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[shoppingeasypk]

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[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Hi so I wanted to request something I just thought of if that’s okay! A little meet cute story from season 4 where reader is the midwife who helped deliver Henry and her and Reid meet in the hospital and just hit it off🥺

this is so cute! this strays a lot from the plot of the episode because i haven't watched it forever and don't feel like it lmao

The Lanky Guy in Room 603

She wasn't sure if the long, lanky man curled up in the uncomfortable chair was Jennifer's brother or husband. He looked young; with a blemish-free baby face and a mop of soft brown hair. She could tell it had a slight curl to it and she had to resist an urge to tuck the stray pieces that fanned out behind his ear. Perhaps it was because she spent her days and nights caring for expecting parents, she just couldn't help but want to care for the sleeping man.

Jennifer was watching television, a pained look on her face as she held her round belly.

"You said it would be today," Jennifer groaned, the pain of labor evident on her face, "It's almost tomorrow."

Y/N sat on the stool beside Jennifer's bed, "I know I did, honey." She pressed a damp cloth to Jennifer sweaty face, attempting to cool down her body temperature. "But it seems like this little baby's got a mind of their own."

"Just like her mother."

The voice came from behind her. The sleep man, now not sleeping, unfolded himself from his pretzel-like position on the chair. He joints popped as he stretched his legs. Y/N noticed his socks were patterned. His left foot donned socks with gray tabby cats and a navy blue background. His right foot donned pumpkins on a lavender background.

Jennifer smiled, thanking Y/N for the damp cloth, as her companion checked her vitals. He peered at the numbers, probably attempting to decipher their meanings regarding his wife's health.

"Your wife is perfectly healthy, sir. You''ll have a healthy, sweet, baby within the next day. I'm sure of it."

Jennifer chuckled, "He's not my husband. Spencer's my....."

"Co-worker. Very proud godfather of her soon to be born baby girl?" Spencer injected, still reading the vitals.

"I'm concerned about JJ's vitals. Are you sure that her lab work is updated? It needs to reflect the high stress nature of her job. And her blood pressure? It was last checked thirteen minutes and twenty seven seconds ago. And does the satellite birth center have enough blood in the bank. On average a laboring mother may loose about...."

"Spence," Jennifer, or JJ as the man named Spencer called her, "I'm going to be just fine. The baby is going to be just fine. Please don't harass the midwife. Or I'll have to switch you out for Penny instead."

"You know if you wanted to get stuff done, you should've picked Hotch or Emily," Spencer countered, "I'm just going to be a nervous wreck."

"You're going to be fine. And think of it as practice for when your wife is pregnant. You'll be a pro by the time that rolls around."

Spencer chuckled dryly. His cheeks blushed crimson as he checked the clock. "It's now been fourteen minutes and thirty four seconds." He whispered under his breath.

"Are you and your wife expecting as well? It kinda smart for her to send you here for a dry run?" Y/N commented, making light talk with Jennifer and Spencer. Through her couple of years a midwife, she learned that many laboring parents and their companions need to have their minds occupied.

"N-no, no wife," Spencer said, his lips formed a tight smile as he looked at Y/N and then back to Jennifer, "We have a very time consuming job. Dating is hard. And family life is even harder. It’s common for many families in the BAU to end with divorce between the two partners.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Spence,” Jennifer quipped as a wave of labor pains came over her.

“I don’t mean you and Will,” Spencer backtracked, “You’re not even married to him.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Spencer, and Y/N got the sense that the Spencer and Jennifer shared a sibling-like relationship. It made sense, she supposed as she watched Spencer continuously checked Jennifer’s vitals. He hovered like a mother hen, but made no attempt at physical contact like the husbands usually did.

“Distract her,” Y/N whispered to Spencer, “And don’t talk about how her marriage is statistically likely to end in divorce. That’s not the way to comfort a mom that’s about to push a 8 pound baby out of her vagina.”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly, returning to Jennifer’s side. As Y/N walked out of the room, she noted that the soon to be godfather asked her if she needed anything.

***

“Y/N!” Nurse Lorraine said from her perch. “That tall kid from Room 603, the one that looks like he’s about to faint? He’s looking for you.”

Room 603? Y/N checked her chats, shuffling through the pile of laboring parents.

Ah! That would be Jennifer Jareau. And her very eager friend/co-worker/godfather of her child.

“Oh, Spencer? He’s a sweetheart. Trying to help her. He could teach those husbands a thing or too.” Y/N said, as she typed away at her computer.

“He’s not the husband?” Lorraine questioned, her tone making Y/N stop typing.

“What are you doing, Lo?” Y/N sighed with exasperation. “You’re meddling. And it’s not a cute look, I’m afraid.”

“It’s been how long since that idiot of a man dumped you for his unpaid intern? Todd? Taylor? What was his name again?”

“Tyler. He was an ass. I don’t think I’m ready to get myself back out there. He really did a number on me.” Y/N lamented. She took a sip of her third coffee of the day. It was a distraction from tearing up or worse, actually crying in front of Lorraine, the hardass nurse who makes Attendings cry.

“Y/N, honey,” Lorraine sighed, “Don’t waste your youth or your beauty on someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not saying that man in 603 deserves you, but he’s holding his coworker’s hand as she’s delivering a baby that’s not his. All because her boyfriend is stuck at work in New Orleans. He’s a good man. And he’s looking for you. And he blushed when he asked for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Lorraine’s gossipy tendencies. “How do you know all that? I’ve been with him all day and I hardly can get him to tell me his name. Beside the snide comments about me not checking the vitals enough.”

“See! He’s protective over people he cares about, even if talking to the gorgeous nurse terrifies him. I can lock you two in the supply close if you’d like. I mean the piles and piles of extra large padsicles and bed pens aren’t very romantic, but maybe romance isn’t what you need right now.” Lorraine quipped.

Ignoring Lorraine, “I’m going to see what he wants from me.” Y/N said, recoiling because she knew Lorraine would twist her words into some sort of sexual innuendo.

“Go get’em, Tiger!” Lorraine called from the Nurse’s Station with a mischievous glint in her eye.

***

“Spencer?” Y/N whispered, noting that Jennifer was sleeping in her bed, “Nurse Lorraine said you wanted to speak to me.”

Even in the dark room, minus the glow of equipment monitoring Jennifer, Y/N could see his light blush. He was cute. She thought that before Lorraine even broached the subject. She though that when she silently wondered if he was Jennifer’s husband or not.

He was cute. Handsome, even.

Spencer couldn’t be more than 26 or 27. He had brown eyes that were kind and warm. Spencer looked gentle, and that was evident by the easy way he cared for Jennifer.

“I wanted to make sure I was doing it right,” Spencer confessed, “I’m not really good with all this,” he waved his hand around the room to show what he meant, “My mind can only focus on the possibilities of what can go wrong. I’m not cut out for this.”

“For what being a companion? A godfather? Spencer, Jennifer clearly cares for you and wants you in her baby’s life. She sees that you’re kind and caring and gentle.”

Spencer cracked a smile, warming Y/N heart. She hated it. Yet she liked it. And that only made her hate it more.

“Thanks.” Spencer said, taking a sip of his probably now cold coffee.

“You know there’s an excellent microwave in the nurse’s lounge room. Lorraine bullies enough attendings that I can totally sneak you in there to warm up your coffee.” Y/N offered, “Jennifer needs sleep. It’s the best thing for her right now. Besides, I can teach you how to swaddle a baby and change a diaper.”

“I know how to deliver a baby,” Spencer said, “It’s a lot messier than I thought.” He said with a shiver.

“Are you in healthcare?” Y/N asked they walked to the nurse’s lounge. It was so late that most of the families were either sleeping, in labor, or being discharged. “You certainly know a lot about medicine. And for the record we do have plenty of blood in stock. But we’re looking for donors every third Tuesday if the month.”

“Not technically. Well, not the doctor you’re thinking of at least. I have three PhDs. In mathematics, chemistry, and psychology. It’s….a lot I know,” He offered a small smile, “People either think I’m like some super genius or a freak. But not. I’m just….me.”

“Well I happen to think that you’re pretty awesome just being you. I can’t technically say it, but you and Jennifer are my favorites of the night. So it’s only my duty as a L&D nurse to make sure you are the best baby swaddling godfather in the metro area.”

“Now that’s quite the title to live up to. Do we use real babies or dolls to practice?” Spencer inquired.

Y/N giggled as she reached into the supply closet, “I’m in the business of delivering babies. Not kidnapping them, Dr. Spencer……?”

“Reid.”

“Reid.” She nodded, handing him a baby doll to practice with. “If it was twelve hours earlier I would be making you wrap my burrito to practice.”

“I think I’m going to equally as bad as wrapping a burrito as I would be a baby.” He confessed.

“Fear not, young grasshopper, your teacher is here.” Y/N teased, grabbing Spencer by the arm to the table where she ate lunch every day with Lorraine and Hector, her favorite to nurses on the floor.

She laid out a blanket and a baby on the table as her and Spencer stood side by side. “So fold the corner of the blanket down for the baby’s head to rest. And the you gently lay the baby down. Now wrap over the left triangle to the baby’s middle.” She watched as he followed expertly, “Good! Now fold up the little triangle at the baby’s feet. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Spencer said as he folded the last part of the blanket and held up a swaddled baby doll.

“Now try when it when a baby is screaming at you and you’ve been on your feet for ten hours.”

“I’ll sit to my day job,” Spencer joked, “But call me if you ever need a swaddling partner.”

Y/N’s face heated at the thought of calling Spencer, of talking to him beyond this night when he friend was about to give birth.

“Where did you learn how to deliver a baby?” She asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

“I read about it.” Spencer replied.

“In college? Did you take a human biology class on pregnancy as well?”

“Uh, no,” Spencer said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read about it. I read it today when JJ was getting admitted.”

“Getting admitted takes like 30 minutes? How on Earth did you read about human delivery in 30 minutes?” Y/N asked with awe on her face.

“Actually, it took 31 minutes and twelve seconds. Which is 2 minutes and 39 seconds faster than the average,” He blushed when Y/N raised eyes meant his comment only added to her questions, not answered them, “I have a very good memory. And I can read fast.” He explained.

“Oh,” Y/N said, taking out two mugs from the cabinet, “that explains the three PhDs and how you hounded me about vitals before. You’re brilliant. And a very good friend.”

“I don’t get brilliant often. Genius, yes. Freak, yes. Strange, yes. But brilliant isn’t usually reserved for me. I think my quirks out weigh my strengths and thus that changes how I’m perceived.”

“Well, I don’t see a freak or a stranger,” Y/N told him, “I see a man who’s probably 6’3” that crammed himself into a tiny plastic chair and has been fetching ice chips and throwing down with the toughest nurse to get his friend a blanket. That’s not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or anything besides a good, gentle, kind man. I don’t really know you, but it’s my job to watch people here. I watch all these husbands who don’t dote on their wives as they push a whole baby out of their bodies. They complain to them about how long it took to find parking, or that they had to pay 10 bucks for a decent cup of coffee at the cafe, or that the chairs hurt their back. I haven’t heard you say that once. You’re good, Spencer. There’s a reason Jennifer wants you to be her baby’s godfather.”

Stunned, Spencer’s lip twitched into what resembled a smile. He bit his lip as his eyes scanned the room.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, “it means more than you know.”

“Good. You seem like the kind of person that deserves to hear good things. And plus, I’m sure your wife or girlfriend will be very happy you spent the night learning how to swaddle babies and change diapers.”

“Uh, I’m not committed to anyone.” Spencer corrected, the blush returned to his face, this time it crawled all the way up to his ears. It only increased his cuteness as it increased the way Y/N’s heart pumped blood. Her nervous system was on overdrive and she hasn’t even touched the man. Yet there was something about him that drew him to her.

“Oh, seeing someone casually and don’t want to freak her out?” Y/N offered. “Because I will admit that’s not what you want to say to the girl you have a situationship with.”

“A situationship?” Spencer questioned, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m not seeing anyone casually or otherwise. It’s never been my strong suit.”

“Seriously?” Y/N said, pouring her coffee and Spencer a cup, “That’s very surprising.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, accepting the coffee with a tight lipped smile.

“Not to cross any professional boundaries, but you’re literally what most girls look for when they want a partner. Especially one that they want to you know,” she gestured to the baby doll on the table, “settle down with. You’re husband material.”

“Husband material?” Spencer asked, clearly beyond confusion. It was like it was his first time hearing that he was desirable to women. An overwhelming urge to tell him just how desirable he was to her overcame Y/N.

She fought it hard.

“You know,” she started, “you’ve got a great job, nice and normal friends, you’re close friends with a woman, but there’s zero sexual tension between the two of you. That means a lot to girls. It means that you can see women as whole people.”

“What else would I see them as?” Spencer questioned aloud. “They’re people. Not props or conquests.”

Y/N threw her hands up in surrender as if she finally has given up. “See, you’re like perfect. Not to mention you’re very nice to look at.”

Spencer gulped a big sip of coffee, but the burning liquid spewed out all over him and the table. Y/N dodged it, spending nearly three years getting out of the way of mysterious liquids from all different patients had certainly paid off.

“Sorry, sorry, god that was embarrassing,” Spencer lamented. ��I hope I didn’t get it all over you.” He apologized.

Holding in a giggle, Y/N waved off his fears. “Don’t worry. You’re just fine, Spencer.”

In more ways than one, she thought silently to herself.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It’s highly unprofessional of me to comment on your appearance.”

No matter how attractive she finds him.

Spencer’s face melted as she apologized. “No!” He practically yelled. “Don’t think that. Please don’t think that. I didn’t mind it at all. It’s just, I’m not used to hearing it. Especially from women that are like you.”

“Like me?”

“Smart. Hardworking. Kind. Funny. Beautiful.” Spencer confessed.

The last one hit a certain part of her heart that went pang. Tyler never called her beautiful. He would call her hot and sexy, but not beautiful. But maybe once he did. But he said she “looked beautiful” not that she was beautiful.

There was a difference between looking beautiful and being beautiful. And she was looking right at it.

“Spencer,” Y/N whispered. “Once Jennifer is discharged from L&D could I maybe take you out on a date?“

Spencer nodded, and she swore she could see his eyes light up at the possibility of something between them.

“Sure. Isn’t there a blood donation clinic next week?” He smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “I promise I won’t spew coffee all over you when you compliment me again,”

***

Tagging people who are active But please reblog and comment if you stumble across this. It’s a great way we can show our love :)

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @foxy-eva @candlesandsoftrain @radiant-reid

[cutieeva]

Honey Comb Trap

Female Reader

Warnings : Manipulation. Obsessive behaviors. Brainwashing. Attempt child harming. Childbirth. Murder. Torture.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

(Y/N) believed herself to be fortune not only did she wished to have a happy ending of her future love story, she also got the best husband she ever knew existed in real life apart from fictions and dramas she grew up watching. He is sweet, sweet like the honey she loves to indulge in very much yet why does that seems dangerous suddenly ?

Love

Marriage

These two words are intertwined to each other always. Many questions arise in one's mouth hearing the word love following with 'When are you goona marry ?' And if the word marriage following questions asked 'Do you love your partner ?' These are universal vital question any adult would ask to another they care about because these words are connected. Not only love brings marriage for sake to never be separated and be together forever but also that brings the families of lovers together and this is where the word family enters.

Love, marriage, family. Not only marriage beings lover closer only for the couple to craft a little family of theirs but also it brings the families of the couple becoming a joint bigger family where supposed strangers become intertwined to one another. It could be a very positive or negative result depending on the situation. And very fortunely for (Y/N), the order of love, marriage and family were in right orders in the most wholesome way possible. She still to this day recalls the moment where she was at a art gallery smitten by the most beautiful of paints and sculptures of old figures only to met a emerald eyes man unbeknownst he is the future husband of hers for eternity. A lover unlike the prince charming that sweep her feet off nor a knight shining armor always there to protect or a villain who would burn the world for her rather he is much more sweeter, gentler and kinder. He is a wealthy man who's always cut the crust of her breads she doesn't like to eat, always orders food properly instructing her allergies, checks her water temperature, not let her soak in the rain longer, stands at her at any arguments yet teach her the mistakes of her anger in private, calms her down and most importantly loves her only like no other.

He is the epitome of perfect husband but in genuine ways. He has his own set of temper but he never takes on her, he has his shameful moment yet he learns from it. Nevertheless in her eyes he is the most perfect person to ever prevail upon. So, after their sweetest marriage, spending three years with the man her heart belongs to, she was pleasantly surprised with the little guest arriving to become their family.

"Asher ! I am pregnant !" (Y/N) jumped into the embrace of her beautiful husband bursting the amazing surpise.

However all (Y/N) felt was paused actions, unreturned embrace and blank stare. Nervous creeping into her as she let her husband go watching as the blank stare crumble into one of a astonished.

"W-hat are you saying ?" He stuttered.

"I am pregnant". Breathlessly she whispered after all it was bound to happen when they let her birth controls free and his condoms to rot in trash.

Finally his husband's turn into the expression she hopped to and was hit by relief seeing his smile lift into most widest she ever saw alike of the one when she said yes to be his girlfriend, soon his hands held her figure and swing into the air and spinning into the joys of laughter.

"O my god. What a happiest news you told me. I am goona be a dad". Asher without letting her feet touch the ground, touch her back of nape and kissed her until air become a need. "You are goona be a mom". He rest his temple onto hers to which she nod.

"We are goona be the best parents". She thought.

And this was proven more when she noticed from that day on he rarely let her do the only kitchen duties she adores and plop her on bed for twenty four hours watching something she desires, eating and let all the chores to the countless servants they have and (Y/N) openly loved it because this only shows how much he cares for her making her fall with him little more daily.

Even the usual meeting he has with his company has drastically decreased only spending time cuddling her, resting his head on her chest and staring at her growing stomach.

"How much would your stomach grow ?" She chuckles knowing he is the only child of their family and his relatives are rather distant from each other only meeting in parties or any festivals so meeting a pregnant woman is rare for him plus he never pays attentions to any of that making her ponder how he never talk about children unlike other husbands she has seen.

"Not much. It's only been three months". She caress her stomach not noticing his frown. "Do you wanna touch it ?" She hold his wrist tried to place over her stomach but he easily wave away touching her cheek and smiling.

"It's alright. I will meet when they come out". (Y/N) shrugged noticing how not once after she become pregnant. His hands were all over her body expect her stomach albeit she notice him often staring blanking.

"He is scared nothing more". She brush off the gut feeling of how distant he is related to children. Unaware he never wanted children.

After (Y/N) slept. Asher wake up unlocking his phone to search 'Does miscarriage hurts woman psychology or physically'.

Miscarriage is a traumatic event which affects every woman differently, but can lead to grief, anxiety, depression and so on, the words are written that he carefully read searching more and more until his curiosity was satisfied. "Shit ! That means I can't order any servant to miscarriage her". Frustrated and blaming himself of how he never cared to check her monthly period or anything which wouldn't had lead to a parasite taking place. Yes, a parasite is what he ought to like. An unwelcomed creature exhausting his wife that he gave her everything. He slightly doesn't like of anyone entering between them so naturally he doesn't like the idea of children who would snatch his wife away and only be ungrateful in the near future.

A parasite that settle inside his love who's life could be in danger during childbirth and when they grow their minds and sharp tongue to speak hurting things to his wife who's happy enough to gave them a life. "I wasn't at all happy when she announced her pregnancy". He still remembers like an nightmare of how he heard the words he didn't liked in his wife's mouth yet still acted all gleeful to not sadden his beloved. How could he ? Never in million decades would he afford to bring tears on those (E/C) eyes he adores like jewels and he can never images those 'I love you' into 'I hate you' at all. He didn't suffer only to have his wife know his true colors.

He didn't practice the ideal man to be hated by her. He didn't at all lied and beautifully crafted the setting for her to notice him at a art gallery rather than two months ago at a friend's party where she wore the gorgeous fluffy color dress she loves and in that moment he swore the cupid's arrow pierce his chest and written her name over his mind, soul, heart and body. He didn't simply became the gentle ideal man she would like for her to have. He created this whole persona of how supportive he is when she argue with someone and later talk with her when in reality he is clenching his anger and waiting for the right moment to kill the person burning flesh into ashes and bones to grind to the away. He memorized every little likes to dislike, frown to brighten eyes and every single thing. In simply words he unknown to her even made her thought of something that he planted in her mind first before she even came with it.

And this will be her bliss life of obvious. Ignorance is a bliss but his miscalculation was this parasite, now how can he get rid of that without effecting (Y/N)'s bliss life ? "I will see it later". He decided himself exhausted from the constant thinking and smiled contently at his wife's warmth.

"The child is five months and the doctor said it's twins". (Y/N) has begin seeing the signs of her belly evolving larger as the month pass even though this sign sometimes scares her of how much her skin could stretch. Sometimes she also imagine what if the skin brust ? She knows it's silly imagination or at least that what her mother told her though the phone call she seconds ago ended. Currently she is walking out of her room about to walk down the stairs to living room when she saw her husband coming out of his office room too, smiling ear to ear "Asher, dearest !" Yelled his name and stretch her arm to indicate of wanting a embrace when a female servant suddenly in hurry holding a pile of clothes run at her not aware of (Y/N) standing resulting crashing over her.

"ASHER !" She screamed feeling herself falling yet nothing out of her desperate grip came to pull or hold onto only gazing at the emerald eyes of her husband, she fell for. "Why isn't he running towards me ?" A terrifying question came upon her mind as her eyes closed on itself feeling her body to be crash soon that's when a grasp left her lips.

"What !" Her eyes opened in surprised as her husband's strong pair of arms held her waist and pulled before her body could touch the stairs. She blankly stare at Asher who seems oddly calm, holding her tight and bringing her to their shared bedroom.

"Are you alright ?" His eyes moved to her trembling hands and dilating pupils and held breath. "I guess not". He layed her on the soft fabric, covering her with blanket and gave her a glass of water to drink. After the cold touch in contact snap her to speak.

"Weren't you just stood ?" If she recalls correctly he seems to stand and stare at her not at all looked panicked unaware that few minutes ago before saving his wife, a second thought came to his mind.

"This will make the child die for sure". His heart almost dropped when he saw his life almost falling from the stairs yet the dark thoughts of his was gripping him in his place to rot the parasite he despise so much while not getting his hands dirty however.

The curve of her smile when her soft palms rubbed her swollen stomach whispering "I am happy, my love. This child created by us". changed his mind otherwise leading him to save the growing ungrateful brat and his wife.

"I was so shocked that I felt my body wasn't mine anymore". Asher smiled that didn't reach his eyes, glancing at the growing stomach covered by her long flower pattern frock.

"Oh". (Y/N) gulp the water thinking back to the expression he had with dead eyes and pressed thin lips shadowed by his hair. "It was scary". She never saw that expression adored over her husband before concerning yet fluttering her heart warm because that means he cares for her enough to risk everything and try to save her right ? Yes, she believes so.

"P-lease. Forgiv-e me". Pleds of forgiveness echoed the empty space of the nameless female servent he has not care to know name yet Asher express nothing. Like literally nothing of anger, pity, sadness, disgust. He blankly stare at her as his most loyal four men beat her at his orders without question and quick. Maybe because they too share the same fear of getting beat like the innocent woman by their master they serve loyalty to.

"And why should I forgive you ?" Finally he asked lifting a hope of light upon the bruised woman.

"Because I will make sure it never happen again". She breathlessly swore.

"Huh ?" He titled his head, smiling nothing like the angel he does to his wife rather this one sinister and far more darker filled with bloodlust. "What makes you say you will get another chance ?" Her heart dropped so does her hope.

"Now, fracture her hips". He commended tuning out the unwanted irritating of her screams and the cracks of her bones. He really doesn't like such unpleasant noises instead he like the giggles of his dearest, the snort of her laugh when she heard something unexpected, the cute hum of her, the music of her tune singing mindlessly. For all and each he solely find peace in his wife.

"Break little by little her spine". Asher close his eyes, deafening the chilling howl and bawl of her rather drowning himself into the image of his wife hmming her favorite song he learnt to love too.

"Crash her abodmen". He unconsciously mimic the images of his wife, watching how in her warmth of light home, she is hugging his torso, fingers over his disheveled hair and singing sweetly like an nightingale he never knew enjoyed.

"Bend her arms and legs alike of an accidental sprain". (Y/N) smiled at him mirroring the smile he wore in his lips, her fragile pads of fingers trace his lips like it's hers and indeed it is. Asher smiled more at the scenario building inside his mind totally indulging into the heven of his when he is hell for the poor shrieking woman helplessly under brutal force of hurting, tears has dried from how much it spilled yet another wail pour when her arms were sprained.

"Injure her neck alike of an whiplash". The men who were beating in heartbeat trembled questioning how on earth their master at perfect time is giving them the next order while closing his eyes and humming a pleasent tune. It sends shivers over the men and fear continue to do it's work.

"Finally". He opened his eyes, smile ghosted, eyes dead stare at the almost breathing woman. "Smach the head".

CLASH !

Darkness welcome the woman and blood wash over her head, cracking from the skull to touch the dirty sliver floor. A huge sigh of relief left his lips placing him into the happiest and relax mood he was. "Don't forget to cremate her body and grind the bones to vanish all evidence". His polish shoe turn towards the exist of his separate garage basement away from his house for ten miles.

The whole reason he punished the woman so painfully not because he wanted her torment or apologizes. No, one thing he learnt in his life that when an nagative action is taken place, no way in hell would apologizes ease the burns of the actions because he has seen it, playing in front of his life how once those schoolmate who bullied an nameless poor student later came begging to their feet, how once proud business men crawl their way to kiss up the people they unawarely mess up. He saw it all and he would be fool to be the next so he make sure any apologize of his mistakes that came out of his mouth is only planned, an act to sweep away the princess of his life. Thus, the woman's punishment was hurt the same way his wife could had been when she fell from the stairs carrying the leechs inside her stomach.

Hips.

Abdomen.

Back and neck.

Arms and legs.

Fetal distress and injure and more that he had took time to offer the woman one by one.

"Honey. I am afraid". Little tears welled into those (E/C) as her palm clutch into his much larger. "What if I die ?" Asher's suck his breath and tried his best to act the gentle husband she needs.

"My lovely, lovely (Y/N)" His fingers tuck the single hair behind her ears. "If god gifted you into my life then he won't dare to take away too. I promise". (Y/N) smiled at those comforting words, leaning into him before going to the operation room gathered by doctors and nurses.

"If I was the one to bring you into my life then I can also keep you". Soon the nurses took his wife wore dull hospital gown he realized doesn't suit her and watched her shut behind the doors.

"Mr. Harris, please sign your signature in the form". Asher eyes goes straight to the complication written as his wife is about to have c-section birth that he chosen after listening which is the least painful. Tighten the grip on the ballpen he signed.

"By the way doctor". The man dressed up ready to head to the surgery. "Save my wife". He finished, not a pled or request. It's an order that the doctor noticed.

"We will try to save the both—".

"No, if the child gives any slightest complication to my wife then immediately cut it out. My wife is more important". Those words were filled with vulnerability of how much love he bears for his wife yet the doctor felt bitter seeing how less connection the soon to-be-father is with his child. Yes, in his field he seen many husband choose their wives but the way the man utter so easily without any care of the child is unheard for the doctor.

"I understand. Your wife is the priority". Asher nod easing to able conveying his thoughts and his sight followed the man went into the room leaving alone the married man.

Cries of children rung the white halls turning the red light to green and the huge doors opened with the nurse carrying his twins and doctors coming out of the operation room.

"Congratulations ! You have twins, one girl and another boy". The female nurse cradle the newborn into her brace showing the father searching for any heavy emotions she has seen the past years working.

"How's my wife ? Can I see her ?" But Asher blankly question the woman trying to see a glimpse of (Y/N) not even sparing a glance at the children he shares his surname and blood leading the nurse a little baffled however she forced a smiled.

"Yes, you can but she is sleeping. Exhausted—". About to talk more when a whisk of air pass through her finding herself alone holding the children.

"The father left ?" Speechless is what she became. Meanwhile his emerald eyes soften and smile rose genuinely drank at the beautiful sleeping figure of his heart, his wife.

"I knew you wouldn't leave me". He message her skull, running smoothingly her hair and press a chaste kiss over her soak sweat forehead. "And I will make sure you never do". Because he few hours ago realized that having children shared with her will make her never again.

This stage was what completed and utterly chained her ankles to him and he swore she will only be showered by love and happiness even if it's an illusion crafted by him but one can't deny his love surely is real. "For you". He whispered. "A Honey comb trap".

FIN

[ebaytelemart85]

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[sequinsmile-x]

High

Aaron gets hurt protecting Emily. 

For my pal @aubreyprc 

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence/injury. Some cursing. Aaron Hotchner high on pain meds. 

She was going to kill him. 

First, she was going to check he was ok, kiss him until she was sure and then she was going to kill him. 

Emily anxiously twirls her wedding and engagement ring around her finger, attempting to channel her nervous energy into something other than tearing her cuticles apart. A cup of coffee enters her eye line, and she looks up to see Dave standing in front of her, a reassuring smile on his face.

“It probably tastes awful, but at least it’s something.” He says as she takes it from his hand and he sits next to her. “The others are finished at the scene and are on the way.” 

Emily grimaces at the taste of the coffee as she takes a sip, but for a second it distracts her, takes her mind off the fact her husband is an idiot. 

An idiot who she loved more than anything. An idiot who happened to take a knife to the shoulder for her less than an hour ago. 

“He’ll be ok, Emily.” 

She scoffs before taking another sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste again. “He won’t be once I’m finished with him.” She shakes her head and looks at her friend. “Why did he do it, Dave? We’ve been together for years and this has never happened.” 

“The guy had his arms around you and a knife against your throat.” Dave says, his eyes flicking to the tiny cut on her neck. “He would have done the same for any of us.” 

Emily closes her eyes at the memory. She wasn’t exactly sure how it happened, how she had ended up on the floor and the unsub had his knife in Aaron’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The first thing she was really aware of was a gun going off, Derek taking a well aimed shot at the unsub to disarm him, but not kill him, and Aaron lowering himself to the ground next to her with his hand pressed against his own shoulder. 

She had held him against her as they waited for the paramedics, her hand against the wound and her lips against his forehead as she told him she loved him and how fucking stupid he was in equal measure. 

“I know he would have.” She agrees, knowing it was true. Aaron would do anything for the team, take any of their places if they were in danger. She knew he carried a burden if any of them got hurt, more so if it was her, and it would take weeks for the guilt to fade, for her to be able to convince him that just because he was their leader it wasn’t his fault. “It doesn’t make him less of a self sacrificing asshole.” 

“Em-”

“Maybe you can save the lecture for when I’m not sitting in a hospital waiting room wearing a shirt covered in my husband's blood?” Emily says, an edge to her voice that has Dave hold up a hand in surrender as he takes a sip of his own coffee.

Emily knew Aaron would be ok. He hadn’t lost consciousness once, even when she had sat next to him in the ambulance, his hand grasped in hers as he tried to hide the amount of pain he was in. But he had been so pale, the blood loss making him look weary as he tried to reassure her that everything would be fine. 

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?” 

Emily looks up to see a doctor standing and looking around, a kind look on her face as Emily stood, Dave not far behind her, and walked over. 

“I’m his wife, is he ok?” 

The doctor guides them back over to the waiting area, indicating for Emily to sit down, which she does, feeling anxiety rise through her chest. 

“The stab wound your husband came in with was very deep, and the scans show that the tip of the knife broke off against his clavicle.” The doctor explains gently. “The tip of the knife is still in his shoulder, so we are going to have to do surgery to get it out and close up the wound.” 

Emily felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, memories of when Aaron had been stabbed before, so many years ago now, flooding back in a way that took her breath away.

“Is he going to be ok?” She asks, shrugging Dave’s hand off of her shoulder as he tries to provide some comfort, knowing right now it wouldn’t do her any good.

“There are never any guarantees.” The doctor says, but she smiles at Emily again in a reassuring way. “But he has remained conscious this entire time, and spent a long time trying to convince us he didn’t need pain meds.” 

Emily chokes out a laugh at that. “That sounds about right.” She clears her throat, forces down the emotion trying to claw its way up it. “Can I see him?”

“Of course.” The doctor replies. “I need you to fill out the paperwork too.”

Emily stands and follows the doctor, briefly turning back to Dave. “Can you let the others know?” 

“Of course, bella. You go make sure he’s ok.” 

She follows the doctor to the room Aaron is in, and she blows out a breath when she sees him. The wound to his left shoulder is packed tight and he looks so pale it does nothing to calm her concerns. 

“Sweetheart.” He says as soon as he sees her, a strain to his voice as he tries to hide the pain he is in. She walks over to the bed and sits on the edge of it facing him, taking his hand in between hers. “Are you ok?” 

He lifts his good arm to press his thumb to the tiny cut on her neck, the one that had stopped bleeding before the paramedic even arrived, and Emily rolls her eyes at him. 

“I’m fine. And I’m not the one with a piece of a knife stuck in my shoulder, honey.” She scoffs as she straightens the cannula in his nose delivering him oxygen. “You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

She leans forward and kisses him, a gentle thing against his lips to remind herself that he is alive, and then she rests her forehead against his. 

“It’s ok. Just don’t do anything stupid like die during surgery.” She says, her smile wavering as tears flood her lash line. “I’d hate to have to bring you back to life just to kill you myself.” 

He laughs at that and it makes him jolt in pain, wincing as the movement makes his shoulder burn. She shushes him, her fingers soft against his cheek. 

There’s a clearing of a throat behind them and Emily turns to see a nurse standing there. 

“We need to take you down now, Agent Hotchner.” 

Emily turns back to Aaron and kisses him, more forceful this time as she tries to pour everything into it. She pulls back and smiles at him. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” He says, squeezing her hand.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

__________________

The first thing Aaron feels is pain. His shoulder is killing him, a burning sensation lancing all the way down his arm and across his chest. Then he realises how fuzzy his head feels, the tell tell signs of anaesthesia and heavy pain killers in his system, making his brain feel light and heavy at the same time.

He opens his eyes and looks around, unsurprised to see he is in a hospital room. He groans at the light in the room, the brightness of the fluorescent lights making his head swim even more. 

“Aaron.” 

He turns to see Emily sitting next to him, a look of relief on her face. Her presence confuses him, unsure why she was by his side, and why her hand was in his. 

“Prentiss?” He asks, missing the way she frowns when he calls her by her surname. “What happened?” 

“You were stabbed, you had to have surgery.” She stands up, both of her hands now grasped around one of his. She presses a kiss to his cheek and he shrinks backwards, the pain in his shoulder stopping him from moving more. 

“What are you doing?” 

She looks at him, equal parts concern and amusement on her face. “Trying to kiss my husband.” 

“We aren’t married.” He says, and he watches her smile slip away. “That’s mean, Prentiss.” 

Aaron had loved her for years, longer than he had cared to admit. He’d often wondered if she’d felt the same, but this felt cruel. Like she was messing with him when he was so in love with her just having her touch him made his skin feel like it was burning. 

“I could show you our marriage certificate but I don’t carry it with me everywhere we go.” She jokes, a nurse walking in before she could say anything else.

“Oh look who is awake.” The overly cheery nurse says as she sends a smile to Emily. “Your wife was very worried about you.” 

“Not my wife.” Aaron mumbles. Just my beautiful coworker I’m in love with. He thinks, although a small laugh from Emily and the nurse tells him he may well have said it out loud.

“Is he ok?” Emily asks, concern for him sneaking it’s way into her voice. “He knows who I am but keeps insisting that we aren’t married.” 

The nurse finishes checking Aaron’s vitals, making a note on the chart in her hands. “He’s fine, this isn’t totally unusual for someone coming round from anesthetic. I’ve seen some people completely forget who their loved ones are.” She presses a few buttons on one of the machines he is hooked up to. “I’ve set up the next set of meds, so he should sleep soon. Next time he wakes up, try and get him to eat some of the crackers we’ll bring in.”

Emily nods and turns her attention back to Aaron as the nurse leaves. “See, the nurse knows we’re married.” 

“I’d remember marrying you.” He grumbles, eyeing her wedding rings with jealousy. Her husband is a lucky bastard. 

Emily smiles at him, biting her lip to suppress a laugh as he realises he had accidentally spoken out loud again. She pushes some hair off of his forehead, her touch warming him immediately, something familiar about the gesture that his confused brain can’t place. He thinks he sees her get her phone out, but the room is starting to get blurry, his eyes closing against his will. 

“I don’t think you even remember what town we’re currently in, Aaron.” 

“Too pretty to marry me.” He says, his voice thick as the painkillers the nurse had given him start to make him drift to sleep. “Too good.” 

“Go to sleep, love.” She says, a kiss to his forehead as she soothes him. 

He falls asleep to her soft lips against his skin, and he thinks there would be much worse things in the world than being Emily’s husband.

__________________

It takes another couple of hours for him to wake again, and she can immediately tell he’s more lucid this time. A focus in his eyes that hadn’t been present in the few minutes he had been awake earlier.

“Hi sweetheart.” He says, smiling at her in the way he did on their first date, the way it made her feel now no less significant than it had been then. 

“Hi honey.” Emily stands from the chair next to his bed so she can kiss him, and then she settles on the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“Sore.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, but leaves it, knowing that she won’t get any further admission of pain from him. “I need to make you eat some crackers.” She says, a smirk on her face as she indicates the package on the table next to him.

He groans, the idea of eating anything making his stomach turn. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. But I’ll give you a few minutes.” 

“I’m your husband, you’re meant to be nice to me.” 

“Oh, so now you remember we’re married?” She asks, a wry smile on her face that develops into a laugh at his confusion

“What?” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later. I took a video.” Her smile fades slightly as she takes in the bandage poking out from his gown, the way his arm was strapped to his chest. 

“I’m ok, Em.” 

“I know.” She says, looking back at his face and giving him a wobbly smile. “Today was rough.” She lifts his hand to her lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “As soon as you are better we’re going to have a conversation about you sacrificing yourself like that for me.” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

Emily shakes her head at him and rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.” 

“But you love me.” 

Emily smiles and kisses him, pulling back just enough to to speak. “I really do.” 

__________________

She shows him the video footage of him in the hospital as soon as they get home, him in their bed on rest for at least a month. She giggles as he tries, and fails, to take her phone from her, his usual strength failing him with one of his arms out of action. 

He promises all sorts of filthy things, once he’s better, in exchange for her deleting the video, which she does in front of him.

It’s only at the office Christmas party a few months later when it pops up in the montage Penelope puts together every year he realises he’s been duped. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! do you have any good insecure/low self esteem Sherlock fics? thank you!

Hi Nonny!

AHHHH I’ve too many to count; I did a list back in 2019 that combined the both of them, but I get asked so often for one or the other that I think it’s time to make separate lists, and to do that requires me to re-tag a tonne of fics, so for now, I will give you all the ones I have tagged; I apologize if I’ve missed any, but I’m going through them slowly <3 Enjoy!!

INSECURE / AWKWARD SHERLOCK Pt. 2

See also: Insecure / Awkward John or Sherlock (Jan 2019)

The Four Incidents by TheGirlWithRedHair22 (K+, 1,064 w., 1 Ch. || S1 Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, John Whump, Accident, John POV, Hand Holding, Worried Sherlock, Sherlock’s Self Esteem) – The first time John was present when someone insulted Sherlock, he brushed it off as a strange coincidence.

Together is What we Have, Together Protects Us by Phantom of the Black Pearl (K+, 1,566 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Platonic or Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock, Worried Sherlock, Slice of Life) – After a case one evening in the flat Sherlock voices a concern that causes the pair to consider why they've chosen to stick together after all that's happened.

Like Euphoria and Scotch by FinAmour (M, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Five and One, Alcohol / Drinking, POV Second Person Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Imagination, Armchair Sex, Fluff, Happy Ending) – 5 different ways it all could have gone + the one way it actually works itself out.

Five Times Sherlock gave John a Pebble and One Time John Returned the Gesture by grimmfairy (NR, 1,895 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Fluff, Penguins and Pebbles, Nervous / Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John) – Sherlock isn't good with words, so he decides to tell John his feelings the way penguins do, by bringing him pebbles with different meanings. John catches on.

The Imminent Danger of a Tumblr-Night by Loveismyrevolution (T, 2,135 w., 1 Ch. || Tumblr Fics, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock is Out of His Depth, Humour, Fluff, Pining Sherlock, Military Kink, POV Sherlock) – Sherlock gets into trouble when he pretends to know all about John's favourite social media site - tumblr. To save face he seeks help from one of the bloggers and gains more answers than he had aimed for.

Work On Your Balance by speculate (K+, 2,448 w., 1 Ch. || Embarrassed Sherlock, “For A Case”, Skating, Fluff, Friendship, Humour) – In which John is actually pretty good at ice skating, Sherlock's not and insists it's all for a case , and Lestrade is pretty amused by it all.

The Many Faces of Concern by sdrawkcabemdaer5 (K+, 2,473 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Angsty Fluff, John Whump, Mildly Clueless Sherlock) – John is injured on a case, leading to some surprising reactions and discoveries about their friendship.

Nothing Left Untouched by ForeverShippingJohnlock (K+, 2,617 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship, Romance, Bed Sharing, Oblivious Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Grumpy John, Fluff and Cuddles) – Sherlock rearranges the flat. So what if John's bedroom is now a research library. It's not like John needs a bedroom, he can share with Sherlock. They're friends and John has obviously slept in close quarters with men before and it's not like Sherlock sleeps much anyway. It'll be fine.

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomalies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

Study in Sherlock by chappysmom (K+, 3,790 w., 1 Ch. || ASiP, Friendship, Introspection, Anxious Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Caring Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock) – Sherlock's thoughts and feelings during A Study in Pink. What DID he think of John, and why was he being so NICE?

Date Night by inevitably_johnlocked (G, 4,451 w., 1 Ch. || Anxious / Worried Sherlock, Caring John, Schmoopy Fluff, Fidget Cube, Baking / Cooking, Date Night, Established Relationship, POV Sherlock Holmes, Understanding John, Grumpy Sherlock, John’s Bum, Kisses, Hugs, Domestic Fluff, Touching, Hair Petting, Light Humour) – It's John and Sherlock's first Date Night as an official couple and Sherlock needs it to be PERFECT. Mrs Hudson helps. Part 7 of I-J's Tumblr Ficlet Collection

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Applied Linguistics by what_alchemy (M, 4,837 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive / Anxious Sherlock, Introspection, Bed Sharing, Past John Whump, Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Word Play) – “He wants to shake John by the shoulders, wants to open his mouth and swallow John whole. Wants to marry him.” Sherlock searches for the right words.

Sleeping next to you by Salambo06 (E, 5,018 w, 2 Ch. || ASiB Fic, Bed Sharing, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Rimming, Anal, First Kiss/Time, POV Sherlock) – Based on an Anonymous Prompt: "So, that scene from ASiB when Mrs H has been attacked by the American CIA guy & John, Sherlock & she are in Mrs H's kitchen when John says "She’ll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her." to which Sherlock replies with "no". John of course suggested that because he cares about her safety, but maybe he also did it cause he /wanted/ that to happen. What if they finally agreed on letting her have John's or Sherlock's bed & J&S sleep in the same one?" Part 12 of Tumblr Collection

Nothing So Sweet by alexxphoenix42 (E, 5,275 w., 1 Ch. || Shopkeeper AU || Beekeeping, Sussex, Alternate First Meeting, Awkward First Time Sex, Self-Consciousness / Body Insecurity, Fluff, Hand Jobs) – In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly. Part 1 of The Sweetest Things

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

Time on my hands by Mildredandbobbin (M, 7,179 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S3, One Night Stands, Mutual Pining, Virgin Sherlock, First Time, Sexual Exploration / Discovery, Desperation, Body Worship) – Virginity’s a construct, a concept—what does losing one’s virginity entail for a gay man anyway? Sherlock wants to fill that particular gap in his knowledge but John won’t, can’t, never will assist and there’s only so much desperately unspoken pining even Sherlock can take.

The Very Unlikely Existence of a Flightless Bird in a Tuxedo by cwb (E, 8,829 w., 1 Ch. || Poetry, Penguins / Animals / Zoos, First Kiss / Time, Blow / Hand Jobs, Sleepy Cuddles, Endearments, Friendship / Love, Adorable / Sleepy Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock Can’t Say Penguin) – A case at the zoo reveals something John finds cute about Sherlock. A conversation ensues, and so does happy endings.

Always the sun by Rose de Sharon (K+, 12,377 w., 3 Ch. || Song Fic, Alternate Post-TGG, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection / Reflection, Injury Recovery, Obsessive / Protective Sherlock, Nightmares, John’s Past, Bed Sharing / Cuddles) – Sherlock ponders about how much his life has changed since John has become his flatmate.

Understanding by rizandace (T, 13,268 w., 15 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Worried Sherlock, John Whump Then Sherlock Whump) – Sherlock's hiding something about his newest case, and John wants answers. Set post-TGG. Friendship fic, mostly, with brief entrances from Harry and Lestrade just for fun.

On The Fence by BeautifulFiction (T, 13,770 w., 1 Ch. || Fencing, Case Fic, First Kiss, Insecure John, Pining John, Hug, Greg Finds Out) – The murder of the King's College fencing champion leads to revelations about Sherlock's past. Will it be the point that tips them from friends to lovers, or will they remain on the fence?

Pattern Behaviour by SilentAuror (E, 14,835 w., 1 Ch. || POV First Person Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Introspection, Stroppy Sherlock, Light Humour, Friendship, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Wall Kisses, Fluffy Angst, Happy Ending) – Sherlock doesn't even know why he resents John's dates so much. Until the day he does know. Slight angst, unrequited feelings (but don't let that scare you off!)

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

Hope for Heroes by Richefic (K+, 16,887 w., 5  Ch. || Post-TGG Fic, Introspection / Flashbacks, Friendship/Epic Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Worried/Anxious Sherlock, Sherlock Admires John, BAMF John, John Deduces, Fancy Party, John’s Self Esteem, Domestics) – In the final moments of "The Great Game" Holmes hopes he will have the chance to tell his flatmate that he was wrong. Heroes do exist after all and the one in front of him is called Dr John Watson.

Between Friends by SilentAuror (E, 18,036 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Alternating POV, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Abduction, Awkward Situations / Miscommunications, Porn With Feels, Blowjobs, Pining, Unrequited, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock gets abducted. As John discovers him tied up naked in an empty storage facility and comes to rescue him, Sherlock's body has an unfortunate reaction which triggers a series of events. John is convinced that everything will be fine as long as they never discuss it. Sherlock isn't as sure...

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

A Quiet Life by DiscordantWords (M, 25,176 w., 6 Ch. || Post S4, Retirement, POV Sherlock, Awkwardness, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Minor Character Death, Questionable Parenting Choices, Non-Linear Narrative, 20 Year Old Rosie, Meddling Mycroft, Pining Sherlock, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Angst, Sherlock Whump) – There had been three days of silence and a funeral. Sherlock had the terrible feeling that whatever happened next would depend, entirely, on him.

Rupert Street by WritingOutLoud (M, 27,262 w., 9 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting || Case Fic, Sexuality, Demisexual Sherlock, Drugging, Smart John, Sherlock Has Internalized Biphobia, Fluff, Angst with Happy Ending, Gay Bar, Flirting, John Manipulates Sherlock to Eat, John Deduces, Arguments, Kidnapping/Torture, Hospitalization, John Whump) – Discharged from the war with nothing but the clothes on his back and a realisation of his bisexuality, John Watson has to learn who he’s become. He can’t afford London on an army pension, but the city is the only friend he has. In an effort to understand his newfound queer identity, he heads to a bar one night, where he stumbles across a mysterious stranger who turns his life upside down. ‘I dug around inside myself, and I'm not quite sure what I found, but it was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.’

The Wisteria Tree by SilentAuror (E, 29,773 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S3, Emotional Love Making, Amnesia/Memory Loss, Sherlock Loves John So Much, Sherlock POV, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Est. Rel., Retirement) – Sherlock wakes up from a month-long coma only to discover that he has no memory of the previous six years to his own shock as well as John's...

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Deck the Halls by itsalwaysyou_jw (T, 31,018 w., 24 Ch. || Advent Fic / Multiple One-Shots, Assorted Tags) – One Johnlock ficlet for every day leading up to Christmas. Who is ready for pining, first kisses, established Johnlock, and everything in between? This collection of stand-alone ficlets will have it all.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Nothing to Make a Song About by emmagrant01 (E, 36,833 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Time, Reunion, Jealous John, Pining Sherlock, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Sherlock Has a Boyfriend) – When Sherlock returned from his faked death, John could not forgive him for the deception and broke off their friendship. Ten years later, John returns to London in search of yet another new beginning. Sherlock, not surprisingly, is waiting.

The Unfinished Letters by SilentAuror (E, 37,391 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3 / S3 / HLV Fix it, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Infidelity, Depression, Case Fic, POV Third Person Sherlock, Love Confessions, Pining Sherlock, Letters) – A fire at Baker Street leads John to read something he was never intended to see: a notebook of half-written, unfinished letters Sherlock wrote during his time away...

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w., 7 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w., 18 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

A Goose Quill Dipped in Venom by Polyphony (M, 52,748 w., 16 Ch. || Celebrity John AU || Alternate First Meeting, TV Host John, Supermodel Mary, Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Case Fic, First Kiss/Time, Meddling Mycroft, Drug Abuse, Doctor John, PDA, Deductions, POV Sherlock, Toplock, Sexual Tension, Angry/Rough Sex, Hopeful Ending, Asperger’s Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, is called in to a very ordinary although brutal murder. Something is badly out of tune with the whole scenario and Sherlock finds himself becoming more and more obsessed with the crime - and also with the victim.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w., 21 Ch. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w., 12 Ch. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn't have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton  (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) – Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[eruhatesu]

what if sorcerers who want to marry nonsorcerers have to get approval from the heads of the 3 great families. usually those from lesser known families and sorcerers who are proportionally weak are granted approvals but their partners are then never allowed to communicate with anyone inside the community beside their partners. theyre not invited to any community events.

when utahime asks for approval to get married to a nonsorcerer, gojo approved it..... but with heavy restrictions. she will never be allowed to talk to other sorcerers basically a persona non grata to the sorcerer community (is not even allowed to talk to her own family). everyone was shocked with the decision considering shes from a lesser known family and basically "weak". gojo explained that since she was a teacher to several top sorcerers, she can basically be used for information. she also have personal relationships with sorcerers who are considered vital to the community which makes her a threat if used.

but everyone knows the real reason. gojo and utahime were exes and gojo was being petty but his reasons were also kinda valid. she was close to a clan head and was a teacher to future clan heads. utahime was mad but does get the reason behind the restrictions and thus had to break up with her fiance since she cant imagine not talking to her family and friends. this event created more rift between gojo and utahime.

now everyone in their community can see how trapped utahime is, all because she fell in love with the strongest sorcerer.

OMG HONEY, THE SAUCE. I love it. It’s so tasty

This is like a whole ass fic and I love what’s happening and also the possible path where this can go.

This is like the divorce couple gojohime but make it more ✨ hurtful ✨

I got several question I want u to answer bc this ask now lives in my brain like a worm. I need answers ;_;

1) is utahime gonna be able to hurt gojo as the same??

2) is gojo gonna pursue her after how he basically imprisoned with the restrictions?

3) or is gojo just gonna be more petty and fuck around?

4) why did gojo and uta broke up in the first place? 👀 (I got a feeling it’s gojo’s fault and now he doesnt know what to do bc of the guilt so he’s doing the unthinkable and pettiest shit, trap utahime—- literally “if I canthave her bc I fucked things up with her, then no one can”)

[izcana]

“Darling, I’m Home!”

Disclaimer: I do not Teen Wolf. That credit goes to Jeff Davis. The only thing I own is the plot line. Enjoy! If I'm being honest here I might as well mention that I've never watched a single episode of Teen Wolf (:p) but I've read plenty of fanfiction about it and I did some research on fandom about the plot – hopefully, it's enough! It's canon-divergent anyway so I don't think it'd be that big of a deal but if anything (vital)'s wrong, please tell me so I can fix it straight away!

***

"When are you going to tell them you're married?" Laura asked after dodging yet another crowd of fans. "You can't go on like this forever, you know." Laura was probably right. She's always right. Yet Derek couldn't do it. Separating his personal life from his acting career was the best solution and he was standing by this. Derek felt bad for Stiles, his lovely mate, at home all alone and caring for the precious pups in his stomach. Despite all this...

"I can't, Lo," Derek mumbled, opening the door to the Camaro.

"Why not, Derek?" She demanded, pulling the door angrily, though not with her full force, of course. Being an Alpha wolf meant that she could have ripped the door off its hinges. "Cora announced her marriage to Scott a couple of months ago and she's doing just fine. Plus, if you tell them you're mated, the fans will leave you alone. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It is, okay, Laura?" Derek glared at the window, pouting at nothing. He hit the horn, though it felt more like a tap to his Alpha senses. "Cora's...different."

"For your information, Der, she's also a very sought after actress. And don't go on saying how you're more popular than she is."

"I wasn't going to," Derek replied simply, rolling his eyes.

Laura flipped her hand dismissively and glared into her phone. Derek scowled at the car in front of him and beeped his horn.

"At least talk to Stiles about this, Derek," Laura implored, her eyes softening at the mention of the said Omega. There was practically no one in the Hale family who disliked Stiles; Talia dubbed him the most adorable little boy and though he wasn't the "ideal" Omega, no one (who mattered, at least) cared and loved Stiles all the same. Derek felt a wave of shame run over him once he remembered how much he's been neglecting the pregnant little were-fox. "He'll probably want you to stay with him. He's pregnant, Derek! Start thinking a little about your mate, shall we?"

"I am, Laura," Derek denied, though he agreed that he really ought to pay more attention to Stiles.

"Your heartbeat skipped. You agree with me, so stop lying!" Laura scolded. Derek silently cursed Alpha werewolf hearing.

"Whatever, Laura, I'll think about it." And that was that. End of the conversation.

***

Derek fumbled for the keys of his apartment, having finally shaken Laura off. "Darling, I'm home!" He called into the loft. Blank silence followed.

Derek wasn't too worried about it since he could hear his mate's heartbeat beating peacefully in the background and the peaceful smell of Stiles. Under normal circumstances, Stiles would already be awake since were-fox hearing was very sensitive (Derek could think about a million other things that were sensitive about his mate but that's beside the point) despite the fact that the bedroom was soundproofed. It only worked for were-wolves and were mainly for the benefit of the Hales, who dropped by at some of the most absurd times. However, after the pregnancy was discovered, Stiles had been sleeping a lot more and he seemed tired every day (not that Derek could blame him).

He stepped into the loft quietly, making sure to drop off his shoes next to the door as his mate had apparently cleaned the hallway earlier today, even though Derek had told him time and time again not to tire himself out – it wasn't good for the baby. Stiles refused to listen, though. Stiles was Stiles.

Perhaps, Stiles might actually listen to him when the pups are almost due...

He tip-toed around the enormous leather sofa Talia had insisted they get and into their shared bedroom. He took off his clothes carefully and stealthily walked to the washroom, turning the shower console to low so it wouldn't disturb Stiles, even though Derek was certain he'd wake soon if he hadn't woken already.

By the time Derek wrapped a towel around his waist and crept into his bedroom to get his clothes, Stiles was already awake, his slightly red-rimmed and puffy amber eyes staring sleepily back at Derek, nonetheless alert. "When did you get back?"

"Half an hour ago," Derek murmured gently. Stiles nodded and stretched, showing off the beautiful milky white skin and the swollen stomach that was full of Derek's pups. Derek and Stiles' pups. "Do you want anything to eat?" Derek now knew from experience that Stiles was always hungry and came up with the most peculiar food combinations.

"Yes, please," Stiles answered predictably. "Can you get some gherkins with whipped cream?" That was one of the "favourites".

Derek went to get the said "favourite". When he came back, Stiles was on the phone.

"Huh? Oh, that. Pause. No, no, he hasn't told me. Pause. Who told you? Pause. Oh, typical. Pause. I'll ask him. Pause. I'm wonderful, thanks. Pause. Bye, Cora! Visit whenever you want!"

"What did Cora want?" Derek asked, setting the cup of herbal tea and the plate of gherkins with whipped cream on the table.

"She told me that you and Laura talked about your career," Stiles said, scarfing down the gherkins. "When were you going to tell me?"

Knowing fully well that lying to Stiles was impossible (were-fox hearing and Stiles being Stiles) he admitted "Never."

"That's what I thought. Cora seemed to think so, too."

"Do you want me to?" Derek asked softly.

"Honestly? This is selfish of me, but I do. I wish you'd be around for my pregnancy. By the pace we're going at now, you won't even be there for the birth!" Stiles cries, and to Derek's horror, promptly burst into tears. He clutched at Derek weakly, as if willing for him never to leave again but not having the strength to stop him.

"It's not selfish, Honey, you're allowed to feel what you feel," he murmured softly into Stiles's peach-scented hair.

"But..b-but..." Stiles stuttered.

"But nothing. If that's what you want, Sweetheart, I'll tell my boss tomorrow to put me on paternal leave."

"I don't want to get in the way of your work, Alpha." That's when Derek knew Stiles was completely gone. He only called Derek "Alpha" if he was in heat or upset. "You seem to like acting so much, I didn't want to slow you down," he added pathetically.

"You're my mate, Stiles," Derek said, sighing. "You don't 'slow me down', you inspire me. Where did you get that idea? I love you."

"You're a movie star! Why are you still with me? You can get someone so much better," Stiles moaned sadly, clutching his stomach when the baby started kicking at his kidneys.

"Listen. I love you, only you, never anyone else, okay?" Derek said, staring straight at Stiles, who was avoiding his eyes.

"Okay," Stiles whispered, his eyes shining with tears. One slipped out and Derek wiped it away. "I believe you."

***

Should I keep doing a/b/o stories? Please tell me in the comments – I've been very interested in a/b/o recently but I didn't know whether I was good at writing it? If you want me to, I can definitely continue; practice makes perfect!

There will be a sequel in response to requests on Archive of Our Own.

Epilogue 

[massivelycreepypineapple]

Kick Butt While Falling In Love

Pairing: Surgeon!Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/N is Dr. Ackles’ patient. They meet during her chemo sessions and become close friends and eventually more.

Requested by a lovely anon (I hope you enjoy this and found the plot alright!): Can you write more doctor Jensen Ackles? I can't think of any plot but Jensen as doctor is very attractive!❤️🙈

Warning: Sick reader, slightly angsty. pretty much it I guess. 

A/N: I tried not to make any mistakes. I hope this is alright. If I made any please do let me know. I apologise for that in advance!

Word Count: 1925

Masterlist

❅ ❅ ❅

If anybody told Y/N a year ago that the hospital would practically be her second home, she’d have sent them packing with a swift kick up their butt. She hated hospitals with a steady passion and she hated doctors even more. The very thought of going to a doctor for something as small as the flu was repulsive to her. So you can imagine her horror when she was forced to go weekly for her chemotherapy sessions. But things didn’t end there. It would seem that life had a way of messing with Y/N. Not only was she forced to go to the dreaded location once a week, but she was slowly looking forward to it. And the cherry on top came in the form of a certain green eyed surgeon.

When Y/N first found out that she had a cancerous tumour growing in her, she was, like anyone else, in great shock and pain. She didn’t have anyone in her life. She became an orphan at the age of 16 and foster care didn’t last long. She began to fend for herself as soon as she hit 18. She wasn’t in one place long enough to make friends either. So the thought of cancer did freak her out. She spent years learning to love her life and she didn’t want to lose that. But as the weeks went by she got used to the idea that this was her reality. And things got better when she met the man in charge of her life. 

Dr. Jensen Ackles was a gem in the world of stones and that’s putting it lightly. Anyone who interacted with him loved him and those who didn’t, well, let’s just say that they sucked as human beings. He was the most beautiful and considerate man she had ever known. And as time went on, he became her best friend. She didn’t really know how that happened considering that she didn’t have any decent ones. She had colleagues who were cordial to her and that was it. She couldn’t for the life of her fathom what possessed him to become her friend. He was her doctor and the relationship should’ve ended at that. But yet here they were best friends and at the brink of something more.

Y/N remembered the first time Jensen was there for her in ways no one else had. She had just started chemotherapy and it was royally kicking her ass. She already had a minor heart condition so there were risks of heart attacks and the like due to chemo. The drugs given to her took a toll on her big time and she often found herself with her head in the toilet, leading her to lose so much weight as well as her appetite. One particular day Y/N was suffering worse than usual and her chest was aching. She remembered that Jensen had given his personal phone number in case she needed a friend. She was light headed and in pain and she decided to just take a leap of faith and call him. 

-Flashback-

“Hi Y/N, is everything okay?” His deep voice came through the phone, immediately calming her a bit. 

“J-Jensen I-“ She started breathing heavily. 

“Y/N!! Where are you?” He asked frantically.

“H-home.” She managed to get out. She sounded breathless and weak. 

“I’ll be there in 15.” He said and cut the call. 

True to words, 15mins later Jensen showed up. She struggled to get to the door but managed to open it, but only to fall into his arms. He quickly picked her up and took her to the ambulance waiting outside. Y/N chuckled lightly at that. “S-so dramatic.” She said.

“You scared me, sweetheart. You didn’t sound good and I was clearly right to be scared.” He said trying to stay calm as he put her on the gurney and letting the paramedics fix her to the IV tubes. He rode with her back to the hospital and got her into the emergency room. 

-Flashback End-

After everything had calmed down and her condition was brought under control, Jensen stayed beside her the entire time. He did everything to keep her fever down, brought her decent food that was easy on her stomach. He replaced the IV when the drugs were getting low. He even spent the night with her. Since then there was always something developing between them. They became close and Jensen from then on was her best friend and the love of her life (only he didn’t know it yet). He even took on an active role in making sure her chemotherapy went smoothly. He rearranged his schedule around hers. He spent time with her figuring out which medicine worked best, and stayed up with her the nights she spent in the hospital.

That’s where Y/N found herself once more. She had just finished her session for the day. Jensen was in surgery so he couldn’t keep her company like he usually did. So she got through it by listening to music and flipping through a magazine. Just as she was about to leave she got light headed and collapsed. 

The nurses rushed to her and put her on a gurney trying to help her. She could barely make out what they were saying. She was in and out of consciousness. 

“She’s going into a cardiac arrest. She needs surgery now!” Said one of the doctors.

“We need to page Dr. Ackles!”

“He’s in surgery!”

“Fuck! Let’s take her into the OR and get her prepped. If he isn’t there yet, we need someone else immediately.” 

That was the last thing she heard before everything turned black. 

__________

Y/N woke up to an insistent beeping noise. She felt something heavy on her hand and she couldn’t move. She slowly blinked her eyes and saw someone resting their head on her bed. Jensen was still in his scrubs and his hair sticking out. He looked exhausted. She gently nudged his hand that was holding hers and he jerked awake. 

“Y/N!” He whispered. He quickly got up to check her vitals and began fussing over her. He brought her a cup of water and she gently took a few sips. She then finally looked at him properly and saw that his eyes were red. It looked like he had been crying. 

“Jay..” She whispered softly, her throat still sore. “What happened?”

“You had a heart attack, sweetheart.” 

“Oh… was it because of all the chemo?”

He nodded at that. “There was a blockage near the heart stopping the blood flow. We managed to get it out. You’re fine now, baby.” He caressed her cheek. 

“The last thing I heard was that you were in surgery.”

“Yeah I was, but I was almost done. He was fine and I only needed to close him up. The interns could manage that so I rushed to you. I don’t trust anyone else with your life, baby girl.” He said closing his eyes tight.

“I’m fine Jay. You came in time and I’m fine.” Y/N comforted him.

“Y-yeah” He whispered.

“Jay, what about the tumor?”

“The drugs are working. Chemo’s doing its job and the tumor has shrunk. But we couldn’t remove it just yet. You need another course of chemo before we go in and finish the job.”

Y/N started crying “I don’t want to, It’s too much! Please don’t make me!”

Jensen’s heart broke at that and his face fell. “Y/N...please do this. I know it’s painful and exhausting, honey. But I need you to do this. I need you to get better.”

“Why?! Why does it matter so much to you?” She cried.

“Because I fucking love you!” He said 

Y/N was shocked at that admission. She knew there was something there but she never in a billion years thought that he loved her like she loved him. 

“I love you so much, and I need you to get better so that we can make this work and maybe live happily ever after like those books you love!” He added.

She just stared dumbly at him. She didn’t know what to say. She was afraid that she'd break his heart. She was at risk and didn’t know if she'd make it.

Her silence broke his heart further. She could see he was regretting his words. So she quickly added, “I’m only going to hurt you, Jay. We don’t know if I’ll make it.” 

“You will make it, Y/N.”

“You can’t know that! You deserve someone normal. You deserve someone who is not on death’s bed. Someone who won’t remind you of work all the time. Caz that’s what I am, Jensen! I’m your patient and-” She was interrupted with his lips. 

“I know you feel the same, sweetheart. You’re not just my patient. You’re the love of my life. I don’t stay up for any of my patients but you. I don’t do house calls and I sure as hell don’t give them my personal number.” He said with determination in his eyes. 

Y/N looked at him wide eyed. She dared hoped that things would work out. She wanted it so badly. She reached out, despite the pain she was in and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. 

“I love you too, so damn much” She said looking into his eyes. 

He grinned at her and kissed her one last time before tucking her into the blankets. “Rest some, baby. We’ll figure this out ok?” 

“Stay.. don’t go.” 

“I have to check on the other guy, Y/N.” He said looking sadly at her. To which she nodded in understanding. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise. I’m taking some time off to be with you.” 

“You don’t have to..”

“Shh. I want to” he said which made her smile so cutely at him. 

But she became serious again, scrunching her eyebrows. “Jay...are you sure it’s going to be okay? I don’t want to die.” Y/N said with a small voice. Jensen felt his heart clench at that. He held her face in his large palms.

“Baby, you’re not going to die ok? Not if I have anything to say about it. You’re going to kick this tumour’s butt and then we’ll run off into the sunset together like a cheesy couple.”

She laughed a little at that. “Okay, I like that plan.” 

“Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“I know it’s very early but move in with me. Please?”

“Yes.” 

Jensen kissed her hard and then said, “WHEN you survive this, I’m going to marry you. Don’t want to waste any time.”

“I’d like nothing more, baby” grinned Y/N with tears in her eyes. 

Jensen kissed her on the forehead and turned to leave to check on the other patient. 

Y/N fell asleep with a huge smile on her face. For the first time in forever she felt like everything was going to be okay. For the first time in her life she felt like she had a family even if it was just Jensen for now. Maybe they’ll make their own family. A big one too. Did she wish she had met him in better circumstances? No. This entire journey made her who she is. She’d go through it all again because the person she is today is the person who Dr. Jensen Ackles fell in love with. And she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

❅ ❅ ❅

TAGS BELOW

@hobby27 @akshi8278

[sisterofiris]

Everyday life in the Hittite empire

Have you ever wondered what your life would have been like if you had been born in central Anatolia 3500 years ago? No? Now that I’ve brought it up, are you curious to find out?

Well you’re in luck, because that’s just what this post is about. So sit back, close your eyes, and imagine yourself in Anatolia - that is, modern Turkey. Are you ready? Can you see the mountains, the red river and the towering buildings of your capital, Ḫattuša? Can you hear the chariots driving up the road? Can you feel the electric brewing of a storm in the distance?

Then let’s go.

(With a brief disclaimer: while I study Hittitology, this is not intended as an academic-level post. It was written to give general, approachable insights into Hittite culture and can be used as writing inspiration or to titillate curious history nerds around you, but if you’re writing an academic paper on the subject, I would recommend you check out the bibliography instead.)

About you

First things first, are you older than five? If so, congratulations on being alive. Child mortality in this place and time is very high, so you’re one of the luckier ones among your siblings. You probably have at least a couple of those; you may even have as many as six or seven, especially if you come from a well-to-do family with access to good healthcare. When you were little, your parents might have told you the tale of Zalpa, in which the queen of Neša gives birth to thirty sons then thirty daughters who marry each other, but you know this only happens in the stories - not to normal people.

When you were born, your parents rejoiced regardless of your sex, as sons and daughters are equally valued in your society (albeit for different reasons). Your father took you on his knee and gave you a good Hittite name: maybe Armawiya, Ḫarapšili, Kilušḫepa or Šiwanaḫšušar for a girl, or Anuwanza, Kantuzili, Muwaziti or Tarḫuzalma for a boy. Gender-neutral names, such as Anna, Muwa and Šummiri, would also have been an option. Many people around you have Hurrian or Luwian names, even if they are not ethnically Hurrian or Luwian themselves. (This is comparable to the modern popularity of Hispanic names like Diego, or French names like Isabelle.)

It’s hard to say what you would have done during childhood. While your earliest years would have been spent playing and babbling in grammatically incorrect Hittite, by the age of six or seven you may well have already started training in the family profession. If a girl, you would have been taught to weave by your mother; if a boy, you might have helped your father out on the farm, tried your hand at making pottery, or spent long hours learning cuneiform. (There may have been careers requiring gender non-conformity, as there was in Mesopotamia, but as far as I am aware this has not been proven.) You know that even the noblest children are given responsibilities - king Ḫattušili himself was once a stable boy.

Now, as an adult, you are a working professional contributing directly to Hittite society. You look the very portrait of a Hittite: as a woman, you have long, dark hair that you probably keep veiled, and as a man, your hair is around shoulder-length and your face clean-shaven. Ethnically, though, you are likely a mixture of Hittite, Luwian, Hurrian, Hattian, and depending on when and where exactly you live, maybe Assyrian, Canaanite or even Greek. There’s a fair chance Hittite might not actually be your native language. Still, you consider yourself a Hittite, and a subject of the Hittite king.

Well, now you know who you are, let’s get along with your day!

Your home and environment

Your day begins the way most people’s days do: you wake up at home, in your bed. As an average Hittite, you probably sleep on the floor rather than on elevated furniture. Your floor is either paved or of beaten earth, and your house itself has stone foundations and mud brick walls, with a flat roof supported by timber beams. Windows are scarce and small, to keep the indoor temperature stable.

Outside, the rest of the settlement is waking up too. Statistically, you live in a village or small town, surrounded by forest and mountains. Summers here are hot and dry, and winters cold and snowy, with spring and autumn being marked by thunderstorms. Most inhabitants work as farmers, relying on the weather for their survival. Contagious illnesses are a constant threat - under king Muršili II, the land suffered a deadly plague for twenty years - as are enemy invasions. If you live within the bend of the red river, in the Hittite heartland, consider yourself lucky; if not, your settlement could well be shifting from one kingdom’s property to another and falling prey to both sides’ raids on a yearly basis.

Admitting no enemy forces are in the area today, you take your time to get up. You might tiredly stumble to the outhouse to go pee. Eventually, you’ll want to get dressed.

Clothing

As a man, your clothes comprise of a kilt or sleeved tunic, with a belt of cloth or leather. As a woman, you wear a long dress and, if you are married, a veil. All clothing is made from wool or linen, and a variety of dyes exist: red, yellow, blue, green, black and white are all colours mentioned in texts. If you are rich enough, you may be able to import purple-dyed fabric from Lazpa (Greek Lesbos) or the Levant. You will also want to flaunt your wealth with jewellery, regardless of gender.

Of course, your shoes have upturned ends in the Hittite style. Historians will tease you for this. Don’t listen to them. You look awesome.

Mealtime!

It’s now time for one of your two daily meals (the other will take place in the evening, after your work for the day is done). This will be prepared at the hearth, a vital element of every home, and which is likely connected to an oven. The staple of your diet is bread; in fact, it is so common that “bread”, in cuneiform texts, is used as a general term for food. It is usually made from wheat or barley, but can also be made from beans or lentils.

Worried you’ll get bored of it? You needn’t be: your society has enough types of bread that you could eat a different one each day for a whole season. Fig bread, sour bread, flat bread and honey bread are just some of your options, along with spear bread and moon bread... yes, in other words, baguettes and croissants. (Something tells me the Hittites and the French would have a lot to talk about.)

You also have various fruits and vegetables available: cucumber, leek, carrots, peas, chickpeas, lentils, beans, olives, figs, dates, grapes, pomegranates, onions, garlic, and more. Your diet is completed by animal products, including cheese, milk, butter, and meat, mainly from sheep and goats but also cows and wild game. Honey, too, is common.

These ingredients can be combined into all sorts of dishes. Porridge is popular, as are stews, both vegetarian and meat-based. Meat can also be broiled and quite possibly skewered onto kebabs. And of course, food would be boring without spices, so you have a variety of those to choose from too: coriander are cumin are just two of them.

As for drinks, you can have beer, wine, beer-wine (good luck figuring out what that is), milk or water. If you’re well-to-do enough, you may own a rhyton, a drinking vessel shaped like an animal such as a stag or bull. Don’t forget to libate to the Gods before drinking your share.

Daily work

The next thing on your plate, after food, is work. What you do depends on your social status and gender, and most likely, you do the same work as your parents did before you. You could be something well-known like a king, priest, scribe, merchant, farmer or slave, but don’t assume those are all the possibilities; you could also be, for example, a gardener, doctor, ritual practitioner, potter, weaver, tavern keeper, or perfume maker.

It’s impossible to go into detail on every career option you would have in Hittite society, so for the sake of brevity, let’s just discuss four - two male-dominated, and two female-specific.

Farmer

As a farmer, you are the backbone of your society. You and your peers are responsible for putting food on the plates of Hittites everywhere, thus ensuring the survival of the empire.

Like many farmers, you live on a small estate, most likely with both crops (or an orchard) and livestock to take care of. You may own cows, sheep, goats, pigs, horses, donkeys, and/or ducks. Your daily routine and tools aren’t that different from other pre-industrial cultures, though you have it a little rougher than most due to the Anatolian mountain terrain. If you have the means, you hire seasonal workers - both male and female - to help out as farmhands, and you may own a few slaves.

You get up early to milk the cows, and at the onset of summer, you or a hired herdsman may lead your livestock up to mountain pastures to graze. Depending on the season and the work that needs to be done, you may spend your day ploughing the fields, harvesting grain or fruit, tending livestock, shearing sheep, birthing a calf, repairing the barn, or various other tasks. Make sure to take proper care of everything: new animals are expensive, and losing one could get you into a precarious situation. In particular, you’ll want to keep an eye out for bears, wolves, foxes, and even lions and leopards.

Scribe

Few people are literate in Hittite society, and you are one of the lucky ones. You have been learning to read and write in three languages (Sumerian, Akkadian and Hittite) since childhood, and after long years of copying lexical lists and ancient myths, your education is now complete.

As a scribe, you are the dreaded bureaucrat. In a small town, you likely work alongside the town administrator, recording tax collections and enemy sightings as well as corresponding with other towns, and with the capital. You and your peers are the go-to people for officialising marriage agreements and divorces, drawing up work contracts, and creating sales receipts. If not in the town administration, you could also work in a temple, recording the results of oracles, cross-checking the correct procedures for a ritual, and making sure everything necessary for a festival is available. If you are particularly lucky, you may be employed by the nobility or even the palace, and be entrusted with such confidential tasks as writing the king’s annals or drafting an international treaty.

Regardless of where you are, two things are essential to your job: a stylus and a tablet. You may be a “scribe of the clay tablets”, in which case you will need to carry around a bit of clay wherever you go (and some water to moisten it). Otherwise, you are a “scribe of the wooden tablets”, in which case you use a wax tablet in a wooden frame, which requires less maintenance. It’s unclear whether these types of tablet are used for different purposes.

Fun fact: you likely have a few pen pals around the Hittite empire. After corresponding with other scribes for so long, you’ve started writing each other messages at the bottom of your tablets, asking each other how you’re doing and to say hi to each other’s families. Your employers needn’t know.

Weaver

Weaving, to a Hittite like you, is the quintessential female activity, along with textile-making in general. Like farming, this is a backbone of your society: without weaving, there would be no clothes, and without clothes, well, you can’t do much.

As a weaver, you produce textiles for your family and in many cases also for sale. You work in an atelier within your home, along with the other women of the household, keeping an eye on your smallest children as they play nearby. While your husband, brothers or sons may transport and sell your handiwork, you are the head of your own business.

You are skilled in multiple weaving techniques, and can do embroidery and sew fabric into various shapes (including sleeves - take that, Classical Greeks). You create clothing for all sorts of occasions, including rituals and festivals, outdoor work, and winter weather, and if you are lucky enough to be commissioned by the nobility, you put your best efforts into clothing that will show off their status. Don’t try to cheat anyone out of their money, though; prices are fixed by law.

Old Woman

Contrary to what you might expect, you don’t need to be old to be an Old Woman - this is a career just like any other, though it probably does require a certain amount of life experience and earned respect. As an Old Woman, you are a trained ritual practitioner and active in all sorts of cultic, divinatory and magical ceremonies.

Most commonly, you are hired for rituals protecting against or removing evil. Your services may solve domestic quarrels, cure a sick child, or shield someone from sorcery (a constant threat in your society). This is done through symbolic acts like cutting pieces of string, breaking objects, and sacrificing and burning animals, which are of course accompanied by incantations - sometimes in Hittite, sometimes in other languages, like Hurrian.

Far from a village witch, you are high-placed in Hittite society and trusted by the royal family itself. You have taken part in major rituals and festivals, including funerals, and you perform divinatory oracles too. This last responsibility gives you a large amount of influence over the king and queen; if you establish that something should be done, then it almost certainly will be. Use this power well... or not.

Your loved ones

After a long day ploughing fields, writing tablets, weaving clothes or reciting incantations, it’s finally time to reunite with your loved ones. For adults, these likely - but not necessarily! - include a spouse and children. You may just live with your nuclear family, but living with extended family is also common, and there may be as many as twenty people in your household. Siblings, aunts and uncles, parents, grandparents, children and babies all share the evening meal with you, and some nights, you might gather afterwards to sing and dance, tell stories, and play games.

You also have relationships outside of home. Friendship is valued by Hittite society, with close friends calling each other “brother” and sister”. You might meet up with them regularly at the local tavern for a beer and a bit of fun. Someone there might even catch your eye... Interestingly, there are no laws against that person being of the same gender as you. So, same or different gender, why not try your luck tonight?

Greater powers

It’s impossible to spend a day in the Hittite empire without encountering religion. The Land of a Thousand Gods is aptly named: Gods are in everything, from the sun to the mountains to the stream at the back of your house to fire to a chair. You should always be conscious of their power, and treat them with respect. Though there are few traces of it, you may have a household shrine where you make libations or offer a portion of your meal. Your Gods may be represented by anthropomorphic statues, by animals such as a bull, by symbols such as gold disks, or even by a stone. Either way, treat these objects well; the divine is literally present in them.

You should also be wary of sorcery. Never make clay figures of someone, or kill a snake while speaking someone’s name, or you will face the death penalty. Likewise, always dispose of impurities carefully, especially those left over from a purification ritual (such as mud, ashes, or body hair). Never toss them onto someone else’s property. Has misfortune suddenly struck your household? Is your family or livestock getting sick and dying? These are signs that someone has bewitched you.

Some days are more sacred than others. You participate in over a hundred festivals every year, some lasting less than a day, some lasting a month, some local, some celebrated by the entire Hittite empire. The most important of these are the crocus festival and the purulli festival in spring, the festival of haste in autumn, and the gate-house festival, possibly also in autumn. The statues of the Gods are brought out of the temples, great feasts are held, and entertainment is provided through music, dance and sports contests. Depending on how important your town is, the king, queen or a prince might even be in attendance. All this excitement is a nice break from your regular work!

Sleep and dreams

Phew, what a busy day it’s been. The sun, snared in the trees’ branches, has set on the Hittite land, and you are ready for bed. Time to wrap yourself snugly in blankets and go to sleep.

You may dream, in which case, try to remember as much as you can. Dreams can be a vehicle for omens. Maybe, if the Gods are kind, you might catch a glimpse of what the next days, months and years hold in store for you.

Good night!

Bibliography

Beckman, Gary, “Birth and Motherhood among the Hittites”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 319-328).

Bryce, Trevor, Life and Society in the Hittite World, Oxford 2002.

Bryce, Trevor, “The Role and Status of Women in Hittite Society”, in Budin, Stephanie Lynn, Macintosh Turfa, Jean, Women in Antiquity: Real Women across the Ancient World, Abingdon 2016 (pp. 303-318).

Golec-Islam, Joanna, The Food of Gods and Humans in the Hittite World, BA thesis, Warszawa 2016.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Birth and name-giving in Hittite texts”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 27/3 (1968), pp. 198-203.

Hoffner, Harry A., “Daily life among the Hittites”, in Averbeck, Richard E., Chavalas, Marc W., Weisberg, David B., Life and Culture in the Ancient Near East, Bethesda 2003 (pp. 95-118).

Marcuson, Hannah, “Word of the Old Woman”: Studies in Female Ritual Practice in Hittite Anatolia, PhD thesis, Chicago 2016.

Wilhelm, Gernot, “Demographic Data from Hittite Land Donation Tablets”, in Pecchioli Daddi, Franca, Torri, Giulia, Corti, Carlo, Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period: New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research, Roma 2009 (pp. 223-233).

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 2, Bit 2)

Veg • notables: Another bit..  

Additionally - each part is titled after a Malay word that have been provided through Google and various sites. Any errors can be blamed on my ignorance as I am not multilingual…  sorry in advance.  

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97

Previous:  Part 1 |  Part 2 Bit 1

Rating and blanket warning:  Mature content. This part contains mature content dealing with medical complications.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo,  Scott, Grandma and Jeff (V/K)

Location: TaG-verse AU  | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 2 Bit 2:  Masalah

The odd note Scott picked up in Virgil’s voice from across the lounge drew him to his feet before he knew he’d even moved. 

Coming up beside his Grandmother, he caught the tail end of her conversation but without context he couldn’t piece together what the issue was. 

“What was that about?” Concern lacing his voice as he watched his Grandmother jot something down on a data pad. “Virgil sounded upset.”

Jeff looked up from his paper out on the balcony, Scott’s hurried movements obviously drawing his attention.

“Everything okay, Mother?”  He called,  taking up his cane and pushing up to his feet.   

“I’m not sure, Dear but it’s nothing you need to fret about at the moment.  Go back to your paper and put your feet up, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.” 

Jeff being just as stubborn as his sons didn’t comply and tottered over to them.  Scott resisted the urge to chuckle as his grandmother rolled her eyes and commented under her breath about bull-headed Tracy men.  

Not wanting to buoy his father’s blatant civil disobedience or provide an additional source of ire to his Grandmother, he kept his face neutral .  Bad enough one of them was defying the matriarch. 

“What’s up with Virgil?”

“I’m not sure, dear.  He asked me to come up to his rooms.”  She answered as she turned away and headed for the elevator.  “Scott, honey? Can you run down to the infirmary and grab my kit?  I left it on the bench by the door.” 

“Sure thing, Grandma.”  And he bolted for the stairs, leaving the elevator for his Grandmother and Father to take up to the upper levels of the villa. 

When Scott made it back upstairs with bag in hand his father was leaning against the wall outside Virgil’s door. Arms crossed over his chest and body language not at all happy.  

He nodded at Scott as he trotted down the hallway.  “Scott, Grandma said to go on in.”

“Dad, do you know what’s going on?  The trip down to the infirmary had all sorts of images flying through his head and considering his sister in law slash adoptive sibling was five months pregnant the pictures had not been pretty. “Is Kayo okay?”

His father shook his head and shrugged. “I’m not sure, son but if I can hazard a guess something is amiss.  Hurry up and go on in.” 

Scott did just that.  Tapping the control, the  panel slid open with barely a sound and he entered the dimly lit sanctuary of the married couple.  

His brother was standing beside the bed,  his posture tense and arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. A mirror image of what he’d just seen out in the hallway.

Kayo was in bed, her back up against a mountain of pillows,  dark hair a tumbling waterfall about her shoulders. Her face was ashen and blank of expression as his Grandmother whispered to her quietly.  Her head nodded a few times in acknowledgement to whatever was being said to her is hushed tones.  

Virgil looks just about as well and his haunted eyes turned up to Scott as he stepped further into the room.  

“Oh, good Scott you found it.   Bring it here please.”  His Grandmother was in full on Doctor Tracy mode, her hand outstretched for the well loved satchel of her trade. 

Handing it over, he stepped back beside his brother and spoke in low tones to him as his Grandmother started pulling things out of her bag.  

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Virgil shook his head and Scott prodded him to spill.  “Virgil, talk to me.”

His brother sighed and his shoulders slumped.  Caving into the demand with very little resistance.  “She started bleeding..”

Scott’s brow shot up and his eyes went to Kayo.  “Are they okay?” 

“I don’t know.  Vitals are a bit off but Kayo is in shock so getting info out of her has been...difficult…”

Raising a hand,  Scott placed it on his brother’s bare shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Anything I can do?”  

Tired eyes shifted his way and the words that followed were simple.  “You already are doing something.” 

Scott’s gave a small smile of reassurance and flung his arm around Virig’s broad back in a one armed hug.  “You got it.” 

Pushing up from the edge of the bed their Grandma turned to face the pair,  medical scanner in hand and urged the two men out the door into the hallway. 

Their Father’s worried face greeted them and he hobbled over to Virgil but his eyes tracked his mother looking for answers. 

His grandmother held up her hand to forestall the incoming inquiries and stepped up to Virgil.  

“Virgil, honey?” The worried engineer  was instantly at attention. “I need you to contact Dr. Coxley. Let him know what’s going on.”  

“Scott,   I need you to stay  with your brother and fill your Father in on what’s going on.  After which I need you to prep Tracy Two for flight.  We need to make a trip to Auckland as soon as possible.”

Virgil sucked in a breath and went to pass his Grandmother to go back to his wife’s side but the older woman barred his approach. 

 Placing a hand on the center of his chest, she waited until she had his full attention. “She needs to stay calm and rest right now.  Go deal with the Doctor and take a moment for yourself.   You getting agitated isn’t going to be of any help.  I’ll take care of her while you're gone.”

“Scott,”  Her gaze shifted away again leaving so space for Virgil to protest.  

Scott understood what wasn’t being said as this Grandmother’s eyes tracked back over to Virgil. “Don’t worry, Grandma.  I got him.”

“I know you do, dear” And with that she stepped back in the the quiet room

TBC

8-8-8

NEXT

[doctor-reid]

Secretly Married Chapter Nine

MASTERLIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

A/N: This will probably end up being the last chapter. I may write a small Epilogue though.

Word Count: 1.3k

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

He was on the floor, a pool of blood growing by the second. Jennings was down too. Reid rushed to her side.

 “Allyson, honey, stay with me. We’re going to get you help, you just have to stay with me.” Spencer could overhear Derek talking to the other agents.

 “Get a medic, we have an agent down. I repeat, agent down.”

 Allyson felt the whole world becoming hazy. They were loading her into the ambulance. The only thing keeping her somewhat conscious was Spencer’s voice. He wouldn’t stop talking to her.

 “I love you so much, just stay with me. Don’t leave me.” This and other variations on these phrases were all he could muster to say. This couldn’t be the end of her story. It should be just beginning. The world went dark. 

 Suddenly she was standing at the altar with Spencer. Was this her version of heaven? Spencer started to recite his vows. They were crystal clear when the rest of the world was fuzzy.

 “Allyson, I may be the one with the IQ of 187. But when it comes to love, you are the genius in this relationship. You make me so happy. I promise, I will spend our whole lives working to make you feel as happy and loved as I do every minute of every day. It’s you and me, until the end of time.” Then, she heard other words that seemed to come from nowhere.

 “Clear!” She felt a jolt throughout her whole body. Then, the image faded. She was back in the ambulance. All she could see were people working on her. Where was Spencer? She looked to her side, it hurt so much. It was worth it, because there was Spencer. His head was in his hands. He was worried out of his mind about you.

 ----------

 Spencer was pacing the floor. It had been nearly 5 hours since Allyson had gone into surgery. That couldn’t be a good sign. He can’t even remember the last words Allyson said to him. It had been such a long day. All Spencer wanted was to go to sleep, but he couldn’t sleep with his wife still in surgery. He had to know she was going to be alright. Spencer took his ring out of his shirt pocket and slipped it on his finger. The team already knew, and he wanted to feel closer to his wife.

 Allyson’s parents are the first ones to join Reid at the hospital. They were all just sitting there. There was nothing to talk about. Spencer may not have been a religious man, but right now he was praying to whatever Deity would listen that his wife would be okay. 

 The rest of the team soon joined Reid and The Jennings at the hospital. Penelope was there as well. She caught the first flight to Texas. All of them had questions about the couple, but they knew now was not the time. Spencer was toying with the ring on his finger. He didn’t know what he would do without Allyson in his life. 

 A doctor appeared and started walking towards them.

 “Dr. Reid?” The woman questioned. Spencer stood up and walked toward her. He hoped with every ounce of his being that this would be good news. 

 “Your wife made it out of surgery. She broke her collarbone and shoulder. But we were able to put some pins in and repair the subclavian artery. She lost a lot of blood, but she will be okay. We want to keep her here for a few days, and then you can take her home.” 

 Spencer was overfilled with joy. This was one of the best outcomes he could think of. She was alive, and okay. Their story together wouldn’t end here. All Spencer wanted to do was be with his wife.

 “When can I see her?” His voice sounded so desperate.

 “She should be waking up within the next few hours. I can take you to see her now.”

 Spencer motioned for Penelope to come join him. “Can you show her back to the room?” he asked the doctor. He then turned to Penelope. “I am going to go back to our hotel rooms and get our things and grab some food. I will be back as soon as I can. Please don’t leave her alone.”

 Garcia grabbed his hand in hers. She could tell how much Spencer needed her right now. 

 “Don't worry Reid, I got her. I’ll let you know if anything changes.” She smiled at him. Her smile was the biggest comfort to Spencer right now. 

 He turned and walked out the doors. Hopefully his wife wouldn’t wake up until he got back. He wanted to be the first thing she saw.

----------

 “Spencer?” That was the first word Allyson said as she woke up. That’s who she needed to see. 

 “Sweetie, you’re awake,” Penelope said softly. “Reid went to go get your stuff from the hotel. He will be right back, and I’m going to stay with you until he is right by your side.” 

 “What happened?” Allyson inquired as she looked around her hospital room. There were lots of machines monitoring her vitals. They were monitoring everything. She could feel the IV in her left arm. She looked down at it and noticed something else. Her wedding rings were on her finger. Who put these on her? She wasn’t wearing these when she went into the house. She moved to hide the rings from Penelope.

 “I’m not the best person to answer that.” Penelope saw Allyson hiding her hand. “You don’t have to hide those. We all kind of already know about you and our dear doctor.”

 “How do you-?” Allyson trailed off

 “When you were inside the house, he wouldn’t stop screaming for you. He kind of shouted it at Morgan when he tried to hold Reid back. I of course already knew because I am a genius. Also, I may have found out that Reid had bought those rings on your finger.”

 Allyson just chuckled. Penelope continued to talk.

 “Reid is wearing his ring, so I decided that you should start wearing yours as well. There’s no reason to hide it anymore.”

 Allyson felt a wave of relief when Penelope told her they wouldn’t have to keep their secret anymore. This was great news, but she still wanted to see Spencer.

 At that moment, Spencer walked in. It was almost as if he could read her mind. Seeing Spencer in the room, Penelope excused herself. Spencer rushed over to her side. The first thing he did was kiss her. This wasn’t like their normal kisses, it was softer. Almost like he was afraid if he kissed her any harder she would break. 

 Their lips parted after what felt like an eternity. He just smiled at her. Before she could even ask what happened, he started to tell her. She listened patiently as he talked about healing times and statistics on these types of injuries. She wasn’t absorbing the information he gave her, she was on painkillers. But it was nice to hear him talk. His words made the rest of the world melt away. She looked into his eyes, it looked like he put dark eye shadow all around his eyes.

 “Babe, when was the last time you slept?” Allyson asked sleepily.

 “The night of the most recent murders. I couldn’t sleep with you in danger.”

 “As sweet as that is, you look awful. I think we both need some rest. Will you come lay with me?” She moved herself as far right as she could. Spencer climbed in with her, careful not to mess with any of the cords. 

 They just layed there. Both of them fell asleep quickly. Now that everybody knew their secret, they were a little less stressed. They didn’t have to worry about being caught, or lying to their friends. They were free. They could start living their life like in the fairy tales, happily ever after. But, their story had more danger and serial killers than most fairy tales.

[leparadoxpolyglot]

The Day I Call Out Your Name Talk Live Chapter 6

Mochizuki Souta: Th-This is the start of HoneyPlay Talk Live!

Hayasaka Akari: The guests this time is me, Hayasaka Akari, and...

Mochizuki Souta: Mochizuki Souta!

Kumamaru: You two are perfectly in syncー！Will you guys be able to do a married couple comedy act?

Hayasaka Akari: That sounds fun!

Ｍochizuki Souta: (Married couple comedy act... Married couple...)

Mochizuki Souta: (Akarin and me, married couple...)

Kumamaru: Mochita’s having delusions again

Panmii: It’s easy to know what he’s thinking about...

Kumamaru: Hey, Mochita～ Even though you’re talking inside your head～

Kumamaru: At the vital moment, you’re unable to say the crucial thing right～

Mochizuki Souta: W-What thing...!?

Kumamaru: It’s this, this

Mochizuki Souta: Wahー!!

Hayasaka Akari: Mochizuki-kun’s sleeping face is cute, isn’t it!

Kumamaru: It sucks, even though you wrote the message 『I love you』 to Akarin...

Kumamaru: Why did you fall sleep before sending it

Mochizuki Souta: This is... When I was troubling myself whether I should send it or not, I started dozing off, and then...

Kumamaru: Mochita’s really Mochita, huh～ It’s because of that, it’s always and forever be Mochita

Mochizuki Souta: What does that mean!?

Hayasaka Akari: Even though you shouldn’t trouble yourself over messaging me

Mochizuki Souta: Eh...

Hayasaka Akari: Send it to me next time, ok?

Mochizuki Souta: ... Y-Yes...

Mochizuki Souta: (This is bad, she’s so cute that I’ll die. At this rate, I’ll really die)

Kumamaru: Well, somehow, it’s great that they seem to be on good terms

Panmii: If it’s alright, can Akari-chan and Mochita-kun, the both of you, wrap up this Talk Live for us?

Hayasaka Akari: Of course! Mochizuki-kun, ready...

Akari & Souta: Bye bye Honeyー！

Mochizuki Souta: (Aah, Akarin’s shout of encouragement is so cute...!!)

[cocochannel00]

No Sympathy

Harry gets injured and (Y/n) shows no sympathy.....

Kids: Connor (18), Becca (17), Grayson and Riley (15), Victoria (10), Casey (5)

You had been working as a nurse for over 18 years now. It was true that you had been on and off between kids and other events, but you had always been fully committed to the idea that you were going to work regardless of Harry’s ability to support your family financially. You didn't go to school for all of those years to get a degree and pursue your passion just to give it up after having kids and marrying the love of your life that also happened to be a millionaire. You admired stay at home moms and the hard work they do but you were a busy body and having too much free time made you slowly go insane so you decided to get back to work. 

Your kids were more or less grown up with the eldest, Connor, being 17 and your youngest, Casey, being 5. Harry had decided to stay home and watch the kids that Friday (the ones that were hanging around the house at least) as you covered one of your coworker's shift. It had been an overall quiet day except for the few patients that were being stubborn and a couple of fans that were visiting family that occasionally came in to ask for pictures. Since you and Harry had been married things had settled down fairly well as you not only lived in the outskirts of London but the locals also got tired of seeing you. Sometimes the tourist would come to see if they could catch a glimpse of Harry at your home but with the giant fence Harry had built there wasn’t much they could see.

You had just finished taking a chest x-ray of a little boy who had come in with what you thought was bronchitis when you heard some commotion coming from the ER wing. Doctors were chatting loudly as the nurses raced around looking for empty rooms. Why they were so worried about getting a private room you had yet to figure out but it didn't really matter to you.

As you dropped off the little boy and continued to walk through the hallway getting ready to check on your other patients your coworker Jasmine came running down the corridor screaming your name. Startled you looked up from your clipboard waiting for the news to come.

"(Y/n) you need to come down to room 203d" she said slightly out of breath.

"Why?" You asked as you carefully closed the clipboard and tucked your pencil behind your ear.

"Harry's been in a bit of an accident of sorts and he won't stop causing a commotion. They’ve just started him on a morphine drip to get him to calm down," she said quickly.

You sighed but abruptly began to jog down the hallway towards the elevator to go meet your wailing husband. It had been a while since Harry had injured himself to the point of needing the hospital. The last time you could remember was when Connor was learning to parallel park an accidentally ran over Harry's foot. He was in a boot for a couple of weeks but other than that he had been relatively ok.

The elevator sounded as you reached the second floor where Harry was. You could hear muffled groans and screams as you approached the room. Two doctors stood outside the room as you saw Becca, Casey, Vicca and Riley sitting in chairs across from Harry’s room. Casey was sobbing as Becca held her on her lap. Vicca and Riley were wincing at each groan from their father but didn't overt their eyes from Riley's phone.

Walking up to them quickly you greeted them all with a kiss on the forehead before picking Casey up from Becca's arms and cradled her to your chest. Harry's groans had subsided to whimpers for now and you took the opportunity to calm Casey down before sending her to the vending machine with Rebecca to buy some candy. You gave Riley and Victoria a dollar too a told them to follow them and wait outside once they get back. 

Once they were gone you greeted the doctors and walked in to see your husband on the hospital bed, one arm over his face the other twisted in an odd position. Amy, the oldest and meanest nurse you knew, had just finished cutting his shirt off his body in hopes of better assessing his injuries without causing more pain.

"Oh, would you stop your shouting your gonna scare the fish in the waiting room" Amy scolded as she walked around the room.

"Well, Amy I hope this gives them the opportunity to escape like in Finding Nemo" Harry retorted, slightly disoriented from the morphine that was starting to kick in.

You chuckled in the corner as you slowly approached his bed.

"I'm glad you're all for saving the fish, but I think they're just fine where they are. Thank you, Amy, I’ll save you the trouble and pop it back in my self. Send a tech to take his vitals in 10 minutes please " you said.

“Alright darling, don’t know how you married such a dramatic man” she laughed as she left the room.  

“I ask myself that every day” you replied with a grin.

Harry lifted his uninjured arm away from his face before grimacing at you sheepishly.

"Hey honey what brings you here," Harry asked as you glared at him. He groaned slightly as he attempted to lift his head, moving his shoulder in the process.

"Oh you know I could hear my husband’s screams two stories up and I thought maybe he was in a life-threatening situation like a bullet wound or something but no he's here yelling about a dislocated shoulder," you stated with an eyebrow raised as if challenging him to say something.

"(Y/n) I'm in immense pain ok! I don't need this" he replied as he looked at you with tears swarming his eyes.

"Ok, ok calm down a bit form me, baby, ok? let me pop it back in real quick. It's going to hurt." You stated

"Oh sweet Jesus, pray for me at the hands of this merciless woman" Harry mumbled as he stared up at the ceiling.

You need to find a way to distract him in order for it to pop in properly so you decided to question him about his day so you could assess the problem properly. 

"What on earth did you do today that you managed to pop this out?" You asked.

"Well you see it started with lunch, Casey wanted Mac and Cheese and we didn't have any upstairs and I was climbing the stairs and you see I was about to-" he started but before he could finish you quickly popped it back in causing Harry to scream at the top of his lungs. You hoped he wouldn’t faint as Harry had a tendency to do that when he was in severe pain (like when you broke his hand while giving birth to the twins).

Just as you predicted he began to tense up and hyperventilate. his heart monitor began to beep rapidly as you cursed at your husband. You quickly grabbed his face in your hands and forced him to open his eyes and look at you. 

"H deep breaths. Come on you can do it" you encouraged but Harry only became less cooperative.

You decided that this was going to go downhill quickly if you didn’t act now so you did the only thing you knew would get your husband to calm down. You smashed your lips to his and held his face in your hands hoping that the kiss would help his body calm down like it usually does. It felt as if you had held your breath for hours before you released him and rested your forehead against his. Harry's breath had returned to a somewhat normal rate as you sat on the edge of the bed staring at him. 

You could sense the doctors' gazes and awkwardly smiled at them. You were never one for showing affection in public and much less in the hospital. They both cautiously walked out and left you two alone.

"I hope you don't do that with all of your patients" Harry whispered as he smiled up at you. You pecked his lips quickly before laughing.

"No, just on the really hot grammy winners. I’m hoping to test it out on Stormzy soon" you replied smugly as you went to grab a sling from the cabinet.

"Haha very funny, I’m going to let the comment slide because I’m on a lot of drugs and I’m a bit drowsy. Oh, I also forgive you for crushing my hand with the twins. If this is just a fraction of the pain you felt during childbirth then I don't even want to know how you did it five times."

"Well someone always said they wanted to have a big family and could never keep it in his pants." You retorted as you wrapped the sling over his now swollen shoulder.

"So how did this happen again?" You asked as you walked to the door to let your kids in.

"Well long story short Riley left his skateboard in the kitchen and I tripped and fell on it while I was playing a game on my phone and well, now we're here." He replied.

You heard a knock on the door before it opened slowly. Casey came running in followed by Connor who you assume had come from football practice along with Gray as they both still had their padding. Casey jumped into your arms as the rest of your crazy family shuffled into the room with their various snacks and crowded around the bed Harry was currently sitting up in.

The rush of questions and shouts was enough for you to quickly let out a loud whistle which caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"Your father was stupid so I want zero sympathy for the man in the bed. He brought this upon himself and he knows it” you stated as Harry gave you a loopy grin and blew you a quick kiss causing Victora and Casey to giggle.

“Daddy is very sorry for being clumsy. I guess Mommy’s going to have to take extra good care of me when I get home” Harry replied with a winkle that made your older kids groan in discomfort.

You shook your head with a smile and got up from the edge of the bed, placing Casey on the bed next to him.

“I need to go check on my other, more important patients upstairs. I’ll have Amy bring you some water and find a couple of extra chairs. I get off at 7 so I’ll stop by with your discharge papers and we can all go home for dinner. See you soon babies.” you shouted as you blew them a kiss and walked out of Harry’s room. 

 The rest of that afternoon was spent with you stopping by his room in between patients and your kids laying around Harry's room messing around and watching tv. Nothing like a hospital visit to bring everyone together. 

Masterlist 

[basicjetsetter]

At the End of the Day (I)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: Lil Fluff, Lotta Angst, Language, Violence – an extremely violent scene, might not be suitable for some, don’t continue to read if it triggers you.

Summary: All Bucky wants to do is protect his family and keep them happy, keep them safe. But no matter what he does, danger hunts him down and makes his life a living hell. It has a name. Baron Zemo.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bucky. I hope y’all love it as much as I do. If you want, you can listen to Sometimes by H.E.R. The fic isn’t inspired by the song, but I felt like it fit. (Gif not mine, all credit to its creator). Also I apologize if the translation is wrong. Happy Reading!!

Part II

Bucky had it all planned out.

Race out of the debriefing room as soon as the meeting adjourned, jump into his car, still grimy and clothed in tactical gear, and gun it to his house to get there in time for dinner. For the most part, the plan was successful. He left the Compound at 3:45 p.m. and made it to the driveway by 5:50. The clock on the dash reads 6:18. He can’t get out of the car. Every time he attempts to unfasten the seatbelt his muscles lock up until he caves under the exhaustion.

Missions never take this much of a toll on his body, but to be fair, he did hurl himself out of a ten-story building like an idiot. He remembered how the world outside swayed, remembered hearing Sam shout into the coms, telling him that everyone was safely out and that he needed to get out too. There was nothing else they could do.

The floor underneath his boots shuddered. Stairs were out of the question and there was no time for Sam to figure out which side of the building Bucky was in. So he jumped.

By now he’d thought he’d be used to imminent death. After all, it came with the job. And yet this knowledge didn’t keep him from squeezing his eyes shut and holding his breath until his lungs cried for air. It didn’t help his hammering heart or the tight clench of his gut as he plummeted to meet the concrete.

Everything had gone a bit fuzzy afterward. A lot of people rushed in to see if he was still alive. He thought he saw a familiar face, but chalked it up to be a trick of the light. Sam and Wanda hovered over him, repeatedly asking if he could hear them and if he was alright. Nothing hurt too bad. He somehow managed to rotate enough so his left side took most of the impact. His head hurt like a son of a bitch, though, and his mouth tasted metallic and felt like sandpaper.

Medics pawed at him the entire way back to the Compound, checking his vitals, shining bright lights in his eyes to rule out concussions. One of them suggested he be left in their care for the night.

What he needed was a goddamn aspirin and a nap. If he let them hook him up to all those machines, he’d be stuck in there for… Christ knows how long. Hours? Days?

Bucky just wanted to go home to his girls.

Instead of listening to the docs advising him to do such and such, he thought of you seeing him like this, bruised from head to toe, covered in rubble and blood. You’d seen him look worse, but every time he came in with even a cut you worried at your bottom lip and a small crease of a frown darkened your features. But he knew you’d be relieved to have him at home in one piece.

So he disregarded their caution. Within 48 hours he’d be right as rain. The perks of being a souped-up solider, he thought ruefully.

Only one good came out of this mess. Bumblebee is going to go through the roof with excitement. He can hear her screams now, “No way! That’s so cool! Mama! Mama! Did ya hear that? Daddy jumped out of a building!”

6:32 p.m.

He wouldn’t be able to tell her anything if he couldn’t haul his ass out of the car.

Bucky groaned as he grabbed hold of his canvas bag and slung it over his shoulder, then kicked the door of the Jeep open. He gingerly climbed out, whimpering with each movement. He shouldn’t have sat in there for so long. All his muscles are stiff as a starched shirt. He leaned against the car door to close it.

As Bucky limped up to the front door he heard the sounds of Bumblebee and Tater, their golden retriever puppy, running around and you laughing as Bumblebee huffed in frustration, “Give me back my shoe, Tater!”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth curved into a large grin despite his crushing headache. He put his key in the lock and frowned when it didn’t click. Already open. Sighing deeply, he twisted the knob and pushed open the door. Scampering feet ran out of the kitchen into the foyer. “Daddy’s home!”

Sure enough, Bumblebee, and Tater right on her heels, dashed into him just as he dropped his canvas bag on the ground and jumped into his open arms. He grunted in the effort to keep her up in his aching arms, staggering back a couple of steps. “Jeez kid, you’re getting big on me.”

She pouted. Miniature versions of your eyes examined his face. “Are you okay, Daddy? Why’re you all purple and blue?” Her smooth, chubby hand brushed away a stray hair from his face. “Does that hurt?”

Had he winced?

In front of him, he heard a sharp inhale. Shit. Reluctantly, Bucky lifted his eyes and met yours. He’s probably not his usual sight for sore eyes. In fact, he’d be willing to bet that he’s the cause of those sore eyes.

You assessed him from head to toe, no doubt noting how he shifted your daughter to his right side to protect his left.

“James.” Your tone is viperous.

He’s in for it. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded.

“Buchanan.”

Bucky hid his face behind his daughter’s shoulder. “Doll, I-“

“Barnes. What the hell happened to you?” You didn’t wait for an answer, striding over and taking your daughter out of his arms and setting her down. “Honey, why don’t you go finish up your dinner. Daddy and I need to talk about grown-up stuff.”

The girl looked up at her dad with a defiant set of her mouth. “I want Daddy to come and eat with me.” She is her mother’s child, but the way she held herself reminded Bucky so much of himself before he became a pawn to Hydra. Cock-sure and confident, ready to hold his own. That’s his little Bumblebee.

You sighed. “He’ll be there in a minute, baby. I promise. Go on,” you smiled sweetly. He knows you don’t want her to worry, but you aren’t doing a good job at neutralizing your frantic expression.

Your daughter still didn’t budge.

“Celeste, please. For Mama?” you supplicated, leaning down to meet her stricken gaze.

“Is Daddy in trouble?” she asked, her voice now small and quavering. It broke his bruised heart.

Bucky’s knees buckled as he kneeled and he did his best to minimize the sound of his groans. “No, no, Bumblebee, I’m fine. Mama just wants to take care of me, that’s all. As soon as we’re done, I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

He nodded and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Super promise.”

She perked up as if her mood hadn’t soured at all and skittered off into the kitchen, Tater trailing after her with a tiny shoe in his mouth. Bucky waited until he heard her chair scrape across the floor then peered up at you. “Might need some help getting up here, Doll.”

Despite your apparent anger, you giggled lightly and held out your hand. Bucky grabbed it with his right and pulled himself up, but leaned against the wall adjacent to the front door for support, panting.

“God Bucky, you look awful,” you whispered, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Did you get hit by a train?”

“Sort of.” At your stern frown, he confessed. “I-uh… I may have jumped out a ten-story building and the ground might’ve broken my fall. It’s nothing,” he rushed. “I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

He sucked in a breath as you softly pressed a hand to his left side. You set to work on undoing the harnesses and buckles of his vest. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Lie to me.” Bucky fixed his mouth to deny it, but you continued. “We’ve been married for six years… Don’t you think I know you like the back of my hand by now? You aren’t fine. It’s not nothing. You’re human, no matter what you or anyone else thinks. You can still feel pain.” Your voice dropped to a murmur.

At first, he thought your silence resulted from the weight of your words because now he certainly felt like he got hit by a train. But he followed your eyes. You’d successfully ridden him of the top half of his tactical gear, laying everything in a heap at the bottom of your feet. Angry welts, cuts, and bruises smattered down his chest in an intricate pattern, ranging from red to purple to blue. The puffed scar connecting his cybernetic arm to his shoulder paled in comparison.

Hearing you sniffle brought him back to the present.

“Jesus Bucky.” Tears shone in your eyes, pooled, then fell down your cheeks.

This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to come home after being away for three weeks and immediately upset his girls. The sheer sadness laced in your words hurt him more than his wounds. And that sadness wouldn’t just go away in a few hours.

Bucky pulled you into his arms, welcoming your soft body against his like a heat compress. You smelled like roasted garlic chicken with a hint of buttery, herbed mashed potatoes, and lavender soap. His stomach growled.

“Remember that time we took Bumblebee to Wollman Rink and she accidentally fell on her head and got that nasty bruise?” Bucky asked, resting his head on your shoulder and pressing small kisses to the side of your neck. A small sigh of contentment sifted into the air.

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “Sam, Wanda, Peter, and Rhodey all bought her big teddy bears and ice cream to cheer her up. My poor baby. I never wanted to hear her cry like that again.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, recalling how every rational thought fled his mind as he rushed to his daughter, cradling her small body to his chest. They took her to the Med-Bay and she stayed there for a week and he never once left her side.

“We didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Sam all but locked us out of her room and told us to take a shower and change into some fresh clothes.”

You cocked your head back and gazed confusedly into his pale blue eyes. “You going somewhere with this?”

“We can’t…” he paused, clearing his throat. “There is a healthy amount of worry we’re allowed to give before it becomes too much, you know. We’ll go mad wanting to keep each other out of harm’s way and that’s exactly what you’re doing. This is my job, Doll. I get hurt. We just gotta accept that.”

You pulled out of his arms and crossed yours. You didn’t damper the bitterness as you spoke. “You’re such a hypocrite. What would you do if I came home covered in bruises and cuts every night? Huh? Shrug it off? That’s what you’re telling me to do?”

Bucky didn’t know if he should answer, so he kept his mouth shut, down-casting his eyes. That’s not quite what he meant, but it’s in the same vein.

“Alright. Fine.” You turned away from him and walked out of the room, into the kitchen.

That didn’t turn out how he wanted it to, but Bucky didn’t have the energy to go after you. You need time to simmer. 

He picked up his stuff and dropped it off on the foot of his office, quickly showered and changed into a pair of gray sweatpants. His muscles appreciated the warm water and comfortable clothes.

The lights in the family room and dining room were shut off by the time he finished, leaving only the kitchen to be illuminated in a faint glow. A stack of dishes sat in the sink and the leftovers were contained on the counter, ready to be put away in the fridge. On the other side of the house, down the hall, the light in the second guest bathroom gleamed. He heard the splash of water and giggles. Bath time.

Despite his cloudy mood, he smiled. Bucky missed this.

After he scarfed down some microwaved chicken, mashed potatoes and carrots, he got to work on the dishes.

The act always soothed him. When every second of his day had to be calculated down to the last minutiae, taking the time to listen to his thoughts became a welcome gift. But all his thoughts led back to you. Your warm body in his arms, your head propped against his chest as you made little sighs of happiness. He understands why you’re upset, and no, he wouldn’t like it if you came home hurt every night as he does. Hell, he wouldn’t be able to stand to be away from you as long as he does now.

You’re concerned for him. The least he can do is empathize and lessen your fears. Him not saying anything translated to you as, “Yes, I’d prefer if you didn’t care about me.”

“I’m such an asshole,” he muttered, tossing the dish towel onto the counter after drying the last plate.

He heard you shuffle behind him and he turned in time to see you drop an armful of blankets and pillows onto the couch.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, acknowledging the clean dishes. “If you need some more pillows there’s a couple in the hall closet.”

Before you could lope off into your bedroom, Bucky called out, “I’m sorry.”

That stopped you short.

He chanced a step forward, then another, until you put a hand out to confirm the distance. “About earlier… You were right.” Bucky itched to hold you, but instead, he settled for pulling his hands through his damp hair. “If the situation was reversed, I know I wouldn’t be able to handle it and the fact that you’ve been doing it every day since we got together… I’m gonna be more careful. I promise. I can-I can request some time off. We can—”

You interrupted him, so quiet even his enhanced hearing strained to pick up the noise. “Do you know why I handled it, Buck? Why I never complained?”

He shook his head, again finding his tongue too tied up to answer.

“Because it’s your job. You’re an Avenger. You’re this awesome superhero who saves hundreds of people every day. How can I complain?” Your words choked off with emotion, yet somehow you managed to push past it, sounding rugged and defeated. “H-How can I be so selfish to want to keep the Winter Soldier safe? The craziest thing is, I never see him when I look at you. The soldier, I mean.” You bowed your head and swiped away ceaseless tears. When you brought your eyes back up to meet his, both of your eyes glistened. “I see you, Bucky. And you’re someone I can’t lose.”

Bucky didn’t react fast enough. As soon as he took that last step forward to stand right in front of you, you turned and dashed into your bedroom, shutting the door. He didn’t hear the lock turn.

He walked over to the door and placed his hand on the knob. Pressed his ear against the wood. You sounded close. Crying with your hands clamped over your mouth to muffle the sobs. Nothing would be able to stop him from going in the room to comfort you, locked door or not. But if you wanted him to be near you, you’d have left the door open.

How had this whole day turned to shit?

He went into his daughter’s room. You being upset with him and him landing himself a night on the couch were huge setbacks, but he’d be damned if he didn’t tell Bumblebee a good-night story. She loves those. He loves telling them to her.

They have their ritual every time he’s home. She’s usually sitting up against the headboard, wearing a toothy grin. He’d come in and she’d scoot over to the side to let him lie on the bed with her. Some nights they’d doze off together.

When he cracked open the door and peered in, her back faced him and the blue covers were drawn up over her head.

Bucky took a seat on the corner of her twin mattress, feeling how it slightly bowed under his weight. Tater is curled up on the other corner. His head rested on his paws and his eyes dolefully glanced up at Bucky.

“Bumblebee,” he whispered, stroking her head. “Hey, kid. You sleep?”

Silence. He heard her breath quicken. She’s still awake.

“You mad at me too?”

He held his breath. Utter silence.

“Guess I can’t blame ya.” Exhaling slowly, Bucky leaned in and kissed the back of her head. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I love you.” Then he got up, turned on her rainbow nightlight, and delicately closed the door.

The family room felt too small. Too still. Too vacant. Trying to sleep on a couch, especially this one, in particular, had to be the worst sleeping arrangement he’s ever experienced, on par with sleeping on dirt floors and metal cots.

A previously recorded football game is playing noiselessly on the TV. All the lights are turned off. The exhaustion Bucky warded off earlier returned in full force. He blanked out by the time the game reached the second quarter.

“Good evening, Sergeant Barnes,” a distant voice lulled. It’s familiar. Accented. It stood nearby, standing right above him. “Or would you prefer Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s eyes opened as slow as a stream of molasses. His head swam and his body felt out of place. He didn’t know what was up or down, left or right. That wasn’t what shocked him, though. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t even twitch his pinky. 

Isn’t he supposed to be in jail? How did he find me? How the hell did he even get in here?

As far as Bucky can tell he’s still in his family room, laying on the couch. The covers around his body have been thrown back. A needle is sticking out of his right arm, connected to a small drip bag.

“Whahh—” he slurred. It took him a while to pull his eyes away from the needle and up to the man looming above him with a gaunt smirk.

God no.

“Oh good, you remember me.” Zemo pulled up a chair and sat right by Bucky’s head. He’s wearing a plain black sweater and dark jeans. “Don’t worry, it isn’t poison. Simply a temporary sedative. The effects will wear off as soon as I take out the needle.”

Bucky tried to scream with everything inside of him. He called your name over and over again, but nothing came out higher than a whimper. Even if you heard him, he doubted if you’d be able to alert the others in time. What if he already got to you? Or Bumblebee? A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

Zemo watched in amusement at the emotions flitting over Bucky’s face. “You’re a hard man to find, but easy enough to keep track of. Your little band of do-gooders always makes the front page. But you know what those covers don’t show? Hm?”

He held up a picture frame level to Bucky’s eyesight. It was you, him, and Bumblebee, all going down a slide together. Sam took the picture a year ago. You were at the top, holding up your then three-year-old daughter, and Bucky at the bottom. Bumblebee gripped his long strands of hair with a vicious glee in her eyes. Your eyes are closed from laughing and Bucky is looking up at his wife and daughter with a rapt smile.

���You have a lovely family, Sergeant Barnes. Reminds me of mine.” He pulled out a small folded copy of a photograph, creased due to the course of time.

Bucky saw a family, but he didn’t take them in. He didn’t want to care.

Zemo paid him no attention as he stared fondly at the picture, taking them in for himself and then comparing it to Bucky’s family.

“You see, I went about this all wrong the first time around. Taking on the Avengers as a whole resulted from my hubris, if you will. I saw the potential to exploit a weakness and work around the outside. Some might say I instigated the War. No,” he smiled and took the needle out of Bucky’s arm. “I merely set them on the right path.

“Captain Rogers was indeed quite fond of you, but I knew Stark wouldn’t be so disillusioned to your heinous crimes. Though, I admit I may have given him too much credit. A tin man set up to fight against two of the world’s best super soldiers? A failed endeavor, yes, but necessary. It brought me reason. Why influence a whole and almost succeed when I can influence one at a time. Leaves less room for marginal error, don’t you agree, Soldat?”

As the sedative ebbed away, feeling gradually flooded into his fingertips and toes. In a couple of minutes, he’d be free from the immobilizing numbness. He prepared his body to spring.

Zemo pulled one more object from behind his back. A red book. An old, red book with a black star branded on the front.

An icy gust of recognition shot shards of panic through his system. It couldn’t be. He’s fixed. Shuri fixed me.

The man went on in relish. “Of course you recognize your creator’s book. A handy thing, this is. Hydra is many things, Sergeant Barnes. Many things. But one thing they remain to be is prepared.” He thumbed through the pages, stopping to the last several pages. “Two steps ahead and all that stuff.”

Bucky forced out the word, “Why?”’

“Why?” Zemo mocked. “Why is it that an abomination, a murderous machine such as yourself, can have this type of happiness at the end of the day? Doesn’t it strike you as unfair, Sergeant Barnes? Why should you have this beautiful family while mine doesn’t even get an ounce of recognition? No front covers. Not even an obituary. I’m simply taking matters into my own hands and dealing justice where justice is due. And Sergeant Barnes, you have over 70 years of undue justice stacked against you.”

Tears stung Bucky’s eyes. Every inch of his body trembled. His teeth painfully chattered. He felt his lips move. “No, please. No, no, no, no, no. God no. I can’t. I can’t.” Not to them.

“This is the way it has to be, Sergeant Barnes. I truly am sorry.” Zemo rose from the chair, walking around to the back of the couch. “Возвращение (Return).”

Bucky’s whole body drowned in a cold sweat and the blood drained from his face. Those bastards! Those goddamn fucking bastards! He pushed off the couch on jelly legs, falling in a heap of blankets.

“сброс настроек (Reset).”

Anger propelled him to his feet and he staggered drunkenly around the couch, standing arms-length away from Zemo. Only a few feet stood between him and the front door.

“не помнить. Добро пожаловать назад зимний солдат (Forget. Welcome back Winter Soldier).”

Zemo closely watched the man standing rigid in his sweats, chest heaving. Bits of his hair is in his face and one blanket is caught around his ankle. He heard the harsh grinding of his metal palm curling into a fist. The asset’s face smoothed over into a mask of stiff submission and indifference.

“Ready to comply.” Mechanical, detached, lethal.

“Terminate everyone inside the house.” With those final words, Zemo withdrew from the house, exiting out of the front door. It slammed shut.

You weren’t really asleep.

Even trying felt like a waste of time. The king-size bed swallowed you with its vast amount of unfilled space. Sleeping in an empty bed was hard enough not knowing where Bucky was. Turns out it’s even worse when he was just outside the door and down the hall, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

You knew that he knew the door wasn’t locked.

Relief and an inkling of regret settled your nerves thirty minutes after you closed the door. He wasn’t going to come in. He was giving you space.

Is it wrong to want Bucky laying here with you, even though your heart wasn’t ready to face him? Maybe you’re being ridiculous. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s an amazing father to Bumblebee. He’s an amazing husband. Work doesn’t consume him and if it does start to become an obstacle in your marriage, Bucky’s quick to rectify the problem.

You inched over onto his side of the bed and buried your face in his pillow, taking in his heady scent. Were you too hard on him? Were you irrational? Bucky can’t help who he is. 

He’s your daughter’s hero.

He’s yours too.

At 2 a.m. you fretfully turned back over to your side of the bed when you heard one of the doors slam shut, ringing out like a shotgun

You’re on your feet and rushing out without a single thought of caution to stall you. Bucky is out there. So is your Bumblebee.

Bucky stood in the middle of the room. Blankets are strewn around and one of them wrapped around his ankle.

“Are you alright? What happened?”

His head swiveled up at the sound of your voice. Empty, calculating eyes snapped to yours.

Something’s wrong.

You tripped back a little, finding your balance against a wall. Fear mounted in your chest. “B-Bucky?”

No reaction.

“Buc—"

In an instant he advanced towards you, stepping out of the blanket as if it was never there. A scream caught halfway in your throat as metal coiled around your neck. Squeezing. Squeezing. Squeezing.

Black pinpoints and stars shaded your vision. He watched you splutter. You’re sure he didn’t feel your nails clawing at his shoulder.

None of the things Bucky taught you about self-defense came to mind. You couldn’t think, but you had to act. Instinctively, you kicked out. One kick landed dead in his hard abdomen. It felt like kicking at a boulder. He coughed out a surprised grunt and his grip slackened. You aimed another kick at his crotch, dead on the center, and the hand around your neck loosened enough to send you scrambling on the ground.

Your lungs scorched. Your palms and knees ached from landing unceremoniously on the hardwood flooring. By the time you began to crawl away, it was too late.

Bucky regained himself quicker than humanly possible. His hot flesh hand snagged your ankle in a bruising grip and yanked you back.

You cried out, hoarsely. “Bucky stop!”

He paid you no attention. Almost didn’t seem to hear you at all.

His hair fell into his face, darkening the mask that slid into place. He barely struggled to pull you underneath him. Strong, thick thighs caged your lower half to halt your flailing legs as he straddled your hips.

The pressure instantly returned. Both hands crushed your windpipe. His fingers dug into your skin. The wedding band fitted on his flesh hand bit deeper than the metal of his cybernetic hand.

In a last-ditch effort, your fingernails impaled his forearm, breaking the skin. Five half-moon crescents beaded up and trickled in lines of scarlet red, slicking along his arm and on your fingertips.

He never flinched.

Tears streamed out the corners of your eyes.

Darkness bled into your vision, starting at the corners and then filling in the rest as the seconds ticked by. Each beat of your heart painfully thudded in your chest, each thump clunking slower and slower. More spaced out.

Numbness spread until you resigned to it.

Your lids slid shut. You didn’t want those eyes to be the last thing you saw. Those arctic blue, barren eyes. Not Bucky’s eyes.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

“Stop it, Daddy! Stop it! Get off of Mama!”

You wrenched your eyes back open in time to see your daughter smacking her father over the head with her rainbow nightlight.

Hope and absolute dread wracked your body as Bucky unclasped his hands and turned to look at the small girl standing her ground behind him, nightlight half-raised in the air for another strike. Tater is in front of her, barking viciously at Bucky.

“Run!” The word tore itself out your mangled throat. “Run!”

Bumblebee watched in horror as Bucky rose to a towering height, and she let out an earsplitting scream as he ripped the light away from her, then gripped the front of her Avengers pajama shirt, lifting her into the air.

“BUCKY NO!”

Past the rush of oxygen flowing back into your lungs and the thunderous beats of your heart, you heard terrified crying.

Your baby.

Wailing. Scared.

For a second, you’re back at the skating rink and your eyes land on Bucky, sitting on the ice, cradling her to his chest. Nothing else mattered.

Bucky frowned.

The first sign of emotion flickered over his features since you came out of the room.

Confusion.

You saw his eyes drop to the ground, saw him shake his head. Then he looked at the girl in his hold.

Recognition.

Grief.

Fear.

Horror.

Agony.

Bucky trembled, slowly and shakily lowering Bumblebee back onto her feet. She skittered around him, putting as much space between them as possible, and stumbled to your side. Tater is still growling at him.

You watched his eyes reluctantly settle on your body, watched his face crumble.

Bucky choked out. “I’m sorry.” He took a step back. He looked at his arms and saw the indents of your fingernails. Saw the imprint of his hands around your neck. Took another step back. “I…I…I didn’t—”

He turned and ran out of the house.

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCILLE BALL: NUMBER 1, BUT STILL TRYING HARDER

July 29, 1974

Editor's note: following is the final part in a series of eight profiles on America's self-made women.

By PHYLLIS BATTELLE 

“Success - whaddya you mean by that?” rasps Lucille Ball in that rowdy voice which strikes adoration into the hearts of Lucy lovers. 

“If your concept of success is happiness in what you’re doing, in being a mother, in being a wife, then I’m a success. I’m also damned lucky that I have my health and guts life takes guts and that my work paid off. 

“But if you’re talking of the kind of success that’s about dollars and cents, forget it. The real wealth is not out here in Hollywood. Its all highly taxable, honey, and who cares? Money has never been important to me. I hate looking at bills. I hate math. I’m a typical Leo: money-blind. What I’m saying is that not one of us out here has more than $25,000 to buy a stamp with! 

“Pennies, Pickles Or Something" 

So much for Lucy’s petty cash. Aside from stamp funds, she has assets: a million-dollar home in Beverly Hills, another in Palm Springs and an apartment near Aspen, Colo.; investments resulting from the sale of her Desilu Studios to Gulf & Western for $17 million in stock, her own Lucille Ball Productions Company: earnings from 23 years of “Lucy” series (now running in 77 countries); a percentage of “Mame”, the new super-movie musical; not to mention the proceeds from diligent work dating back to 1913, when she was two years old in Jamestown, N.Y., and spoke little pieces at the grocery store for pennies or pickles or something. 

At 62, Lucille Ball Arnaz Morton is No. 1 - but still trying harder. (1) Husband Gary Morton says proudly, “Her work is an obsession and a labor of love, and as long as the public likes her shell never retire.” 

Lucy recently did terminate her “Here’s Lucy” series, at least temporarily, but will hold her "business family” (about 500 staff and cast members) together while she produces TV specials. Now, she leers at her orange-haired image in a dressing room minor and says, “I’ve loved to work, always. I discovered very early that the way to please people was to make them laugh at me. So I appeared at church, school, Girl Scouts, anything and anywhere. Made the tickets, sold them, starred in my own shows. That seems backward now. That’s gone out. The business has been hanging itself, and the kids with it, by making stars and superstars out of strange, young people who don’t know their craft."

Drums And Records 

An example, Lucy says, could be found in her own son, Desi Arnaz, Jr. "When he was nine, he was very good on drums. Used to beat them while the records played as background. He got a group together with a couple of kids at school Dino Martin and Billy Hinsche and they called themselves Dino, Desi and Billy. Then Sinatra heard them, and they made a record and had a hit. 

"A magazine took off on them, and they went on tour. Poor waifs - thank God, they didn’t have any more hits. But it left its mark, this being made a star when you don’t know anything at all, and after two years it was damn hard for Desi and the other kids to get back to doing their homework." 

That sort of "big payoff for mediocrity" was not what happened in Lucy's own youth. Her family in Jamestown was "lower than middle-class, hard working, had a truck garden and was never hungry." 

Most Influential Man 

Lucy's father, a mining engineer, died when she was four. (2) Her stepfather was the most influential man in her early life. To encourage young Lucy’s "flair," he took her to see Julius Tannen, a monologist. (3) “When I saw Tannen sitting on a empty stage in a dark theater, making people cry and then laugh - oh, it was magic, pure magic," she recalls. 

At 16, she went to New York, where her stepfather entered her in drama school. "I found out how shy, awkward and unable to cope I was. The teachers put me down, said I had no talent whatever.” Lucy's blue eyes flash. “New York frightened me. Still does. You have to take me out of the hotel on a leash to get me on the streets of New York today. Being tall, lithe and well-sculptured, Lucy took up modeling. But then, almost tragically, she contracted pneumonia with complications and was bedridden for eight months. It took three years of convalescence before she regained complete control of her legs. At 21, through an agent, she was hired to become a Sam Goldwyn showgirl in Hollywood for an Eddie Cantor film, “Roman Scandals”. 

Would Take Any Part 

“Out here in California, I knew as much as the rest of the girls in movies, which was nothing,” she says. “The difference was I would take any part. I never sought to be a star. I didn't mind being typed. I wanted to be typed. One of the greatest thrills of my life was hearing a director say he wanted a Lucille Ball-type for a picture. 

Of course, later it was different, she growls, "when they said they wanted a young Lucille Ball-type. 

In 10 years as willing “Queen of the B movies," Miss Ball was out of work only two days. 

In 1939 she met a young Cuban bandleader named Desi Arnaz, and they married in 1940. From the beginning, their marriage was a difficult venture: Desi toured the United States with his group, while she stayed in Hollywood making movies. Then Desi served in the army, while Lucy starred not in films but a popular radio series, “My Favorite Husband”. They split. They tried again. 

Finally, in 1951, in a desperate move to keep their marriage alive. Lucy sold CBS on what, at the time, seemed an unlikely television series: "I Love Lucy.” 

It was the beginning of greater professional success, but not the end of domestic upheaval. Their first child, Lucie, was born when her mother was 40; Desi was born when Lucy was 43. But the much-adored children were not to save the marriage, and in 1960 - tearfully, knowing her diligent efforts had failed - Lucille divorced Desi, citing his outbursts of temperament, instability and violence. Desi did not contest the action. 

In parting, they split a $20-million television empire. They are better friends today - at arms length, with new matrimonial ties - than they were during the 19 years of marriage. 

Today, Lucy’s sense of well-being with one-time comedian Gary Morton (who is executive vice president of her production company), is obvious and delightful.

"It s really a super life, grins Gary, living with a thoroughbred." Says Lucy, I guess its very possible to live without a good man. Possible, but no fun. To bake a cake is no fun without a man. It’s no fun to make a garden without a man to watch it grow." 

Lucy also is, and always has been, a proud and over-protective mother. Is that bad? I don’t think so." 

A Share Of Problems 

But despite Lucy’s mother-hen" closeness to Lucie, now 22, and young Desi. 20, the Arnaz offspring have strayed into their share of problems. Desi and actress Patty Duke had a much-publicized affair when he was 16 (and Patty was 28); later he became engaged to Liza Minnelli, but that broke up last summer. Lucie was married in 1971 to actor Philip Vandervort, but the couple quickly split. 

Lucy is convinced her daughter, who is featured on “Here’s Lucy," will be a star. “Lucie," her mom says, “has all the material of stardom - ability, inclination, vitality, intelligence, beauty, good sense and good taste. 

“Wholesome Movies Alive" 

In fact, one reason that Lucille Ball finally agreed after three years of rejecting the role to star in the movie “Mame” is that Gary convinced me it could keep wholesome movies alive for talented people like my daughter. 

"This industry," Lucy shudders, “has turned into a sex-and-violence factory. The whole thing’s ugly, with thousands of ugly people ripping-off their clothes and ripping-off the public. If that’s what makes good box office, and if box office is what they mean by success, then success is out of kilter!”

#   #   #

FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) The advertising slogan “We Try Harder” was developed in 1962 for Hertz Rent-A-Car company, who was perpetually number two in popularity to Hertz Rent-A-Car. Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett satirized the campaign on “The Carol Burnett Show” on October 2, 1967. 

(2) Henry Ball, Lucille’s father, was actually a telephone lineman, not a mining engineer. One story had Hunt as the executive of a mining company in Montana. his death certificate listed him as a ‘laborer’. 

(3) Julius Tannen (1880-1965) was a monologist in vaudeville. He was known to stage audiences for his witty improvisations and creative word games. He had a successful career as a character actor in films, appearing in over 50 films in his 25-year film career. He is probably best known to film audiences from the musical Singin' in the Rain, in which he appears as the man demonstrating a talking picture early in the film.