way you needed. And she said that to you. She said that to you. She couldn’t help you then, and she couldn’t help you now. She couldn’t even help her own daughter. 

A sob rose in her throat, and she shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no, we talked on that day. Th-That night,” She recounted softly to Derek through her tears. 

“What did you talk about?” Derek whispered the question softly as his eyes searched the room for some tissues, but his search was futile. He places a gentle hand on Adeline’s shoulder instead. 

“We talked about college; she wanted her mind off of things, so we talked about our apartment when we were in grad school. It’s been two days! What have you been doing for two days while my best friend went missing?” Her cheeks were red, her fingers pointing accusingly at him before she sobbed softly, and her hand was moving back up to wrap around her mouth to muffle the sound. 

“She didn’t show up to work on March fifth. That's when she was reported missing. We’re doing everything we can. What time did the two of you talk?” 

“W-we talked around nine, maybe nine-thirty?” She whispered back softly before she started to breathe heavily again. “Why didn’t I call? I should have called again. It was getting so late, and she had locked all the doors, and I thought she was just being anxious. I should have called her again. I should have left the hospital to visit her.” Her mind was spiraling, the neverending rabbit hole that showed her all the ways she could have saved her best friend, unhinged its proverbial jaw and swallowed her whole, ready to digest.  

Morgan wasn’t necessarily new to the information, as Penelope had already told him about your call logs from that evening, but he always liked to hear it be confirmed. It also helped him place an estimate of the time of your abduction. “Could you tell me about anyone, anyone at all, that might have been a little too into Y/N? Any ex-boyfriends that refused to leave her alone? Did she break up with anyone around Christmas?” 

“No, she hasn’t dated anyone for almost a year.” Adeline sighed thickly and shook her head as she tried to calm down. “No, all her ex-boyfriends, they were always so mousy. ” She sighed, “And they always look alike,” she paused and gave a soft, sad chuckle, motioning over to where Spencer was as he continued to entertain her daughter. “Well, they all look like your Doctor friend, if I’m being honest. She’s always been too nice for her own good, even in college.”

Spencer tried to talk over the sobs that could be heard from the corner of the hospital room, clearing his throat or laughing as Nicole stumbled through a story. “She’s a loud crier,” Nicole whispered with a gentle pat on Bee’s head. 

Spencer frowned as his efforts failed him, and he looked over his shoulder at Morgan, who was looking at him with a similarly sympathetic look on his face. He was about to say something when Nicole shoved Bee toward him, “You should give this to Auntie Y/N. Mommy said she was sad the other day. Bee always helps.” 

Spencer turned the stuffed animal over in his hands, and he debated telling her the truth, but thankfully, his better judgment decided against it. “It’ll be the first thing I do when I see her,” Spencer promised softly as Nicole smiled wide at him. 

As Derek and he walked out of the hospital, Derek’s eyes stayed on the stuffed orange cat in Spencer’s hands. As they pushed past a small group of people, Spencer found himself almost slamming into a pretty nurse, a gorgeous nurse. Her blue eyes blinked as she shuffled to one side, only to be unintentionally blocked by Spencer once more. She sighed a little and gave him a once over with a frown. Her eyes lingered on the gun holstered against his hip before she gave him a polite smile and said, “Excuse me,” and slipped past the two men with a determined look in her eyes.  

Derek only said something when they got into the parking lot, the two of them walking to the black SUV, “Did you pick one up at the gift shop?” 

Spencer groaned softly, making Derek chuckle as he walked around the car’s front to the passenger seat. “Open the door,” He said bluntly. When they were both inside the car, Spencer carefully placed the stuffed animal in his bag, and Derek chuckled again at the sight, turning the key. 

“You didn’t even buy me one,” 

March 5, 20XX

You were assuming Heather was angry with you. The assumption wasn’t baseless as the hunger in your stomach growled. You were quick to find that the harmony between a full stomach and morphine did matter and that harmony had left you many hours prior. You also were basing the assumption as you had spent what must have been a whole day fighting off tears and nausea. 

The sick part was that you were beginning to get used to how your body got swarmed with heavy, hot, and benevolent warmth. The dull pain in your ankle was silenced under the warmth’s blanket of kindness. It reminded you of a heated blanket in a strange way. 

You had finished the sips of your water before falling asleep and regretting it. You had learned that the bucket off to the side of the dresser was the perfect distance from the bed. Your broken ankle was dragging against the carpet with every movement.  The chain around your good ankle didn’t snag as you sluggishly managed to hold your body up against the wall to pee into the bucket.

Once you were done, you hopped on your good leg and managed to pull your clothes back on. Your body fell face-first onto the bed, eliciting a soft groan from your lips as you found your body reluctant to move from its new home. 

You closed your eyes and fell into the position, letting the bed sink in deeper. Your eyes snapped open with a sense of alertness that you hadn’t felt in hours as you heard the first click of a lock. Your arms weakly managed to push yourself up into a sitting position, pushing yourself back to your former position against the headboard. Your head throbbed at the fast movement, and your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the door. 

When it slowly opened, you sucked in a small breath of air, watching as Heather slid into the room with a tray of food. “Hello, my Catherine.” She sighed as she shoved the keys into her scrub pocket with one balanced hand. “My, my, someone is looking pale today.” She asked as she sat down in the chair off the side of the bed with a gentle, pretty smile. 

You nodded a little. Your lips were numb as you licked them. “What day is it?” Your voice came out quiet and strangled. 

“Monday,” She stated simply as she twisted the top off a bottle of apple juice. She handed it over to your already waiting hands before she carefully lowered the morphine drip’s intake level. You greedily drank the juice without thinking twice, desperate to get something in your stomach. 

You panted lightly as you pulled the half-empty bottle away from your lips, “Th-the date, I mean,” 

“March fifth,” She rolled her eyes as she carefully rearranged a neatly made turkey sandwich on a paper plate, slowly placing the plate on the edge of the bed for you to take. “You moved in here early Saturday morning, don’t you remember?” she laughed out like it was the silliest thing she had ever heard. 

You felt your mouth start to move to correct her, to tell her that you didn’t move in; she had kidnapped you. But as you stared at the turkey sandwich on the edge of the bed, you realized that playing along would be better. Playing along meant more food and less nausea. Playing along meant living longer. “Right,” You said breathlessly as you pulled the paper plate to your lap. “How could I forget?” 

Heather smiled a little as she watched you bite into the sandwich, happy to see you adjusting. You were eating so fast that she was a little worried about your empty stomach. She didn’t want to make feeding you so sporadically a habit. But yesterday, when she came up with a food tray, she thought about your rudeness and how cruel you had been to her. It made her stomach twist into angry knots. She decided that not feeding you for a day would be a lesson.

“I’m so happy our first fight is over. I hate to be angry with you, Catherine.” Heather’s sweet tone wasn’t lost on you as she touched your arm gently. Your chewing slowed for a second before you swallowed, your eyes glued to her hand on your arm. 

“I picked out every gift just for you,” She sighed softly as she traced soft circles against your skin. You fought back the urge to pull your arm away. “You’re a hopeless romantic, you know? You remember in college when you and Adeline dressed up as Lizzie and Jane Bennet. No one got it but god,” She sighed, her eyes finding yours as you stayed frozen. 

The hand on your arm slowly reached for the paper plate on your lap. Your fingers twitched a little as you fought back the urge to grab the food as she placed the plate on the nightstand beside your bed. Everything was happening so fast and yet incredibly slow at the same time.

Then she stood up and crawled onto the bed, swinging one leg over your lap before stranding you with a white smile. Her hands came to cup your face and tilt it up. A soft sigh fell from her lips. “You’ve always been brilliant,” 

You shook your head in her hands lightly. The warmth of the morphine was slow to leave your body, but as your body filled with an intense feeling of dread, you could feel everything. Your ankle throbbed sharply, and you were starting to feel like you were about to be sick again. “I’m not,” 

Heather threw her head back and laughed as if it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. When she lowered her head to meet your gaze again, she leaned closer, one of her thumbs reaching up to trace your bottom lip. You cringed a little at the feeling, a sight that she ignored. “You’ve always been so humble, too. How did I get so lucky?” She whispered as she leaned in to kiss your lips softly. 

You felt your lips tighten and bile rise to your throat, and you swallowed it. You let her kiss you once, then twice, then a third time. Your lips stayed closed in a tight line as you tried to imagine yourself in a different position, but with every touch Heather placed on you, the more you stayed cemented in your reality. 

Heather pulled back with a look in her eyes that you could recognize as crazed lust. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to know what her hands felt like anymore. You bit your lip to silence a whimper. Her hands pulled roughly at your shirt as she grabbed the hem of it and pulled it over your head with a simple yank. 

You shook your head quickly now, “No, Heather, I-I’m not ready. I don’t-” 

She shushed you softly with a gentle smile as she traced the swell of your breast slowly, the touch eliciting your tears to pool over your waterline. “I know you’re worried, but I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” Her eyes lingered on the prominent bruise on the center of your chest. She frowned, leaning down carefully to kiss the blue and black patch of skin. 

“No,” You cried softly, your voice soft before you decided that you couldn’t take it anymore. “No!” You yelled, causing her back to straighten and sit up. 

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a soft scoff. 

“I-I can’t do it, I’m not ready. I don’t want to, Heather. Please don’t make me.” You begged softly as tears rolled down your face. “I’ll try next time, I promise. I just, please, please don’t make me.” 

Heather frowned a little before she let out a harsh laugh, her arms folding over her chest tightly. She looked down at you, “You know I saw your precious little Adeline today,” 

You felt your back tense at Adeline's mention, “What? I thought you worked in pediatrics, not pediatric oncology. W-why did you see Adeline?” 

Heather reached out a hand to press on your bruise roughly, the feeling making you wince. “I work in pediatric oncology. Sometimes, I help Nicole. I loved it when you visited her at the hospital. It was almost too easy to steal the copy of your apartment key from Adeline. She doesn’t love you as much as I love you, you know that, right?” 

You shook your head, and you cried harder as you realized that you had never even noticed her at the hospital. Your focus has always been so zoned in on Nicole or Adeline that you didn’t even register Heather’s presence. Would Adeline remember Heather? You doubted it. 

“She talked to some agents or something and was inconsolable. Fucking useless friend of yours. Anyway, I ran into them in the hallway. Scrawny kid with some buff guy, I’m sure Adeline called them.” 

You found your hands grabbing her hand on your chest and shook your head side-to-side. “No, Adeline doesn’t know. I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t, I promise.” 

Heather’s eyes met yours briefly before they trailed down to your bare chest and your hands holding onto her wrist. “Say you love me more than her then,” 

“I-I, what?” 

“Say it.” 

You opened your mouth, but all that came out were gentle sobs as you tried to form the words, terrified that she was about to do something to Adeline. The thought of Heather hurting Adeline had you gasping softly for air. 

Her eyes were on yours again as you panted softly, “You don’t love me?” Her spit hit your cheek as she hissed the words in rageful disbelief. She was off your lap in seconds as she moved to the dresser and quickly pulled out a small pairing knife. 

“Wait,” You cried softly as you tried to hurry away from her, making a vain attempt to get up from the bed that was meant with a howl of pain from your ankle and your body slumping over the edge lamely. 

Her hands grabbed your ankles, good and injured, and pulled you roughly to the edge of the bed. A scream left your throat at the contact. “You think I’m going to let them find you?” She questioned in a suspiciously calm voice as she grazed the smooth side of the knife against your collarbone.

You stayed frozen as she leaned in closer, her lips at the shell of your ear, “If they ever found you, Emma. I would kill you and then myself. I’ve already decided. We have to be together,” Her voice in your ear had you breathing harder as she slowly pressed the tip of the knife into the area above your heart. 

The knife only stung at first before it felt like a ripping pain. Heather dragged the knife into your skin with a deliberate sense of control. Not too deep, not too superficial. Something she wouldn’t have to stitch up. She made a diagonal line before staring a few inches apart from the other cut. “We belong together, Jane.” 

You cried out again as she started dragging the knife into your skin once more, “Please,” 

“You just need to open your heart. If they ever found us, I need to mark where to shoot. Stay still.” 

As Heather got close to completing the ‘X’ mark on your chest, marking you as a possible target. You felt your body thrash under her weakly. The edge of one of the lines skewed to the left, and Heather let out an annoyed groan before she pulled the knife away from your chest and to your lips. “Stop fucking crying,” She growled as she slashed at your bottom lip. 

You hissed at the feeling as blood coated your chest and filled your mouth. You stared up at her as soft sobs kept leaving your mouth, “Fuck you.” You muttered before gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth and shooting it directly at her. 

You laughed as it made contact with her cheek, and she wiped the bloody spit away with the back of her hand. She laughed harshly as she nodded a little, “Okay, so you want to be a brat.” She laughed. 

She was sliding off the bed now, leaving you lying on your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as she gripped the pairing knife in her hand tighter. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. It’ll be your last one, Emma.” She snapped at you before stomping to the door and flying it open. 

Once she was gone, you stayed there, staring up at the ceiling wordlessly. You licked at the cut on your lip gently as blood flowed freely into your mouth. You swallowed the copper-tasting liquid as you let the consequences sink in. She was going to kill you if they found you, and you had already called for a team of highly trained professionals to come to find you. 

You almost laughed at the irony. You didn’t want them to find you. You did want them to find you. It was almost hilarious. You tried to smile with your cut lip but found the action too painful to manage. 

You didn’t want to die at twenty-eight. You wanted to see your mom again, Adeline, Nicole, hell, you wanted to go to work one more time. You rolled onto your stomach and cringed the way the fluffy comforter grazed the bleeding “X” on your chest. You reached for the morphine drip and rolled it closer as you slowly turned a knob and upped the intake. Your shaking hands then moved to the sandwich on the nightstand with a sigh. 

She could kill you when they found you, but if she thought you weren’t going to try and manipulate the situation, she was dead wrong. You weakly bit into the sandwich while trying to think of a plan. 

You refused to die without leaving a mark.

TAG LIST: @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

[bludhavens-finest]

Ok so this is the biggest blog I have so I will be talking about it here, also comics have always been inherently political so it makes sense to talk about here, this will be posted to the rest of my blogs as well

I’m going to tag this with tw’s, if you don’t want to see more shit about the election I get it believe me I do, that’s fine. If you do stay around I’m going to be incredibly blunt about this shit

1. Do not fucking kill yourself. The amount of queer and especially young people I have seen saying that they are going to is astronomical, these people are not worth loosing your life. If you need help, get help, talk to someone, at the end of this post I’ll add numbers/websites

2. If you are disabled like me, and you need something medically whether that be vaccines, surgeries, procedures, mobility aids, medications, or even certain information; get them now while you can. The medical system in America is a bitch to deal with and even harder to get into, most of my appointments take at least three months, but if you can get in and get things done before they switch who’s in office, get it done now.

3. If you are trans and planning to get gender affirming surgery or healthcare in the next few months same goes for you, get the surgeries while you still can and get on meds now, if you get on them now it’s going to be easier to keep the prescription for as long as you can.

4. If you’re a woman or afab, get birth control while you can. Because they are going to get rid of birth control at this point, they’ve already gone after abortions and this is the next step.

5. But queer/feminist/punk media and books while you still can, because yes they can and will ban books they already do it in schools

6. Honestly I would even go so far as to say start buying physical copies of certain bands if you can, because most hardcore and just regular punk bands will probably be less accessible

7. Honestly probably just get a vpn at this point, I know you’ve gotten an ad for one from a YouTuber before, look into the company’s, find one you can afford and like

8. If non-Americans or even just some Americans who are republicans (which if you are fuck off.) think this is an over-exaggeration it’s really not.

America is the only first world country without universal healthcare, most people in this country either die waiting for a doctor, die because of a doctor (medical negligence and malpractice are leading causes of death in America, over a quarter of a million people die a year because of it.), public transit is non-existent, disabled people have been fighting for our rights for decades, women lost the right to control their own bodies after having that right for less then a life span. Many woman were there when roe v wade passed and still alive when it was overturned. Because it all happened in the span of 50 years. The amount of violence in our police departments (that are only getting more and more funding), the lack of education and lack of historically accurate information taught in public schools, the literal fucking constant brainwashing campaigns.

This is all coming from someone who is Afab, a Minor, living in the south, mentally and physically disabled, a lesbian, and trans. Believe me I understand how fucking scared people are.

It is 2024 almost 2025, not 1970. You have access to information and you are entitled to being informed, so inform yourself. Check your own sources, do your own research.

I’m well aware that this all seems fucking dystopian, I know that it seems like there’s no point, but keep yourself safe. If you need a break from seeing all this filter your tags, go outside for a while, get off the internet, play with your pets, talk to friends. Just don’t let yourself sit in this and worry yourself to death, it’s not going to help anyone.

Numbers you can call: 1-866-488-7386 (Trevor project), If you go to their website you can also text if talking isn’t safe, 988 (suicide and crisis line),

[inawickedlittletown]

Just Let Me Adore You (BuckTommy) - 5/8

Summary: What if…instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role.

Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

Words: 3.7k

Notes: Title from Adore You by Harry Styles

Read on Ao3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

-

Part Five

Ali brought him home and it wasn’t until they had made it through the door that Buck realized what a mistake it had been to sign that lease. No, he didn’t hate his apartment, had enjoyed it the weeks or so that he’d been able to actually enjoy it. It was just that his bedroom was upstairs. It was too bad his lease didn’t have a way for him to back out, not that it would have mattered because it wasn’t like Buck would be able to move out with the cast on. 

Ali didn’t invite him to stay with her, not that it would have made sense for him to. She had a roommate for one thing and for another it wasn’t like Ali hadn’t been sort of staying with him since he moved in. 

Maddie had already offered to bring him back to her apartment and he’d turned her down because he didn’t want to burden her with his care. Either way, Ali had been attentive and she had insisted on being around for Buck, even changing work plans. Had even told Maddie she didn’t have to take a day off to bring Buck home when his release conflicted with one of her shifts. 

All of it reminded him of how much he actually did like Ali and yet… 

Buck should have seen it coming. They had different expectations of what came next. 

That was the last string, but they both knew it had been a long time coming. Buck was reminded of that girl that Chim had been dating a while back and how she hadn’t shown up when Chim was in the hospital because she didn’t want to lie and stick around because Chim was hurt. But…that wasn’t Ali. She was kind and she did care about him even if maybe her eye had strayed to someone else — something they still hadn’t talked about. 

In the end, it came down to his job. Not just his job but the eagerness to which Buck wanted to be back at it. He had no idea what Ali had been expecting from him, how had she not known what she was getting into when she started dating a firefighter? Maybe it was the time spent apart and how little of his day to day Ali was actually aware of. He supposed it was similar to how he hadn’t known it wouldn’t be great to date someone that traveled so much. 

It didn’t even hurt, watching her walk away. Or maybe…maybe it was overshadowed by literally everything else. His physical pain. The ache in his chest at the thought that he may actually never get back to work. The doctors were optimistic about his healing, but it was still early days. Maybe whatever pain or disappointment existed from the break up was also taken care of by his meds. In some ways, Buck thought that he had been preparing for a break up for a while now ever since he realized he didn’t care if Ali wanted to date other people alongside him. 

Ali didn’t take long to gather her things. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “And I really do hope it all works out for you. Keep in touch, alright.” 

Buck didn’t really think he would. 

After she left, Buck settled down in front of his tv, leg propped up, sure that he wasn’t going to find anything to watch. A glance at his phone showed him evidence that everyone was thinking about him. Well, almost everyone.

Eddie and Chris had sent a selfie. Hen a gif of a cartoon dog in a cast with “Get Better” floating over it. Maddie a text to let him know she was just a call away if he needed anything. Bobby telling him not to worry about dinner. Nothing from Tommy. 

A part of him wanted to call Tommy and ask him if they could have their next movie night, but that felt needy. It wasn’t like Tommy had even bothered to check in with him since the day he came for that abrupt visit at the hospital. 

Nothing but talk shows on tv made him turn to Netflix. Randomly he selected The Great British Bake Off. He didn’t even make it past one episode before his eyelids started to get heavy. 

Buck came to when he heard his door open. He saw Maddie a moment later when she rounded the stairs to find him. 

“Hey,” Buck said, groggy.

“Hi,” Maddie said. “How are you feeling?”

Buck made to get up.

“Stay where you are. Ali around?” 

Buck shook his head. He didn’t explain further and Maddie didn’t ask. She was going to find out eventually, but Buck didn’t want to deal with Maddie trying to make him go back to her place or even insisting that she stay with him. 

“Well, I brought you some lunch. Are you taking your meds on time? You know—” 

Buck let her rant. He barely listened and then let her fuss over him. His pillow was fluffed and she brought his food over to the couch. She brought down his blanket from upstairs as well as anything else that Buck might want. 

“I really wish you’d just come stay with me,” Maddie said, frowning at him. 

“I just moved out,” Buck pointed out. 

“You can’t even sleep on your own bed.” 

“My couch is comfortable,” Buck said. 

“It won’t be after the first few nights. You know it won’t.” 

“I don’t think I’ll be comfortable there or here with my leg in the cast,” Buck pointed out.

Maddie made a noise, but he knew her well enough to know that she wasn’t going to fight him on it when he was being that stubborn. 

“So, what are you watching?” 

The show had paused, asking if he was still watching. 

“Baking show,” Buck said. “Couldn’t really pick anything.” 

He’d also known that he would hate to fall asleep watching a documentary and miss something interesting. 

Maddie pressed play on the current episode. It was soothing in a way to watch the contestants bake in a tent with so much camaraderie. Maddie watched to the end of that episode and then through the next one. She left only after he’d taken his next dosage of meds and after she helped him to and from the bathroom as if Buck didn’t have perfectly good crutches to get around. At no point did she ask about Ali and Buck was glad he didn’t have to explain yet. 

“I’m just so glad you’re okay,” Maddie told him as she made sure he was settled on the couch with everything he might need within reach. 

“Me too,” Buck said. 

He was going to have a long way to go as far as recovery went. Months they said. First the cast and then PT and after that whatever it took to get back to work. 

After Maddie was gone, Buck almost wished that she had stayed longer because the silence that descended felt encompassing. The British accents from the baking show didn’t make up for it. He was sure that Maddie would have stuck around longer if he asked, but she probably thought Ali would be back, but she wouldn’t. Not ever. 

Eddie reached out, a text asking how he was doing, and an offer to stop by with Christopher on his next day off. Buck told him he looked forward to it. Athena called later in the afternoon and informed him that Bobby would be by with dinner when he was done with his shift. She kept him on the phone for a little while. It was nice. 

A few hours later, Buck had to get up to answer the door when Bobby arrived. It was awkward crossing his living room and past his table to the door. The crutches were going to take some time to get used to. 

“How are you doing, Buck?” Bobby asked as they walked to the kitchen. 

“Alright, I guess. Still getting used to the cast, but the pain meds are working.” 

Bobby got an odd look on his face at that and faintly Buck remembered that pain meds were where Bobby had begun his addiction after a bad injury on the job. 

“I’ll be careful,” Buck said. “Wean off them as soon as I can.” 

Bobby just gave him a short nod. 

“The department is reinstating me,” Bobby said. “We’ll all be waiting for you when you’re in the clear to come back.” 

Months of recovery, he’d been told. Buck had no idea how he was going to cope to be away from the job and from the people that he loved.  

“That’s great, Bobby. I’m glad.” 

Bobby nodded and smiled as he began taking things out of the paper bag he’d brought with him. Buck should have known that bringing dinner meant that Bobby was coming over to cook him dinner. 

“How did Tommy take it?” Buck asked, realizing that if Bobby was back at the 118, Tommy was no longer the interim Captain. “Is he, uh, is he going to take my spot while I’m out?” 

That would make sense even if the thought of anyone replacing him left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“No,” Bobby said. “He’s back at the 217.” 

“Oh,” Buck said and he didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved. 

“Everyone is back where they belong,” Bobby said. 

Everyone but him, but Buck didn’t want to voice it. 

“You will too,” Bobby said, as if he knew what Buck was thinking. 

He didn’t dare ask anything else about Tommy especially since he hadn’t heard from Tommy since he’d still been at the hospital and maybe he was a little disappointed that Bobby didn’t tell him anything else. 

Buck settled himself on one of the stools at the island in the kitchen, careful of the cast. 

“So, what are we having for dinner?” 

—

Tommy did wait a day — okay, so his first shift back — before texting Hen to ask how Evan was doing. She told him about Evan getting discharged and then Hen invited him out to breakfast. Tommy had almost feared that going back to the 217 would be like when he’d originally transferred and that he wouldn’t have much contact with Hen, Chim, Eddie, or Evan. Instead, Eddie had already talked about coming over to help with whatever Tommy was tackling next with his renovation. He and Chim had even talked about drinks with everyone soon. It wasn’t going to be like the past and Tommy was glad. 

Of course, a lot of that had been his own blame. He pulled away in an effort to protect himself and figure out exactly who he was. It had been hard, the starting over aspect, but it had been freeing too. Maybe, he shouldn’t have done it the way he had and yet he didn’t regret where he was now. 

From what they told him, Evan’s leg would be in a cast for some weeks and there might even be additional surgeries. Lots of PT even after that. It was going to be a long recovery. 

One morning before their perspective shifts, he met Hen for coffee and bagels. 

“Chim wanted to come but he and Maddie are finally in a good place after everything and I guess they had plans.”  

“That’s good,” Tommy said.

Even though he obviously didn’t think everything revolved around Evan, he wondered where that left him in respect to his sister if she was focused on a new relationship. It most likely left him with his girlfriend. 

Hen was the one to bring Evan up. “The length of his recovery is going to drive him crazy,” she said. 

“He isn’t one to sit still, is he?” Tommy asked. 

“Not at all. I stopped by to see him the other day and I found out he’s already gone through like three sudoku books. He doesn’t even like sudoku. Also, turns out his new apartment has his bedroom up on a loft. He’s going to be on the couch for a while.” 

“That can’t be good for his recovery.” 

Tommy hadn’t even realized that Evan had moved out of his sister’s place. He did remember that Evan had been looking for a place but he’d never said that he found one or that he’d managed to move in already. 

“Is his girlfriend hanging around at least to keep him company?” 

Hen let out a sigh and gave a small shake of her head. “They, uh, they broke up.” 

“What?” 

Tommy remembered Ali at the hospital. The way she’d fussed over Evan like he was precious which…yes, Evan was. He hadn’t seen a break up in their future, at least not while Evan was still healing. 

“I didn’t see that coming.” 

Hen gave him a look. “After what you said about that open relationship thing? It was bought to happen.” 

“Was it about that?” 

“No,” Hen said. “He said she didn’t understand why he was so insistent on getting back to a job that put him in the hospital in the first place. I guess the reality of the job wasn’t real to her until then.” 

Tommy balled up one first. “So, she left him?” 

“She did.” 

“Wow. Way to kick a man when he’s down.” 

He hadn’t liked her before and now he really didn’t like her. Tommy didn’t know if he would have ever been able to do that even if the relationship was souring. Then again, was sticking around just out of some kind of obligation wasn’t great either. Maybe it was for the best. 

“Chim and I can’t decide if this is a better or worse end than his last relationship,” Hen said. 

Tommy frowned. He didn’t really like gossipping about Evan like this, but at the same time any information was welcome to him. Tommy was also regretting not reaching out. He just hadn’t known what to say and every time he reached for his phone with the intent to call or text, he would picture Evan under the truck or even in the hospital bed and it made his freeze up. 

“What happened with his last relationship?” Tommy asked.

“Well, his last girlfriend was a bit older. We were shocked when we met her but anyway, her mom passed and she had been caring for her for what seemed to be years. So, she decided to travel. Honestly, we all kinda knew she broke up with him but—”

“He didn’t,” Tommy said. “How?” 

Hen let out a sigh. “He told me that when she announced her trip it was just going to be a month. She kept her apartment, took just one bag. I get why he thought she’d be back. One month went by and then another and another. She left him at the airport, let him stay in her apartment, and he was constantly reaching out until she stopped responding. He was waiting months sure that they were still together. I mean she strung him along and then just ghosted. He was devastated.”

“Wow,” Tommy said. 

“Yeah,” Hen said. “She didn’t even get in contact about the apartment or her stuff. Really just never spoke to him again.”

“Is that why he didn’t have a place of his own?” 

Hen nodded. “Yeah. He was living in some kind of frat house before that. I think it was his first serious adult relationship too so—”

“And now Ali,” Tommy said. 

“Hey, I know. You should go see him,” Hen said. “He could always use the company. We’ve all been trying to go and see him even if it’s only for an hour or so. Keep him from going stir crazy.”

Tommy had been so sure that there would be no place for him in Evan’s recovery. Of course, he’d convinced himself that Evan’s girlfriend was sticking around and that Evan would have her care and maybe his sister’s too. Evan had so many people that cared about him that even his parents might have come to keep an eye on him. Hen hadn’t even mentioned them which was curious. Tommy hadn’t wanted to bother or be in the way, now he was thinking that he’d been wrong in his assumptions. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” he said. 

Hen pulled out her phone and sent him Evan’s address. She eyed him with narrowed eyes. 

“I’ll tell him you’re going to stop by. Don’t make me a liar,” Hen said. 

So, really, he had no choice. He was far more thankful for Hen than he would ever be able to express. 

Out of some fear that Evan might tell him not to come, he didn’t even bother to call ahead even if it felt a bit strange to just show up unannounced. He did know that Evan would most likely be alone. When he knocked on the door, he heard a scuffle and it took several minutes but then there was Evan, leaning on crutches and with hair so messy and ruddy cheeks that meant he must have been napping. 

“Tommy,” Evan said, surprise in his voice. “Come…come in.” 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Tommy said, stepping inside. 

Evan blinked at him for a moment. Yes, definitely woke up from a nap unexpectedly. Was it bad that Tommy couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how adorable Evan looked confused and not fully awake with his curls mussed. Granted, there probably wasn’t much that Evan could do without looking adorable. 

Tommy closed the door behind him. Evan’s apartment was nice, actually far nicer than Tommy had expected it to be. It actually even fit Evan, in a way. He saw the stairs and it really was a shame that Evan had moved into a place that wouldn’t make his recovery easier. As a firefighter, Tommy had had his share of injuries and he knew that it would have driven him crazy to not have access to his bed. Which…why hadn’t someone offered to help bring the bed down for Evan? 

“Hey,” Evan said, “did I forget you were coming over?” 

“No. I thought Hen let you know I would? She said you could use the company. And, I wanted to see how you were doing.” 

Evan shook his head. “She didn’t say anything. I talked to her yesterday.” 

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Well, I’m here. I mean, I can go if I’m—”

“No,” Evan said quickly. “No. I want you to stay.” 

“How are you doing?” 

“I mean…I can get around a bit now,” Evan said, tapping one of his crutches. 

He was alive. He was talking. He was walking with the help of crutches. Tommy hadn’t realized how much he was still reeling from it, not until he had Evan in front of him again. Seeing him in the flesh even with his cast, it quieted the image that remained in his head where Evan was stuck under the ladder truck completely helpless. It wasn’t at all how he wanted to think of Evan.

“But you should probably sit down,” Tommy said. 

Evan chuckled. “Yeah.” 

Tommy followed him in further, past a dining table and then into the living room. He noted how awkward it was for Evan to move from one end of the apartment to another due to all the things he had to get around. 

Evan had set up a tv and across from it was a couch. On the coffee table in front of the couch was a pillow presumably for Evan to prop his leg up. All in all, the couch didn’t look too bad, but Tommy couldn’t imagine that it was all that comfortable to sleep on for a man Evan’s size. Though, he supposed that Evan was likely not getting too many consecutive hours of sleep in the first place and wouldn’t even if he was in a bed. Still, it probably wasn’t doing his back any favors. 

He watched as Evan maneuvered himself down onto the couch and grabbed his crutches from him, leaning them close enough for Evan to reach for them. 

“I heard you were back at the 217,” Evan said as Tommy sat in the armchair. 

“You’ve heard correctly,” Tommy said with a smile. 

He hadn’t really known how much he missed it. Not even the being up in the air, but just what that station meant to him and his own personal growth. Where the 118 held memories of his repressed past, the 217 was where Tommy had finally grown the courage to come to terms with the reality of his sexuality. 

“And are you back in the air, then?” Evan asked. 

“Yes,” Tommy said. 

“That must be amazing, actually. Does it feel like you’re a superhero?” 

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Not quite. You know, I could take you up sometime. I fly on my days off sometimes.” 

He could see the interest in Evan’s eyes right away. “You’d do that?” 

Tommy nodded at once. Not for just anyone, he thought. He had to reserve time with a helicopter and clearance to take it up. 

“Of course. I’d love to,” he said. 

He would do anything with Evan, do anything for him. It was a hard thing for Tommy to admit to himself, but it was true. There were so few people that Tommy could ever want to drop everything for and Evan was definitely one of them. The smile that Evan shot his way, he wanted to be the one responsible for that smile. 

“I’m glad you’re back in the air,” Evan said. “I could tell you missed it.” 

“I did,” Tommy said. 

“Well, as soon as it isn’t too much of a hassle with this thing,” Buck motioned to his cast, “I’ll take you up on flying. I’d love to see your skills in action.” 

“I look forward to it,” Tommy said. 

It wasn’t hard to imagine how the light would hit Evan on a sunny day, catching at the light strands of his hair, making him look like he was actually glowing. Tommy would have a hard time concentrating on doing anything but looking at him, but it would be worth it. It might also finally replace the image of Evan on the hard asphalt with the ladder truck keeping him pinned. 

[mariaofdoranelle]

URDAD - part 5

Lonely TCGTATGG would like to pair up with congenial AGCATACC

Warnings: mentions of kinky times? Maybe light nsfw idk

Words: 1,4k

A little recap because it’s been so fucking long: Rowan’s the father of Aelin’s bestie, Imogen. He kept it distant until he found Aelin a job at his hospital. She works with the machinery and he’s allergic to technology so she helps him out a lot. They grew close. Aelin planned to break up with Chaol, the boyfriend she lived with, and then become roomies with Imogen. But then she finds out that Chaol and Imogen have been sleeping together and oh no she’s homeless now! Rowan feels bad and offers her a place to stay out of the pureness of his heart, but she fucks him to get back at her friend. Now they’re fucking like bunnies but no one knows yet.

Also, Anne Jausten is Rowan’s most treasured digital slide scanner.

Now let’s fucking goooooo

When Aelin invited Rowan to visit apartments with her again, she was expecting incisive views from a more experienced person, not incessant bitching that ended up being a pain in her ass.

She stomped down the hallway leading to her “office”—the medical equipment maintenance room—and Rowan followed hot on her heels, refusing to take the hint.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the millionth time. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Swear it.” She turned around and crossed her arms. “Swear on Anne Jausten that you didn’t act like this on purpose.”

He silently stood with a pleading look in his eye. Maybe because of the two nurses eyeing him curiously, or because he didn’t have anything good to say for himself.

What bugged Aelin the most is that she couldn’t understand why he was trying to sabotage her apartment hunting. Why would he bother to visit the places with her just to talk trash about them. Yes, she was well aware that those apartments weren’t near as nice as his fancy two-story home, but they were nice enough, especially when the deadline she was given to leave was so close.

Rowan had previously told her she could stay for ‘one or two weeks’, and in the meanwhile he fucked her numerous times. Aelin’s experience said it was time for her to go. Not that this kind of behavior applies to all men, but it does to most of them—especially the hot and chronically single ones, like Dr. Whitethorn.

Aelin unlocked her office—not quite, but it was a space for herself of sorts. The room was spacious and almost as well-lit as an OR, but it felt cramped from the amount of broken and old machines waiting for her to repair, along with a few lost causes the hospital had yet to discard. Rowan followed her inside, so she leaned against a broken anesthesia machine with crossed arms and said, “I have work to do. Are you explaining what happened or not?”

Rowan wrapped both arms around her waist and gave a string of pecks on her neck.

“Can’t we just forget about it?”

“No!” She immediately unwrapped herself from him. “You’re not touching me until you explain why the fuck you’re acting so weird!”

Rowan immediately took a step back, both hands up in surrender. Good to know. From what she’s heard, not all doctors in this hospital would.

“You’re serious?”

Aelin crossed her arms again and nodded.

A sigh. “I’m not lying to you. I really don’t like the apartments we’ve visited. I care about you and Fleetfoot, going from my place to that would be a huge downgrade.”

Aelin threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. His confused expression made her want to explain things, but the hilariously of this took all the breath from her lungs.

“Rowan, I won’t be able to afford a place like yours at all within the next 10 years.”

“That’s why you should stay with me. At least for now.”

That took the amusement out of her face. Aelin’s thoughts were blank as she examined his apprehensive pine green eyes. There was only one chair because no one ever visited her down there, so she sat while Rowan leaned on a machine near her.

“You’re serious? Like, roommates till a better rent do us part?”

Rowan tilted his head, waiting for her answer—confirmation enough for a quiet guy like him. Still, things weren’t looking good. She probably could afford half the cost of his place, but if she paid for all that, she would barely be able to afford food.

She finally answered, “The only way I can afford my part of the rent is if it’s split based on income.”

Rowan bit his bottom lip in a poor-piss attempt to not laugh, which earned him a slap on the bicep.

“Aelin, I don’t pay rent myself. I won’t ask that of you.”

He was offering her a home for free?

Aelin never doubted she was a good lay, but holy rutting Mala.

But this was too good to be true. “What about house chores?”

“Not your concern. Just look after yourself and Fleetfoot.”

Aelin got up from her chair, rounding Rowan with her eyes narrowed at him. This was too unreal. He had to have an ulterior motive.

“No sexual clauses?”

“Not at my request.” His eyes darkened and he added with a suggestive tone, “But I can be very compliant if you add one.”

A beep interrupted their conversation—she was needed her in the ER.

Knowing what the sound meant, Rowan raised both brows in question. What do you say?

“I still don’t know,” she said while putting her lab coat on.

This feels too good, too easy. Aelin would live as a guest in his house, for free, after hooking up for a week and a half. What it he gets bored of her? What happens to her when he regrets it? What if he changes his mind after his daughter finds out and inevitably throws a tantrum?

As if reading her thoughts, Rowan took a step closer, carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, caressed her jaw with his thumb before he murmured, “I just want to see you safe and taken care of, that’s all.”

Aelin closed her eyes, a little overwhelmed. He might be the most thoughtful situationship she’s ever had. She tucked her head on his chest and chuckled, and he pulled her closer, letting her feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he caressed her hair.

Rowan slipped a strand of Aelin’s hair behind her ear, his carefree expression morphed into something else. “Will you at least think about it?”

Aelin tried to plaster a earnest face, but the corners of her lips kept tugging up. “You won’t make this easy for me, will you?”

His eyes widened. “I’m already making this as easy as I can!”

Another call urging her to go to the ER broke them apart.

Aelin took a step back and squeezed his hand. “See you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner.”

It was hard to stop her mind from racing as she took the elevator to the ER. Rowan’s offer got more tempting each time she thought about it and, to be honest, Aelin didn’t want to stop the late-night sex followed by morning cuddles either, even if she knew this wouldn’t be permanent.

It’d be good. She could save some money for her masters while staying with him. Aelin knew her place, so falling in love with Dr. Whitethorn was nothing more than a fleeting thought in her mental ‘cons’ list about living with him.

˜˜

Aelin expected to give him her final answer over dinner like any other person does, but when he texted her saying he’d be late because he was needed on a late surgery, the idea she had was too good to pass on.

The sound of his car pulling up made her put her phone down and run to the kitchen, wearing nothing but his favorite apron.

Aelin sat on the dinner table between two trays: one with freshly-cut fruit—strawberries, mango, banana, cherries—and another with little bowls of more liquid stuff, such as honey and chocolate sauce.

The thud of the front door being shut. Slow footsteps. Her heartbeat being the loudest of them all.

“Baby…” Rowan carefully stepped into the kitchen, still with his scrubs on, bewildered eyes aflame as he studied her mostly naked body. “What’re you doing?”

“Accepting your offer.” Aelin crossed her legs and tilted her head in a saucy, near predatory manner while still keeping an innocent tone when she explained, “You said you want me to stay. I thought I’d earn my keep.”

“You know you don’t have to—“

Rowan cut himself off when Aelin slid just the top of his apron off her body, exposing her breasts.

He cleared his throat and corrected, “How so?”

Aelin gave him a sly grin, a little brownie point for playing along.

“Dinner.”

She thrust her chest out and suggestively dipped her middle finger in the bowl with the honey, eyes trained on him as she slid it from her upper chest to her shoulder.

And waited until Rowan’s brain restarted so he could lick it off.

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[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 10

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 4.3k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | oh my god. hi, everyone! i'm still alive haha i apologize for the *long* delay. may wasn't my month 🙃 but now, i'm here and I split this chapter, so expect a 10.5. this is A LOT OF ANGST. no fluff for now. just full-on gloomy. also, i'll be replying to everyone who sent their asks soon! tysm for sending 'em. again, i apologize for the delay! enjoy reading :)

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Someone’s a little gloomy today.

The sound of echoing thunder woke you up today, along with the rings of your alarm in your phone. 5:15 AM. You groaned as the brightness from your phone’s screen hit your vision. After five more minutes of just staring at the most uninteresting wall in your room, you get up from your bed to prepare for work.

Unsurprisingly, your head feels heavy and so is your chest and eyes. Every step of your bare foot on the ground strangely felt like you were floating into space. The weather is cozy and cold, but you didn’t even flinch when the cold water hits your skin. You stood under the shower, the heater not even on, just staring at your feet.

I mean, he could have told me.

The sentence popped into your head. There is this part of you that is in between the scale of angry and sad after knowing about Lily visiting the bakeshop and talking to Taehyung. You wondered if Taehyung even had planned on telling you or if he don’t think he should have told you. You are starting to think he was only friendlier with you these past few days because he learned what happened between him and Lily.  You’re beginning to think that he is only nicer to you now after bad their relationship went.

But did he even owe me that? I’m basically a stranger to him.

Another idea, opposite the other one, crossed your mind. You always try to be understanding and put yourself in his shoes in this confusing situation. The fact that your boyfriend doesn’t really have any idea who you are always staying in the back of your head. It’s always there as a reminder that Taehyung doesn’t know you. And his not telling you that he met up with his ex-girlfriend days ago confirmed that you are probably someone in the background for him. Someone… who suddenly lives in this house with him.

And thanks to that confirmation, more questions were formed by your brain.

You shut your eyes close and turned your head up, feeling the waterdrops on your face. Sighing, “Who even am I here?”

Taehyung, what am I even to you here?

The question floats in Taehyung’s head over and over again. The pain and confusion in your voice also play on a loop, adding weight to his shoulders and thorns in his throat. He wished he could answer that question easily, but he can’t. Seeing someone who treated him with care and kindness break down in front of him because of him is a slap on his face.

Because Lily is your girlfriend… right?

More guilt built up in him when he learned that you were aware that he still initially saw Lily as his girlfriend after he woke from the accident. It surprised him to hear you say that you cannot be mad with that. When you said that, he almost instantly wanted you to be angry at him, to let out every emotion you were feeling at the time.

Because you are too considerate and kind… and patient with him and this situation you’ve been put into. You didn’t even have to stay; you could’ve just left him the moment the doctor told you about his amnesia and all. But you stayed… and even looked after him for a whole month. Looking back at everything now, he knew. He should have just told you.

He thought you would be mad at him for reaching out to an ex. He didn’t know how you would react if he asked about Lily. He didn’t know you and he admit that was his fault. He has been working on knowing you these past few days, but now after last night, it felt too late. He should have made an effort earlier than this. As much as he hates it, Taehyung’s list of should haves is getting longer.

Now, a tray of chocolate chip cookies bakes in this oven you two have in your kitchen. He decided to make some after having trouble sleeping. He was shifting and turning on his bed for hours, possibly because of two causes: his head injury and you. Earlier, you were talking about how much you’ve been craving cookies. He knows that his cookies cannot resolve what’s going on right now, but he hoped that they will make you feel better. Even a little.

Taehyung managed to sleep for a couple of hours but still woke up later two hours past midnight. He quietly prepares and bakes the ingredients for the cookies. He was quick as it was the easiest pastry he can make. By the time he was putting the tray in the oven, he heard grumbles of thunder.

Should I put it in the jar? Or…

Almost thirty minutes past three, Taehyung yawned as he waited for the cookies to cool down before he stores them. He looked around your kitchen. In these quiet moments, he is finally starting to notice some details in some corners of this place. Particularly, the kitchen.  He wondered if he picked the color of the walls or what to put in it when you two bought the house. His curiosity begins to grow about what you built together throughout your four-year relationship.

He wondered how great everything was before he lost his memories of the last five years.

You were supposed to leave at six o clock. But you didn’t realize how much you took your time with your thoughts that you ended up leaving twenty minutes late than your plan. Rushing to leave, you didn’t bother for breakfast and ran straight to the front door in your scrubs and jacket with backpack and umbrella in hand. If you still have time to spare when you arrive at the hospital, you’ll just buy something in its cafeteria.

As you get off the bus, you speed-walk to the hospital. You were too in a hurry to recognize who greeted you along the way, but you just greeted them back anyway. By the time you reached the locker room, you were catching your breath with less than ten minutes left to prepare for your shift.

Thank God, Jisoo’s not here. You sighed when you looked at yourself in front of the small mirror in your locker. Your eyes… were puffy. It’s not that bad. But everyone who will look directly at your eyes would tell the difference. You hoped no one else would notice.

“Good morning!”

Your eyebrows raised. Julia’s jolly greeting filled the quiet room when she entered. A couple of nurses who were also there greeted her back while you hid behind your locker door, trying to think of a quick remedy or even an explanation for your eyes. Because next to Jisoo, Julia is your closest friend here. She started working here two years ago. Her kind and sociable nature made her a friend to everyone. You three immediately went friends during a mutual graveyard shift schedule.

“Hey, YN. Good morning.” she opened her locker, which was next to yours.

You gulped, “Good morning, Ju.”

After one last look in the mirror, you closed the door. Julia was busy organizing her things in the locker, while she continues speaking.

“Jisoo’s already on break for her wedding, right?” she asked, still not giving you a glance.

“Ah, yes. For only one week though.” You replied, trying to act normal. You don’t know if you should go or wait for her to time in since you two usually do—with Jisoo if your shift schedule match up.

“You know, my dress for the weekend is still in the— Oh, what happened?”

In a quick glance, she immediately spotted a certain emotion on your face. Concern was written all over her face as she stopped and faced you.

“W-What?” you chuckled awkwardly, looking away.

“Why did you cry? What’s going on?” she asked softly, still worried. “Are you okay?”

Oh, that question. You don’t know what the hell that question has, it always breaks you down. You bit your lower lip as you looked back at Julia. You tried to hold on to the strings that were putting you together.

You sighed shakingly, “Yeah.”

A small, sad smile formed on her lips, “You sure?”

You feel like if you try to say anything again, it will just turn into a sob. So, you just nod. Unexpectedly, she reached out her arms and hugged you. Julia knew something was wrong. Well, she can definitely read through your eyes and the simple quirk of your lips that you probably don’t know you do whenever you’re bothered or tired. She can even feel the weight you’ve been carrying in an embrace.

“How about let’s go out together later? After this shift?” she offered.

 

“Sure.” You agreed, washing down any effort to put a useless mask on your emotions.

The cookies that he left on the kitchen counter for you were left untouched. He left it in a Tupperware, something that can fit in your backpack, along with a small post-it, written: cookies u can bring @ your shift today :)

He likes to think that the Tupperware probably went unnoticed by you instead of thinking that you ignored it. But what if you did? The idea of you being mad at him scares him.

“I swear, whoever will eat those cupcakes would choke on rainbow sprinkles.” Jimin entered the kitchen when Taehyung was just spacing out. He hung his coat behind the door and put on his apron. “What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

Jimin went on, “I arrived twenty minutes late and you already made two batches of blueberry cupcakes, one tray of snickerdoodles, and a lot of banana bread. What’s going on?”

Taehyung stared at him for a second, having battles in his head if he should tell his best friend about what happened. Jimin didn’t fail to remind him about telling you about Lily. And if he learns how you reacted last night—Oh, just sucked it up. Taehyung exhaled.

“YN learned about Lily.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, “You told her?”

“She found through Lily herself,” Taehyung replied and he can read the confusion on his friend’s face.

“Huh?”

Taehyung went on telling how you and Lily introduced yourselves, how you introduced yourself as his friend, how Lily shared that she visited the bakeshop just last week, and how you remained quiet and bottled up with emotions until you two went home.

“She was so upset, she didn’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung recalled. “But she just broke down and she is still so nice in the middle of telling me how she feels. She told me that she cannot be mad at me for meeting up with Lily or for everything else. Because she understands. She always understands and I’m sure she is a wonderful person– but… But I really didn’t just give us a chance. She reminded me that we also happened after asking me who is she in this whole thing.”

He paused, remembering almost every word you said to him last night. He was too busy chasing what happened five years ago that he ignored someone and something important in his present time. 

“Then, who is she to you?” his best friend asked.

“I… I don’t know.” Taehyung sighed, unsure. “But she’s not a stranger. Calling her a stranger would be an insult. I know she’s much more than that.”

There was a few seconds of silence. Taehyung looked down, resting his hands on his working table. Jimin just pats his shoulder for comfort. He knew saying things like I told you so or anything close to that is just useless. Taehyung already knew what he had done, he don’t need more reminders that he probably fucked up. 

“Well, you need to figure that out.” 

“I know.”

“I don’t know anymore, Ju.”

You wiped off the tears on your cheek as you confessed. Finally, after a whole day shift at the hospital, you get to open up to someone. As soon as you two left the hospital and changed into your casual clothes, Julia drove you two to her apartment since you don’t really feel like going anywhere. She ordered pizza and non-alcoholic drinks, which were delivered just minutes after you two arrived there.

No time was wasted. She didn’t even have to ask again for you to open up. For the last forty minutes, you’ve been telling whatever you feel like sharing to your friend. It did take off some weight on your chest as she listened and nods.

“I mean, I know that he’s just trying to know what happened between him and his ex. But I cannot understand why he didn’t tell me… Or maybe ask me about it. I know something about it. He told me how they broke up years ago. He told me what went wrong. Just like how I shared experiences with my past relationships too. And that’s how it used to be.” You reached for another tissue Julia offered. “We used to tell each other everything. Communication and honesty always mattered to him.”

“And it would have been nice if he let me know about his plans on talking with Lily. It’s perfectly fine by me. But he didn’t and now I’m starting to feel that he sees me as nothing. Just a person around him, who lives in the same house as him—or worse, he sees me as someone who just looks after him… like his nurse.”

The last thought squeezed your heart out. Taehyung even had a hard time introducing you yesterday to Lily. You took the initiative to introduce yourself to his ex as his friend. You don’t know what to feel about it. Should you be mad or sad? But can you blame him? You can never blame Taehyung. You always try to understand what he went through with that accident and what he is going through now. But as much as you hate to admit it…

“I feel like I’m burning out. I’m fucking drained.”

Another tear rolled down your cheeks while you shake your head. Saying that sentence felt like a confession of a crime. You don’t know why. You didn’t follow with another sentence again. Julia gave you a glass of water to help you calm down.

“You can take a break too, you know?” she whispered as you gulped in the liquid down your throat. “You can pause…”

Julia was gentle with her tone and choice of words.

“I think, you've already done enough. You took a month's leave to take care of Taehyung, to at least help him adjust to these big changes happen. You waited for him to ask about you or your relationship, which he did– Well, he tried. You are great. You were nothing caring and understanding for him and your relationship.” She paused and held your hand, preparing you for what she is about to say. “But he… he just has his eyes on people he knew before you.”

You almost hissed with the harsh sentiment of your friend. It felt like someone pulled the band-aid off your fresh, unhealed wound. But still, it felt like you needed to hear that. Julia, on the other hand, saw you flinch and held your palm tighter. 

She continued, “The Taehyung you met before the accident is different from the Taehyung you live together now. As you said, five years ago, he went through a breakup with his ex. That breakup may have caused changes in him that made him into the Taehyung you initially met.”

It’s complicated. But you get what she is trying to say. A lot of things happened in Taehyung’s life before you two crossed paths. He broke up with Lily, and his bakery began to hit success and invest in other stuff in his life. A lot of other changes happened. Then, you two met through mutual friends.

“And please, YN, let yourself feel things.” Julia spoke suddenly, making you meet her gaze, “It’s unhealthy. Be sad, be mad, or be happy. Or simply take a break if you feel like it. Don’t deny yourself of feeling anything. You can be mad.” She said it like a reminder. “You have every right to feel so. I know you’re trying to justify Taehyung reaching out to an ex behind your back as part of this knotty situation. But at least, out of respect to you, he should have at least told you before or after he did so.”

“That’s why you’re so burnout right now, hon. You’ve done nothing but give and give. You forgot about your limits too… Are you even still okay working in the same hospital after everything?”

She asked and almost instantly, you remembered the night of the accident. You were waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up in the same spot you always waited in. Then, you received this call. Next thing you know, you’re seeing him getting pulled out of the ambulance. Bloody and bruised. Your stomach twisted with the recollection of his state that night. Thankfully, Julia called your name, snapping you out of your trance.

“Just know that you’re not alone in any of this. You don’t have to carry everything on your own. Jisoo and I are always here for you.  And I really appreciate you opening up to me now.” She smiled softly before pulling you in for another hug.

After that hug, you two moved on to lighter topics. You asked her about her preparation for Jisoo and Namjoon’s special day at the end of the week. She talked about Chanyeol, her plus-one for the wedding. She shared about how things are going and you’re genuinely happy to see her happy. You ended up leaving at seven. Julia offered to drive you home, but you kindly refused, saying you need to be alone for a short while.

“Okay, just let me know when you got home.” She smiled and of course, was enveloped in the warmest hug you’ve ever received recently.

Just like when you left home earlier, the sky was dark and gloomy as you wait at the bus stop. Raindrops began falling just minutes after you got on the bus. You sat on the farthest empty seat your eyes spotted. Watching the raindrop rolling on the glass window, you thought about Julia and everything she said.

Change.

You wondered if change can help your emotional burnout while leaning your head on the cold surface of the vehicle. Truthfully, working in the same hospital after the accident is difficult. The first day you returned after your month-long leave you found yourself stopping in your tracks at every spot your feet took you that night of the accident. You also don’t enjoy the pity glances or smiles you get from your colleagues who knew about the accident. There were times, someone would approach you and say something nice or motivational. You appreciate the effort but it’s making your work more of a reminder than a distraction for what happened.

You get off the bus with a new idea and even more uncertainties in mind. You still felt like a deflating balloon floating your way to get home. After your breakdown, you wonder how Taehyung would react. He seemed pretty quiet last night. The Taehyung you know would prefer talking with you to at least mend these issues. But now, you’re really just tired and would rather organize your thoughts alone.

And when you walked up your front porch, you stopped as you saw the lights on in the kitchen. He’s home early. You turned the knob, preparing yourself with any awkward tension that is always suffocating. Walking in, a delicious smell of flavor filled your nostrils. You’re not planning to say anything but then, he greeted you.

“Oh, hey…”

It was short but soft. His lips formed a small, tight smile. He was indeed cooking as he holds a wooden spatula and you can hear the crinkling sound in the pan. You noticed he is wearing a familiar apron and a headband, exposing his forehead, to avoid his jet-black hair in sticking on the sweaty corners of his forehead.

“Hey.” you greeted back, forcing a polite smile on your lips. “You’re home?”

Taehyung noted the lack of any emotion in your voice or even eyes. You just looked exhausted. But he replied, “Yeah, we kinda closed early.  Sold out.”

He smiled again, hoping that maybe you would smile back at him. You didn’t. Instead, you zipped your lips. And there it is. The awkward silence took over--not only the kitchen—but the whole house. He looked at you and you looked at him. It didn’t even last a couple of seconds. You looked away again, scratching your eyebrow.  

“I should probably go—”

“I’m making dinner. Maybe—"

You two broke off the silence at the same time. You waited for him to continue but his nod asked you to resume.

“Yeah, uhm, I should go to my room.” You mumbled, not meeting his eyes. You just can’t.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to scratch the back of his neck, “Uhm, I made dinner. I was wondering if we can eat together.”

You timidly shake your head, “I’m kinda full… I had pizza with Julia. But thank you for the offer though.”

You were about to leave, wanting to leave this room since you were having the hardest time breathing with the thick tension. But Taehyung called your name,

“I was hoping we can talk… about everything.”

You turned around, finally looking at him. Suddenly, his heartbeat was louder than anything else for him. He can already see the rejection on your face. Like you’re not in the mood for anything that had to do with him. But he wishes his deduction is wrong. On the flip side, you can see his fingers fiddling with the spatula as he said that.

You exhaled, “I can’t, Taehyung. I really had a long day. I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. We can talk whenever you’re ready.” He awkwardly raised his hands for thumbs-up. He saw your worried eyes landing on the dish he cooked. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll store it when it cools down. You can microwave it later if you get hungry.”

A simple, worn-out nod was your only reply before leaving him alone. His smile slowly fades as he turned down his chin.

He waited. Patiently. The morning after that, he waited for you to leave for work before he does. He goes home before you do. He prepared breakfasts and dinners for you, but you always seemed to be running late going to work and exhausted when you get home. And the rainy season didn’t stop. Taehyung once offered to walk you at least to the bus stop when you had a graveyard shift. He’s glad you didn’t decline and walked side by side with him under the umbrella.

“You know, you don’t have to do any of this.” You murmured in the middle of that five-minute walk to the bus stop. You were just looking ahead as you resumed, “You’re not obligated to do anything with me.”

“I wanted to do this.” He replied, glancing at you, hoping that he will meet your eyes. But he didn’t.

You didn’t say anything anymore. Even when you got on the bus and he handed you the extra umbrella he brought. But he really did. Even though you two haven’t really done a lot of activities together, he liked doing things with you or for you.

Now it’s been days since you broke down, you two still haven’t talked about it. Jimin told him to be patient and give you time. But the more time he gives you, the more he felt like you were already slowly drifting away from him.

“Are you sure? We still have space for another passenger.”

Taehyung heard you from the living room as he pulled his small luggage out of his room. He wore a white collared button-down, with the sleeves folded before it reached his elbows, tucked in beige suit pants.

“Okay, Ju. See you there. Take care.”

Your smile fades as you ended the call. With every emotion washed out on your face, you glanced up at him. Your eyes simply scanned him from head to toe before you spoke, “Let’s go?”

Jisoo and Namjoon will be having their rehearsal and the following dinner in the same area as their wedding. It’s in the same event place as their wedding venue. The couple already prepared rooms for a few guests, so that you can stay overnight for the wedding tomorrow. You, Taehyung, and Jimin will be carpooling in a rented car, with Jimin taking the wheel for an almost two-hour drive straight to the dinner event.

“Be careful, it’s fragile.”

You teased Jimin as he helped you carry the wedding gift for your soon-to-be-wedded friends. Taehyung carried yours and his luggage to the car.

“I am careful.” Jimin scoffed.

“Oh, I apologize. I’m just worried. You do have small hands.” You jested that made Taehyung choke and laugh.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” His best friend laughed dryly, squinting his eyes at you. “You two are bullies! It’s not that small.”

You chuckled once again before stopping when Taehyung opened the backseat door for you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled.

Taehyung sat on the passenger seat while Jimin took the wheel. In the first quarter of the ride, you still managed to join chit-chat. Jimin was the one who sparked up topics, which you were grateful for as you don’t know what would happen if it’s just you and Taehyung in this car. But as time went on, you yawned and slowly lost yourself to take a nap.

a/n: i'm thinking of updating/resetting the taglist for this series. kindly comment below if you still want to be tagged. thank you so much for your support <3

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[sequinsmile-x]

Buy the Promises

It gets harder to keep the promise as time goes on, as Emily goes from his girlfriend to his fiancée to his wife. He wants nothing more than to put Elizabeth in her place, to stop her from hurting her daughter in a way that only she could. 

AKA The three times Aaron doesn't tell Elizabeth off, and the one time he does

Chapter 1/4

-x-

Hi friends!

This was an idea that very quickly turned into a four chapter fic. I really hope you like this, and the normal mommy issues that come along with Elizabeth being involved.

I have the rest of the chapters planned out so they should all go up over the next week or so around my other fics/updates.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: Injury/hospitalisation

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily curses under her breath as she shifts in the bed, her hand pressed against her immobilised shoulder as she breathes through the pain. 

“Shit,” she says, leaning back against the pillow behind her, gritting her teeth as the wave of pain starts to dissipate. 

The takedown was supposed to have been simple enough, but they’d misjudged where the unsub was hiding in the abandoned warehouse they’d tracked him to. He’d pushed Emily into a wall with enough force that her shoulder had dislocated, forcing itself out of its joint as her head also connected with the wall, leaving her with a concussion.

There’s a quiet knock on her hospital room door and she looks up as it opens, smiling softly at her boyfriend as he walks in, concern painted across his features as he looks at her. He’d been so worried at the scene, immediately by her side as he instructed the rest of the team to chase down the man who’d hurt her. She was grateful that they were still in DC, that this hadn’t happened on the other side of the country, because she knew the flight home would have been rough on both of them. That any jolt would make pain shoot through her and Aaron would have to watch, wholly unable to help her in any way other than holding her hand. 

“Hi honey,” she says as he walks over, offering out her good hand to him, linking her fingers with his as he sits on the edge of the bed, “What did the doctor say?”

He squeezes her hand and reaches out to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. He knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. 

“They said you have to stay tonight,” he says, pressing his lips together to stop himself from smiling when she reacts in the exact way he knew she would, a mix of disappointment and defiance spreading across her face as she scoffs. She opens her mouth to refuse it, to insist that she is fine to go home, but he cuts her off before she can, “I’ve spoken to Jess, Jack is already asleep so I’m going to stay here with you all night,” he says, smiling as she pouts, something he knew she would deny if he pointed it out, “Keep you company and out of trouble.” 

She can’t fight her smile, too much pain medication in her system to allow her to, so she nods instead, “I guess thats an acceptable compromise,” she says, removing her hand from his to tug at the collar of his jacket, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. She smiles as she pulls back, “Love you.” 

“Love you too sweetheart,” he replies, warmth spreading in his chest as he says the words, the ability to do so, to be so open in his affection for her still new enough that every time it was liable to take his breath away. 

They’d been together for four months. It was a type of happiness he never thought he’d find again, a type of love he didn’t think existed. It felt like a dream sometimes that they’d found each other after everything they’d both been through, a chance at a happy ending neither one of them thought they’d have. 

He clears his throat as he pulls back properly, his eyes fixed on her face as he tries to measure her reaction to the next part, well aware that it likely wasn’t going to go down very well.

“There’s something else,” he says carefully, his smile tight as he carries on, “Your mother is here.” 

Her eyes go wide in a way he’s sure would be funny in other circumstances and her mouth falls open, making her stutter for a moment before she finds her voice, “What? How? Why? You’re my emergency contact.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, his hand landing on her thigh, the weight of his palm a comfort through the scratchy sheets, “The nurse said there was a mix-up with your file.” 

She rolls her eyes and groans, the sound turning into a pained one as she leans back and her shoulder hits the mattress a little too hard. He shushes her comfortingly, a sound she’s sure he’d find irritating if it was anyone other than him, his comfort something she sought out not something she avoided, and he cups her jaw, letting his thumb move back and forth on her cheek. 

“Any chance I can get away with not seeing her?” She asks, sighing when he raises an eyebrow at her, “Right, of course not. Because of everything about her,” she blows out a breath as she tilts her head to look at him properly, “Want to go hide somewhere?” she says, lifting her hand to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Elizabeth didn’t know they were together. She was the last person they had to tell, and he didn’t take Emily’s reluctance to do so personally. He knew their relationship was beyond complicated, that there were many layers to it that he wasn’t even privy to yet. She wanted to protect their relationship, he knew that, and he would wait as long as she needed to.

He chuckles as he stamps a kiss against her forehead and then her lips before he pulls back, “I think I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I left you at the mercy of your mother.”

He stands up, suppressing a smile when she frowns at the loss of contact, and he walks over to the door, briefly popping his head out to let the nurse know to let Emily’s mother in. He walks back over and sits in the chair next to her bed, keeping a respectable distance so they wouldn’t get caught out. He feels himself itching to reach out for her hand, to link their fingers together so he could remind himself she was fine, that he still had her here with him. He knew he’d be hearing the scream of pain that had left her as her shoulder dislocated for days, the sound still echoing around his head. 

The door opens and Emily immediately tenses, forcing her to blow out a steady breath as her mother steps into the room. 

“Mother,” she says, smiling politely, “You didn’t have to come down here, I’m sorry they called you. I know you’re busy.”

“Nonsense, Emily,” Elizabeth says as she walks into the room, “I got a call that my daughter was in the hospital, of course, I’m going to…” she drifts off as she seemingly notices Aaron in the room, “Agent Hotchner, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she looks back and forth between Emily and Aaron and she clears her throat as she sits in the chair on the opposite side of Emily’s bed, “It’s nice to see you, despite the circumstances.” 

He smiles politely at her, his eyes flicking to his girlfriend, her discomfort clear to him even if it wasn’t to Elizabeth, “You too, Ambassador Prentiss.” 

Elizabeth hums as she looks back and forth between them, “So, do you always make a habit of sitting with your agents when they get injured at work?” She asks, clasping her hands together on her lap, “Although, I suppose it’s the right thing to do when they don’t have a spouse of their own or children, otherwise, they’d just be here by themselves.” 

Emily doesn’t have to look at Aaron to sense the protectiveness flowing off of him like cologne, the need to shield her from any kind of harm, even something as simple as passive-aggressive comments from her mother, stronger than usual. She knew he was carrying some guilt from not being able to stop her from getting hurt today. It was something that lingered from when Ian had torn through their lives, something that made itself known every time she got hurt even a little bit. His reaction to things as simple as a papercut or a blister from new shoes more aligned with the injuries she’d suffered then, the love he now had a name for trapped inside his chest at the time with nowhere to go. 

Later when he’d ask, she wouldn’t be able to explain what makes her reach out for his hand, why she links her fingers through his and makes a point of squeezing them in full view of her mother, but she does it. Love and affection, and no small amount of painkillers, making her braver than she’d felt in a long time. 

“Actually, Mother,” she says, looking back at Elizabeth, “Aaron is here because he’s my…” she drifts off, the word boyfriend always seeming so juvenile when she thinks about what he means to her, “We’re together.” 

Elizabeth’s only physical reaction is a slight raising of her eyebrows as she looks at Aaron and then at her daughter. She clicks her tongue and clears her throat, “I see,” she says, her lips pressed together, “You’ll have to accept my apologies, Agent Hotchner, Emily doesn’t tell me much about her life and I didn’t know that you two were…dating now.” 

Emily stops herself from rolling her eyes at her mother’s obvious attempt to bait her, “Well,” she says, squeezing Aaron’s hand in what she hopes he takes as a silent request to stay quiet, “We don’t exactly see each other a lot, and I don’t remember the last time you called.” 

She actually did remember the last time her mother called her. It was months ago, and it hadn’t been a social call but a request to go to an event she was hosting. It was shortly after Emily’s first date with Aaron, the giddiness from it all still lingering under her skin, his fingerprints still tattooed against her hips and thighs. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had a different relationship with her mother, if they’d been what each other had always wanted, she would have told her. If she would have sat on her couch and gushed over the new guy she was seeing to her mom and shared in her excitement for what she knew was the last relationship she’d ever be in, the feelings she’d had for Aaron for years confirmed by the first press of his lips to hers. 

“The phone does work both ways, Emily,” Elizabeth says, and Emily feels Aaron’s hand tense around hers and she squeezes again, briefly looking at him and shaking her head every so slightly. 

“Do you have any assignments coming up?” Emily asks, changing the conversation on purpose, wanting to move things along before Aaron marks his first meeting with her mother as more than just her boss by telling her off. 

By the time her mother excuses herself to leave Emily is relieved that it will just be her and Aaron again, the tension Elizabeth always brought to a room something she could do without on her best days, let alone when her head was aching and her shoulder was immobilised. Aaron shows her out, ever the gentleman in a way Emily’s sure should annoy her, and for a moment she’s alone. She rests her head back against the pillow and blows out a steady breath. She pinches the bridge of her nose and groans, the pulsing in her head that had been made worse by her mother’s presence making her want to do nothing more than sleep. 

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

She opens her eyes, groaning as the bright hospital lighting makes her head hurt even more and she smiles softly at him as he sits on her bed. 

“I’m okay,” she says, sighing, “I’m considering having Pen break into the hospital’s systems and fire the nurse who called my mom,” she says, her lips curling into a smile as he chuckles, “But I’m okay,” she looks at him and can see the stress that was still lingering in his jaw, the concern for her that was still in his eyes, and she smiles softly, “You know what I need though?”

He furrows his brow, ready to jump up and get whatever she wants, “What?” 

“You to climb into this bed with me,” she says, her smile getting wider as he immediately tries to argue with her, something she cuts off as she wraps her hand around his, “Please? You know I sleep better when we snuggle.” 

It’s a dirty trick and she knows it, the way he sighs as he leans forward and presses his forehead to hers a sign that he knows it too, “Em, baby, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

She cups the back of his head and stamps her lips against his, “You never could,” she says softly. There’s a beat of silence before he nods and she smiles widely, kissing him again before he stands up. 

He slips off his shoes and is careful as he climbs into the bed, both of them ignoring how she winces when she settles against him, the movement enough to jolt her shoulder. She sighs contentedly as he wraps his arms around her and she smiles when he kisses her temple. 

“Better?” He asks, his lips still against her skin, and she nods, turning her head to press her forehead into his neck. 

“Much better,” she replies, settling further into his embrace, into the comfort he always provided just by being there with her. 

“She didn’t even ask how you are.” 

She frowns, her brain not quite able to keep up, the pain and the medication catching up with her, exhaustion slowly taking over, “What?” 

“Your mom,” he says, holding her slightly tighter but still managing to ensure he doesn’t hurt her, “She didn’t ask how you are.” 

“Oh,” she says, chuckling mirthlessly, “Yeah,” she tilts her head to look at him, “She never does really. If she did we might get dangerously close to actually talking instead of just speaking.” 

He clenches his jaw, irritation at the mother of the woman he loves burning him from the inside out, “I always knew things were difficult between you,” he says, running his fingers back and forth over her arm, trying to press comfort into her skin, “But she was rude to you, sweetheart. The dig she made about you not having a spouse, and the comment about the phone going both ways. She’s your mother, she should-”

She can feel him getting worked up, the need to look after her, to protect her, coursing through him so strongly she can almost feel it. His love for her passing from his chest into hers as he sits behind her, his arms around her as they provide the anchor she never knew she needed. She cuts him off, her hand on his cheek as she encourages him to look at her. 

“Honey, my relationship with her has always been complicated. This…is as good as it’s ever going to get.” 

He frowns again, “But you deserve better.” 

“Maybe, but-”

“Definitely.” 

She presses her lips together to stop her smile from spreading, her cheeks already aching with it, “Even if I do, it’s not going to happen. She’s never going to change and I had to accept that a long time ago in order to maintain some kind of a relationship with her.” 

He sighs, “So you just accept the way she speaks to you?”

She hums as she nods, “And you’re going to have to too,” she says, and his frown deepens, outrage painted into the fine lines on his face, in the dark circles under his eyes that she can see in more detail when she’s this close. She cuts him off before he can say anything, “I don’t need you fighting my battles with her, Aaron. I’ve been doing it myself for as long as I can remember. What I do need is for you to be there afterwards,” she says, her hand cupping the back of his head, holding him in place as she looks deeply into his eyes, “Help me paint over any cracks she may have created.” 

He hates it, hates that she’s asking him to just sit back as her mother of all people continually hurts her, but he knows he has to. He was never one to deny her anyway, his desire to be exactly what she needed him to be something that had been around long before their first kiss. 

“Okay.” 

She smiles up at him, “You promise?” 

He nods, leaning in to kiss her quickly, his reply escaping even though he’s unsure if he’ll always be able to stick to it, “I promise.” 

She smiles and kisses him before she settles against him again, “I think I need some sleep.” 

He kisses her temple and runs his hand up and down her arm again, “You get some rest,” he says softly, “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“You promise?” She asks again, her words more slurred this time as she finally gives in to the pull of sleep. 

“I promise,” he repeats, well aware that was one he was able to keep. 

-x-

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[transboysokka]

Since it is Fibromyalgia Awareness Week and yesterday was SO bad, I want to try to explain.

Basically my nervous system is messed up and sometimes sends messages to my brain that I’m hurt but I’m not, physically.

I am always in some level of pain but am very good at ignoring it. For the past few months for example I’ve been able to keep up with a relatively normal lifestyle and routine with no huge flare ups.

That’s in my case mostly been due to luck, routine, diet, and exercise.

I can have a bad pain day at any point. A lot of times it comes from overdoing it. This last week for example I cycled way too much and didn’t listen to my pain which definitely contributed to everything collapsing how it did. But it can be totally random.

For me it usually starts in my knee, my hip, or my shoulder. Sometimes it’s in both knees and I can’t walk unassisted. Sometimes it’s in my neck and I get debilitating migraines. It often goes to my whole body. And more often than not, I push through it. Because if I go to the doctor there’s not much they can do anyway, and why would I choose to spend my days sitting in bed in pain while I could be doing something?

Usually it’s manageable and nobody ever knows.

The hard part comes in the recovery.

If you’re trying to focus on your life while also managing severe pain, trying not to throw up from it, wouldn’t that tire you out? And I have to push past it and ignore it until I collapse.

The fatigue is the worst. I tried to ignore it this time and ended up giving myself a fever. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open until like 3pm today.

“Where did it come from?” I suspect looking back on it I’ve been dealing with this since my late teens but it got really bad/noticeable when I got in a scooter accident about a year ago and had a severe concussion. That can trigger it.

“Why don’t you stay home sick?” Because if I start doing that it’s going to be happening way too often. It feels just as bad if I’m at home versus at work. Guess where I feel most fulfilled. And this is for life, and my pain is entirely random and unpredictable so it’s not like I can plan around it.

“Why don’t you tell us how bad it is?” What would that fix?

“Why don’t you take medication?” I do for pain and symptoms but I promise it’s not enough

“What do you want me to do to support you?” Honestly nothing PLEASE. There’s no reason to treat me different, I just want people to understand. Like I’m not a lazy person, it’s just that I burn through all my energy trying to function so I do spend a lot of time in bed and I might cancel plans. If I can’t hang out with you socially trust me that it’s because I just physically can’t in that moment. And stuff.

[sassysophiabush]

This year leading up to my birthday, I decided to treat myself to something special, just for me. But instead of planning a trip or a special adventure out in the world, I decided to gift myself a journey inward. After my viral illness last year landed me in the hospital — the one that began with people trying convince me that it was “anxiety” or “all in my head due to stress” and ended in multiple diagnoses, and then kept me in doctors offices for three straight months — I knew I wanted to take more proactive control of my health. I’ve also learned how often women are ignored, demeaned, or straight up not treated because of medical bias that sees our pain not be taken seriously, and illnesses often left undiagnosed got longer, to our own detriment. And it’s even worse for women of color! Becoming aware of the data, being sobered by my own brush with illness, and then seeing my best friend from high school lose her little sister to colon cancer at 37, and a friend from work go through a double mastectomy at 42, I knew I wanted to know everything about my own body. And thanks to two of my best pals learning a ton about their health during their own fertility journey (shout out to @daddyhoodpodcast TY) I wound up connected to the amazing team @sollishealth. From the moment I walked into their beautiful offices and met their medical team, things felt different. Finally, I have everything under one roof — that also does emergency care! — and I’m being looked after by one team that oversees all additional referrals. From full labs that we took in the office, to an additional vial of blood (I didn’t pass out, please be proud) for a Galleri test to screen for 100 types of cancer, they made me feel so empowered & gave me snacks. They helped me find in-network specialists to keep battling my asthma, to keep up the necessary PT that helps me stay on top of some stunt injuries, and even helped me get one of those in depth @prenuvo scans that took over the internet last year. Spoiler alert: they really ARE that amazing I have to thank the whole team for answering all of my questions about how to make this scan more #accessible to people. As we are all out here advocating for healthcare, and reminding you to vote like your lives depend on it (they do!) it’s really meaningful to me to meet likeminded folks to learn with, and to be walked through their plans around how to bring the best medical treatments to the masses. Everyone deserves this! I’m really grateful to be a #sollispartner now and have the ability to explore my options, and hoping that sharing what I find from time to time helps you all feel inspired to explore yours too. I hope we all stay healthy for a long long time 🫶🏼

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Out

Warnings: parents not accepting their child

Y/n looks out of her house that was small. She was on her couch, and on her knees looking outside. She wanted to go out there to run around the town, but her parents hated her being outside. Her parents had found out Y/n was into females and not males

They thought by locking her up inside, she’d become in their words ‘better’. She hadn’t changed her mind of what she liked, and never planned on changing just to please her parents. “Dear stop looking outside. You know you’re not allowed to stare out their” her mother says as she enters the living room

Y/n does as told, and sat down on the couch. Boredom consumed every part of her now. “But mother I just was admiring the outdoors” she says to her mother. Her mother scoffs in response, since she hadn’t believed her daughter one bit

“I don’t believe you! I know you were staring at women, dear. You really need to get your brain checked. Perhaps we’ll take you to the doctor! They can fix that crazy mind of yours” Y/n sighs, and says ‘yes mother.’ Her mother then informed her daughter that she was going out. “Your father should be home in a couple of hours. Do not leave this house, do you understand? You’ll be in a casket if you do” Y/n shook her head, and now her mother was gone

The silence was killing her as she could hear every creaking noise inside of the house. The wind breezing through each second didn’t help her either. She had at that moment decided to run off. Y/n had also decided she’d be better off then living with her parents. She walks towards the woods since her parents were never big fans of them

Y/n runs once in the woods. She took in the cool breeze, and swung her arms around. She was free now. She felt unstoppable now, and braver. She eventually tripped over a twig that was weirdly the shape of a finger. Y/n apologized to the branch, and gave it a little kiss. Of course she wasn’t gonna act ‘normal’, but she hadn’t been out in two months

Y/n felt as if she could do anything right now- including kissing another woman. She had sat down next to the finger looking branch, and looked at it. A blue butterfly comes over towards her. It lands onto her shoulder now. “Oh hello! Your quite beautiful” she compliments the butterfly

She had realized it was the only thing that was colorful in this gloomy grey town. Y/n hadn’t even noticed the branch had become a beautiful dead bride. “Oh, oops. That’s mine” the women says, which makes Y/n look at her. Y/n was aware the woman was dead, but god did she find her attractive regardless

The butterfly goes back to the dead bride, but was gone once it had touched her. “You make very beautiful butterflies. It’s so alive for such a dead town” Y/n says, which makes Emily thank her. “No problem” Emily takes her hand out for her to take. Y/n blushes, and takes it

Once Y/n was standing up again, she fully took in every detail of the woman before her. “You know people would normally be spooked when they see a dead person walking around. Your different. I like that” Y/n’s blush had become obvious now. “How kind, but it would be rude to be so frightened by such beauty” Y/n blurts out, which makes Emily smile

“Why thank you. I think I like you-“ “Y/n” she takes her hand out to shake. “Emily” Emily says as she shakes her hand back. Once they stopped shaking hands, Y/n was super red still and couldn’t get her blush to go away. “Your adorable when you blush by the way. Would you like to see the afterlife?” Y/n took the offer without hesitation

Soon they were both in the afterlife. Y/n looks around, and realizes how cool it had looked. “I wanna stay here. I hate where I’m at. My parents don’t accept me as a lesbian” Y/n says as she goes over to sit at one of the bar stools. Emily follows her, and sat down next to her

“Im sorry love. I’ll accept you, and you can definitely stay down here with me. I don’t mind the company, plus I’d loved to get to know you better” she says, which makes Y/n look at her with a smile on her face. Emily had looked at her now, and smiled now

[shizucheese]

Hey y'all, new chapter of A Lovely Pair of Eyes is finally out! Sorry it took so long, I ended up being a big of a perfectionist with it and it gave me some troubles. But it's here now so read on! :D You can find the new chapter on AO3 here: Chapter 1

If you're new to the story and want to start from the beginning, you can check it out here: Prolog

Fic description: John and Martin survived the events of Mag 200 and ended up Somewhere Else, but now Martin has become an Avatar of the Eye. Now the two of them must navigate all of the complications of their still-new relationship now that they don't have a fear apocalypse distracting them, AND being in a relationship where both people involved are Eye Avatars, AND Martin's struggles as a baby Eye Avatar.

This story isn't going to have a cohesive plot so much as this is where I'm posting all of my stories set in a post-Mag200 continuity where John and Martin are Eye Avatar boyfriends together. Chapter description: Martin Wakes up. Full chapter can also be found under the cut.

Chapter 1

It took Martin a moment to realize where he was when he came to. But as his senses came back to him, he recognized the antiseptic smell and beeping sounds of a hospital room. He had spent enough time by John’s side when he was in his coma, how could he not?

At the thought of John, his memories flooded back to him. The Panopticon. The plan to kill Elias…Jonah…whatever…and release the Fears into other worlds. And John going ahead and killing him himself and becoming the new Pupil of the Eye, and then the horrifying realization that he couldn’t control it.

The knife.

The promise. The kiss. John. Oh God John.

Fear and worry spiked through him and he was distantly aware of the sound of the heart monitor in the room beeping faster. He tried to sit up, but found that he was too weak to do so, and the most he could manage was a weak moan and a flex of his fingers.

It was then he became aware of the hand that was holding one of his; long, cool, familiar fingers intertwined with his own. He rolled his head to the side and sure enough he saw a familiar head of black hair, streaked with grey. He seemed to be asleep, slumped over the bed with his head pillowed on one arm, but he was here, and he was safe.

“John…?” His voice came out weak and raspy and he coughed from the effort of it. He wiggled his fingers in a weak attempt at grasping at John’s hand.

John jolted awake, and Martin watched as one emotion after another flashed across his face as he blinked rapidly. Confusion, recognition, realization….

“Martin.” He said it as a complete sentence. This was Martin. He was Martin. Martin was here.

“John” Martin answered back.

“Oh God Martin!” John stood up and leaned over, cupping Martin’s face with both hands and examining him, as if searching for something, before stepping away. “I’m uh…I need to go tell the doctor you’re awake…” John backed away, his gaze never leaving Martin’s face, until finally he had no choice but to turn around and leave the room.

-

“Well, Mr. Blackwood, I’m happy to say that, all things considered, you’re in remarkably good shape. We’d like to keep you here for a few more days for observation but if all seems well, I see no reason why we would need to keep you longer than that,” the doctor said as he finished his examination. Somehow John had convinced the man to let him stay in the room during the whole thing and now he stood fretting in the corner.

“Now, I just need to ask you a few questions as part of the evaluation. Tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Well, he most certainly couldn’t tell the truth about that, now, could he? He doubted the doctor would believe him; it was more likely he’d think he was completely crazy and would try to have him committed.

“J-John.” Martin’s voice was still raspy from months of disuse, although the longer he was awake, the stronger he felt. “I was with John. Th-there was an accident….” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. The doctor nodded and wrote something down on his clipboard.

“I don’t expect you to know the exact date, of course, but could you tell me what year it is?”

“2010.” The doctor nodded again and continued to write on his clipboard.

“And could you tell me who the current monarch of England is?” “Queen Elizabeth.” The doctor added a few more notes on his clipboard, and then stood up from where he had been sitting by the side of the bed.

“Well, that should be all for now. When you’re feeling a bit more recovered, we’ll go over your treatment and rehabilitation plan. Let a nurse know if you have any questions or if anything about your condition changes.” And with that, the doctor left the room, giving John a nod of acknowledgement as he passed him.

As soon as the door clicked shut, John was across the room and by the side of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Martin could practically physically feel John’s eyes roaming over his face again. He took a moment to take John in himself, now that they were alone and had a moment. John was pale even in the best of times, and Martin would have thought, after four months of living in a world not in the middle of a fear apocalypse, that’s how John would look, but instead he was the same haggard kind of pale that Martin had grown used to seeing over the past few years, with the same bruise-like circles under his eyes. Martin wondered how well John had been taking care of himself while he had been in his coma. “Fine? You were there while the doctor was looking me over and asking me all those questions…”

“Yes, but you and I both know there are things that we can talk about between us that we can’t talk about to or around other people.” “Fair enough.” Martin closed his eyes and took a moment before answering. “I’m still a bit thirsty.” At that, John reached over for the cup of ice water a nurse had brought him earlier and held the straw up to Martin’s lips, and he drank from it gratefully. “I’m still tired, too. You would think after four months in a coma I wouldn’t be. Is that normal? And my head hurts…” “You should get some rest then.” “Tell me what happened first.” “We can talk about that later. You need to rest.” “John, I’m not going to be able to rest properly until I know what’s going on. Just…please, tell me.” “Right then…” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “When we released the Fears into the other worlds, it seems they took us with them, and we ended up here. The land where the Institute and the Panopticon were is a construction site in this world. That’s where we wound up…” John’s mouth quirked into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I told the paramedics and the police officers that you and I had wanted to take advantage of the construction do some urban exploration in the old Millbank Prison tunnels. There was an accident and we both fell. You wouldn’t wake up….” The smile fell. His voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s not your fault. You were…” John trailed off and stared into the middle distance, his sentence left incomplete.

“So what are we going to do about like…our identities? We’re not from here so…wait, is there, like, another us here? Like the us from this world…? We aren’t using their IDs, are we?” John laughed ruefully at that.

“No, we’re not using their IDs. Let’s just say we weren’t the only ones who made it here.” “Who…?” It took a moment before Martin caught on. “Annabelle.” “Precisely. It seems the Web doesn’t like being indebted, particularly not to agents of one of the other fears. Her helping us is supposed to ‘balance the ledger,’ or so she says.”

“Right…and what are the chances that she’s going to balance it a little too much and we’ll end up being the ones indebted to her?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Getting someone to owe you can be a form of manipulation…” They were both quiet for a moment as they considered the implications of the situation they found themselves in. “What else?” Martin asked, finally breaking the silence. John looked up at him in surprise. “What else is there? What aren’t you telling me?” “I don’t…”

“John, please. I can tell when you’re hiding something from me. Please, just tell me.” The pain that had been pulsing behind his eyes since he woke up grew stronger. John closed his eyes, and his posture, which Martin had only ever seen him lose at the worst of times, slumped.

“You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” “Noticed what?”

“Martin…when the doctor asked you what year it was, you told him 2010. I never told you what year it was in this world.” “What…? Of course you did. You…” “No, Martin, I didn’t.” John’s face was full of…sorrow? Guilt? “Then I…I must have seen it on the—” Martin trailed off as he realized there was no calendar in sight. “Without your glasses? Although it appears you no longer need them...” Martin unconsciously reached a hand up to the side of his face, as if to adjust the glasses that, yes, he realized now, were not there. And yet…

“John, what’s going on?” And there was that pain again, flaring up as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening to him. “When you were in your coma, you didn’t have a heartbeat.”  John paused, and swallowed. “I thought you were dead. I thought I had lost you…” His voice cracked. “The only reason you weren’t pronounced dead is because Annabelle did…something and the doctors realized you still had brain activity. You were like that for four months…”

John looked at him straight in the eye, then, and…yes, there was sorrow and guilt and grief and pity in those eyes. “I’m so sorry, Martin. You’re like me now. You’ve become an Avatar of the Eye.”

[weirdestbooks]

Celtic Brothers (Wattpad | Ao3)

Ireland and Scotland, requested by dyslexictryhard. Ireland and Scotland are both going to go by their Irish names cause it's Ireland narrating. So Éire for Ireland and Albain for Scotland.

“Are you sure Sasana or An Bhreatain isn’t going to get mad at you for this?” Éire asked Albain, who laughed. 

“What those two don’t know won’t hurt them. Besides, I know they’re both acting pissy about your independence, but Sasainn is happy that he managed to take out your leg, so he doesn’t see you as a threat anymore, and Crùn is busy with your kid,” Albain said. Éire scowled, looking down at his injured leg. 

Sasana had shot his kneecap out, and the damage was severe. The doctors said it probably wouldn’t heal and that he should think about amputation, but Éire wasn’t ready to commit to that yet. Until then, he was stuck in a wheelchair.

That was what the problem was. His house, his little farm that he had been building up secretly for decades, was not built for a wheelchair. Éire had already hired a young lad named Pádraig to help take care of the animals he was unable to look after due to his wheelchair, but the fact that he could barely move around his own house was becoming a bit of a problem.

“Sasana cuts out an eye, Bhreatain makes me half blind in the other one, and it’s not until he’s injured me one final time that I stop being a threat. Figures.” Éire muttered bitterly. 

“Should be lucky you were always seen as such a threat,” Albain joked, but there was an understanding in his eyes.

“Lucky’s not what I would call it,” Éire said with a sigh, running a hand over the stubble on his chin, “Go raibh maith agat for doing this.”

“'S e do bheatha. You deserve to be able to move around your home comfortably. But why’d you ask me and not your friend…Pàdraig?” Albain asked.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. And…I missed spending time with you.” Éire said. Albain smiled, fangs sticking out slightly.

“Missed spending time with you too,” he said, patting Éire’s hand with the tip of his tail as he returned his focus to the wall.

“You also know me better than most people, so I figured I could just tell you, ‘Please make this house movable for me,’ and you would know what to do to make me happy and not lose what I like about this place,” Éire added. Albain laughed.

“That’s also a good reason.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as Éire pulled out a book and began reading. Éire wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Albain spoke again.

“As far as I’m aware, Crùn hasn’t hit Èirinn a Tuath.” the lion chimera said far too casually. Éire dropped his book in shock.

“He hasn’t abused her? I figured out of all his colonies, he would hate her them most, being my child, a part of our island,” Éire said. Albain let out a bitter laugh.

“That’s what a' Chuimrigh and I thought as well. We had already been putting together plans for when things went wrong and always having someone keep an eye on her. But he hadn’t done it yet. They don’t talk much unless Crùn is ranting about how you’re a mad, cruel, treacherous bastard, but he hasn't hit her, even if she starts getting mouthy,” Albain said. 

Despite the fact Éire had said that he would not hold any paternal feeling towards her, he couldn’t help the concern that welled up inside him.

“Do you think it’s another Haváí situation?” Éire asked. Albain shrugged.

“I have no idea. I think…best theory me or a’ Chuimrigh can come up with is that maybe he realizes that beating Tuath might push her back to you and help spark a reunification. Trying to stay on her good side to avoid losing what he has. Sure, you’ve been fighting him and Sasainn since the beginning, but he can’t deny that he pushed you further and further to your breaking point every day. I think he wants to avoid that.”

Éire exhale a slow breath. While he was glad that Tuaisceart Éireann wasn’t being abused like so many other colonies of the British Empire, he was still worried.

“Albain?” Éire asked. Albain hummed an acknowledgment, “If he does start hitting her, or if things take a bad turn, could you tell me?”

“I thought you weren’t going to be her father?” Albain asked. It wasn’t an accusation or even an insult, but it made frustration burm in Éire’s chest all the same.

“Albain,” Éire said, something more desperate in his voice. Albain looked back at Éire, something akin to shock in his eyes.

“Okay. I will. Just…don’t take things too far,” Albain said. Éire let out a bitter laugh.

“I’m a fucking cripple, and I can’t see without glasses 'cause too many people have shoved knives in my eyes through my history. I can’t do anything, Albain. That’s the point.” Éire said. Albain walked over and leaned down to pull Éire into a hug. Éire buried his face into the fur on Albain’s chest and let a few frustrated tears exit his eyes.

“It’ll be okay, Èirinn. Everything will work out eventually,” Albain said, pulling away. Éire wiped the tears from his eyes.

“I know…Go raibh maith agat, Albain. For being here.”

“It’s my pleasure, Èirinn.”

[schizodiaries]

I’ve haven’t really opened up about this on this blog because it isn’t schizoaffective related. But I hope you all don’t mind that I vent a bit about this. In addition to mood and psychotic issues, I also struggle a lot with body image and poor eating habits. It’s apparently not severe enough to be considered an eating disorder, but it’s pretty heavily influenced by decades of diet mentality and internalized fatphobia.

(More under the cut, but I’m putting a content warning for mentions of weight and dieting, as well as potential disordered eating habits.)

I’m overweight. In fact, on my medical records, it says I’m obese according to my BMI. It wasn’t always that way. I used to be quite thin, maybe even underweight. But ever since the pandemic/lockdown, and ever since taking antipsychotics, my weight changed rapidly and dramatically.

I’m trying not to see this as a bad thing, but fatphobia is not easily unlearned especially if it’s been instilled at such a young age. Not only that, but because my weight change happened so suddenly, it came with some health issues. Prediabetes, for one, and some mobility issues too. Being at a heavier weight so suddenly has put so much strain on my legs, feet, and lower back, and walking up and down the stairs has become painful and a struggle for me. I can’t move around, turn my body, or bend over as easily as I used to, and it’s causing me a lot of stress physically and mentally.

Now for the social aspect. As we all know being fat is looked down upon in society. Especially in female bodies. I was already aware of the insanely fatphobic standards that women are often held to but I haven’t been on the receiving end of that until now. I have also gotten so many hurtful comments from family members and people close to me about my weight. The worst one I got was from an older, non English speaking relative who wouldn’t even call me fat to my face. She had to say it in her native tongue and direct it to my parents, while I was clearly in the room. What she doesn’t know is that though I don’t speak my family’s language, I can understand just enough to know when someone is saying “Jesus, she got fat!”

That encounter was the last straw for me. I knew at that point I needed to lose weight, by any means necessary. I put myself on countless diets, tried intermittent fasting, dusted off my fitness watch, forced myself to go on walks despite the pain, weighed myself multiple times a day, and started counting calories. At first, it worked, and I started to see some weight change. My mom commented that i was “getting my figure back.” I was being praised for all my work. But the process was slow. And it wasn’t enough, for anyone. Not my parents, not my doctor, not me.

I gained all the weight back and then some because my heavily restrictive eating habits came back to bite me in the ass and I was so hungry to the point of overeating to compensate for the lack of food. I got burnt out from exercise and became sedentary. My plan had failed, and I am now at my highest weight I’ve ever been. My doctor put me on Metformin, a medication typically prescribed to treat diabetes and PCOS. But it can also cause weight loss. My doctor strongly suggested i take the medicine, and even lamented my thinness on my behalf. In her words, “You used to be so skinny!” I am now at the highest dose of this medicine, which has given me gastrointestinal issues, and I still have not noticed a change in my weight.

I’m trying my best to keep a positive mindset about this. I’m trying to stay body positive, to love and accept my bigger body, and to embrace my change in weight as just another part of getting older. But it’s so difficult. My struggle to move my body like I used to, the nonstop comments I get from family members and healthcare professionals, the fact that I keep outgrowing every new clothing item I buy for myself and having to buy new ones every few months. It’s making me depressed, and angry.

I’ve reached out to my therapist already, who referred me to an eating disorder specialist who subsequently determined that I don’t have an eating disorder. They then referred me to a dietician, where I learned about consistent and balanced eating. I attended webinars about eating skills, body image, and rejecting the diet mentality. I’ve put in the effort to fix my relationship with food and body image. And I’ve certainly made a lot of progress in that regard. But I’m still fat. And the people in my life make it a point to remind me of that frequently.

Today I spoke to my mom about the pain in my lower body. She offered little to no sympathy, and told me to just lose weight and it will go away. She later sent me an Instagram reel about water fasting. I know she’s just trying to help, but i think this hurt more than it helped. The instagram reel I found to be particularly triggering, as now I am highly considering doing a water fast to lose weight.

The only person closest to me who hasn’t made any kind of negative comment about my heavier weight is my boyfriend. He has consistently been my biggest supporter throughout my weight journey. Except for when I relapse. Whenever he catches me restricting or starving or skipping meals, he expresses disappointment and accuses me of “giving up” and “not trying hard enough” to recover. Which is a huge slap in the face considering I’ve been putting so much effort into changing my relationship with food - seeing a dietitian every month, reaching out to an ED specialist, attending webinars about food and body positivity. But apparently, to him, if I relapse at any point, then all that effort would have been for nothing.

So I don’t know what to do anymore. If I try to accept and love my bigger body, my weight stays the same, and I’m bombarded with comments about my body. If I decide to do something about it and end up relapsing, I’m scolded by my boyfriend for “giving up” and “not trying hard enough.” If I reach out to doctors or family members about my weight they just tell me to lose it. But if I try to lose it, I fall back into unhealthy habits. I’m in a real damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation.

It’s hard for me to say what I really want to do without feeling like I’m promoting unhealthy habits. So I will just keep it to myself and hope that my efforts will have some results. Until then, I think I’m going to do things on my own terms and not listen to what any family member or medical professional has to say about my body and relationship with food. I’m going to do what I think feels right to me and my body. And I’ll do it by whatever means necessary.

[angelasscribbles]

Heir Apparent Chapter 19: Going Public

Series: Heir Apparent.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Riley, Liam x Riley (past)

Rating: R

Warnings: Mature themes, language

Word Count: 2,749

A/N: Huge thank you to @karahalloway, @harleybeaumont and @dcbbw for brainstorming ideas with me for questions hurled by the press, insults tossed around, and newspaper headlines.

Everything else: Master List.

Liam waited for silence and order as he stood at the podium shuffling note cards.

Not that he needed them. He had his statement memorized.

He turned his head slightly in Riley’s direction. She seemed fairly well composed all things considered. The bombshell they were about to drop on the public was going to blow up her life far more than his.

If anything, this was going to make his life easier, while hers became infinitely harder. He recognized that and had taken steps to minimize the impact on her as much as possible.

Her medical records had all been transferred quickly, discreetly, and securely to the royal doctor. Both Valtoria and the palace had been equipped with state-of-the-art obstetric equipment, including its own ultrasound machine.

Her security detail had been ramped up and extra staff had been hired so that she didn’t have to go out in public unless she wanted to.

The plan was to make their public, joint statement, ask the public for privacy and then have her stay out of the spotlight as much as possible.

Drake was on the stage with them. Liam’s press secretary had assured them that it was crucial for him to be there to show his support. Riley was less likely to be viewed negatively by the public if her husband was beside her.

It infuriated him that anyone would cast her in a negative light because she made an error in judgment that night.

If it had been an error, it was one they had made together.

Not that he saw it as an error. He didn’t regret it and it had given him a child. He would never regret that.

It took longer than usual to quiet the room, mostly because it was obvious why they were there.

The curve of Riley’s belly gave them away.

Her oversized t-shirts and baggy clothing had been replaced with a designer wardrobe of maternity clothes.

The simple dress she had chosen for the press conference showed off her baby bump on purpose.

The press secretary thought that the visual proof of an heir would highlight the securing of the line of succession and hopefully minimize any drama surrounding the circumstances of the conception itself.

“Thank you all for coming,” he began, “I am aware of the rumors circulating in the press and I’m sure you’ve already surmised the reason for today’s press conference.”

He waited for the murmurs that rippled through the crowd to subside before continuing, “I am delighted to announce that the rumors are true. Cordonia has an heir on the way. The line of succession is secured.”

He ignored the hurled questions from the press corps.

“Who is the mother?”

“Is Duchess Riley pregnant with your child?”

“Will there be a royal wedding?”

“Are you using a surrogate?”

“Have you been having an affair?”

He turned and held his hand out to Riley, the smile lighting his face was genuine as he took her hand and helped up step up beside him.

Right where she belonged.

He shot a quick glance at Drake, who was seated on the stage behind them, back ramrod straight, jaw clenched, face blank.

Riley stepped up to the podium and smiled out at the crowd.

She also ignored the hurled questions.

“Are you pregnant, Duchess?”

“Is that a baby bump?”

“Is it the king’s baby?”

“What does the duke think about this development?”

“Will there be a divorce?”

Liam’s countenance grew serious as he called for calm to be restored.

When silence once again fell across the crowd, he continued, “As the public is aware, Duchess Riley and I shared a whirlwind romance before circumstances forced us apart.”

The murmurs were more sympathetic this time.

“We both moved on,” he lied, “but there was one last dalliance prior to the duchess’s marriage to her husband, Duke Walker.”

There were a few gasps, but mostly a lot of nodding heads.

Almost everyone understood closure with an ex.

“That dalliance, which again I would like to stress took place prior to her marriage to another man, resulted in a pregnancy.”

A small roar ran through the crowd as more questions were shouted.

“Surely the king should be married to the mother of the heir-“

“If there’s no divorce, then will custody be given to the crown?”

“Will Duke Walker give up custody?”

“Will King Liam raise the child alone?”

“Will the child be brought up traditionally, I mean considering the untraditional nature of the conception…”

“How can you be sure it’s yours? Was there a DNA test?”

Liam waited patiently for the tumult to die down before continuing, “Though our romantic relationship ended, Duchess Riley and I remain close friends and we are thrilled by this news. Paternity was verified by DNA testing and we look forward to co-parenting together, along with her husband, Duke Walker.”

He waited for the crowd to absorb the fact that Riley would remain married to Drake despite carrying his child before finishing, “Cordonia owes its future to the duchess.”

“Isn’t that a bit dramatic?” a reporter called out, “You’re a young man, Your Majesty, you have years to marry and produce heirs.”

Liam’s jaw clenched imperceptibly at the irony.

The press had hounded him relentlessly about the need for an heir. Now that he had produced one, suddenly he had plenty of time. He was used to the fickleness of the press, but it was still galling.  

Liam glanced at Riley. She didn’t know the next part was coming. He leaned into the microphone and announced, “As you all know, I found a loophole in our laws. I only needed to be engaged to ascend the throne, not to retain it. Given that there is no provision in our laws about a sitting monarch’s marital status and given that I have an heir, a biological child, I have no plans to marry. Ever.”

This time pandemonium broke out.

“What the fuck, Liam?” Riley hissed too low to be picked up on the mic.

He covered the microphone with his hand as he smiled at her and whispered, “It’s true. I will never marry. You may have moved on, Riley, but I don’t seem to be able to stop loving you. I’m sorry.”

The din was so loud, they couldn’t hear the questions being shouted at them.

“Quiet!” Liam thundered.

Once order had been restored, what he said to the crowd was, “No one should have to marry for political reasons. Effective immediately, the law will be adjusted to allow our child,” he turned his head quickly to smile at Riley, then looked back out over the crowd, “and every member of the royal family from here on out, to marry whom they wish, if they wish, for love and not duty.”

“What about necessary political alliances?” a reporter called out.

“Yes, alliances still need to be made,” Liam answered, “but by diplomacy, not by bartering the next generation out in what amounts to legalized prostitution.”

Shocked gasps and a few indignant shouts ripped through the crowd, but they were interspersed with sporadic applause and some approving murmurs.

The old guard, his father’s generation versus the newer, more progressive generation.

More questions were fired at them by the press.

“Those are very American ideals…are you being influenced by Duchess Riley?”

“Did you mention marrying for love because you’re still in love with Duchess Riley?”

“Is she the reason you refuse to marry?”

“Is she your mistress?”

Once again, Liam ignored the questions and finished the speech he’d come there to give, “the duchess and I appreciate your support. We promise you regular updates on the health and well-being of the heir and ask for our privacy to be respected as we navigate new parenthood and learn how to blend this family. There will be no questions taken at this time. Feel free to submit them to the royal press secretary to be answered in next week’s official update. Thank you.”

Liam gestured to Alec to clear the way, they had a short walk back to the safety of the palace walls.

Drake was next to Riley before she was off the stage, guiding her down the steps and along the natural flagstone path to the palace, Liam just behind them. He kept an arm protectively at the small of her back as they made their way through the throngs of people being held back by stanchion ropes and security.  

Camera’s flashed, the crowd pressed forward and reporters continued to hurtle questions at them.

“Duke Walker, did you know?”

“Did you pimp your wife out to your best friend?”

“How long has she been cheating on you?”

“Why did she even marry you?”

“Did you do it for the money?”

“Your Majesty, are two commoners fit to raise the heir to the throne?”

Drake clenched his teeth together and ignored every demeaning question, every insulting remark, and every humiliating pronouncement flung at himself. He didn’t care about that, had never cared what others thought of him.

The vitriol lobbed at her was harder for him to ignore.

“Did you get knocked up by the king for the fame, the fortune, or the notoriety?”

“Is that why the king gave you a duchy? Because you’re still sleeping with him?”

“Do you and the duke have a Cordonian arrangement?”

The questions from the press were bad enough, but there were a few hecklers in the crowd as well.

“Gold digger!”

“Crown chaser!”

“Whore!”

Riley kept her eyes forward and her shoulders back, pretending not to hear, her hand tightening in Drake’s.

Liam’s fists clenched at his side and the muscle in his jaw jumped as he struggled to maintain his composure.

They should not be talking to her like that, but he had the crown’s image to protect, he couldn’t react overtly.

Drake had no such qualms.

Fuck his reputation.

Liam saw it coming before it happened, but he couldn’t react fast enough to stop it.

Drake released Riley’s hand and turned in midstride, delivering a staggering uppercut to the jaw of the man who had just called his wife a whore.

The man staggered back into the crowd, falling into several other people, including several members of the press.

The man who had been standing to the right of the fallen man swung on Drake and a struggle ensued.

The man had hold of Drake’s shirt with one fist while trying to hit him with the other. Drake blocked his attempted blow easily and attempted to push the man away.

The first man picked himself up and shoved his way through the crowd to jab Drake in the stomach.

Liam reacted without thought, all his years of training in letting his guards handle things flew right out the window as he witnessed his lifelong best friend get sucker punched by one man while he was grappling with another.

The king of Cordonia sidestepped his personal guard and jumped into the middle of the fray, thudding into one of the assailants with his entire body.

They went down fighting. The guy landed a right hook to the king’s mouth before Liam delivered one of his own across the other man’s cheek.

Complete chaos descended on the scene as guardsmen swarmed the crowd, quickly pulling Liam and Drake out of the tussle and hauling the other two men away in handcuffs.

Drake and Liam found themselves tossed into the back of an SUV while the guard restored order.

Even though the press conference had taken place on palace grounds, vehicles with bulletproof glass were always kept nearby just in case.

An assassination attempt was a more expected thing than the king jumping into the middle of a brawl, but a security event was a security event.

“Well, that went straight to shit!” Liam groused as he gingerly touched his swollen lip.

“Yup,” Drake agreed, “what did you expect though?”

The two men regarded each other for a moment before breaking out into gales of laughter.

The king of Cordonia was flush with victory and adrenaline, “Fuck, that was fun!”

“I can’t believe you decked a guy, Li!” Drake marveled.

“He hit you!” Liam said with such vehemence that Drake stopped laughing.

“Wow, man. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Of course I do,” Liam gave him a reproving look, “no matter what else has happened, you’re still my brother!”

Drake clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a little squeeze as he replied, “I feel the same way.”

The panel between the front and back seat lowered and the driver said, “We’re going to drive you back to the palace, Your Majesty.”

Drake looked around in concern, “Where’s Riley?”

“Duchess Riley was removed from the situation as soon as the first punch was thrown, Your Grace. She’s waiting for you back at the palace.”

“Thanks, and just call me Drake, please.”

The driver’s eyes flicked to Liam, who nodded, before answering, “Sure thing, boss.”

Another guard slid into the passenger side of the front seat and handed them each an instant cold pack.

“Thanks,” they said in unison.

The panel slid back up as the car started to move.

Liam squeezed the cold pack to activate it as he said, “I understand now what she meant when she told me that you’ve always been there for her, and I haven’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I wanted to punch that guy too, Drake! But I couldn’t because I’m the king and I have to represent Cordonia!” Liam slammed his elbow into the side of the door in frustration.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think anyone would recommend following my example. I shouldn’t have let that guy get to me. It’s going to cause issues for you and her. I can see the fucking headlines now.”

“What do you want to bet there already out there?” Liam asked as he pulled out his phone and swiped it open. “Shit, look,” he held the phone between them so Drake could read with him.

Royal press conference descends into royal brawl

King Lands Knockout Punch

This is the man that will raise the heir to the throne

Has the king been compromised by American ideals?

Walker: Texas Liability

“Shit, Li. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam shrugged, “as I said, I wanted to punch him too. Maybe if I’d done less worrying about optics and more worrying about standing up for her, things would have worked out differently.”

“Yeah, well…” Drake trailed off, uncertain how to respond to that. He liked the way things had worked out just fine.

The car rocked to a stop and the intercom crackled to life, “We’re here, Your Majesty.”

“Give us a few moments alone,” Liam instructed.

“Yes, sir.” The intercom clicked off.

Drake turned to his lifelong best friend, brows raised in question.

Liam sighed as he brought the cold pack to his face. Leaning back into the leather seat he said quietly, “I still love her, Drake.”

“I know that…” Drake responded carefully.

“I’m not going to stop just because she married you.”

“I know that too.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

“I’m sorry for your pain, I truly am. I wish there was a way we could both be happy,” Drake regretted the distance between Liam and himself but had no idea how to fix any of it.

“What if there was?” Liam’s tone was restrained, purposely neutral, and even.

Drake turned his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“What if I could have a relationship with Riley that didn’t threaten your relationship with her?”

“I don’t follow.”

“What if we could come to some kind of an understanding? An arrangement if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Drake snapped, “What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m talking about a Cordonian Arrangement, Drake,” Liam’s tone stayed measured and calm, “She stays married to you, as she obviously wants to. But you allow her certain….freedoms.”

“Are you suggesting I let you have an affair with my wife?”

Liam shrugged, “Not suggesting, outright asking you to consider it. After discussing it with her, of course.”

Drake stared at him in astonishment, “What if she doesn’t want to be with you, Liam?”

“Then I’ll accept that,” Liam replied quietly, “But what if she does?”

“I…”

“Just think about it, okay? You don’t have to answer right now.”

Liam opened the door and exited the car, leaving Drake staring after him in stunned disbelief.  

[ditaliaa]

Penitence

Marc Spector

I wrote this a while back and just realized I never posted it here, so for all my Moon Knight followers (I think there’s only a few of you) who want to be emotionally devastated, here you go!! 😅 (also, I’m aware some things don’t track with the show, it’s ok, let’s pretend it does) Can be found on my AO3.

Summary: Marc meets Abdallah El- Faouly at a dig site while working for his old C.O., Raul Bushman. Things don’t go according to plan.

Tags: canonical character death, canon-typical violence, suicidal thoughts, survivor guilt, angst, backstory, no beta we die like Arthur Harrow

Word Count: 3.3k

“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

The first thing he noticed was the red scarf.

Sun-drenched and stiff with sweat. The cloth was carefully embroidered with little, dark scarabs. Dozens of them crawled across the stranger’s neck, emblazoned in a scarlet halo. Their legs were outstretched as if in protection of the wearer. Like a talisman. Like an omen.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

Marc’s attention flickered upwards to the man’s outstretched hand. He wore a kind smile on his face, yet his oil black eyes were relentless in their gaze as he stood above him. Marc reached his own hand up in greeting. The man’s calloused palms belied years of hard work, hours upon hours spent in the dessert.

“Dr. Abdallah El-Faouly.”

“Spector.” He returned, gruffly.

The man sat down next to him, seemingly undeterred by his succinct reply. As he got closer, Marc could see the small crease in his brow and the curiosity that lingered there.

“You’ve never been to a dig site, have you?” His accent was thick and laced with mirth.

Marc remained silent, just staring at the man next to him. He had been at the camp for almost a day and hadn’t spoken to anyone. It was a simple job, and he didn’t plan on making friends. Didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon either.

“I just mean, you’re different.” He said not unkindly and Marc shifted somewhat to face him, casting his eyes sideways.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s in your posture, the way you walk.” The doctor mused, “You walk like a soldier.”

Marc stilled. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take that. In some ways it could be a compliment, in others, not so much. There wasn’t much to go off of by the man’s tone either, so he stayed silent and let the words sink into the air, like the sweat through his clothes.

“My daughter could navigate these sites by the time she was six.” The man continued, laughing. Marc cast him a sidelong glance and found, surprisingly, he didn’t mind the conversation, as one-sided as it was.

“I call her my little scarab.” He spoke with a fond smile, his hand coming to rest on the scarlet scarf wrapped round his neck.

For a moment, the image of a young girl creeping across the desert camp like the bugs he had seen flickered through Marc’s mind, before it disappeared. He blinked, taking a sip of water from his canteen and awkwardly clearing his throat.

A silence settled between the two, only punctuated by the loud man who had caught their attention. His black hair was slicked back with sweat, the gray streaks standing proud against the dark head. The man’s features came into view as he walked towards the two and Marc could feel his muscles tense.

“Dr. El-Faouly, I see you’ve met my friend.” Raul flashed a charming grin, the white teeth standing out brilliantly against the tanned, sweat-stained face. Marc gave a slight nod.

Friend might have been too strong of a word for what the two men were, but it was the only one that made sense, so Marc let it slide. Bushman was his commanding officer, or at least had been. The man was arrogant and, in the years they had been apart, had grown selfish too, but he was also the only one desperate enough to hire him. In his current state, Marc didn’t have much options, but he’d choose the Devil he knew over the one he didn’t.

Now, as he stared into the warm pools of Raul Bushman’s eyes, he saw a flicker of something flash across his face. It left a cold feeling curling in the pit of his gut, one that he promptly ignored.

“He’s not much for conversation.” Raul laughed and waved the archaeologist forward. “Come, doctor, I have something to show you.”

Bushman began leading the way toward his tent and Abdallah stood, watching the man walk away. He turned back toward Marc, casting those black eyes upon him. He observed his quiet stance before speaking.

“I’ve seen men like you.” He paused. “Soldiers.” He amended. The words were quiet as he spoke them and Marc’s gaze traveled to meet his stare.

“Just make sure you know when to follow orders,” the chasm of his eyes was deep, “and when to break them.”

Abdallah El-Faouly walked away, following the man who had previously called him over. Marc watched as his scarf fluttered in the wind, a crimson stain against his neck and he couldn’t help but feel the slightest twinge of guilt in his chest as the doctor disappeared into Bushman’s tent.

With a roll of his shoulders, it was gone.

***

“Here.”

Marc looked toward the man who held a canteen toward him. Abdallah pushed his hand forward again, the water sloshing gently in the container before he took it with a quiet thank you.

His tongue glued to the roof of his mouth in a sticky heat and the water served to push the dryness back. Granules of sand scratched his teeth and lips as he gulped down the liquid, ignoring the feel of the particles that stuck to the lid. He returned the container to the archaeologist, who slung the canteen back around his shoulders.

“So, what is this place?” Marc’s eyes traveled across the expanse of the building they had set their camp near.

“It’s the temple of Khonshu.” Abdallah spoke with a reverence in his tone.

“And Khonshu is?”

“An ancient Egyptian deity of the moon. He is the protector of travelers of the night.”

Marc only nodded, not sure how to respond to the man’s slightly worshipful tone. He noticed the slight shine in his eyes and the way the corners crinkled in glee at the sight of the tomb.

His eyes dragged back towards their destination as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Raul, Abdallah, and himself all stood near the entrance, the group of men behind them. Marc looked to his former commanding officer and felt his stomach twist at the hungry gleam in his eyes, so different from that of the man next to him. He watched as his hands flexed around the gun, fingers twitching restlessly against the trigger.

“Dr. El-Faouly, if you would be so kind?” Raul smiled with a crooked twist of his lips.

The archaeologist turned black eyes to the man across from him, distrust swirling in his face, but he moved forward first, as though an offering. Stepping over the threshold of the recently opened tomb, Marc felt a peculiar heaviness settle in his chest.

Both men followed the doctor as he walked forward, casting their eyes about the place. A large statue of a man with a bird’s head stood; in his hands clasped a crescent scepter. The staff hung like a scythe. The imposing figure cast a shadow across the steps leading to it. Marc craned his neck upwards, standing in awe of the stone god. Suddenly, the man next to him walked forward, to the side of the doorway.

“What’s that?” Marc asked as he watched Abdallah kneel in the sand of the tomb.

His finger dragged across the undisturbed ground, creating a trail. Two letters, it looked to be initials, stood in the sand and he sat back, casting a small glance toward the man above him.

“It’s for my daughter.” He smiled, “She would have loved to be here.”

Marc’s eyes flickered to the initials and that strange twist entered his heart again at the sight of the good doctor, knelt as if in veneration to the name of his daughter rather than the God that towered above him. His act of exaltation was broken as Raul stormed past him in annoyance, shoving the man aside as he moved forward. The sand shifted under the weight of Abdallah’s feet as he struggled to right himself, slightly disturbing the offering he had left to his daughter.

Marc cast a glare to the back of his commanding officer as he disappeared behind a pillar. He held his hand out and Abdallah took it, standing up. He shifted uncomfortably at the look in the archaeologist’s eyes and gave a slight nod, moving forward to follow his partner, and carefully stepping around the markings in the sand.

***

A few hours later, Marc stood in the shared tent of his former commanding officer. The temperature had plummeted into the night, causing the heat of the day to fade into a cool breeze.

“I don’t know much about this stuff.” Marc admitted, scrubbing his hand along the back of his neck.

Sweat and grime clung to the underside of his nails, the granules of dirt and sand stuck beneath them. His gaze swept across the treasures and offerings his partner had raided from the cave, stuffed irreverently into a duffel bag by his cot.

“That’s the beauty of it, Spector, you don’t have to.” Raul grinned, “You just need someone who knows what’s expensive.”

He watched with careful eyes as Bushman walked further into the tent, his arm disappeared inside his bag and Marc tensed before he revealed a bottle of whiskey. He felt his body relax somewhat as the man turned around, beckoning him to sit and have a drink with him. He did, sitting on the cot across from him and taking the lid off his canteen, he held it out for a Raul to pour the amber liquid in.

“You were always a good soldier.” He began, the words sudden and strange and he bristled.

Marc tipped his head back, not responding and downing the drink in one gulp. Seething slightly at the heated trail it left behind, he looked back to his old commanding officer.

“And you were never good at small talk.” Marc responded with a wry twist of his lips. “What do you want?” The words were harsh and cold and Bushman met his eyes.

All warm pretense was gone as Raul cast a soulless gaze towards him.

“You always did what I told you to do, without hesitation.” Marc frowned when he didn’t answer.

“It’s why I chose you for this job.”

“What do you want?” He repeated.

“An execution.”

Marc swallowed. “On who?”

“Everyone.” Raul stood, the warm light of the lantern casting harsh shadows across his face. “Everyone at this dig site.”

“Why?” Marc breathed and Bushman stilled.

“You didn’t used to ask questions.”

He remained silent, waiting for an answer and the man sighed, “This business, it’s risky. I can’t have anyone who knows me following me.”

He turned, a gun in his hands, a silencer around the barrel.

“You too. If anyone sees you, they’ll come for you.” Raul cocked a smile, “It’s for the best, for both of us, you see?”

The gun sat like an offering between the two men and Marc moved to take it, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“No witnesses. Can I trust you, Spector?” Suddenly, Marc was reminded of hot nights and fear filled days, following his commanding officer into whatever hell they found themselves in.

And yet, the flicker of a red scarf stood out across his memories.

This wasn’t the plan, his mind fought, but instead, Marc rolled his shoulders back and Raul tilted his chin, appraising the familiar soldier before him.

He swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

***

Raul had told him the best time to attack the group and Marc had sat and accepted his orders. Now, as he waited in the dark of the night, the glow of the moon cast enough light for him to creep across the camp. One gun slung across his shoulder and the one Raul had given him clutched in his palm.

He entered Abdallah’s tent first.

The man sat at a small desk with his back to him, still in his clothes from that day. The small space was illuminated by the faint flicker of his lantern. Marc came slowly up behind him, trapping a hand across his mouth and whispering an order into his ear.

“Listen to me,” He spoke, an undercurrent of desperation in his words. “I need you to gather your men as quickly and quietly as possible. We need to leave.”

Abdallah nodded and he released his hold on the poor man. They slipped out of the tent and Marc stood watch as the doctor gathered the men from their tents. All five other men emerged from their tents, eyes wild with fear as Marc urged them forward. Whispered orders and the faint shuffle of sand was the only thing to pierce the silence of the night as they moved.

The next few moments happened in a blur.

Suddenly, a shot rang out, and Marc watched as one of the men fell to the desert floor. His gaze flew sharply to the man who stood across the camp, and two more bullets whizzed past, embedding themselves with lethal accuracy in a loud crack.

He didn’t have time to register what was going on as the fourth bullet stung his leg, lodging itself into his thigh. He fell to his knees clutching the wound as he struggled to stand.

Marc raised his gun, shakily pointing towards where Raul Bushman had stood. His own gun fired back, though not with the accuracy he had wished, only grazing the man’s arm. There was the crash of a lantern as Abdallah emerged from a tent, eyes flickering across the camp in fear.

“Run!” Marc cried to the rest of the men as he stumbled backward, gun trained on his partner.

He saw the flicker of a red scarf. A yell cried out as he watched Abdallah El-Faouly fall to the sand. Blood, hot and slick sprayed his arm and he stood for a moment in shock.

It was a second too long as Raul Bushman advanced upon him, taking the hilt of his gun and crushing it to the side of Marc’s skull. The gun slipped from his fingers as he fell. His temple throbbed, blood trickling through his hair as his neck twisted cruelly in the sand. His eyes traveled to the doctor on the ground. Raul grabbed him by the collar and he struggled to stand.

“It’s such a shame,” he sneered, “you were a good soldier.”

Marc’s gaze struggled to focus and he felt the barrel of his commanding officer’s gun rest heavy against his stomach. Without ceremony, the cool slice of the bullet pierced him and he slumped forward in agony. Raul threw him to the ground and stood above him, dark eyes gazing in sick fascination.

“You have no one to blame but yourself, Spector.”

***

Marc couldn’t remember the first thought that pierced his mind when he came to, but if he had to guess, it would probably be the searing pain that threatened to overtake him once more.

An agonized moan escaped his lips in a grunt. Clutching the side of his stomach, he attempted to move, spurred on by the faint memory of danger that lingered in every sluggish pump of adrenaline throughout his body. With a frenzied grasp, he grabbed the closest gun to him.

He was cold.

Night had settled upon the desert and as he scrambled to his knees, the slice of pain that greeted him reminded him of the bullet lodged in his thigh. He grunted attempting to stem the cry that threatened to spill past his lips as his eyes took in his surroundings. The harsh light of the moon illuminated every detail, casting a cruel radiance to the devastation he had wrought. Bodies littered the camp, and one of the tents had collapsed, succumbing to the flames.

Marc looked down.

The stiff, sun-drenched scarf lay deathly still. Faded and dull against the lifeless corpse of it’s wearer.

Bile bubbled in the back of his throat. The sharp burn of it mixed with a metallic tang in his mouth. It coated his teeth, sticking to his tongue.

That same feeling of guilt wrapped around his throat in a vice like grip. He could almost feel the pinpricks of shame pierce his skin, like little scarabs. The small hooks of every wrongdoing in his life like a thousand legs crawling across him, digging into his flesh as if to remind him of it. As if his body had become a testament to all his sins. As if to say, look.

And he had.

Marc’s gaze swept across the camp, and the stench of death and smoke hung heavy in the air. It filled his lungs and stopped up his throat. Once again he was reminded of his culpability. He stumbled, eyes falling once more to the good doctor. He was still. Entirely too still for someone who had just been alive, and though Marc had seen death in his life, the ache of it was just as strong as ever. Oil black eyes remained unseeing.

Vomit threatened to rise in his throat and he ran, feet sinking into the sand with every step. The jolts of fiery pain awakening his senses. His knees buckled beneath the agony the adrenaline had masked, and as he ran, Marc’s movements turned slow.

The moon illuminated the path towards the temple and Marc found himself drawn towards it. The gun he had slung over his shoulder finally fell to the desert floor as he stumbled and fell down the small dune. He landed, unceremoniously into the tomb, hands mere inches away from Abdallah’s final offering to his scarab.

The memory of the doctor cut sharply through Marc’s memory once more and he crawled forward, as if to get as far away from the reminder of his failure. His back came to rest upon the stone steps, blood smearing the ground below as if in sacrifice, illuminated in the cold, lunar light.

Half delirious with pain and guilt, the cool barrel of his gun came to rest beneath his head. The weapon cradled his jaw in a dispassionate embrace. A heaviness grew in the pit of his stomach as agony overtook him, clouding his judgment. It was his fault. He closed his eyes, attempting to ignore the trembling of his finger as he breathed and pressed against the trigger.

What a waste.

Confusion entered his thoughts as a voice hissed. It’s words growled, scratching the inside of his mind in a taloned caress. He opened his eyes, his gaze landing on the statue above him as a hum of confusion thrummed through him.

I feel the pain inside of you. The voice murmured dangerously, curiosity vibrating though.

“What are you?” The words slipped past his lips in a desperate whisper.

I am the God, Khonshu, in search of a warrior.

The words burbled past his lips in breathy hysteria. “A warrior. Well, good luck with that.”

To be my hands, my eyes, my vengeance. The voice growled with the seductive promise of danger in his tone. To be my final word against the evildoers, to bind your very being to me and eradicate only the worst, those who deserve it.

A wave of pain clouded his mind as the voice droned, threatening to take him once more.

Do you want death or do you want life?

“I don’t know.” He whispered, the sound shattered and filled with grief.

Your mind, I feel it. Fractured. Broken. Most fascinating.

He looked upwards at the strange words.

You are a worthy candidate to serve me during this time. In exchange for your life, do you swear to protect the travelers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?

It was a strange feeling of returning. Like a scarab to the desert, or a ghost to it’s haunt. As if this was what he was always meant to be. What he had always been. A soldier. A killer.

Abdallah had seen it.

Marc looked from his blood stained hands upwards, his gaze glancing across the ruined initials of El-Faouly’s daughter in the sand and as the voice asked once more he knew his answer.

“Yes.”

[minniefights]

Update #10 - 2 weeks in the ICU

We’re marking our 2nd week in the ICU. Nothing much has changed since my last update; the intubation has already been removed and Mom’s breathing has been fairing well and stable, however her Blood Pressure has not really normalized yet. It still drops to a critical level and that’s what keeps us here in the ICU. As soon her BP gets better then we can be moved to a private room.

Praying Unceasingly

It’s peaceful and quiet here in our room. What very much helps to be so is our prayers throughout the day. We usually start the day with our morning prayer time with worship and morning meditation around 8AM. At 11 AM and 5PM, when my uncle (priest) visits, we pray the Liturgy of the hours. And finally, we do our night prayers, which consists of the “Stay with Me” Prayer by Padre Pio, Prayer to St Michael, Intercessions, Psalm 4, Psalm 91 and Song of Simeon. I know that so many people are also prayer for us, so thank you so so much for storming the heavens!

Other “prayers” are in the form of asking God for mercy. When the day is long and tiring, when Mom is in so much pain, when we see the partial bill, when after weeks of medication some of her lab results just doesn’t seem to normalize yet, when all we could muster is a “Lord, have mercy” I believe that is prayer too. Going about the daily chores and necessities, that too is worship.

Chemotherapy Plans

The Hematologist is already drafting on her chemotherapy plan. She earlier mentioned that the treatment will be aggressive. However, she won’t be able to perform it until her infection (Pneumonia) completely subsides or her BP normalizes. The meds for chemo cannot be purchased here in Iligan. I had to order it from Manila, so upon the doctor’s order, I have already purchased a month-long worth of chemo meds (injectables and oral). The doctor also mentioned that meds could also be purchased at a cheaper rate in India. Lucky us, some friends are traveling from India to the Philippines for a conference this month. And so I was able to purchase ahead of time, 4-months worth of medicines at 60% cheaper price. I’m acting in faith to believe Mom will live long enough to undergo these treatments (and by God’s grace get better!). As per chemo meds, we’re covered up until Mid-March. But she also has a ton of other meds on the side, of which I shall think about later on.

ICU Stories

In the ICU, there are so many heartbreaking patient’s stories. Just today, 2 patients have passed away, may the Lord grant them eternal rest. My Mom’s room, however, is situated in a separated area with walls, so we’re a bit isolated from the other patients. So Mom is asleep and unbothered most of the time.

But there are also so many stories hope in these walls. One story which stood out to me is this 10 yr old girl who met an accident and is now in coma for more than 2 weeks. Yet whenever I could take a glimpse at the hope of her family, I am so encouraged. They aren’t giving up on her even if she had 1% chance to live, though she had to be transferred to a public hospital that could lessen the cost for her family to keep her alive. But I could imagine, if only that girl would have moved only a finger, they would have rejoiced so much! Yet even now, that she’s still asleep, with no significant chances to be awake, her family still keeps the faith and still hopes and against hope.

How much more faith and hope do we have for my Mom, who has now been extubated, now she can talk (but very minimally still), eat a bit of soft foods, and drink small amounts of liquid? She is able to communicate, pray and be aware of her surroundings! All the more, our hope is in the Lord who created heaven and earth, and in whose hands our lives are held. Let His will be done.