#and the fact that you didn’t get to eat until your dog was discharged

[innocent-until-proven-geeky]

Reminder to my fellow autists—and really anyone—that if you have a meltdown or shutdown or something that seems inconsequential, there were probably a hundred and one other things that led up to it.

You don’t have to and probably shouldn’t examine those things in the MIDDLE of the meltdown or shutdown. That will be difficult to do and might make things worse, depending on how your brain works. But when you’ve started to calm down a bit and you’re beating yourself up for melting down over something “so little,” remember the stuff that came before it.

[nejiraez]

one day, you all will know true peace when i stop making bakugou the default character to the maladaptive daydreamz i write. but until then...

get well soon! | bakugou katsuki

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader // 2.9k words

genre: fluff — contains spoilers from mha chap 298; includes kissing, thats it!

summary: free bakugou until it’s backwards!!! but until then, he appreciates having your presence around as he takes the time to properly heal.

the way i haven’t written a full fic since oct </3... but i needed to post this b4 aquarius season ends tmrrw...

He’s never had to stay this long in a hospital before.

Sure, there were minor check-ins that he had to tend to at the clinics every so often from the injuries he’s received, but he never had to stay more than a few days at hand.

“Only a couple more days until you’re discharged…” 

The sound of your voice prompts Bakugou to shift his gaze away from the TV screen stationed at the corner of his hospital room to focus his sights on you. Deep shades of scarlet watch as your hands absent-mindedly pick at the white petals from the bouquet that his mother had gifted him. 

Carnations, a ‘get well soon’ present that would prompt him back to wellness. They were becoming quite the eyesore. The stems were beginning to droop and dull in colour with how poorly maintained they had been kept for the past week.

“That must be exciting for you, yeah?”

Bakugou shrugs, but he’s quick to regret his slight movement due to the small wince that follows shortly after. Despite being placed in the hospital for a little over a week now, a great mass of Bakugou’s body still aches. “It’s whatever,” he mutters, dismissing the subject matter altogether, “I’ll be back to doing the same crap over again anyway, so it’s nothing special.”

Closing your eyes, you sink yourself further down into your seat near his bedside and sigh. The windows a few steps away from Bakugou’s left allow for the sun’s late afternoon glow to beam into his room. You’ve sat here with him for the past two hours and a half from when you first came.

“You’re so pessimistic, you know that?” You announce, resting your arms against the bed’s side rails, which promote access to you, propping your cheek onto your hands with your face turned towards Bakugou. “Always thinking so negatively.”

Choosing not to respond to your comment, Bakugou soaks in the brief silence shared within the confines of his room.

For the past few days, other than his immediate family, who was relentless about visiting him as much as they could- save for the days where work would pull them away- your regular visits were something that became apart of Bakugou’s daily schedule. 

Wake up. Eat whatever shitty food the kitchen staff has to offer for the day. Wait through numerous check-ups and appointments, while the nurses examine the vital state of his internal organs. And then, he has a bit of free time to himself before either you or any visitor arrives at Hosu General hospital.

“I’m just telling it as it is.”

Bakugou would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to your visits.

Like Pavlov’s law, he’s grown conditioned upon awaiting your arrival every day, always finding himself sitting a bit straighter in his bed whenever 15:00 rolled around on the clock. 

Growing bored with not much to do, Bakugou allows his eyes to wander the room, skimming each object with little to no thought before his eyes would drop down on your form once again. With your eyes still closed, Bakugou takes this chance to absorb your presence before him fully. Watching the tiny twitches that would happen every now and then on your face out of curiosity.

The amount of fear and dread that washed over you the moment you caught news of how Bakugou jumped in front of his childhood friend, Midoriya, to spare his life, in turn, putting his own on the line had you aching to the bone. 

You were scared and couldn’t bring yourself to the thought that you would lose him, and there wasn’t much that you could do about it since you and a few others were far from where the main fight had gone down.

Regardless of whether Bakugou had a chance of waking up or not, you were still adamant about swinging by his hospital room as often as you could until the second day where he miraculously woke up. And caused an uproar as he did. He had to be restrained as he tried to check up on the others’ wellbeing as he did so.

To be placed inside of a room alone, with no one around to tell him what the fuck exactly went on, Bakugou was on edge. Hands down, that day would take the cake as being the most overwhelming experience he has had at his time here. Where were was Deku, for starters? And where did you disappear off to? 

He really didn’t deserve you.

Pulling himself out from his thoughts, Bakugou breaks the silence to pester you with something. “Pass me that, will you?” He asks, nodding his head over to the sole snack that sat on his bedside table. Something that one of the nurses left behind for him after his physical exam.

You blink, snapping yourself back to reality. You crane your next behind you, following his line of sight to the bright Tarami packaging. “Sure,” you grab and toss it for him to take.

Bakugou grunts out his gratitude. “Getting to eat normal food again will be the pinnacle of my life,” he states, rolling the Tarami around in his hands. “They feed us nothing but literal dog water and bland shit. “

“I’m sure the staff is trying their best. You aren’t the only mouth they feed in here after all,” you say, referencing the fact that your other peers, such as Todoroki and Midoriya to name a few, found themselves in the same situation as he did. 

“I fuckin’ guess,” he mutters in response, his focus shifted onto trying to rip open his snack but to no avail.

“Want me to - ”

“Don’t need it,” he says, cutting your sentence short. His bandaged thumbs are still fumbling to get a good grip on the plastic seal that stood in the way between him and his fruit cup. “This stupid gauze is just - ” The cup tumbles out from his hold and rolls out onto his lap. “Dammit!”

You smile at the display in front of you. Bakugou glaring at the container as if it had crossed him wrong was quite the sight to see. The fact that he has shown no signs of making another attempt at opening the seal gave you an indication that it was your turn to step in.

What a dork.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you say, shaking your head at his stubborn nature. You take the fruit cup off his lap and, without issue tear the seal off before passing it back to him. He was too headstrong for his own good sometimes. “Nobody’s gonna bite you if you ask for help once in a while.”

Bakugou scoffs - losing steam now, he tips the rim of the cup against his lips, knocking back as many diced peaches he could fit inside of his mouth.

A mix of wonder and admiration suddenly crosses you as you study how quick he is to swallow down his food. Not even bothering to make use of the silver spoon left astray on the stand.

Bakugou silently chews. His cheeks have bulked up in size for the time being until all traces of food have been gone. Cute. “You’re so - ” You start but cut yourself short, wanting to enjoy the serene atmosphere rather than spurring him to the edge towards nagging at you.

You reach your hand out towards Bakugou, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth to clean the small mess he has made, to which he gently swats your hand away. His mannerisms were still the same as ever, never changing.

“I’m so what?” He asks, flicking his attention onto you as he watches the way your eyes linger on his face.

“You’re so amazing, was what I was going to say.” 

“Damn straight.”

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at his narcissistic response and reach for your phone, checking the time. “Wow, it’s now getting to 18:00?” You exclaim, swiftly entering the passcode to your iPhone and so that your fingers could scroll to the Tokyo Train Navigation app to check the times of when you should catch the next ride home.

Bakugou brows bump together in confusion at your surprise. “What about it? That means you’re ditching me already?” 

“Only for today though, the next train is coming in 30 minutes, and I gotta catch it before it gets dark out.”

As much as Bakugou isn’t a big fan of having your time spent together but abruptly short, he understands where you’re coming from, mentally putting himself in your shoes. 

At hours like these, when the begins to sun hide behind the city’s tall, towering buildings, it isn’t an ideal situation to have you walking out alone in the middle of dimly lit streets where villains may lurk at any corner. Especially after the shit show that went down this past week with the jailbreak.

He’d have no problem walking you home at times like this, but he can’t. Not when he’s on a “house arrest” list with the staff of the hospital.

“Fine,” he replies, dropping his head into his hands, which then finds purchase through his hair. Pissed with the cards he’s been dealt with. Feeling like he should clarify about your safety, Bakugou pipes up, “Make sure you ask the front desk to have one of their idiot guards walk you to the station. I hear that they do that.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, collecting your belongings from the ground. “Not trying to be edited in with the clouds.” A remark that was supposed to prompt a lighthearted, humorous feel to the conversation, but Bakugou remains tight-lipped as ever. A fitting expression for your grouch of a boyfriend.

“I’m serious. Text me when you get home too.”

“And so am I! I love my life.”

And he loves you-- was something that Bakugou refrains himself from saying. It was something that he still had trouble saying verbally but had no difficulty expressing.

You walk towards the door, ready to bid your counterpart a farewell, but he beats you to the punch.

“The hell are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice halts you from making your grand exit.

He stares at you sharply from his bed. Glowering with jaw taut as he eyes your hand placed onto the sliding door. “Cut that shit out, come back.”

“For why?”

You hear Bakugou breathe out a hushed hiss, becoming peeved at how evasive you were when he knew for a fact that you were aware of what he wanted you to do for him. “Come and do the thing.”

At his sudden inquiry, you finally turn around to face him. “What thing?” You prod, wanting to hear him say what he wanted out loud. To be straightforward with you for once rather than dancing around the topic like he always does.

Sidestepping the multiple wires and the IV tube that he was hooked up to, at last, you close the distance between you both. Finding yourself back beside Bakugou’s bed, and now settle yourself down onto the small space that he has created for you on his mattress. 

You feel giddy. A hazy warmth exudes from your chest that spreads down to your toes as you watch the slow change of pigmentation in Bakugou’s face. Blotches of a soft, rosy pink littered his exposed neck, indicating the effect that had over him.

Caving in, Bakugou swallows down his pride and utters, “Kiss me…” His tone is wavering in the slightest.

There it was.

Propping your hand near Bakugou’s face to steady yourself, you nod. You’re gentle in the process as you move much closer to Bakugou, attentive as not to brush up against any of his wounds. “Okay,” you murmur. 

You think to yourself about how pretty looks from your point of view. Admiring how Bakugou's plush and soft skin was despite the light bruises and scratches he’s gained from the fight, he looked very well-maintained for a hospital patient.

The more time that you take, you become aware of the fact that Bakugou isn’t above taking a fistful of your shirt and tugging you down so that you could meet his lips. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were to do so right now.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he waits. Patiently, for you to make your move and just fucking kiss him already. Though there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

Feeling the bed dip beside him, Bakugou could damn near feel his heart hammering against his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it will you,” he chides, his striking features already beginning to twist into an unreadable expression.

You laugh, unable to bite back your giggles as the male fixed you with his signature scowl. “Look at you, being a bully to the person you want a kiss from...” You say, leaning in close, now only hovering a few mere centimetres from his lips, both of you desperate for what would come next.

“You’re so mean, I swear.”

And that’s when you decide to close the distance, pressing your lips together.

It was quite sweet, literally, for his lips tasted of citrus.

Bakugou does a poor job at suppressing down his groan the moment your fingers wind themselves into his hair. The pads of your fingertips adoringly dance across his scalp.

The kiss starts off relatively chaste, both of you relishing in each other’s warmth as you pepper several small kisses against him—your stomach ties into knots as you experience how gentle he was being with you.

Despite the dull aching pains that Bakugou could still perceive whenever he made broad movements with his arm, his hand steadily finds its way to reach up towards your neck, pressing you further against him to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue upon your lower lip. 

When your tongue comes into contact with his, it’s tentative and quick. And then it happens a few more times before fully feel comfortable enough to full-on kiss Bakugou.

Your thought process was growing muddled. Not a clear premise came to mind as his bandaged hand trails to the small of your back and back up again.

With every sound or hum of approval that you made way past your lips, it fed Bakugou’s desire to satisfy both you and his needs even. His thumb smooths over the curve of your jaw, easing your nerves each time you shyly pull away attributable to the great intimacy that swirled between you both.

He chases your lips, fervent on returning your energy that you were relaying to him, back tenfold. He loves you. So fucking much, and he only hopes that his appreciation and devotion may reach you.

You choke on a tiny gasp. “Katsuki - ” And that’s when he feels it, right in his chest. It’s as if he has been jump-started back to life, his heart quite literally skipping a beat at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips. It was adorable, and he wanted to hear you like that again. Say his name like that again, on loop without end.

Fuck.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breathing was starting to grow laboured now, and you decide to break the kiss before things can escalate and before you miss your train.

Pulling away from Bakugou, the traces of confidence that you once had prior to the kiss have all but flung itself out the window, completely gone now. “I’ll, uhm -” You stammer over your words, brain trying to compose a proper sentence in spite of your current dazed state. “I’ll be back to see you again, with the others.”

With how flustered and scatterbrained you were acting, it stroked Bakugou’s ego beyond belief. A wicked smile threatens to split upon his face, but he bites it down along with his greed to ask for one more kiss before you go. “Tomorrow,” he affirms, flicking his eyes back towards the TV—an entirely new show publicized on its screen.

You hoist yourself up from the bed and stand to your feet, ignoring how your knees almost buckle. “Right,” you say. No fucking way were you this beat up over making out with your own boyfriend, for crying out loud- you thought as you wander towards the door, almost taking out one of the monitors in your trail. 

Sliding the door open you step out, but you poke your head back in, stalling a bit so that you could look at the blonde for the last time that day. “But until then, get well soon, okay?” 

Bakugou’s eyes stay glued to the screen, trying to distract himself from how damn sweaty his palms were, that or how he could feel the beat of his heart pick up in tempo. Its incessant pounding was all too much for him.

It’s so stupid how whipped he found himself to be nowadays. “I know,” he dismisses, a bit all too quickly. He wants your ass out before you have a chance to glance at the heart monitor he was wired up to.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t. You wave and close the door behind you, your smile being the last thing he sees.

With the coast clear, Bakugou throws himself back onto his mountain of pillows. “Shit,” he curses, panting out a sigh of relief seconds after you were gone.

That was amazing, you were amazing, he thought, recounting the kiss. He swipes his palms against his sheets, being sure to get rid of any nitroglycerin that may linger to activate his quirk successfully.

Bakugou can’t stress how much he’s aching for nightfall to come, knowing that he would be one sleep from getting to see you again, and again, and again, until he would finally be let free.

But until then, as you had said, he had to heal.

And with the knowledge of you being around whenever he needed you the most, Bakugou was most definitely on the bright path to a speedy recovery.

[shiftyskip]

Joseph “Joe” David Liebgott

The Real Joseph Liebgott:

Joseph David Liebgott was born in Lansing, Michigan in May 17, 1915 to Joseph (Josef) Liebgott Sr and Mary. Joseph Liebgott Sr was of German descent, but he was born in Beresztocz, Hungary. Joe’s mother was Yugoslavian, but was reported as born in either Yugoslavia or Hungary I am not sure which one because records show both. On his father’s side his grandparents were Yugoslavian as well. On his mother’s sider, they seem to be from Hungary. His mother immigrated in 1909, Lieb’s father immigrated in 1912.

Below is a picture believed to be his parents. 

 He was the oldest of his siblings. He has four sisters: Mary, Elizabeth, Anna, and Barbara, and one brother, Stephen/Steffen . Both of his parents spoke German, which would later help him during the war. His father worked in the auto industry before they moved. 

His family soon moved to California around 1927 and his dad became a barber. He was the oldest of his siblings, one brother and four sisters. He was extremely protective of his younger sisters

Liebgott and his siblings attended Catholic schools. This is where learned how to box and played soccer.

After high school, Liebgott drove a taxi around San Francisco. This career was temporary and he soon attended barber college.

He was also previously married before the war. He was married in July 31, 1933  to  a woman named Frances. They had one child, David Albert together on February 27, 1934. But the couple soon divorced within a year, and he was living with his family again by 1940, where he was working on a forestry project. Meanwhile his ex-wife and son moved into her family. Here is Joe and Frances:

He eventually became a barber and this was his career when he enlisted at the age of 26. Liebgott chose the paratroopers to be able to make more money to be able to put a down payment on his parents’ house. 

Included is a photo of Joe and his mother

He has a Jewish service card, registered under his mother’s name. But his family denied he was Jewish, stating he was a German Roman Catholic. I’ll attach it below (filtered for safety). 

In his draft card he is listed as 5 feet and 5 inches tall and was 109 pounds. He had blue-grey eyes and brown hair.

Malarkey remembers meeting Liebgott on his way to Toccoa where they became part of the original Toccoa men. Liebgott was trained under the harsh command of Herbert Sobel.

Liebgott didn’t talk much about the war, so there will be little but other’s words to put here. This is a photo from 1945 in France.

Right before the jump out of the airplane, he put his barber skills to use and gave a few of the men Mohawks. 

He would jump out of the airplanes with the rest of the men on June 6, 1944. He received the bronze star for his bravery at Brecourt Manor, where he worked with Winters and several other men, Compton, Guarenere, Wynn, Lipton, Toye, Malarkey, and Ranney to destroy a German Battery firing on Utah Beach on the day of the D-Day Invasion.

He cut off the finger of a German that he had bayoneted and took the man’s ring near Carentan. At Carentan, Ed Tipper was seriously wounded after clearing out a house with Liebgott. Liebgott grabbed Tipper, yelled for a medic, and told Tipper that he’d be okay. Welsh and Lieb dragged Tipper into the street until Welsh could get him back to the aid station.

After Brecourt, Compton recalls a painful memory with Liebgott in his book, Call of Duty, Compton and Liebgott were patrolling along hedges at dusk. Across the way, in another set of hedges were two men. Both were dressed in German ponchos, one was holding a German gun. Assuming that these men were in fact German, he and Liebgott shot the men. Come to find out, when they checked their dog tags, they were not Germans. They were Americans. They had just killed fellow soldiers in friendly fire.

October 5, 1944. Winters sent a few Youmen out on patrol to take an outpost near a windmill. Liebgott and a few other men (James Alley among them) went with Sgt. Youmen. They sent one man ahead, to look out over the dike. The man spotted German machine guns. German voices approached the remaining boys. Lieb called out for the Youman, as we was trailing behind, only to have grenades thrown at him and the other men. Liebgott got minor wounds while James Alley received 32 shrapnel wounds in his left side, stretching from his face down. They’d run into a company of SS.

Liebgott was known for being rough with prisoners, the fighting that followed the injuries wit the SS company was a prime example of this. After Winters led his patrol to attack these Germans, in which during the fighting they lost William Dukeman, 7 Germans surrendered. The most famous story of Liebgott is as follows, in Dick Winter’s words.

As Winters explains in his book, “Tech/5 Joseph D. Liebgott had been slightly wounded in the arm, but he was ambulatory so I assigned him the mission of escorting seven German prisoners to the rear. Liebgott had earned the reputation of being one of Easy’s best combat soldiers, but we had all heard stories that he was very rough on prisoners. Liebgott was one of Easy Company’s “killers,” so I deemed  it appropriate to take a bit of caution. When he heard me say, “Take the prisoners back to the battalion command post,” he replied. “Oh, boy! I’ll take care of them.” In his exuberance, Liebgott stood up and paced back and forth and he was obviously very nervous and concerned. I stopped him in his tracks. “There are seven prisoners and I want seven prisoners turned over to battalion.” Liebgott was highly incensed and started to throw a tantrum.Somewhat unsure of how he would react, I then dropped my M-1 to my hip, threw off my safety, and said, Liebgott, drop all your ammunition and empty your rifle.” There was much grumbling and swearing, but he did as I had ordered. “Now,” I said, “you can put one round in your rifle. If you drop a prisoner, the rest will jump you.””

Liebgott got all 7 prisoners back.  

Joe would recover in a hospital in England with Webster, but he was back before Bastogne. Here is the record for that: 

Name:Joseph D Liebgott Race:White, includes Mexican (White) Rank:Enlisted Man Admission Age:29 Birth Date:abt 1915 Admission Date:Oct 1944 Discharge Date:Nov 1944 Military Branch:Infantry, Parachute Troops or Units Diagnosis:FirstLocation: Ulna, generally; CausativeAgent: Artillery Shell, Fragments, Afoot or unspecified Type of Injury:Casualty, battle Injured in Line of Duty:In line of duty Type of Discharge:Duty Length of service:2 Year(s), 6 Month(s)

In Bastogne, Winters made him a runner to get away from the tension and constant stress of fighting.  One story of his service was outside of Foy is the battle of Noville, he and Earl Hale ducked into a barn and took 6 SS officers prisoner. Outside the barn, a shell exploded. One of the SS officers took this as an opportunity and jumped Hale. He slit Hale’s throat. Liebgott instantly shot and killed the officer. He then killed the others. Hale survived miracuously. 

At some point, before the end of the war, Liebgott became first platoon’s interpreter-radioman. This was because he could speak some German. But Webster claimed in his book that the German’s didn’t understand his Yiddish. 

He was with Webster when they took Hitler’s Nest. They spent their time drinking Hitler’s alcohol together with a few other men. He was living with Headquarters Company while there.  

Of course, the war came to an end and everyone who wanted to was discharged.

Over the course of the war, Lieb was injured 3 times and won 3 purple hearts. He refused one because the wound was “just a scratch”. He would receive partial disability for his wounds.

When he returned home, he disappeared for two years. Eventually he was found living in  Yuma, California. He didn’t come to reunions, even when offered multiple times. His father simply told the vets “not to mess with him”. 

After the war, Liebgott was a barber for a short time. He married again to a woman named Peggy in 1949. They had eight kids together. Making Lieb’s total children come to nine, although he was mostly involved with the last eight. They lived on a barber’s salary, not leaving much room for fun activities but everyone had their basic needs met. He often  only had one day a week off and would take his kids to a Long Beach pike, where they would visit an amusement park. 

Liebgott liked to bet on the ponies at the racetrack. Every other sunday, him and his boss would take the boss’ airplane down to Mexico.

He is believed to have never contacted anyone from his days in Easy Company. He just wanted to get away from the war. 

The Liebgotts divorced in  April of 1969. She remarried, but he never did. He was described as really quiet by his granddaughter. 

She states, in Marcus Brotherton’s book Company of Heroes (pages 120-121) “His hands looked like a man who worked with his hands, sunspots all over. He absolutely loved his grandkids. he had false teeth that he flipped out of his mouth and smiled, threatening to kiss us with his gums. He was a tickler. He never held babies over his shoulder...because he wanted them to see everything....He didn’t have a lot of money - I’m pretty sure all he had was his veteran’s benefits...He made all of the bikes for the grandkids by scouring thrift stores for dilapidated bikes. He stripped the bikes down to their frame, fixed and assembled them as good as new. He let each grandchild pick the color of new paint for his or her bike....I always knew the specific foods we were going to eat at his house. He had bite-sized candy bars and store brand soda-pop. There was no drinking water in his house. He always lived in rental houses...” 

He was very neat, and keep his house and appearance orderly. However, he was always working in the garage, so the house had black smudges from the dirt on his hands. 

However, Liebgott was not perfect. While he hated the Nazis, he was also seen as a bigot, maybe even harsher. Rhonda explained that he threw the n word around like it wasn’t a big deal. He blamed the wrong goings of the world on different ethnic groups. Rhonda started seeing a guy from El Salvador, he asked if her partner “even spoke English?”

As he grew older, Lieb got sicker. He eventually lost the use of one of his legs from a hernia. He was confined to a chair and hated any new technology. He was stuck in a wheelchair, angry when he would hit a cabinet. 

Lieb did not talk about his military career until towards his end. He would spend time with his son Jim, watching tv talking about the war during a war movie.  He would talk about the war when he was mad, possibly angry at himself for doing a lot of killing and other things that people his age shouldn’t have to do.

In 1992, Liebgott developed a tumor in his neck, near his windpipe that would cause a lot of pain. Jim took him to the hospital on Father’s Day. Shortly later, on June 28, 1992 Liebgott died. He was against a funeral and just wanted to be cremated, so his family did as he wished. They still have his ashes and letters and the Toccoa book. 

[derivativealigner]

Well, I’m done rewatching season 2 of south park and I’ve taken plenty of notes and screenshots to document all the facts and tidbits I thought were interesting or just funny. Under the cut is a collection of notes where I progressively start caring more and more about fake children

Kenny’s house is full of empty bottles, his family eats frozen waffles for dinner, and his dad is drinking at the dinner table

Kenny’s and Kyle’s dads have some history. They were best friends as teenagers

Kenny’s dad is kind of anti-Semitic, he says Kyle’s dad was successful because he’s Jewish

Cartman kind of expresses agreement with Stuart’s anti-Semitism, which I think is the first time Cartman’s been clearly anti-Semitic

Kenny’s house has rats, but his room has lights that shut off when you clap twice

WOW KYLE wtf he says “Kenny's not really my friend, Ma. I don't give a rat's ass about him.” FUCKING RUDE

Kyle and Kenny have a fun little sleepover where they play “ookie mouth”, a game where they take turn spitting in each other’s mouths. This episode (S02E10 Chickenpox) is great for fans of K2 despite how absolutely disgusting ookie mouth is

The McCormick house was something Stuart and Gerald built as teenagers. A fort in Stuart’s mom’s backyard

Gerald went to community college

Gerald and Stuart have a fun fist fight by a pond

Kyle makes a haiku: Fatass Cartman was / not on the school bus today. / What a big, fat turd.

Kenny makes a haiku: When you rub your dick, / you might find a discharge that / winds up on the floor.

Kyle makes another: Ass full of pork fat / jiggles like a Jello mold. / Mouth is flapping, too.

And another by Kyle: I bet you don't win. / They don't let big fat asses / perform on TV.

Cartman responds: Shut your God-damned mouth / or else I'm... gonna... kick you / square in the balls... asshole

I spy with my desperate eye the beginnings of Craig’s gang, featuring Kenny with wonky eyes

Bebe thinks Kyle has a hot ass and she’s not shy about saying it

Bebe writes a note to Kyle, and Stan tries to pass it on but Mr. Garrison thinks it’s Stan’s note for Kyle and makes him read it out loud. So he reads: “Dear Kyle. You have got such a great ass. I could sleep for days on those perked cheeks, let me tell you. I'd like to live with you and wear your ass as a hat for all eternity.” (If that happened to me I’d be embarrassed forever)

POV: You’re Stan and you just said you love Kyle’s juicy ass in front of the whole 3rd grade class

The first time Stan’s mom and dad get a divorce is in S02E12, way sooner than I remembered

Bebe kisses Kyle when they’re playing truth or dare in their clubhouse, probably Kyle’s first kiss. Kyle thinks it’s disgusting (despite having played ookie mouth with Kenny which is arguably more disgusting)

Bebe breaks up with Kyle and goes off with Clyde, who says “Bitchin’ 😎”. Later Clyde is with Bebe, Stan, and Wendy at the club house

Cartman and Kyle have a fist fight once again. Kyle hated Cartman way more than Stan did very early on, kind of all along really, they truly were destined to be arch enemies

Kenny has food stamps

Oh, and Cartman’s made poor jokes about Kenny and twice (I think) Kenny has punched him in retaliation in the past 2 seasons. Kenny’s family is probably a bad and violent example for him

By the way, if you’ve ever wondered what Kenny says in the theme song but never looked it up, in seasons 1-2 he sings “I like girls with big fat titties, I like girls with deep vaginas” but in the remastered versions of seasons 1-2 (which is the version I’m watching) they changed it to the season 3-5 lyrics: “I have got a ten-inch penis, use you mouth if you wanna clean it”.

When an evil twin version of Cartman says nice things, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny stare at him in horror. Stan says, “Dude, this is creepy.”

Also, the boys say dude a lot. At least Stan, Kyle, and Kenny do, Cartman not as much

Kenny’s mom hits him when he’s hogging the blanket from his brother. Kenny makes a sad face and it made me feel bad :(

When evil twin Cartman comes to give the McCormicks some supplies, Kenny’s dad asks if that was his “fat, racist, foul-mouthed friend” so Cartman clearly has a reputation

When Stan gets scared of his evil fish, he wakes Shelly up and she slaps him. Their mom sees it and says nothing

But on the other hand his mom buries a body that Stan’s fish killed because she thinks he killed it so I guess she’s not entirely a bad mom

Kenny was supposed to buy a pumpkin for Halloween but he could only afford a squash and his friends are really mean about it. The more I watch the more I feel bad for Kenny (and Stan)

Cartman kind of has a shitty friendship with Kenny. He says “I hate you Kenny” because of the squash

Kyle is really annoyed by Cartman saying “hella” all the time, nobody else is as annoyed

Evil Cartman sings a cute little song while wielding a knife: You guys / are my best friends, / through thick and thin, / we've always been together! / We're four of a kind, / having fun all day, / palling around and laughing away. / Just best friends, / best friends are we!

Stan still has his dog, Sparky, in season 2

After Stan’s fish kills Kenny, Kenny’s mom comes over to ask about her son and she’s drunk and upset. Honestly seeing Kenny die all the time makes me kind of sad

Stan says Kenny’s squash isn’t a bad little squash. Very heartwarming. The squash gets first prize at the pumpkin carving contest :)

Cartman’s grandma and extended family live in Nebraska

When the boys go to Cartman’s family to have Christmas dinner, Kenny’s dad tells him to take any leftovers and bring them back home (he does it very gently and Kenny just says “okay” and why do I care that this fake child dies all the time and barely has food at home, like why the fuck do I care so much???)

Cartman’s mom is wearing glasses when she drives. She doesn’t do it in the later seasons but maybe she has contacts

Cartman and his mom sing a road trip song for 4 hours. Kyle says “please stop” but when they ignore him, he kicks Cartman’s seat and makes Cartman hit his head

Stan has a complicated relationship with his family, he says they’re dead to him because they didn’t want him to go on a road trip to Nebraska so Stan went without telling them

Kenny doesn’t eat at the dinner table with Cartman’s family, he just shoves the food in a bag :( I feel so bad for him

Stan, Kyle, and Kenny all hit Cartman after they wake in the night to make sure they’re not dreaming

Under his coat, Cartman wears a pink tank top that says BEEFCAKE. He wore it in S1E02 Weight Gain 2000

Charles Manson invites Kenny to go to a more secluded location and Kenny just says okay and goes, but honestly he should know better since he’s aware that he keeps dying

Cartman bonks his cousin Elvin on the head and gives him brain damage. Elvin gets better though

THE NEXT EPISODE IS GNOMES!!! TWEEEEEK!!!!

Token gets named when he’s put in a group with Wendy, Bebe, Clyde, and Pip. Craig’s gang is getting closer to becoming a thing!!

IT’S OUR FUCKING BOY TWEEK TWEAK BITCH YEEEEAAAH

Tweek says he’s awake at 3:30am because he can’t sleep, ever

Jesus, Tweek’s dad kind of sucks immediately. He says he might have to sell Tweek to slavery if his coffee shop goes out of business

Cartman says Kenny’s family is happy being poor and on welfare, “right, Kenny?” and Kenny says “fuck you” which is completely justified

When the underpants gnomes don’t appear, Tweek is worried he’s going insane and pulls on his hair

His parents say Tweek is jittery and anxious just because he has ADD (but the kind of severe jitteriness and anxiety Tweek has isn’t a symptom of primarily inattentive ADHD, even though people with ADHD do experience restlessness and can even have some tics and are more likely to have anxiety as a comorbid disorder than a neurotypical person is, but I mean come on, we all know Tweek’s slurping way too much coffee so even if he has ADHD beneath all that, his parents should stop giving him coffee and they definitely should not start lacing it with meth. Basically what I’m saying is that Tweek’s parents are full of shit)

Actually Tweek’s mom is kind of okay. She tells Tweek’s dad that he’s being shitty for using kids to advance his agenda. But… the agenda is against big corporations and I hate to say it but Tweek’s dad kind of has a point

Ew, the boys are giving a pro big corporations speech. That aged really poorly considering how shitty billionaires are

Aww, look at Kenny! He got scared of a crocodile that Steve Irwin is about to bother by jamming his thumb up its butthole

The boys are really excited about Steve Irwin jamming his thumb up a crocodile’s butthole

Oh my God, Kyle calls Cartman a fatass penis

Kenny is a mediator between Stan and Kyle. They ask him which one found this ice man in a cave first, but Kenny just deflects and agrees with Kyle’s name suggestion (Steve) for the ice man

I kind of like Dr. Mephesto. I’m glad he came back for Fractured But Whole

Stan and Kyle are having a terrible fight about who found the ice man. Kyle says they’re not best friends anymore and that Cartman is his new best friend and Cartman says “Sweet!”, then Stan claims Cartman as his new best friend and Cartman says “Killer!”

This prehistoric ice man episode is actually funny, I love it

Stan and Kyle are having a fight to the death

They reconcile and become best friends again. They both agree that Cartman’s a sucky best friend

Well, that was the last episode of the season. This was fun. South Park is actually a fun show

Kenny deaths:

S02E10 Kenny is in the hospital because of chicken pox. He laughs at Cartman’s joke so hard that his heart flatlines like beeeeeeeeeeeeeep

S02E11 Kenny’s head explodes after Stan and Kyle make him watch planetarium lights at a high intensity

S02E12 Kenny gets trampled in a mosh pit

S02E13 A cow impales Kenny’s head with its horn

S02E14 Ozzy Osbourne bites Kenny’s head off

S02E15 Kenny is killed by Stan’s evil fish, he gets spun in the fish tank until the water’s red

S02E16 The police shoot Kenny who came outside with a white flag during a hostage situation, then the police hit his dead body with a baton and handcuff him

S02E17 Kenny gets crushed by the underpants gnomes’ mine cart. The gnomes are horrified but Stan, Kyle, Cartman, and Tweek are kinda like whatever

S02E18 Kenny gets squished underneath a conveyer belt

Onto the next season I go. I’ll watch the movie too since it was released around halfway through season 3

[anotheronechicagobog]

The Crackship Sails to Molly’s - Hailey Upton x Kim Burgess - Strain

written by @anotheronechicagobog​

Instead of her alarm clock, it was the sound of retching in the bathroom that woke Kim up. She sighed, pinching her brows together. She didn’t need to ask why Hailey didn’t wake her up when she wasn’t feeling well, she’d been dating her long enough to know the answer. She grabbed a glass of water, a ginger ale from the fridge and a hair tie from their dresser. After tying back Hailey’s knotted and sweaty hair she sat on the bathtub next to her, rubbing her back. “Do you think you’re well enough to try some water? A ginger ale? We should get some fluids into you.”

“I’m-”

“And don’t you dare say that you’re ‘fine’.”

“... Let me wash out the taste of vomit in my mouth and then I’ll try the ginger ale.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Hailey, you know that-”

“No, I really just... Thank you. For taking care of me, for loving me, for everything. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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

The ginger ale did not help, nor did the medicine she’d been able to keep down. Her fever spiked, she was so flushed her skin was an irritated pink, she’d gotten dizzy, and she started to hallucinate a talking dog wearing a lion costume. Kim had managed to corral her into the car but nothing, not even Dr. Choi when they got to MED, could calm her down. Her fiance was getting sicker and sicker and nothing was going to be able to quell the panic and fear inside of her. So she sat at Hailey’s beside, curled up in an awful chair, letting her tears flow freely as she cradled the hand of her unconscious soulmate. “Hey, Kim. I got your text. And pizza for you.”

“Pizza, Jay? Really?”

“Hailey would maim me if she found out I didn’t take care of you when she couldn’t. Seriously, we actually made a pact. So eat your food, drink this bottle of water and get ready to be fussed over. She’s gonna make it.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my best friend, we’ve been through so much together that there’s no other option for me. She’s going to make it, she has to.”

“She has to.”

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

Hailey had woken up the next day, but only momentarily. She’d mumbled something about dancing tulips and promptly passed out again. Kim and Jay laughed lightly at her expense, but they were mostly just relieved that she was getting better. Her fever was down and according to Dr. Choi that was really good news. They wouldn’t be able to tell if the dizziness or nausea had dissipated until she woke up, but the fact that she was waking up was amazing. She’d caught a nasty strain of the flu, it was so bad and unusual that the CDC had to get involved. Study her treatment, interview close friends, get samples from Hailey. The works. They were actually starting to get pretty concerned about all the blood tests and tissue samples they needed when Will showed up with an explanation, the strain of flu that Hailey has isn’t from the U.S. so it was slightly different than the strains they’re used to treating, at that point they were just trying to determine where it was from and if they needed to be concerned about an outbreak. 

So Kim and Jay calmed down a bit. They were still worried, but having Will there to decipher all of the doctor speak, it was a little easier. When her fever broke they were approached by one of the CDC doctors who had been observing Hailey’s case. They could both tell from the look on her face that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. “Detectives Burgess and Halstead, I’m afraid I have bad news. We have determined the origin of the strain that has infected Detective Upton. It’s from England, and it’s a unique strain because it appears to have been formed overtime from a few different strains from different countries, not uncommon in people who travel frequently without adequate vaccinations. We have determined a course of action, but unfortunately might be too late. The antibiotics that she needs need to start being taken within 72 hours. It’s been 61. And the closest antibiotics we could get are in London, England. It’s an eight hour flight and they have to go through customs and the FDA and they just might not get here in time. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. She can’t- Why- No-” Tears were streaming down Kim’s face and she fell back into her chair. “This can’t be happening, we’re supposed to be together, have more time together. More time. Just a little more time, please.” Jay was standing beyond Kim’s chair, watching with a fractured soul as she stroked his best friend’s face and begged her to wake up. When suddenly, it dawned on him. “Dr. Tamara, do the antibiotics have to arrive on a commercial plane?”

“Well, no, but a private plane wouldn’t be faster and would cost a lot more money.”

“What about a military plane?” Hope was starting to creep into his desperate features, and instead of meeting sorrowful silence, he was met with mirroring spirits. “I don’t have those kinds of connections to make that happen, but if you do that would absolutely work.”

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

Jay managed to get the antibiotics on a military passenger/cargo flight from London to Chicago, almost halving the time everything would’ve taken. Kim hadn’t stopped hugging and thanking him since he got off the phone with an air force buddy he’d done a couple of operations with while he was in the rangers. The meds had been given with four hours to spare, so now both detectives were just a pile of nerves, antsy to see Hailey open her eyes. “For the last time Kim, you don’t need to thank me. Hailey’s important to me too, okay? I haven’t been holding onto that ring for her for the past four months for nothi- Shit.”

“... Ring?”

“Yes.”

“An engagement ring?”

“Yeah.” Kim turned back to the love of her life, happiness shining through for the first time in days, “you better wake up, Hailey Ann Upton. How am I gonna say ‘yes’ if you don’t even ask me?”

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

Hailey woke up, and was lucid. Kim and Jay were trying so hard not to overwhelm her. So when Intelligence and firehouse 51 had stopped by they just smiled gratefully and accepted all of the get-well-soon gifts that were offered and sending everyone on their way. When Jay re-entered the hospital room after accepting a batch of cookies and containers of lasagna from the ever angelic Cindy Hermann, he found Kim and Hailey curled up in bed together. Smiling, whispering and just enjoying being in each other’s arms again. Kim blushed at his chuckles and Hailey grinned sheepishly. “I needed a cuddle from my favourite girl, Jay, what can I say?”

“She gave me her puppy-dog eyes. I had no choice.”

“Yeah,” he looked at Kim meaningfully, implying her to remember their conversation about Hailey’s not-so-secret intentions, “you didn’t really stand a chance.”

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

Jay dropped the two women off at their apartment a week later after Hailey had finally been discharged. “Thanks for dropping us off Jay, I appreciate it. And Hailey, you still have to take it easy, I’ll go put your hospital bag away and order some food and after Jay heads out we’ll have a Mamma Mia! Marathon, okay?”

“Alright, well my work here is almost done then.” He was met with two sets of raised eyebrows, so he turned his teasing smirk to his partner. “Someone has to make sure you don’t get up unsupervised while Kim’s in the other room.”

“Smart thinking, Halstead.”

“Hey! I’m capable of taking care of myself.” Kim jogged to the bedroom in a fit of laughter, leaving Hailey and Jay alone for a few moments. Jay leaned his body out to look down the hallway and make sure that Kim was out of earshot before he turned back to Hailey. She looked better than she did before, her pallor was back to normal, her eyes were vibrant, and she was glowing in happiness and relief, though her movements were still lapsed and slow. Jay reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the navy velvet ring box and placed it into her confused but waiting hand. “I accidentally let it slip when you were in the hospital. You should’ve seen her face when she caught on, she loves you. So much, and if these past couple of weeks have taught us anything, it’s that you don’t have the time you think you do. Ask her, she’ll say yes. I guarantee it.” After a one-armed hug with a shocked Hailey, Jay shouted a goodbye to Kim before taking his leave.

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

They’d finished the first movie and were about to put in the second, but Hailey hadn’t even noticed, she’d spent most of that time staring at Kim.

“Hails? Are you okay? Do I need to call Dr. Tamara?”

“I... I’ve tried writing speeches and planning exactly what to say, but I can’t because you’re too amazing to capture with words. Nothing ever seems good enough. And I have to be honest, I love that, because it means that I love you so much I can’t even fully comprehend it. And I know that you feel the same way, too. Kim, will you marry me?”

Hailey revealed the box from behind her and opened it up to show her the ring. Her heart was hammering in chest so hard and she just couldn’t force her eyes away from Kim’s face and the wistful tears accumulating in her eyes that mixed with the beaming smile she just loved to see.

“Yes!”

[yayeetsonny]

New Beginnings~Chapter 1

(Okay so if you haven’t read the imagine “Theatre Kid Problems” or the prologue I suggest you read those first so you aren’t confused)

1 month later...

Ryley PRO//

So here I am in the hospital because I fell off a ladder. Of course the whole story is more than that but I don’t want to have to relive the incident. The good thing about getting hurt now is that it’s after the Shebelives cup. Which we won by the way, the games against Spain and England were the most grueling. I really thought we would end the Spain game in a tie but JJ came through in the last minutes to give us the win. Anyways, I get to go home tomorrow, and by “home” I just mean back to Christen and Alex’s house in Utah. speaking of those two, they have been insanely protective since they got here. They hover more than usual and if they see even the slightest indication I’m in pain they bombard me with questions such as

“Is it your head?”

“Does your leg hurt?”

“Can you breath okay?”

“Do you want us to get a nurse or the doctor?”

I answer their questions as best I can and then they do everything in their power to make it hurt less. It’s very sweet, but sometimes a little much.

“Hey R.J., how you feeling kiddo?” Alex asks, entering the room with lunch for everyone.

“I feel a little tired, but I don’t have any pain.”

“Maybe you should take a little nap before you eat.” Chris says concerned.

“I don’t need to nap, I’m hungry” I say grumpily

“Well it sounds like you do, miss grumpy-pants” Alex says

“Nooo guys, I’m hungryyy.” I whine

“Okay, okay. Calm down, you can eat first and then you’re gonna nap okay love bug?” Christen says, running her finger across my eyebrow

“Do I have to?”

“Yes Ryley. You need to rest.”

“I’m really not that tired. I don’t need it.” I say hoping to get out of yet another nap

“Yes you do. Please just take a little nap.”

“No.”

“Ryley...”

“I don’t need to take a nap!” I snap

“Woah there, inside voice please.” Alex says, both her and Chris startled by my outburst.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’ll take a nap when I finish eating.”

“Thank you baby.”

After I’ve eaten and napped we decided to play uno, Alex becoming quite competitive. She was determined to win every round, even if it meant cheating a little.

“Alex stop looking at my cards!” Chris says exasperated

“I’m doing no such thing.” Alex says indignantly

“Alex...”

“Okay, okay. I took a little peek. I’m sorry babe.” She then gives Chris her best pout and puppy dog eyes, Chris of course giving in and forgiving her immediately. I roll my eyes playfully, she’s whipped. They share a gentle kiss that soon turns into a make out session.

“Okay, gross! Get a room.” I say, shielding my eyes. They’re cute but I didn’t need to see all that.

“Oh right, forgot about you for a second, sorry.” They pull apart, having the decency to at least pretend to be apologetic.

“Mhmm.”

After we finish playing uno we have dinner and then before I know it, it’s time for bed.

“Goodnight love bug. Sleep well. We’ll be right here when you wake up.” Christen says kissing me on the forehead and rubbing my eyebrow.

“Goodnight kiddo. We love you.” Alex says doing the same thing.

“Goodnight guys.”

The next day

I woke up this morning feeling really hot and then cold and it went on like that for much of the morning. I also had a cough but I did my best to hide it from Chris and Alex because I didn’t want them to freak out. But I could tell they knew something was off.

“Are you sure you’re okay Ry? You seem... off.” Alex says eying me suspiciously

“Yep! All good.” I say.

Right after I said that I shivered and went into a coughing fit. Chris looked up from her book, her and Alex share a worried glance and then they both looked at me giving me “the mom eyes”.

“I’m getting the doctor.” Chris says leaving no room for argument.

She leaves and not even 2 minutes later she returns, the doctor and a nurse in tow.

“Hi Ryley. I hear you may be experiencing a fever and that you have a cough. Do you mind if I check you out real quick?” Doctor Baker asks kindly

“Sure.”

He does a quick exam, taking my temperature, listening to my heart, taking my blood pressure and all that good stuff and then he comes to the conclusion that I do in fact have a fever and that it looks like I’m getting sick.

“Okay, so it looks like Ryley has a moderate fever and cough so I’d like to keep her an extra day just to monitor her vitals and make sure it’s not more serious than a cold.” He says reassuring Christen and Alex that there isn’t anything to be worried about. I know them, as soon as he leaves they’re going to start fussing over me. Oh man I just want to go home.

“I would suggest using a cool wet rag and placing it on her forehead to try to cool her down a little. I can get her one if you’d like?” The nurse says.

“Yes please that would be great.” Christen says, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

The doctor leaves, saying he’ll be back later to check in and just as I thought they begin asking me all their questions and fussing over me more than they were before.

“Here love, let’s lower your bed so you can lay down.” Alex says

The nurse returns with the cool rag and Christen puts it on my forehead and then takes a seat beside my bed, Alex doing the same on the other side. They each take one of my hands. We sit in comfortable silence until I break it.

“I want to go home.” I say, my voice shaking as I feel my eyes welling up with tears. What the hell why am I crying?

“We know R.J. and we will soon okay? You just have to stay an extra day and the we’ll be able to go home.”

For whatever reason, what Alex says causes me to become more upset. I start to cry loudly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Shh baby, you’re okay. Just relax. I promise you- we promise you it’s okay.” Christen says, continually running her thumb across my eyebrow.

They both whisper sweet nothings in my ear attempting to calm me down and eventually it works, although I’m still confused as to where all that emotion came from. It’s just an extra day. Chris and Alex then resume babying me.

“Let’s get you some water so you don’t become dehydrated.”

“I’m okay, I don’t- ” I’m cut off when a cup of water is set in front of me.

“Drink a little bit please”

“Okay, okay.”

Do you want an extra blanket?” Chris asks, moving to stand.

“No thank you.” I say

“Okay well let us know if that changes.”

“I will. Promise.”

The next day comes and goes and after getting checked over by the doctor the following morning I’m cleared to go home. Finally

“You ready kiddo?” Alex asks, finishing gathering our stuff while Christen retrieves the discharge papers while also getting final instructions from the nurse and doctor.

“Yeah I am.” I say excitedly

I wheel my wheelchair over to the door more than ready to leave.

“Woah, hold on. Make sure you put on your sweater It’s cold out.”

“It’s not that cold Alex I’m fine.” She gives me an unimpressed look and with a huff I give in and put on my sweater.

“Mhm. Let’s go” she says

She wheels me out while somehow also carrying all of our belonging, which is really just a backpack full of clothes, and water bottles, and her and Christen’s purses but still.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to hold anything? I’m like your own personal moving basket.” I say, laughing

“I’m good, thank you.” She chuckles

We meet Christen out in the hallway and before I know it we’re at the car and they’re helping me in, making sure I’m settled and then we’re off the the airport. The flight from Colorado to Utah was short but it was easier than driving because of all my injuries. Even so there were several times on the flight I found myself in pain or bumping a part of my body that hurt. But finally after what felt like forever (it wasn’t) we landed and we were able to get off the plane and go home. Once we got to their house they made sure I was as comfortable as possible before leaving to the kitchen to make dinner.

Alex PRO//

“Do you think she’s okay out there by herself?” Christen asks, worrying about Ryley being alone for too long.

“Yes babe. She’s okay.” I say while wrapping my arms around her to comfort her.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes my love.”

“Okay. I believe you.”

I kissed her gently before letting go of her to start dinner. We decided on a simple cheesy pasta. Certainly not the healthiest meal we’ve ever made but I thought we all deserved a bit of a break. Christen did her best to help me, although I’d never say this to her, she wasn’t a very good cook. But you didn’t hear it from me. After we finished making dinner I went to get Ryley from the living room. I walked in to find her fast alseep in her chair. Poor kid must be exhausted. I thought. I went over to try to wake her as gently as I could.

“Ryley?” I shook her gently but she didn’t wake.

“Baby love it’s time to wake up, dinner’s ready.” I said again trying to be gentle.This time she began to stir, she opened her eyes slowly and looked up, smiling at me sleepily.

“Hi”

“Hey there, you ready to eat?”

“Yeah”

I wheeled her to the kitchen table and Christen served up the food as we sat down to eat. After we ate we decided to just have a chill movie night. It took a while for us to decide on a movie but we eventually settled on the disney movie Up. After the movie, and many tears, that movie is so sad we decided it was time to go to sleep and that’s where things got a little tricky.

“R.J. do you... do you want us to carry you upstairs? Or do you want to stay down here? There’s a guest room just down the hall.” I say, slightly worried about leaving her by herself down here.

“Can you- I mean would you mind- Will you guys stay with me?” She asks timidly.

“Of course love bug. We’ll always stay.”

“Wow. That was deep Chris.”

“You know what I mean, goofball.”

Christen wheeled her to the guest room, I followed. We helped her change, giving her one of Christen’s Stanford hoodies, much to my dismay and a pair of my soccer shorts. We helped her into bed and after a lot of fussing, readjusting of pillows and lots of questions she finally convinced us to go change. We came back in record time and after triple checking that she was okay we climbed into bed cuddling her and smushing her in a chrislex sandwich.

“We love you Ry. You know that right?”

“We love you so much.”

“Of course I know that. Thank you for everything the last few days, and for always being there for me.” She said becoming emotional.

“Of course. We’ll always be there for you, always” I said lovingly. 

We did what we always do, alternating between running our fingers across her eyebrows, running our hands through her hair and rubbing her back, trying to lull her to sleep. We also started something new, singing her a lullaby each night. I thought for sure she’d be too embarrassed to let us, saying something like

“I’m too old for that.”

But she seems to love it, she even likes to pick a different one each night but her favorite is the ittsy bittsy spider. You may wonder “why are you singing her lullabies? she’s not 5.” And to be honest I’m not really sure, we started to sing to her to help her fall asleep and then one night when she was extra sleepy she requested a lullaby, it’s stuck ever since. We love seeing this softer side of her, most of the time she tries to put up walls and only on rare occasions does she slip up and let us truly see her being vulnerable. Earlier at the hospital is an example of that, or when she called Chris mommy when she was first hurt. She hasn’t called either of us anything other than our names since. We can tell she catches herself sometimes but we don’t bring it up, she’ll call us mommy and mama when she’s ready. If she’s ever ready. We worry about her staying in that group home. We have our suspicions about her being mistreated but she shows no signs of being physically abused so we try not to dwell on our worries. We haven’t told her yet but when we first learned of the extent of her injuries and her recovery time we got a temporary foster license so that we are able to have her stay with us while she recovers. We plan to talk to her about it tomorrow and make sure she knows we aren’t trying to pressure her into letting us adopt her.

“Chris?” I whisper so I don’t accidentally wake Ryley.

“Yeah babe?” She says back just as quiet.

“Do you think tomorrow will go well? I ask referring to the conversation we need to have with her.

“I’m sure it will. She’ll be glad to not have to go back to the group home for a while and she’ll love getting to spend more time with us.”

“I just don’t want to scare her. I want her to ask us to adopt her if and when she’s ready, not because she thinks we’re trying to force it on her.”

“She won’t see it that way, I’m sure of it.”

What neither of us realized was that while we were talking Ryley woke up and heard everything that we said.

//

Hey guys! I’m not sure if this is longer than the prologue but it seems like it lmao. I’m starting a tag list so if you want to be tagged when I post new chapters let me know. Thank you for all the kind words about my writing! 💕 The rest of the team will appear soon, I promise! (This is mostly unedited. sorry for mistakes)

S/O to @takingthehighwayhome for the idea for this chapter!

-N

Tag list: @slow-dance-in-the-dark @messyheath

[ssixa]

Chance Encounter//Mark Tuan x Y/N

Description: Walking into the night shift at the hospital proves to keep you on your toes. Nights are left to the universe so you can only hope that tonight will be decent. What happens when you find out that one of your patients is THE Mark Tuan from GOT7? how do you try to deal with the chaos erupting from this chance encounter? and how many times do you have to tell yourself that you love your job?

Genre: fluff, slight cringe

Pairing: Black Fem ReaderxMark Tuan (though I will say there isn’t much description of black characteristics)

Word count: 4.4K

Warning: explicit language

A/n: uploading this while I’m in the middle of lecture. Nothing crazy to add though. I was trying to be more specific with the collage, but why is it so hard to find a picture of an actual black woman arm?! (this will most definitely make sense when you read this chapter lol). I really try not to use the same photos twice, but it happens. hope y’all enjoy chapter 3!

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Chapter 3

For shifts being 12 hours long, they always seem to go by quickly. Fortunately, this shift was one of them. Nothing else crazy happened the rest of the shift. More flirting from Mr. Tuan, more me getting slightly flustered by it, got in an argument with a confused elderly patient who...well...it’s too long to explain, actually got to eat dinner, etc. Before I knew it, it was 6:50am. I was finishing up on my last bit of charting when I heard the patient phone at the desk go off. I groveled because I was hoping it wasn’t one of my patient’s who needed something extensive done. I got up and headed to the phone. I checked the screen and saw a room number I know all too well...Mr. Tuan. I answer the phone,

“How may I help you?” I question just like I do any other patient.

“Oh, I was wondering if I could get a cup of coffee” he says politely.

“Sure! how many creamers and sugars” I respond.

“Um, how about 3 creamers and 6 sugars?” he responds giddily.

“Coming right up” I speak up happily. Maybe a little too happily because all I receive is a giggle at the end. I’m just happy that the request wasn’t anything major that involved me having to leave super late like I normally do. It definitely isn’t that Mark’s face would be the last face (of my patients) I would see before going home. I head to the pantry where the snacks and juices are located. I remember the nurses mentioning making a fresh pot of coffee a little while earlier, while I prefer my red bull. I grab a little styrofoam cup, fill it up with coffee, grab the requested amount of creamers and sugars, and head to Mark’s room. 

I reach Mark’s room and proceed to knock. I make my way in and I’m greeted by a bright smile so early in the morning, the poor guy looked tired though. The one of a few downsides of night shift is having to wake up patients while they sleep. I know I’m angry when someone wakes me up from my slumber, so I try to be as polite to them when I go into their rooms at 3am in the morning. I set the coffee, creamers, and sugars down on the table and pull the table across him so it’s an easier reach; and also that breakfast would be served soon so there won’t be much to do for the people bringing the food. 

Once I set down everything, I look to Mark who just has a tired smile on his face. 

I begin brightly, “hope you enjoy your coffee Mr. Taun.”

He looked at me with such a calm look, I guess he was done with the flirting from doing it all night. He comments,

“You seem happy to see me so early in the morning”, maybe I jumped the broom to think he was done with the flirting. 

“Well I’m happy that I get to go home in a few minutes and sleep until coming back tonight. Also the fact that your request isn’t something to keep me here for a long time” I reply happily. 

“So, you’re coming back tonight? Do you ever get enough sleep?” he questions.

“I do, but luckily I only work weekend nights so my sleep schedule doesn’t get super messed up.”

“Oh so you at least get the week off, that’s good” he says earnestly.

“Well, kinda. I have another job I work during the week and on Saturday mornings. So I end up going from there, then home for a little while, then come here for the night” I reply nonchalantly.

“Do you ever rest? You must be tired a lot” he says slightly concerned. 

“Well look who’s talking Mr. Idol” I laugh.

“Yeah you have a point, but just make sure not to push yourself too much. I can at least vouch the damage exhaustion can do” he solemnly replies.

“Don’t worry, once fall starts I won’t be working as much because of school” I say. 

“You’re in school too! You’re insane you know that right haha” he laughs.

“And like I said before, look who’s talking Mr. Idol” I laugh along. I don’t understand why he’s so worried when everyone who knows idol life knows how hard and tiresome it is. It’s sweet though. I look at my watch and see it’s already 7am.

“Well mr. Tuan, I have to go now, my bed is calling for me. I’ll probably see you later tonight” I state walking towards the door. He looks at me with slight confusion,

“Are you not going to be my tech tonight?”

“What? will you miss me if I’m not?” I say sarcastically

“Yes…” I hate when he does that. He gets so serious all of the sudden and I know he’s just trying to mess with me, well not this time pretty boy.

“Oh yeah sure, I bet you’ll just miss teasing me. I only say that ‘probably’ because they could switch my rooming assignments, but to be honest, that rarely ever happens with me since I only work two shifts back to back” I conclude. For a second I thought I saw a slight smile, what a weird dude. We say our sorta last goodbye and I leave the room. Though it’s been an exciting and yet weird shift, I’m just happy to be finally going home.

~Later That Day~

Back again for another shift. Everything is the same as last night and previous shifts. When I check the census, I see that I have one less patient. I guess someone was discharged during the day, good, one less person to look after. I make my way around my rooms, happily greeting my patients who are happy and surprised to see me back again. Then I reach Mark’s room, yet again, a couple deep breaths and my knuckles hit the wooden door. I walk in and I’m greeted by a soft smile...wow...didn’t realize how I missed that smile within a short amount of time. This whole thing is still so surreal to me. 

I see that the manager’s back, but luckily no death glares this time. He actually looks at me pleasantly and I look at Mark,

“Um, Mr. Tuan, did you tell your manager something about me? He doesn’t look like he wants to kill me like he looked yesterday”I question slightly side eyeing the manager. 

“Oh, I just told him how great you were last night, even put up with my annoyingness. He found it impressive that anyone could put up with me for 12 hours straight that wasn’t him, other managers, and the members” he laughed.

“That makes a lot more sense, I’m glad then. Honestly though, I still see you as the quiet member even though there are plenty of videos that truly prove the opposite” I mention. 

“Yeah, I’m still pretty introverted though. The members really bring out my goofy side” he scoffs. I can tell that his members really mean a lot to him, it’s really in the eyes. The small glint I saw in his eyes for just a second, it was really...beautiful. y/n, this isn’t the time. I continue on with the typical routine where I get his vitals and ask the same questions. I even asked his manager if he wanted anything and he asked for a cup of coffee; no problem there. Since I wanted to get more on his good side, I decided to get it for him and add in some graham crackers with it (nice touch y/n). 

Mark watched as I gave his manager the requested item plus the bonus gift. He smirks,

“Really? I don’t recall him asking for crackers. Someone’s trying to make a good impression, but why don’t you treat me that nicely? When I asked for coffee this morning, you really only just brought what I asked” he whined with puppy dog eyes.

“First, you got me on his good side so I would love to keep it that way. Also the fact that he has to keep tabs on you and the other 6 members, I feel for him. So of course I would like to show my appreciation towards him. He must also really be worried about you...ya know” I say shyly. Thank goodness I’m wearing a mask…

“M-my y-y/n is so caring” Mark fake sobs. I roll my eyes at the over acting. For someone so quiet and yet so loud, Mark will never make any sense to me. I continue on with small talk, but excuse myself to finish up my vital roundings. I say goodbye to Mark and the manager and be on my way. 

I had a gut feeling that tonight’s shift wasn’t going to go as smoothly as last night’s. It always happens that way unfortunately. Though I had one patient discharge during the day shift, I gained two more meaning my section was close to its max. One particular new patient had some extra strength for being elderly; she would make a great teammate on a kickball team. While the nurse was trying to get her info and do her duty to get her fully admitted she started kicking and screaming. Another nurse came to help and I entered the room not long after. It was quite the sight though, both nurses having to hold down the limbs of the patient. I told the other nurse that I got it and she would be ok to leave since this technically wasn’t her patient to deal with. She nodded and I took her position holding the patient’s legs. 

An intense stare off between my new patient and I was a battle I knew I could win. I could tell by her eyes, and because I got a report on her from the nurse before she arrived, that she wasn't all there in the head. As the nurse started putting the restraints on our new patient, I slowly let go of her legs because it seemed she had calmed down a bit, boy oh boy was that a mistake. Only about a minute after letting go of her legs do I find a foot flying in my direction. I managed to shield my face with my forearm and block it, but I knew a bruise would be forming there pretty soon and my arm would be sore for a while. I wince in pain, but managed to grab her legs again until we would be able to restrain her. The nurse looked at me and began to ask,

“y/n you ok? That looked like a nasty hit” said the nurse.

“Yeah I’m fine, I just know I shouldn’t push myself for a while” I say to her. She looked and nodded in agreement. She double checks my arm to make sure nothing is out of place and deems I should be alright. I thanked her, asked if there was anything she needed me to do and she said no. I walked out and went to sit at one of the computers to try and clear my mind. After a little while I decided it was best to get some ice and some gauze to wrap and cool off my hurt arm to reduce any possible swelling that could occur. By the time I was done, I saw it was about the time for me to check up on my patients and to see if they needed anything. I made my way room to room while keeping the small ice pack on my arm. Fortunately, I was able to keep it hidden from the majority of the patients (some were asleep at this point anyways)...key word is majority. When I got to Mark’s room, I knocked slightly afraid he would be asleep and I didn’t want to wake him. He was awake, of course, and talking on the phone. When he heard me open the door he turned his head and smiled,

“Hey y/n, great timing! I’m chatting with the members, do you want to say hi?” he asked. This I was very grateful for since the last time was very much a surprise.

“Um sure, as long as I’m not interrupting anything” I say softly.

“Nah, they never do anything that important or they wouldn’t be talking to me” he laughed. The laughing quickly halted when he noticed the ice pack on my arm.

“y/n, what happened to your arm?” he questions, unable to take his eyes off my injured arm.

“Oh nothing to worry about” I smile and wave the hand of the injured arm. Big mistake. I slightly winced a bit and put the ice pack right back down on the arm. Mark mutes the facetime call and flips his phone over. He grabs my arm to bring it closer to him and again I slightly wince in pain.

“y/n...what happened?” he deadpanned.

“Honestly it’s nothing, one of my new patients just has a killer kick for being in her 80s. It’s fine, but unfortunately no bath for you tonight” I laughed, but he didn’t. He looks a bit concerned, but I try my best to brush off his worries. 

“Mr. Tuan I promise it’s nothing serious. In retrospect, I should be the one worried about you given I’m a fan” I say trying to make light of the moment. It partially works, but I know the worry is still there. 

“y/n you don’t have to worry about the bath. The doctor came by and said I could move around with some assistance so I’ll just hop into the shower chair. Luckily, I don’t think I’ll plan a shower for tonight...it’s not like I’ve done much but sit here” he laughed lightly. I smiled glad he was over it, but forgot he was still kinda holding onto my arm.

“Um Mr. Tuan, you’re still kinda holding on to my arm and if you don’t mind I would like to put the ice pack back on it before any possible swelling occurs” I laugh. His eyes grow big, fully forgetting that he has a hold of my arm. He lets go quickly and the room is filled with an awkward silence. Well, almost silent. We started hearing noises and I started getting a little creeped out because...night shift. That’s when I remembered,

“Mr. Tuan I would’ve hoped to have befriended your group members by now. You might want to show you're still alive before they think I did something to you” I laugh. He realizes the whole purpose of me being in the room was that I get to talk to his members. He flipped the phone back over and un-muted it,

“Hey~ sorry idiots, I had to talk to y/n about something” Mark started.

“Who you callin an idiot...idiot” BamBam replied almost instantly. Wow so he really is this extra even when not around fans and cameras huh.

“So are we going to get to meet her or what?” Yugyeom blurts out in Korean. I laugh a little at how childish this giant is. Mark turns the camera to me and I’m met with five faces I’ve grown to know since debut.

“Hi~ I’m y/n and I’m such a big fan! Like this is honestly crazy, though I would’ve loved to meet y’all in a different situation” I relay softly. 

“AYE WASSUP y/n!!” Jackson screams

“Jackson you’re too loud, but hello y/n it is nice to finally meet you” Jinyoung says with a sweet motherly smile. I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, this is all super crazy. 

As I continue to receive warm greetings from the five I realize there’s someone missing. I look to Mark and whisper,

“Where’s JB?” 

He roles his eyes and proceeds with 

“He had some songs he was working on so he couldn’t join” he replied.

“Wow she really must be head over heels for JB huh?” I hear Jackson comment. I panic slightly,

“I was just wondering where he was, I would’ve wondered the same about any of y’all if a person wasn’t here!” I ramble. 

“...wait, but how---Mr. Tuan you didn’t!!” I look at Mark with daggers that're sharper than any needle. He raised his arms up in defensive mode quickly and rebutted,

“I promise I didn’t say anything! I learned my lesson last time so I kept my mouth shut I promise!” he said hysterically, but trying to laugh away the situation. I keep the daggers on him until I hear someone speak up in Korean 

“JB was actually texting us and bragging about how he’s your favorite member and your favorite idol overall” Youngjae speaks up laughingly. I look at Mark and he translates what Youngjae just said, but I find it hard to believe. 

“Jackson is Mr. Tuan translation right or will I have to make his hospital stay longer?” I said evilly.  

“No, his translation was right, JB was bragging about it in the group chat” Jackson said irritatedly. I was shocked, like I can’t believe my bias was this excited that I’m one of his fans. 

“But on your favorite list, what place am I on there sweetheart?” he smirked. Really, this again? And paired with the smirk too...Lord help me.

“Umm~ are you sure you want to know?” I question.

“You and I are tied Jackson. She’s been a fan of Markson so you can tell she’s been around for a while” Mark interjects.

“I’m pretty sure he asked me the question, Markipoo~”I roll my eyes

“I told you not to call me that!!” he grumbled. Laughter filled the room from me and the boys on the facetime call.

“OMG she knows about the nickname!!” BamBam exclaimed. All the boys had tears welling up in their eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh along too, though I had to keep my voice down. Not that I would get in trouble, but I’m at work so I don’t want to seem like I’m just hanging out too much. Then again, I’m done with all my duties for a while so it’s not too crazy to stay here for a little while. 

“But, Mark is right. JB is my favorite member, but Mark and Jackson are tied for second. Even then, apart from JB being my favorite member that doesn’t mean I love y’all any less. I think I would equally pass out if I met any of y’all in real life” I mention.

“Well?” Jinyoung questions

“Well...what?” I asked back confused.

“You’re not passed out” Yugyeom finished.

“Haha, well at this point I don’t think I could be surprised by Mr. Tuan anymore” I laugh tiredly. I could tell they wanted me to continue given their curious looks. 

“Well, first I didn’t even know it was this Mark Tuan that was my patient last night. He also tended to be a big flirt and joker throughout my shift last night. Then, though I was grateful, he rudely surprised me with a video call with JB. Then I came back in here, but fortunately he at least offered to tell me ahead of time that I would get to talk to you all. So though I’m still a bit nervous getting to meet y’all, I’m beyond the moon right now” I conclude. Wasn’t sure if all I just said made sense, but luckily Mark jumps in to translate to the members that are less fluent in English. Thank goodness to Mark. A chorus of ah’s made their way into the room when Mark finished explaining which signaled an understanding. 

The conversation continued on naturally until I heard the intercom come on, 

“Hey y/n room 123 needs some assistance whenever you’re available” the nurse said.

“Okie dokie, thanks. I’ll head there now” I reply. 

“Well looks like duty calls, it was so nice meeting you all finally!” I continue on happily.

“Awe, bye y/n! Hope we can meet again soon!” Youngjae says. The boys follow with similar melodic phrases as we both said our goodbyes. 

As I was walking out, I say my last goodbye to Mark and that I would be back later when I made my rounds for vitals. 

“Okay, see you later sweetie” Mark joked.

“Yeah yeah whatever” I roll my eyes, exiting the room with a smile. That boy is such a headache sometimes, I swear. Welp, I better go help this patient. I know exactly what this patient’s deal is so I know to hurry because they need to get up to use the bathroom. 

*Mark’s POV*

“Sweetheart huh?” Jackson raises an eyebrow.

“Oh shut up, Jackson. That’s how I’ve been messing with her this whole time, though it seems like she’s used to it by now” Mark speaks up.

“Yeah~ sure, but we’ve never known you to flirt like that especially without other fans and cameras around because at that point you would be forced to. Does our Markipoo have a crush?” Jinyoung taunts.

“You would think I would get more respect as the oldest” Mark sighs

“Haha nope, never” BamBam grins.

“But really Mark, you sure you're not seeing y/n any other way. Your eyes seem to tell something different” Jackson brings up.

“I promise it’s nothing, being here is really boring so y/n is just simple entertainment. Really, you should’ve seen her reactions when we first met” Mark says laughingly. 

“Ok bro, just checking to make sure” BamBam replies. 

*y/n’s POV*

The rest of the shift goes by not as eventfully as the earlier in the shift, but what shift goes by without a bit of craziness. I reach the end of the shift and I’m sitting down at the computer catching up on some back charting. 

“How do I always get caught in this situation? Ugh, I’m going to be here for a while” I mumbled under my breath. Next thing I hear is the patient phone ringing. I cringe just knowing very well it’s one of my patients...it always is. I head to grab the phone and look back at the screen to see the room. 

“This boy is amazingly attentive” I laugh to myself. Of course it’s Mark calling. I pick up the phone and answer in my best customer service voice,

“How can I help you?” I answer.

“It’s almost like you wait for my call, do you wanna hear my voice that much?” Mark says. 

“Mr. Tuan did you need something?” 

“Oh ok, I just wanted another cup of coffee” he says in a small voice. 

“Haha ok coming right up, 3 creamers and 6 sugars right? ” I question.

“Yup, good memory” he laughs.

“Why thank you, sir” I laugh and hang up the phone. Yet again happy that the request isn’t too crazy, I head to the pantry once again. I grab the coffee, creamers, and sugars once again. I think to myself that maybe the manager will be back again like yesterday evening so I decided to grab another cup of coffee. I head to Mark’s room and knock lightly. I leave one cup outside the door in case the manager wasn’t there (I know I could just give Mark the other cup, but nah). As I make my way in I’m met with pleasant smiles from Mark and the manager as well. I take a slight step back to grab the coffee I have sitting outside the room and handed one to Mark and the other to the manager.

Both faces were garnished with bigger smiles than when I walked in and it was honestly satisfying. Not gonna lie, nothing more satisfying then making people happy. I greet the manager and he greets me back. Mark sparks up the conversation while instead of me leaving to finish up my charting, I sign into the computer to finish up (thank goodness for this system sometimes). Mark continues,

“So how was your night?” Mark asked curiously

“Good, that new patient that gave me the wicked kick didn’t cause me any disturbance last night” I laughed. 

Staring down at my arm, Mark asks “Oh yeah! Speaking of which, how is your arm?”

“Still hurts a bit, but nothing a little otc (over the counter) meds can’t handle” I reply.

“That’s good, I hope you don’t push yourself too much with that arm,” he says thoughtfully. I smile to myself, also thankful that I’m yet again black and wearing a mask because Mark would see how red my face would be. Sometimes I hate how he’s still able to mess with me even when he doesn’t intend to intentionally. 

“I won't, I won’t, thanks for the worry though” I say with a small smile.

“This is your last shift right? I remember you telling me you only work weekend nights” he brings up. 

“Oh yeah it is, but as I tell all my patients on Monday mornings, ‘if I don’t see you next weekend, it was very nice getting to be your tech and I surely hope you’re not here when I’m back because who would want to be stuck in a hospital?’” I remark. 

“Haha nice, but I’ll miss teasing you. Besides that, you’re very good at your job so props to you” he relays kindly.

“Hahaha thanks, but you know what I would really love? Is to see you boys at a concert! A sis too broke to get good seats AND plane tickets along with everything else” I fake whine as I sign out of the computer being happy that I’m done with the charting as well. Mark laughed understanding how it could be frustrating, but also knowing he doesn’t have the ability to decide where the group tours. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll have to see,” he laughs. I laugh along as well, but it struck me that this would be the last time I would get to talk with Mark. It was expected obviously, but could you blame a girl. This isn’t a new feeling because it tends to happen whenever I get close to patients, Mark just so happens to be one I’ve known for years, even if he had just heard of me Saturday night.

We say our last farewells since it was 7am. It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is. I head towards the door and turn around one last time. A slight smile graces both Mark and I’s face,

“Have a good day Mr. Tuan” I say.

“Have a good life y/n” he replies with a soft smile. 

Previous/Next

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,163

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​

CHAPTER 36:  SAVE ME

“I want to breathe, I hate this night. I want to wake up, I hate this dream.”

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

When she saw Min Yoongi being wheeled into the hospital’s emergency room, Raelyn pulled herself away from her assigned task almost immediately. Her heart hammered heavily against her chest and her forehead broke out into a cold sweat. She couldn’t hear the people calling her name and she blindly began digging through her pockets for her cell phone.

Did any of the others know what was happening?

Because she wasn’t his assigned nurse, there was no way for her to be directly involved in his treatment. Half an hour later, she was handed a coffee by one of her co-workers as they attempted to quell her concerns. They didn’t know what her connection with the patient was, but Raelyn knew not to open her mouth. The less they knew, the better. Everyone was better off that way.

Raelyn wanted to call Hoseok on instinct. She stopped herself, swallowing the heavy lump in her throat. Instead, she called Taehyung. He did his best to get her nerves to settle, telling her that it would take an act of some deity to pull Min Yoongi into his grave. He was just that stubborn. This got her to laugh a little and she sighed, feeling a little better than she had a few minutes earlier. Unfortunately, Taehyung was in Osan and wouldn’t be back in Seoul until later that afternoon. However, he did promise that he’d get one of the guys over to the hospital when Yoongi was cleared for discharge.

Her friend and fellow nurse, Seyeong, approached her just as she hung up with Taehyung. “Raelyn-ssi,” she called softly as Raelyn slipped her phone into her pocket, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, though she didn’t feel it, “how is he doing?”

“It was fatigue mixed with an anxiety attack.” Raelyn’s brows furrowed as Seyeong continued. “He experienced some shock, but he’s stabilized and resting.”

“That’s good.”

It was the only thing that Raelyn could say without falling apart herself. She nodded her head at the appropriate moments when Seyeong explained his condition, but the woman wasn’t really listening. There were too many other things filling her head. Mostly questions that she knew she wouldn’t be getting the answers to anytime soon.

Why the hell does this keep happening?

Once she was left alone, Raelyn unconsciously bit her thumbnail as her eyes narrowed. This was crazy. Anyone would think this was crazy. Who would go out of their way to bring someone back into the fold when it was obvious that they were competition? Wasn’t it normal to want to wipe out any obstacles that would potentially stand in a person’s way, no matter what avenue it was in reference to?

While a more twisted and jaded side of Raelyn could understand the thrill of wanting to taunt and torment an opponent, this seemed just shy of overkill. Yoongi was in the hospital because something shook him to the point of falling out. That or he was stressed and doing a terrible job of burying it down inside of himself. She hadn’t wanted to bother him with twenty questions, allowing him time to relax and to put whatever disturbed him out of his mind if even for a moment.

She toyed with the idea of calling Eden, but after the altercation she had with Yoongi at the hospital last time, she decided against it. The two of them would just wind up arguing about why he was in the hospital in the first place. Both of them would stroke out before either of them was able to get a word in edgewise.

Sighing, Raelyn angrily began scratching at the back of her head. No. This wasn’t going to work. She had to get the answers straight from Yoongi himself. Taehyung was sweet, but he always tried to cover things up as best he could. Mostly because he knew how much their old life stressed Raelyn out. They were supposed to be finished with that life and things continued to seemingly spiral out of control.

Making her way toward Yoongi’s room, she looked over his chart to see what medication they were giving him. It was a mild sedative, enough to get him to relax and maybe help him sleep. Who knew how long he’d been doing things without sleeping at this rate? Once she was able to ascertain that it was the proper dosage, she quietly slipped inside.

It took her a minute for her sight to adjust to the low light of the room provided by a small lamp. The ECG monitor beeped steadily, his heart rate normal and showing that he was, indeed, resting. Raelyn closed the door quietly behind her, the latch catching with a soft click. There was a humidifier by his bedside and his attendants seemed to have adjusted his bed so that he was sitting up as he slept.

She sighed again. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.

As someone in the medical field, the last thing she wanted to do was pull someone out of the comfort of sleep.

Raelyn turned slowly, intent on leaving the room, when she heard movement behind her. Her hand froze, hovering just above the doorknob.

“Raelyn-ah,” he heard Yoongi grunt. She turned around to see him sitting up full, the blankets shifting around in his lap as he did so.

She turned back around to face him. “Did I wake you?”

“Who can sleep when you exist so loudly?”

Raelyn frowned, unsure of what to make of that statement. Yoongi’s wistful smirk, however, showed that he was merely teasing. She crossed the room, plopping down into a nearby chair as he pressed a hand to his forehead. She noticed the look of disapproval on his face at the IV attached to his arm. When Yoongi attempted to remove it, Raelyn smacked his wrist on reflex.

“Don’t even think about pulling that out until you’ve been discharged,” she snapped, giving him a warning glare which he huffed at.

The two of them sat in silence – both probably processing the moment shared between them. It wasn’t often that Raelyn spent time with Yoongi alone. When Hoseok and she were still together, she interacted with all the other boys – lower and upper tiered alike. But rarely was she allotted alone time with any member as an individual. In fact, she felt she’d gotten to know them better when she was no longer the boss’s girl. The title came with its privileges, sure, but that also meant she was placed on a glass pedestal that she felt would shatter at any given moment.

Truth be told, she always felt Yoongi disliked her; for reasons completely all his own. On the flip side, she never really tried to bridge the gap between them either. Yoongi kept to himself, busy moving in and out of the thick of things alongside Jungkook. He never once hinted that he knew any of Raelyn’s friends, let alone that he was even dating Eden back then. Then again, she’d kept her own connection to the Golden Jackals a secret herself.

Now that everything was out in the open, Raelyn wondered where the time had gone.

“Yoongi-ah,” she murmured while looking at him. He raised a brow, silencing urging her to continue. “What happened?”

For a long while, all Yoongi did was stare at her; as if he was mentally cracking the cogs in his head to determine how to best answer the question. He blinked a few times, brushing his hair out of his eyes before folding his arms across his chest.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself over,” he answered simply, causing the muscle near Raelyn’s jaw to pulse angrily.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, Min Yoongi?” Raelyn’s voice went up an octave as she rose from her chair. He followed her with his eyes. “You are now the third person connected to me in some way to wind up in the fuckin’ hospital! Why should I not be concerned about this?”

Yoongi frowned. “Because there isn’t a single thing you can do about it.” The directness of the statement was like a punch to her gut, causing her to take a step back. His expression was icy and so was his tone. “Telling you what happened won’t change anything, so why bother?”

Raelyn felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach and she fell into the chair, semi-defeated. Why was he the second person to seemingly knock the wind out of her sails? What was so damn heavy that they felt the need to try and chase her off like none of this mattered? Raelyn clenched her jaw, furious at being dismissed in such a way.

“Listen up,” she said, her ire bubbling near the surface, “there is only so much that you guys can do to keep us in the dark. We’re going to find out eventually.”

He scoffed as he cut his eyes at her. “You find out and then what? Huh?” Raelyn blinked, unsure of what he was getting at. “You’re either going to get caught up in this nonsense until it settles, or you’ll turn tail and run. Those are pretty much your only options.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but found she couldn’t find the right words to throw back at him. Didn’t she have a rebuttal for this? She normally did. In this instance, however, Yoongi seemed to knock the fight right out of her.

“So, I guess the only real question you should be asking yourself now,” he broached, causing her to meet his gaze, “is how long do you plan on sticking around this time?”

Even though Yoongi was a few feet away from her, when he leaned forward, Raelyn instinctively leaned back in her chair.

“Because I can tell you right now that things aren’t going to be pretty. Not for a while.”

Raelyn’s vision began to swim momentarily. It was like she was hearing Jimin’s words all over again. They held a different tone, but the implication was still there. Each of them were telling her to make a choice. Even Taehyung had asked her to believe in her, to have faith that she wouldn’t be left alone. She wanted to believe him. There wasn’t a reason for her not to. They’d proven time and again that they were steadfast and willing to walk the hard road together – side by side.

So why was she so afraid to walk with them?

“I don’t know what’s going to happen from today on,” he said, cutting through her thoughts, “and I don’t want to think about it. I tried to keep Eden as far away from this nonsense as possible and she still managed to stumble her way into this shit.”

Relieved that the pressure was off her, even for a moment, allowed Raelyn the chance to regain her voice. “That is her choice, Yoongi-ah. You tried to take it from her once already. She’s a grown ass woman and can make her own decisions.”

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to stare at his phone on the nightstand by the bed. It vibrated relentlessly as Jungkook’s name flashed across the screen. Neither of them made a move to answer it.

“Yeah, well,” he finally said after the phone stopped buzzing, “she’s made that clear enough. I don’t need you to remind me of that.”

Raelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t let your own regrets get in the way of other people’s progress.”

There was a flash of anger that danced over Yoongi’s gaze as his eye-line met hers. She didn’t waver, despite how scary he appeared at that moment.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not stupid and I’m not blind,” she said, pushing her glasses up along the bridge of her nose. Raelyn’s arms folded across her chest slowly. “You may have messed things up with her, but that doesn’t mean Jungkook will.”

“Raelyn…” Yoongi growled out her name in warning but she didn’t heed it.

“Their relationship has nothing to do with you.”

“Jungkook is my brother!” he bellowed, causing her shoulders to tense up slightly.

She took a breath. “Stop using him as an excuse.”

Raelyn knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but this was something she’d been wanting to say to Yoongi for a while. Ever since she found out that he was the Yoongi who’d broken her best friend’s heart.

“Eden is choosing to stay by Jungkook’s side. After everything that’s happened, she’s making the choice for herself. Something you never took the chance on.”

Rising from the chair, she could feel Yoongi’s eyes following her. “And you’re right about one thing, Yoongi-ah.” Taking a moment to look over his monitors, she let her gaze linger on his for a moment longer before making her way toward the door. “It’s time I made a choice of my own.”

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals......Chapter Forty-Seven Pt. 2

“Question, Christopher?” Robyn said as she swallowed a bite of her food.

“Yes?”

“Did you rent this place out or something? I haven’t seen anybody else come in.”

Chris smirked and Robyn threw her napkin at him, “you weren’t even gonna tell me.”

“Does a magician reveal all their secrets?”

“That is not what I mean and you know it. You told me everything else.”

“I had no choice or else you’d think I used to mess with Abby. Everything about this night was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Do you actually own a part of this restaurant or?”

“I am not an owner but my plan was to give you a tour of my art kind of like a showing.”

“I would love that.”

“Good.”

Robyn leaned into Chris’s arm as he led her around the main dining room, showing her all the paintings he did. She stopped him in front of a painting of men against a background of distorted lands, “what’s this one about?”

Chris looked up then looked down and shook his head, “I didn’t even know they used this one.”

“Did you not pick out which ones to give them?”

“Nope. I just painted for like a month and gave them all to Jonathan to choose. He decided to keep them all and wrote me a check for them.”

“Wow. So what’s this one about?”

 Chris took a deep sigh as he stared up at the painting. A few moments passed of him still not speaking and Robyn pressed her palm against his cheek, “Babe, are you ok? I’m sorry if I asked you something difficult.”

Chris shook his head, “it's not that. I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“When Jonathan asked me to create the paintings, he asked for something that was representative of our lives and I remember when I gave him this one he was a little confused about my point but he could still feel something when he saw it.”

“Well what was this based on?”

“Me.”

“Wow.”

“My first year overseas, I met a guy who had a stop over before deployment to the Middle East. He was older than me, divorced but had two children. We talked about life, our goals after our military careers were over and stuff. He was a good guy. Jeremy Arias. He knew I was pretty new and hadn’t been to a battlefield or anything like that. In fact, he told me to avoid the battlefield as much as I could. Me being my arrogant self, I thought he was making it seem like I couldn’t handle it until he took me around to speak to more veterans who had been there. Robyn, I had never met most of them prior to Jeremy introducing us but even I could sense the change in them. There’s a hardness you develop after seeing death just to keep yourself sane. The sad part is that hardness doesn’t work well outside of the battlefield. Many of them were divorced or had never gotten married simply because of the job and it was nerve racking for me. Me and Tiana had only been married a year, you know? Would I change like that if I ever saw war? Would me and her make it if I did? It’s hard not to think about your future when it’s staring back at you.”

“Sweetie, I never knew.”

“Nobody really did. I mean I stayed in England for most of my career and I was never deployed to battle but so many people I worked with were and watching some of them never come back shook me to the core.”

“What happened to Jeremy?”

“He was killed by IED in Iraq. There was nothing left of him to give back to his family. Luckily they found his dog tags but that was it.”

“Wow.”

“I think what made me paint that was as much as I was sad about his death, I couldn't relate to it. I don’t think anyone can until they’ve been out there. I felt a part of the branch but having never stepped foot into a warzone, all I had was a second-hand view.”

“A distorted view.”

“Exactly.”

“Were you more upset about being discharged because you never got to see battle and felt somewhat insufficient or because you had to leave essentially what had become a part of your family?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it like that but a little bit of both. You know when you’re 18, 19 years old, you want action for the adrenaline but as you get older, you want the peace just so you don’t have the hauntings that so many come back home with. I did my part working in different departments, training and practicing but it’s nothing like having to put that training and practicing to work. It comes with more than just a sense of accomplishment.”

“So the painting is about that disconnect for you. Like you went into the military and part of you feels like you didn’t get to do what you signed up for.”

“Yea,” Chris said lowly as he turned to stare at Robyn, “you know, nobody ever caught on to the meaning that quickly.”

“I doubt you explained it to them like you explained it to me.”

“Nobody ever really asked.”

“So is this all the paintings you did for Jonathan?”

“No, it was like 20 in total to be honest.”

“You were doing like one painting a day then.”

“Something like that.”

“Why?”

“I needed something to pass the time. When I wasn’t working on base, I was home. Tiana wasn’t really there much. She had friends and stuff to run around town with so I was by myself a lot but it was cool.”

“How much time did you actually spend with her outside of your bedroom?”

Chris chuckled, “not a lot. Sex was where we could level with each other. Outside of that, we were civil but we lived completely separated lives. My only connection to her life was the fact I financed it.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to laugh.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you would.”

Robyn pressed her face into his arm and giggled, “anyway, what else do you want to show me?”

“What else do you want to see?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be seducing me?”

“And part of that is giving you what you want. So what else do you want to see?”

“Ok, I would love some dessert.”

“From here?”

“Nope but I know the perfect place to get my favorite thing.”

“Then let’s go.”

                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where did you find this place?” Chris asked as Robyn fed him a slice of ice cream cake.

“I was pregnant with Twins. I can smell good food anywhere.”

Chris laughed, “very true.”

“And I developed the worst craving for this rum ice cream cake.”

“I can see why. It’s delicious.”

“I made a good choice?”

“An excellent choice. So I have one more thing I would like to do with you before you make a decision about the week.”

“Is it something physical because I am gonna finish this cake and probably not gonna be able to move?”

“It’s not super physical. Just walking.”

“I have on heels.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it.”

Robyn raised her brow at him, “Chris, what are you up to?”

“You’ll find out,” Chris replied as he dug into his slice of cake and took another bite.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No Christopher.”

“Yes Robyn. Come say hi.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“If you’d touch, you’d know I’m not kidding. Come say hi,” Chris replied as he grabbed her hand. Chris pulled her forward to the man holding the reins of a horse. 

“How much did this cost?”

“Don’t worry about it. Robyn, this is Javier. He owes a carriage business and he’s gonna be taking us for a ride through your favorite part this evening.”

“Hello Javier.” 

Javier smiled and tipped his head at her, “Hello. These are my horses, Snowflake and Pilar.”

“They are beautiful. Where do you keep them?”

“I also run a stable on the outskirts of town. I use the carriage business to get them around people and teach people about horses. I mainly service weddings and such but when an old friend calls on you for a favor, who can say no?”

“You know Chris?”

“Yea, I’ve known him for-”

“How about we get going? Thanks J,” Chris interrupted. Javier chuckled as he brushed his hand across the nose of the nearest horse before climbing in the front seat. Chris helped Robyn step up into the back before sitting next to her. He entwined their hands together and kissed the back of her hand, “you ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

“We’re ready J.”

Javier nodded in acknowledgement and soon they started to move.

“You did pretty good. I wasn’t expecting this,” Robyn said as she turned to face Chris.

“That was the point.”

“What made you think about the horse carriage?”

“It’s something very romantic that I know you usually wouldn’t go for so I figured I’d give it a try.”

“How did you get him to do this so late at night?”

“Robyn, it’s not even 10 yet.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. We’ve been out for about 3 and half hours.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Time flys, huh?”

“You got friends in all kinds of places, huh?”

“I have my connections. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I know you got some friends somewhere that I haven't met.”

“Actually no. I spend more time at work or with the girls than anything. Prior to you coming back around, I never really went anywhere.”

“My mom told me that you would go out when you left the girls with her.”

“That’s what I told her. I used that time to rest more than anything.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, just a little surprised.”

“That was not a surprised tone. You can give it to me straight, I can take it.”

“There’s nothing for me to say that I haven’t said to you already. You need to stop working so much and take some time for yourself.”

“I wish everybody would stop assuming that I’m not taking time for myself. What do you think I do when the girls aren’t home?”

“Sleeping all day and eating ice cream is not taking time for yourself.”

“According to you.”

“I’ma start popping up on you again.”

“I don’t remember you ever stopping.”

Chris gently nudged her and Robyn laughed, “I’m gonna get you back for that.”

Robyn leaned up and kissed his cheek.

“What was that for?”

“That was my answer.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That is a yes. I have been successfully seduced.”

“It gets better.”

“What else you got for me?”

“Something I think you’ll love.”

“Dick.”

“Other than that.”

Robyn laughed as she ran her hand along the curls at the nape of his neck, “other than that, what else is it? Do I have to get naked?”

“No. Put the freak on pause, Ms. Fenty. We’re not going there tonight.”

Robyn pouted, “but why?”

“Because tonight is not about that. I said without sex, that goes for the whole night.”

“Even after I said yes.”

“Even after you said yes.”

Robyn huffed, “Ok. I guess.”

“We got all week, Ms. Fenty. Don’t worry.”

“Well since it’s not sex, can you tell me what it is?”

“It is a present.”

“Big or small.”

“Big.”

“Ooh is it a car?”

“No but do you want a new car?”

“No, I’m just guessing.”

“You got me a little nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I promise.”

“I’m trusting you.”

“Good.”

Chris leaned and kissed her lips before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. Robyn wrapped her arms around his waist and continued to enjoy the ride with a smile on her face.

[honeypiehotchner]

Deception -- part three

Since y’all are some greedy little bitches, here’s another. (I’m teasing, I love y’all so much and I’m just as eager to get this story rolling on here; I’m already on part six writing-offline-wise, anywho, happy reading)

John’s appointment isn’t until one in the afternoon, thankfully. This gives me time in the morning to run to the store and buy a red lipstick, as well as some pens. There were some already here in this house, but they aren’t the kind I prefer to use.

           By the time I return home from my little shopping adventure I still have a couple hours before John is supposed to arrive, giving me plenty of time to have a cup of tea and look over his file once more.

           I hate to say it because it sounds cruel, but there isn’t much more to Dr. Watson than what Mycroft told me.

           He studied medicine at King’s College here in London, eventually receiving a Bachelor of Medicine and Surgery. He was a Captain – Captain John Watson – in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. He is, in fact, a soldier. A veteran of the war in Afghanistan that left him with a bullet wound to the shoulder, a psychosomatic limp, and an intermittent tremor in his dominant hand. He was discharged, of course, three years ago and was seeing a therapist for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder – which is common among veterans. Apparently, the last time he saw a therapist was almost two years ago. He stopped seeing one shortly after being introduced to Sherlock, which explains a lot, I suppose. Having a busy life and a best friend by your side can do wonders sometimes for healing.

           He currently holds a job as a general practitioner physician at a local clinic, so he does keep up with being a doctor. Though it’s clear he hasn’t worked in days…almost a week. So, he hasn’t worked since Sherlock jumped off a roof, which again, makes perfect sense.

           On the topic of Sherlock, John has lived in 221B Baker Street with Sherlock for almost two years now. He’s had a few girlfriends, but nothing stable and nothing current.

           I glance back at his picture, furrowing my eyebrows. I understand he’s a veteran dealing with his own issues, and that Sherlock can be quite the busy bee, but how has no girl snagged John yet? Just seems absurd to me that he isn’t dating anyone.

           I hum to myself with a shrug, going back to reading.

           John was apparently warned many times about Sherlock, but still stayed by his side. So, he’s loyal. He’s a good man.

           When Sherlock jumped, John was there watching from the ground…

           I sigh heavily. He literally watched Sherlock fall to his death. No wonder the man is not doing well. Seeing death, especially the death of someone you’re close to, does something else to you. It rips you up inside with a tangle of questions and accusations.

           Fuck you, Sherlock. Fuck you for doing this to John Watson.

           I try to keep reading, moving forward. John has a few friends, but none he really keeps up with outside of Mike Stamford, who he was in the army with. Other than that, he’s got Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson who they rent the flat from, and Molly. But it’s clear from this that Molly is closer to Sherlock than she is John.

           Interesting. He’s a veteran, a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes’s best friend.

           He’s insanely intelligent just from what I’ve read. He seems like a genuinely good man. I hate to say that I’m a little eager to meet him now. I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances, but it is what it is, I suppose.

           I glance at my watch, seeing I have around an hour before John is supposed to arrive. I glance down at my clothes, deciding to change before today’s session. Something to really get me fully inside Jane’s head and out of my own.

~~~

It’s pouring down rain.

           It was barely sprinkling earlier this morning when I went out, but now it’s begun to pour. I guess I should’ve expected this with how dark the sky was looking earlier, but I had my high hopes.

           I expect the weather to delay John’s arrival, but it doesn’t. The doorbell rings right at one, which only tells me he must’ve been waiting for the clock to turn. Sounds like something he’d do, if I do say so myself. Even though I don’t know him well.

           “You must be John Watson,” I smile, eagerly waving him inside and out of the rain. “Come in, come in.”

           “Yes I am, hi,” he smiles a bit nervously, shrugging off his coat.

           “Oh, you can hang it there,” I point to the coat rack by the door. “Don’t worry about it dripping on the floor, it’s nothing this hardwood can’t handle.”

           “Alright,” he nods.

           “A mad dog and an Englishman.”

           “Sorry, what?”

           “A mad dog and an Englishman,” I reply, thinking he didn’t hear me correctly.

           “I don’t understand.”

           “The only two fools who would go out in this rain on purpose,” I explain.

           John lets out a nervous chuckle, obviously not entirely sure of what’s happening, and this causes me to reel myself back in.

           “I apologize,” I furrow my eyebrows, shaking my head stupidly. “It’s an old joke my grandmother used to make all the time, but I realize this is an inappropriate time to joke around. Uh, right this way.”

           I gesture up to the two chairs. A pitcher of water sits on the table next to John’s chair, placed there by me a bit ago to make it seem…more comfortable. I have no idea what I’m doing here, but I’m trying to pretend like I do, and that’s been proving to be a little more difficult than I imagined. And it’s only been two minutes.

           We sit down in our respective chairs, me placing his file (not the one Mycroft gave me) in my lap, so I can take notes, and he awkwardly folds his hands together, crossing his legs.

           Here we go.

           “So,” I breathe, crossing my legs as well. “Why today?”

           There’s a pained expression on his face already as thunder booms around us. “Sorry?”

           I furrow my eyebrows. “My records say it has been eighteen months since you’ve last seen a therapist. Why today? Why now?”

           “You read the papers?” He asks, his voice cracking. “And you watch telly?”

           I nod slowly.

           “I’m here because—” He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, shaking his head.

           “John,” I pause, trying to swallow my own lump in my throat from watching him like this. “What happened?” He tries once, and stops. “You need to say it, John.”

           “My best friend,” he pauses, “Sherlock Holmes,” he stops again, closing his eyes, “is dead.”

           I sigh, hanging my head as I listen to him begin to cry. I swear to God, I’m going to smack Sherlock across the face so hard the next time I see him. Whenever that is. Because this is ridiculous. Doing this to John. And leaving me here to clean up the mess, to look after him.

           Quietly, I stand and retrieve the tissue box from the coffee table by the couch. I bring it back to the table by John’s chair, setting it next to him since I know he won’t take one if I hand it to him. He doesn’t seem like that kind of man, and I’m right. He doesn’t take one until I am sitting back in my chair.

           “What happened, John?”

           The look he gives me next might as well have been lethal. “I’ve just told you what happened.”

           “Yes, I know,” I reply. “But I mean how did it happen?”

           “You want me to tell you how he died?”

           “I want you to talk to me, John, that’s what I’m here for.”

           He nods. “He jumped. From a building, to his death, and I was watching. That’s how it happened, since it was so damn necessary for you to know.”

           He’s grieving, so I let his hostility slide. “You were watching?”

           “Yes,” John confirms. “I was on the phone with him before he…”

           “What did he say to you?”

           “What did he say?” John repeats the question, but with so much incredulity I’m afraid he might start yelling at me. “He told me he was a fraud. That it was all fake.”

           “What was all fake?”

           “All of his,” he waves his hands. “Deductions. All of the cases he solved. That it was all a…a magic trick.”

           “And you don’t think it was.”

           “Do you think it was?”

           “I didn’t know Sherlock personally, John. I’m just trying to understand the whole situation. And I’m just trying to get you to talk about it.”

           “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

           “Well, then why did you schedule this appointment?” I really shouldn’t ask such a testy question as this, but I am.

           “I don’t know,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

           “Can I tell you why I think you scheduled this appointment?”

           He gives me a strange look. “You’ve barely known me for ten minutes, but sure.”

           I smile softly. “I’ve seen a lot of patients like you.” I see a lot of myself in him. “And when they schedule these appointments when they don’t want to talk about what’s troubling them, it’s not because they don’t want to face what happened, it’s because they’re afraid of what might happen to them if they don’t.” I wait for him to interrupt or make some sarcastic remark, but he doesn’t, so I continue. “Grief is a deadly disease, Dr. Watson. If you don’t treat it properly or deal with it eventually, it will eat you alive. Talking about what’s happened is one way to deal with it, but if you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.”

           He sighs heavily, nodding his head to let me know he’s heard me. I expect for him to sound off with another remark, but he doesn’t. He surprises me this time by talking about Sherlock. Not about Sherlock’s death, but about one time when he came home to Sherlock shooting a yellow spray-painted smiley face on the wall of their flat. I try not to laugh as he tells the story, but I can’t help it when he’s smiling, too. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

           John tells me another story of the time – most recently – when Sherlock came home covered in blood. He had taken the tube covered in blood. Even my eyes widened in shock, causing John to nod at my reaction and say, “Me too.”

           I thought this session was going to be a little more painful than it turned out to be, but as John is shrugging his coat over his shoulders at the end, I see that an hour of just talking about Sherlock has really taken a weight off his shoulders. I did keep notes of some points in the stories that seemed interesting that I’ll ask him about next time. I didn’t want to press after he seemed genuinely amused and content telling stories.

           And I know from personal experience that sometimes the best healing comes from remembering the good times spent with the one you’ve lost.

[aleapoffaithfiction]

VI.

"It is not until you rhyme with a person that makes you their perfect match, it is when you are satisfied with each others peculiarities, and find jewels in their loopholes." ― Michael Bassey Johnson

I’ve suffered injuries before, so I’m well aware of how much of a bitch they can be. I’ve sat out of games, I’ve had my playing time limited due to undeniable pain and soreness, but I’ve never had an entire season snatched away from me and it’s a motherfucker. Post-surgery, I spent six days in the hospital. I’ve been home for just about a week and I’ve had a few moments when I felt like I was on the brink of snapping at those who are only trying to help me, for the sake of my own self-pity and then there’s the sleepless nights where I lay in bed and mentally rip myself to shreds.

I’m not depressed. I’m injured, not dying. There’s a lot more depressing shit going on in the world and unfair circumstances that have left people in worse conditions that I’m in, so it’s not fair for me to claim such a vicious dark state of mind after having spent hundreds of thousands of dollars of my own money on one of the best surgeons in New York to repair my ankle. Am I disappointed? Hell yeah. It’s killing me to watch my teammates go out there to battle without me and though many of them stopped by the hospital to visit and called my phone with well wishes, that doesn’t compete with or compare to the adrenaline rush of being able to run out onto those fields and to play my heart out in order for us to advance to that Super Bowl we’re all working towards playing in.

My days consist of either laying in my bed or on a couch, with my ankle elevated on a pile of pillows, and either a remote or video game controller in my hands. I haven’t watched this much TV in years. My independence is limited because my momma finds it to be a nightmare to watch or even think about me moving up and down the stairs with the crutches, so everyone does just about everything for me other than the normal humanly functions that I’m supposed to handle in private. I’m starting to think I’d even be joined in the bathroom if I hadn’t mouthed off about it.

I can’t take a shower, so I have to oddly wash my ass while standing in front of my sink and then there’s the fact that I have to balance myself on the crutches while doing it. It’s a lot harder than I’d like it to be. Getting dressed is a bit complex but I came up with a couple of techniques in order to get my comfort attire on without much assistance. There’s no playing with the dogs and they don’t understand it whatsoever. It’s difficult to manage three hundred pounds of dog with only one good foot, so if they’re not willing to lay around with me, whoever else is around for the sake of caretaking or company looks after them for me.

“O! You alright down there?” Momma stopped midway down the steps leading to the basement to be able to hear whatever response I may give. Today’s the first day I’m able to hang out in my mancave area. I crawled down here when she wasn’t paying attention and after verbally ripping me a new asshole, she properly set me up so I could lay around down here for however long I can take it.

“I’m good.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I’m alright.” I can’t front, I’ve been having junk all day long. I know that candy, chips, and cookies aren’t what most people would call comfort food, but it’s comforting the shit out of me.

“You feeling any pain? You’re due for the medication pretty soon.” I’m avoiding it. The discomfort is there for sure, but I’m not trying to go to sleep. On top of that, all of it messes with my stomach. I don’t even pop pills when I have a headache, so having bottles of them lined up on my bedroom nightstand to take every couple of hours is draining.

“I’m alright.”

“Are you cold?”

“No, I’m not cold. You wrapped me up in this blanket. You swaddled me like I’m a few months old momma. Ain’t no way I can get cold.” What she thought was hilarious didn’t quite connect with me. I’ll be burning up in about ten minutes.

“Okay, I’ll check on you in a bit.”

“Aight.” A bit means within the next ten minutes. I thought that I could get her out of the house by offering her a shopping spree to get whatever she and Jazzy wants but that was a lost cause. Though she quickly agreed to it with a warm thank you, she has yet to leave the house and I don’t think she is. I’ve gone from having a house full to everyone trickling out of here little by little over the last couple of days. It’s not like they can’t come back at some point. Where am I going?

My pop flew up here for three days but he flew back this morning for some business he has to handle back home. He told me he’d be back within the next couple of days but I’m not counting on it or sweating it. He will be back at some point, but it won’t be within any specific timeframe that he gives me or anyone else.

“Harry Potter or Twilight.” Sarai claimed that whenever I reached a point of dire boredom, I needed to either fine a television or film series to watch in order to keep myself occupied. With giggles, these were the ones she suggested and as I’m reading through the brief descriptions of the films, I can see why she was laughing. She’s has to be kidding around me with. Ain’t no way I’m watching any of this shit. Wizards? Ghosts? Vampires? Wolves? Nah.

Just the thought of her made me reach for my phone and head to my recent calls. I tapped on the last FaceTime call we shared with one another and listened to the ringing while awaiting an answer. I’m not sure when she leaves the ESPN studios but The Sports Haven has been off the air for hours.

“Hold on.” I almost misheard what she said as she hushed me with her whispered tone. She had to be holding the phone in front of her chest because I could only see the cool grayness of the dress she was wearing earlier today. She obviously hadn’t changed her shoes because in the midst whoever she was speaking to as she walked away, I could hear the sound of her heels clicking and clacking against the tiled flooring. That infectious giggle bounced throughout the halls further worsening my need to see her stunning face and once she was behind a door, my craving was fulfilled while her flustered facial expression amused me.

“I’m still at work. You know better.”

“Do I? What am I supposed to know better about?”

“I’m still at work.”

“So.”

“If you were at training camp, a work out, or at practice, would you answer my phone calls?”

“Yes.” I would. If I was near my phone, I absolutely would, with no hesitation. Coach would just have to be pissed because I’m walking off to take that call every single time.

“Bullshit, Beckham.”

“I’m answering your phone call every single time.” Her petite frame plopped down in the chair nearest to her as she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“How’s the foot?”

“Same ol’, same ol. I’m what, about two weeks post-surgery? I guess it’s not as crazy painful as it once was, but other than that, same shit, different day.”

“You’ve been staying off of it? Elevating it?”

“Yes, nurse.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. Much like my momma, she’s been just as on my case about sitting around on my ass. I’m doing it. I’m just not trying to become good at it.

“Ice for the swelling? Twenty minutes on, twenty minutes off, then repeat?”

“Yep.”

“Two pillows under the knee, two under the ankle?”

“Actually no, nurse. I’m not doing any of that shit. I think I need a home visit because I really don’t understand any of that.”

I haven’t seen her since I was discharged from the hospital. For the six days I was there after the surgery, she visited me every single day. Her shift was during the late evening. She would come straight from Connecticut to relieve my mother and would stick around until I was sound asleep. She spent the night twice. On one of those days, I had her sitting on one side of me and Drake on the opposite side. That may have been the best visit or maybe it was the one when both she, Ben, and Shep turned the opposite side of the room into a dance floor so that they could dance for me since my dancing shoes will be hung up for a while.

I find myself looking at all of the pictures and videos we all took during a time when I needed my friends the most. I had no time to sulk, because I was laughing every day. I smiled until my face began to hurt and it was all as genuine as it could get. We played Uno and Spades, Monopoly, Charades with our iPhones, and we sat around eating whatever they all decided to bring me from outside. Sarai even bought me a steak from Ruth Chris. It didn’t even feel like I was hospitalized.

“Cut the shit. You understand it.”

“Honestly, I don’t. You said how many pillows? Put the crutches aside and walk where on my own?” My eyes trailed up to the ceiling as I jokingly pondered on all of the directions I’ve been given. They’ve been drilled into my memory so much; I’ll never be able to forget any of it even after I’ve gone through recovery and am completely back to being myself.

“I’m not coming to your house.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“I’m confused. So, you can come and visit me in the hospital, where there’s hundreds or maybe even thousands of people around, but not at my house where there’s now barely anyone around?”

“Beckham.”

“I miss you. I haven’t seen you since I’ve been home and I’d like to. I can’t go anywhere. If I could, I’d come to you no matter where you are, but I can’t right now. When I’m better, consider it done. For now, I need you to come to me. Is that okay?”

Silence filled the spaces surrounding the both of us and we stared at one another through the screens that served as our connection and yet as a clear sign of the current distance that we have from one another. Sometimes FaceTime isn’t going to cut it. I miss the alluring scent of jasmine and vanilla as it mingles with my own to create an inimitable mesh that is only exclusive to us. Then there’s the way her laugher starts out boisterous and eventually trickles down into this soft cackle that instantly brightens my smile. I miss her cheating and making up nonexistent rules for Uno, and then the way she taunts me for being a sore loser as she does a victory dance that purposefully mimics the ones that I do on the field. Most of all, the kisses. They’re the ones that she thinks I don’t feel when she assumes, I’m asleep. Sometimes they’re on my forehead. The last one I got was near the corner of my mouth. It was lingering, so lingering to the point of me nearly turning my head so that I could finally become drunken from her lips. I miss everything.

“You need anything before I come? Are you hungry?” I may not be able to dance physically, but I’m damn sure doing so mentally.

“Nah. The chef is here. She’s going to whip something up. That was my momma’s doing, by the way. She knows that if it’s up to me, I’ll sit around here and eat junk all day, so she hired someone to make sure I am able to have a healthy balanced diet. She’s on a trial run right now, but I think she’s going to stick around because everything’s been good for the most part.”

“You need a chef. Your eating habits are childish. I’ve told you that before.”

“Aye, childish or not, at least I know it’s good. I’m not experimental. I eat what’s familiar to me and I keep it moving.”

“Childish. Your snack stock is good?”

“Just bring yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll see you later on then. I have to get home, change my clothes, and all of that other good stuff.”

“Drive safely.”

“Will do. Text me if you need anything so I can grab it before I come.”

“I don’t need anything other than your presence.” I thought she’d roll her eyes again and wave off what I said as yet another one of my flirtatious jokes as she calls them, but she didn’t. This time, she sank further down into her seat and kicked off her heels.

“I’ll text you when I’m nearby. See you soon.”

“Okay.”

As the recent call screen returned to view, I tossed my phone beside me on the couch, and began the waiting process.

Though I couldn’t do it physically, mentally, everything felt like one of those moments in a romantic comedy when someone invites a person of interest over and they’re scrambling around the house trying to rid areas of dirt and mess, in the sloppiest manner ever. They’re usually stuffing clothes into drawers, sweeping dirt and dust under dark crevices, and tossing most of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher only for them to be forgotten about for days. I know the house is clean, because a cleaning service comes here three times a week to make sure of it, and yet I’m still sitting here anxiously hoping that nothing is out of place.

There’s also the part of me having to mention to mom dukes that she’s coming and her turning that into yet another high school moment as she promises to stay out of the way though I know that she’s going to make it her business to be as nosy as possible because she can’t help herself. Per her request, chef Renee is making pasta and salmon. I would have changed my clothes but I’m not going up three flights of stairs to get to my bedroom so the shorts and t-shirt will have to work. My breath ain’t funky.

“You need anything else? Is there enough water?” She put together a platter of snacks and beverages for Sarai and I’s enjoyment. Why does it seem like she’s more nervous than I am about this?

“Everything’s cool. I think we have enough of everything. Those watermelon Sour Patches are her favorite.”

“After eating, I’m probably going to be upstairs. Just ring my phone if you need me. I’m going to bring your medication downstairs for you in like five minutes. You have to take it. Don’t give me hell about it.”

“I’m not.”

“Alright. Stay put. Please do not move.”

“Where am I going? I’m imprisoned for at least the next eight weeks.”

“You’re not imprisoned. You’re just home. Cut the dramatics.”

I selected Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone as my distraction while I awaited her arrival. I’d gotten through that one plus the second film and was near falling asleep through the Prisoner of Azkaban until her all too familiar scent came trickling up my nose as she hovered over me and poked at my nose until all eyes were on her. We didn’t bid one another hellos as she plopped down on the couch next to me. I don’t know why, but it felt extremely organic when she kicked her shoes off and threw her legs up on the ottoman alongside mine and restarted the film as if she went to use the bathroom and I let it play through all of the good parts without her. She served us dinner. Because I couldn’t move, she went upstairs to retrieve it and brought it down.

As for dessert, the Sour Patches were her preferred snack and though she shared some of them with me, she hogged the bag while deeply in tune with yet another part of the series that I know she’s seen more than five times; maybe even more than ten.

“For you to have knocked these films when I suggested them, you certain are becoming interested.”

“There’s like fifteen of these things. You’re right. They kill time.”

“There’s only eight. Shut up.”

“Feels like fifteen.”

“I enjoy them because they’re a reminder of my childhood and these movies came at a time when I needed an outlet or rather a distraction. I remember when my mom took my sister and I to see Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It came out in November. We hadn’t been out of the house since September.”

“Why?” She went silent for minutes. The musical score of the ending credits filled the air between us.

“My daddy died in September. September of two thousand and eleven.”

“From what? Was he sick?”

"Iraq. Operation Enduring Freedom, a direct response to the September eleventh attacks." Suddenly the room felt like it was viciously spinning as I stared at her. Beads of sweat trickled along the napes of my neck and though my heart mentally shattered at her words, there were some aspects of it that felt so physical. The tension gripping my body intensified as her devastating response echoed in my thoughts.

None of us will ever forget where we were, what we were doing, and how everything that happened on that specific day affected our lives from afar but my God, I can't even begin to imagine how those directly affected felt then and continue to feel now no matter how many stories I read or heard, how much footage I've watched, or how many memorials we have year after year. I have an extremely high level of respect for any and everyone who enlists to protect, defend, and preserve the safety and honor of this country, but I've never directly felt what it is like to lose someone you love while they're in the process of doing so, especially after all of the loss that happened just a month prior.

"I'm so sorry Sarai."

"Don't be. You didn't do anything. I'm alright. We're okay. I mean, you're never really alright, but you're alright in the sense that you learn how to cope with it, accept it, and move forward. You know, all of those stages of grieving. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I learned all of that in therapy." My hand met the top of hers and she allowed it to rest there rather than choosing to resist me. In an instant, our fingers laced together.

"We all have to survive something, you know?"

"I know." Our eyes glimpsed at the protective boot shielding my ankle from any potential trauma. That is of no comparison. I could lose my fucking leg tomorrow and it won't ever compare to what she lost. My pop and I have a solid relationship now, and though it was one big ass ball of confusion during many points of my childhood, I couldn't imagine losing him.

"Sometimes we learn that life isn't easy in tougher situations than others. Don't mistake that for me believing that things for me were far worse than anything anyone could have ever experienced then or now, but that was and still can be difficult to process. It took me a long time to be able to do so. Shit, it took me a long time to be able to even speak about it like this. I used to want it to be this best kept secret, you know? It wasn't a secret, because everyone knew about it no matter where I went, but I preferred spaces where people didn't know so that I didn't have to be the elephant in the room who everyone pitied. I believe when people pity you, it always keeps your pain at the forefront of your life because it's all they see." Our hands parted so that she could use both of hers to run up and down her thighs, in a self-comforting tactic.

"I remember my mother used to question me and often lash out with this accusation that I was trying to forget him but it wasn't that. More than anything, I was trying to preserve him; all of the good about him and the moments that we did have together. We were offered to sit in front of cameras at so many different television studios to be yet another grieving family giving Americans the waterworks, but I refused. Those memories were and are still mine. I don't want to share them. A guy I know felt the same way as I did. We went to school together. His father was a military medic who died over there some time later on."

"I'm trying to find the words, but I can't even imagine." I can't. How can anyone, if they weren't directly affected by it? The emotional response to the news coverage and the reality of what happened will never compare.

"I couldn't find them either. I'll never forget the stench of the cigarettes that my mother smoked one after the other, because she just felt it. He hadn't called home in days. Even with the city still being in subtle chaos after all that had happened, she was still able to go to the store and pick up two packs of something that she had quit using three years prior. She just smoked them while tapping her foot and hoping that he'd ring the phone to annoy her with one of his horrible jokes or to talk her ear off about real estate and finance, per his usual. Both were always a focus of his, but he was able to actually work in those fields once he transitioned to the reserves after being active duty for twenty years. He opened up a business right in Brooklyn because he saw all of the gentrification coming from a mile away. He volunteered to go. He was an American born Haitian and was all about the good of the country for whatever reason. He believed that he could be of great help with his two decades of knowledge and experience."

"That's honorable."

"Maybe selfish too." I can understand why feels that way. In some ways, his death feels like it's his fault, though it isn't.

"How did you find out?"

"Like everyone else does when a close relative dies in active combat. He didn't die in combat though. A building was bombed. He was in it." She squeezed her knees and shut her eyes.

"Two military officers showed up at our door, holding a folded up United States flag, and offered their deepest condolences in what I felt like was the blandest manner you could say it in. You could tell it was something so normal for them. The list of names was scrolling across the bottom of everyone's screens by the evening and there were pictures. Of course, he was mentioned. Reality really kicked me in the face and knocked me off my feet that same night when the doorbell rang. It wasn't more friends, family, or neighbors from all over our block. It wasn't another sympathy flower delivery or a gift basket. It was CNN; prying ass CNN. The whirlwind began from there. It was at that point that I realized that my father would be famous for that day and maybe the next one, and then would eventually be nothing more than a casualty of a fucked up war." 

"Sarai."

"Odell, I'm okay. I worked hard to be that way and it's what he'd want for me. I still have a lot of work to do, but I'd rather be a work in progress than a bunch of nothingness. I know I've made him proud."

"You're beautiful." From the top of her head to the very tips of her toes, she is that. Her essence and soul. Her demeanor and charisma. All of her is that.

"And you're kind of alright, I guess." Her laughter spilled out before mine, shifting the heaviness in the room. Though I couldn't move much, my arms were long enough to grab her into them for a lighthearted tickling session for having lessened me to "alright". I'd take that from her though.

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it wasn't easy despite you saying that you're okay but I'm glad that you shared it. Sometimes when you're up there speaking about me on that panel, I feel like you know me better than most and sometimes, even myself. It's my turn now, but for you."

"I don't know you better than you know yourself. I just...see you. You know?" Strip away the unique perks that comes with the jobs that we do and the positions that we play in society, and that's what most of the people in my position want. The cameras only pick up a small percentage of who you are and then there's the mask that you often time have to wear for the sake of self-preservation and protection. The scrutiny is never ending. One day they love you, twenty-four hours later, you're the scum of the earth. Explaining yourself is worthless because it only gains you the entitled label. The rare aspect of it all is being seen in the manner that Sarai just emphasized. There are very few who have that gift. I'm so grateful that she does.

"I see you too." On the screen and finally, beyond it. I thought my fantasies about her essence were unbelievably incredible, but the reality of her is beyond measure. She's superseded all of my thoughts.

"Can we finish binging my friends in my head though? We can finish all of these movies tonight." I earned a mush to my head for groaning in response. I thought we could at least switch it to Bad Boys. Who wouldn't rather watch Will Smith and Martin Lawrence tear down Miami looking for drug traffickers and murders than to watch wizards and goblins?

"Go ahead. Play the next one."

"You're so nice."

"Happy wife, happy life, right?" As quickly as I said it, is as quickly as I laughed. Her responding facial expression was a photo worthy moment.

“Beckham, I will pour the remaining sugar in this bag all over you. Keep playing with me.”  

“You can, for as long as you…” Before I could finish it, I was mushed again and her palm remained over my mouth as she pressed play. I know she found it funny because the smirk dancing along her lips didn’t let up. That’s good enough for me.

We shared my fleece Giants blanket through the earlier portion of the movie and that plus a mixture of all we’d eaten soothed the both of us into a slumber that left her limbs intertwined with mine and the illuminating glare from the television highlighting our frames. I hadn’t even realized we were sleeping or for how long until she was stirring in her sleep and lifting her head.

“It’s almost three in the morning.”

“It’s okay, go back to sleep.” Our tones were equally groggy. She could barely keep her eyes open.

“Lay down, baby.” Her head rested on my chest as it had been before and I covered her upper frame with the blanket once again. With one click of a button on the remote, the annoying lighting from the television was gone and we were left in pitch blackness.

It was my turn to kiss her as she slept and I planted plenty of them on various areas of her face until my body rejoined hers for rest.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

CSUAVS prt 11 start. Start it Lance's POV

Waking in a cold sweat, Lance groaned in disgust at soaked sheets beneath him. Every morning had been the same since Allura had left him behind. His dreams a never ending world of darkness. No matter how much he called, no matter how far he ran, all that waited for him was the inky blackness of the astral plane. Scrubbing at his tired eyes, he sat up to see Allura perched on the end of his bed. She never left him alone "Good Morning, Lance" "Nope. Not doing this" Frowning at him, Allura rose to trail after him when Lance climbed out of bed. Since her death, he'd felt broken and lost. His body no longer felt the way it used to. A constant itch beneath his skin that he couldn't scratch no matter how hard he tried. The marks on his cheeks an ever present reminder of the woman he'd loved, and the woman who'd left him behind. He knew her sacrifice was necessary, but she wasn't the one left behind to wonder every single day if things could have been different. When she'd died, he'd lost it. He'd planted field after field of juniper berries, foolishly praying she'd see his work and somehow come back to him. She never did "You can't ignore me, Lance" No. He couldn't ignore her. Her constant lingering presence was there, always living on the edge of his peripheral vision, despite the feeling that he had that maybe he needed to move on "I can and I am. You're in my head" "Lance" "You're dead Allura. You made it pretty clear what I meant to you. You're in my head. You know what you meant to me. I'm just a boy from Cuba and you... you were the princess of a whole planet... I should have known from the moment you said yes, that something was wrong" Hanging her head, Lance didn't know why he was bothering fighting with himself so early in the morning. When Allura had first appeared to him, he'd been excited. He'd thought maybe part of her had still lingered in the blue marks she'd gifted him when they'd parted. It hadn't been until three months after her passing that "Allura's gift" had revealed itself as the curse it was. Falling in, he'd realised this wasn't some usual illness. His scent had changed, his family constantly laughing and joking over the lack of personal hygiene he must have been forced to endure, given that he stank like he hadn't showered in a month. Embarrassed over such remarks, he'd showered three times a day, only for his family to remark he still stank. Aside from the change in his scent, a constant pool of desire seemed to have welled in his body. No matter how many times he jerked himself off, the feeling never passed. Fingers barely made a difference, his body crying out for something he couldn't understand as he locked himself away in embarrassment. The only way he could describe it was as if he was in "heat". He'd seen it dozens of times on the family farm. Bloodied discharge from their pet dog, yowling from the cats. The never ending need to be bred. Between his legs was soaking wet with some kind of fluid, serving to mortify him further as he his beneath his blankets. But what was worse, was through all of this all he wanted was to see Keith for reasons he couldn't understand. It wasn't like he didn't like Keith. Coming back from riding around on the back of a cosmic whale for two years had mellowed him into nearly an entirely different person. His happiness and confidence only served to remind Lance how chickenshit he was, and to remind him that Keith would never look at someone like him. Despite all his flirting, and self proclaimed title as a "ladies man", he'd long since realised he swung both ways. He was simply too scared to let anyone else see it, especially the team. It was awkward enough as it was. Nothing he ever did as a Paladin had been good enough. When Kuron had taken Shiro's place, he'd seriously believed the man hated him. Aside from the verbal taunting, the constant comparison to Keith, and the outright disregard of his ideas, each time they trained together had seemed to be an excuse for Shiro to hurt him. Naturally, it'd all been his fault. His fault he couldn't escape the choke hold. His fault he'd fallen when Shiro had kicked his legs out from under him with enough force that it felt like his knee had broken. He trained harder, but no one noticed. No one noticed as he improved on the training levels. No one noticed when his anxiety left him skipping meals. No one noticed when he wasn't in the room. Pidge was off with Hunk all the time. Allura was with Lotor. Coran was off... being Coran. Lance had no one, and at the time, no idea why Keith had stopped taking his calls. Sighing to himself, Lance opened his bedside drawer to fish out the small white bottle of painkillers that kept him functional. Between the nightmares, and general feeling something was wrong with him, painkillers were the only thing making things manageable. Red didn't like how much he was taking, his lion trying to take as much pain as he could, but there bond had never been as strong as the one he'd held with Allura. Lance had been honestly surprised that Red hadn't dumped his arse after they'd returned without Allura. "Lance! Mijo! Breakfast!" "Coming Mami!" Quiznak. His mother would know the moment she saw him that he'd had another restless night. She'd picked up the pieces of his broken heart the best she could, but none of his family really understood. None of them believed what they'd been through as Paladins. None of them had known how to treat his nightmares, and none of them knew he'd died. It's taken ph-months to feel normal again. He was on Earth. It didn't matter than aliens from every sector of space lived on the planet now, he needed to get his brain back to Earth time. He needed to remember that his time in space was over. Snatching up a random shirt, Lance swapped it for the sweaty one he was wearing. With so many people in the house, it'd be another day without hot water for his shower... an unappealing thought given he'd felt constantly cold since Allura left. Just another thing wrong with this body of his. Crowding into the kitchen, Lance jumped when Luis dropped his hand in his shoulder. Reacting without thinking, Lance swept his older brother's foot as his hand grabbed his wrist, only stopping when the fact it was Luis kicked in "Whoa! Someone's jumpy this morning" Snorting into her bowl of cereal Rachel waved her spoon in their direction "He's jumpy every morning" He loved Rachel. They'd been so close before he'd been shot into space in the Blue lion. Yet coming back to Earth it felt as if there was this invisible wall between him and everyone else. Smacking his sister on the back of the head lightly, his mother smiled warmly "Leave your brother alone. Mijo, you look unwelll" Rachel rolled her eyes at him, Lance ignoring her in favour of forcing a smile to his lips "I'm fine, mami" "You'd let us know if you weren't, wouldn't you? You should talk to that Coran of yours. It's not normal to be falling ill like you do" "Falling ill" was her polite way of referring his scent changed and becoming horny as hell over nothing "Hear that Lance, she thinks something's wrong with you" Smacking her upside the head again, Rachel let out an angry cry "Mum! I'm trying to eat!" "Leave your brother alone. He has a big day coming up" He did? "I don't see why he's going all the way out to Altea to remember the girl who chose death over putting up with his stinky socks" "Rachel!" Lance barely contained his flinch. It wasn't like he hadn't berated himself in a similar manner to Rachel... repeatedly... "Ugh. Fine. You love Lance more than the rest of us, we know "holier than though, Lance", can do no wrong" Gathering up her bowl, Rachel walked from the kitchen leaving his mother watching him as he slid into the free seat at the kitchen bench "Mami, its fine" "It's not fine. Especially not with Allura's anniversary just around the corner. Don't you worry, mijo. I'll talk to her" Oooh. Right. Allura day. For the last six months, Lance had been to Altea almost fortnightly. The constant back and forth becoming annoyingly normal. Especially when every thing there some linked back to something that was in tribute to Allura. He couldn't escape her. Their house sat in a fields of juniper bushes that he hated with a passion. Even seeing his old team barely sparked a fire of interest in his blood. They had their weekly calls. Keith would usually call him in the dead of night for no real reason separately, but those calls had started to taper. Feeling his mother and brother staring, Lance hated knowing what they thinking. He knew they both worried about him. He'd overheard his family more than once whispering about their concerns over his mental health. Should they force him into counselling? Would pills help? Maybe they should think about contacting Hunk? Or would Shiro be better? And why didn't he want to go to space again? What was going to happen to the giant Red lion if Lance didn't want to go back to space? Did he really help save the universe? Was Lance even their son? That was his favourite one. Coming back with glowing blue marks he couldn't explain, someone had mentioned to his family along the line that Shiro had been a clone... He loved his family dearly, but Earth just wasn't his home anymore. No one surfed anymore. Malls and shops were now filled with all kinds of space tech as more and more aliens called Earth home. The places he'd loved so dearly had been wiped out by the Galra. Varadero beach was still a no go zone as pieces of contaminated Galra debris was fished from the water. His dreams of returning to find Earth untouched had been ruined. Hunk's parents forced to work as slaves. His own family thinking he was dead for years, thanks to Voltron magically disappearing for three years and not knowing about it "It's alright. Rachel is just mad because I won't let her use my face mask cream. Where's Papi?" "Already out milking the cows" Where he was supposed to be. Kalternecker had assimilated back to life on Earth seamlessly "I'll head out then" "Not without breakfast you won't. I won't have my boy being hungry" Kissing the top of his head, his mother then went about busying herself with serving him pancakes for breakfast. Her fussing never seemed to dim, not with each passing day since he'd returned. Lance was really in no rush to return to space, but he wasn't blind. His presence was causing all kinds of friction within their family. His nieces and nephews had seen him at an all time low, both crying when they hadn't been able to calm Uncle Lance from a panic attack caused by a car backfiring. His brother had put him to bed more than once when he'd come home then passed out on the sofa from trying to find a way to rid of himself of Allura at the bottom of a bottle. Nothing he did worked, and nothing could take away the lingering festering ache that his lack of belonging brought. It was time to find somewhere new, or even somewhere old. Somewhere he wouldn't keep hurting the people he loved the most. * Allura Day came and passed. Seeing the team again had brought the memories rushing back. The more it hurt, the more he smiled. Keith looked so damn happy, and Lance's poor bi-heart couldn't take it. Keith had Axca by his side. He was the face of the new humanitarian works being carried out by Daibazaal, skipping Earth at his earliest convenience by the feel of it all. His friend had taken him out drinking to ease the pain, yet when Lance had woken the following morning, he found he couldn't recall the previous night at all. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. All he had was Keith looking adorable, half naked and dead to the world. His soft puffy lips parts as he let out small snores, that seemed almost magical in the soft light of the morning. Terrified he'd crossed a line, he'd fled. For years he'd loved both Keith and Allura. The harder he fell for his broody mulleted friend, the more he threw himself into flirting with everyone else. Keith had never been his rival, it'd all been born out his anxieties of never being recognised for himself. In the Garrison, he'd always been compared to the "amazing Keith", who made everything seem so natural as he rose through the ranks. The more he'd tried, the more he'd failed, and hence the more he'd been compared to Keith. He'd failed at absolutely everything at life, and now he barely had a life left. Loosing Red had kicked in the day after Allura day. His nightmares like shattered glass raining over his body without the warm reassurance of Red there to hold him together as he woke in his sweaty bed. When they'd left, he'd felt a moment of pride. Pride that Voltron had laid the path for peace. A peace that didn't need Voltron to uphold. But without Red there, and having watched how happy his friends were without him, he began to wonder what came next. Slowly his self medicating increased, as did his parents worried looks. He needed to leave who he was behind. He needed to leave his friends behind. He was longing for days they could never return to, nor did the others wish to. When the job on Erathus came through his communicator, Lance jumped at it. As part of the diplomatic duties they'd all had to fulfil, each of their individual skills had been highlighted. Speaking with the representatives that had contacted him, the job was a simple body guard mission for a travelling diplomat. The brunette couldn't deny his ego wasn't tickled as his sharpshooting skills were praised highly. Though, at that stage, he would have taken any excuse to get off Earth. Even to its "sister" planet Erathus. Agreeing to the offer, Lance was genuinely excited as he headed down to dinner. Rachel setting the table as his mother placed down a large tray of bread "Mijo? Did something good happen? Maybe with that gorgeous black haired friend of yours?" Huffing at his mother, Lance crossed his arms "Keith is busy. No. I was just offered a job" His mother's eyes widened "A job?! I didn't know you were looking" "It's protecting a diplomat" "Because you protected the last one so well" Stupid Rachel. Well. He wasn't about to let her ruin his mood "He has a tour and needs added security. I'll be heading out to Erathus tomorrow" "Tomorrow?! So soon!" "Mami, I can't stay home forever. It's time" "I get Lance's room!" Gazing at him with searching eyes, Lance nodded at his mother as he tried to mentally reassure her "Lance gets Lance's room" "You said I could have Ronnie's now she's out on the Atlas all the time, but Ronnie said no. I'm older than him!" "And Lance needs his own space" "He's going to space" "I need space! All he's going to do is flirt nonstop. Keith had the right idea running off with Axca before Lance got to her. Lady killer Lance doesn't need his own room" Ouch. Ok. That hurt. It was nearly as good as when she told him "he was literally a lady killer because Allura never came back". They used to rag on each other all the time, but Rachel seemed to have no filter when it came to think he wanted to forget. As the baby of the family, every single mistake seemed to be open season for everyone. Constantly paraded before his eyes as failed to measure up to his brother's and sisters. Why couldn't they simply be happy he finally had a job? A job that meant they didn't have to watch over him every moment of every day "Rachel. Why must you always fight with your brother?" "Mami, its fine" "It's not fine" "See, Lance says it's fine" "You can have my room, too. I don't know how long I'll be off world this time" "You don't know?" Shaking his head at his mother, Lance sat so there was a seat between him and where Rachel stood "No. It'll depend on how Erathus works out. If I do a good job, it's possible they'll hire me permanently" "Mijo... are you sure? It sounds dangerous" "Mami, it won't be any more dangerous than staying here and helping Papi with the farm. We could use the money, and I could... I could use some time off world" "I just worry for you so much" "I know you do, mami. But Earth isn't how it used to be. I can call. And Ronnie is out on the Atlas. I won't be all alone out there" "Fine. Don't think I won't send her after you if you don't keep in contact" "It might be a little hard to begin with. I mean with hours, but I promise I'll message" His mother gave a thin, tight lipped smile "Alright, Mijo. If you're really sure" "I am, mami. They practically begged me for my sharpshooter skills" Piping up, Rachel stumbled and ruined the effects of her own biting words "They probably begged you to shut up. Seriously, my little brother up there protecting a diplomat. They should be making sure he doesn't shoot them himself" Closing his eyes and opening them, Lance took a deep breath then exhaled "Can't you be happy for me, Rachel? I'm leaving" "I know" "Then why are you acting like this?!" Taking the tea towel off her shoulder, he mother raised it threateningly "That's enough. No more. I don't want to hear it. Tonight is Lance's last night on Earth for a while, we must send him off with good memories" They were good memories. A kind of bubbly happiness he'd forgotten had welled up at the idea of being free from the constant pressure of trying to be perfect for them all. Buzzing from the wine he'd shared over the table, Lance smiled as he kicked off his shoes, looking over to see Allura standing near the door "Don't give me that look" "Lance, you shouldn't mix alcohol with pain medication" "And you shouldn't haunt people" "I'm not haunting you" Half hanging off the bed, he picked up his nearest shoe and threw it through the fake Allura "You're not real. Ergo. A ghost!" It wasn't funny in the slightest, still, Lance found himself giggling. When he'd dated Allura, he'd never dreamt of throwing a shoe at her "Now shoooo!" Trying to sound spooky, Lance slipped off the bed with a thud "Hello floor" Nuzzling into the cold wood beneath him, he was still like that when Rachel walked in "What are you doing!?" "Hey, Rach. I'm chillin' on the floor. It's nice and cool" "You're so weird" "Mhmm. And you've been a bitch since I came back" "Only because you've been an arsewipe" "Nope" "Seriously, do you know how worried we were for you?" "Mhmm" "Then why haven't you even been making an effort to get over Allura?" "Allura's a ghost. How do you get over a ghost? They're all see through and you can't hold them, let alone get over them" "Lance..." His warm buzz was turning to nausea as he laid on his stomach "Damn it, Rachel" "You and Allura were never going to work out. Why are you still holding onto her?" "I'm not!" "You said..." "I'm not holding onto her! Your "lady killer brother" killed her!" "Lance... I was joking" "That's all I am to you guys! A joke! You wanted to leave me at the kids table. You told Allura all these embarrassing stories about me. She didn't love me! Ok, does that make you happy?!" "Lance, I didn't mean it like that..." Curling up on his side, Lance wrapped his arms around himself the best he could "I was gone for years... all I wanted to do was come home Rachel... Allura was so beautiful" "I can't believe you got drunk again. Let's get you into bed" "I'm fine" "Lance..." "I'm fine, Rachel!" Walking over to him, Rachel kicked his side hard enough to draw a grunt "You sleep there then. Don't forget to pack all your shit up. If you leave it here, I'm going to toss it" "Sure. Sure. Whatever"

[besidemethewholedamntime]

love is more thicker than forget ch. 2

I expanded the prompt fill that has the same name of this! I hope you like it :)

Summary:

'He sets down the bag, places the flowers in the vase that waits empty to receive them. She looks up, then, and there’s almost a flicker of recognition before she says what he dreads with trembling lips and glassy eyes; “I forgot my name again.” They tell him that eventually it won’t hurt as much. They tell him that they just don’t know why. He wants to ask a higher power. He wants to take it back. ' Where Jemma doesn't remember anything and Fitz remembers everything.An Amnesia AU and expansion of my 'love is more thicker than forget' prompt fill.

{Read from the beginning here}

{Or go straight to chapter two}

or read below!

They get to come home on a Saturday.

It’s an odd day for a discharge, but that thought only crosses his mind in the first two seconds after the consultant tells him. The second is elation of such a degree that he’s never had in his life. Maybe things can go back to normal again. Then the third is a fear, something such as he’s never known before.

“But... but her memory isn’t back yet? So, when you say she’s going home...”

The consultant smiles at him; she’s been so patient with him this whole time. “We’re discharging her into your care, Dr. Fitz, as her next of kin. Her memory may not be back but there’s no medical reason for her to be stuck in hospital. And we tend to find that amnesia patients feel more comfortable amongst a somewhat familiar setting.”

It makes him feel partly better, for he feels as though he can decipher some hope of recovery in the doctor’s tone. Recovery of memory. As has just been stated, Jemma is perfectly healthy. Though he’s still worried. Jemma has no idea who he is. She’s still not even sure of herself. Sometimes she murmurs Jemma Simmons over and over again in her sleep, as if trying to commit herself to her newly fragile memory.

“I wouldn’t worry, Dr. Fitz,” the consultant smiles, placing a brief hand on his arm. “She does wish to go back with you.”

Fitz lets it and a hundred other things soothe him. The way Jemma smiles at him when he walks into a room. The she lights up when she remembers small things; the fact that it’s almost winter, that her mother is called Juliet, that Alpha was the name of the family dog when she was a child. The progress is small, minute steps, for she still cannot piece these things all together, but at least they’re in the right direction.

The worries take a back seat, and he almost forgets about them, until he pulls up in front of their house, turns off the ignition, and looks over only to see her face.

“I know this is home,” she says through deep breaths, eyes tightly shut. “But it’s like I’ve only read it in a book.” Tears fall from her eyes when she opens them. “I don’t know it how you’re meant to know it. Not at all.”

He reaches over to take her hands in his. They’re so cold. He cups his own around them, trying to make them warm. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s fine. Don’t force yourself, alright? Just think of it as a place you’re staying, for now. If it gets too much then we’ll… we’ll sort something out.”

“Okay.” Lips trembling but eyes flashing with a familiar courage, Jemma nods. In his hand, hers grow warm. “Okay.”

-x-

The first problem presents itself at bedtime.

They’ve danced around each other fine enough during the rest of the day and evening, but now night as fallen and neither one can quite pretend they know the steps anymore.

Jemma stands and looks at the bed as if she has forgotten the word. For a horrible moment Fitz worries that she has. But no. Instead, with an incredibly forced smile, she turns to him. “If you just point me in the directions of the blankets and pillows then I’ll settle myself on the couch.”

Fitz is already in the wardrobe, pulling said items out for his own night on the couch. In return, he forces a laugh. “Jemma, don’t be silly, alright? You’re having the bed.”

“No, really, I insist. You look absolutely knackered. I’ll take the couch.”

Does he? He hasn’t looked at himself in the mirror for days. Even shaving has been such a passive task, carried out with no care for the end result. As a scientist, he finds it fascinating how people can change, how circumstances can cause them to alter the very fibres of their being.

“You were just in a multi-car traffic accident.” The words are said lightly, but they taste of bile. “I am taking the couch.”

“Ugh, Fitz. Please. This is your house. I am not kicking you out of your own bed.”

The words don’t hit him, not exactly. It doesn’t feel like that. His heart just stops and he feels ever so sick but there’s no force there; his body scrambling to find out what’s caused him to feel like this. It scares the hell out of him.

It’s our house. It’s yours and it’s mine and it’s nobody else’s.

“Jemma,” he begins softly, because there’s not enough breath left for anything else. “you know fine well I’m not letting you sleep on the couch while I sleep in the bed.”

And then he recoils when his words do to her what hers did to him. She doesn’t know. His carelessness, after what came before, makes him ill. Never before has he wanted to take words back this much.

To her credit, she smiles weakly. That same brave face that he loves but also worries for. “Of course, Fitz.” The smile doesn’t reach her eyes and the laugh sounds pathetic to both of them, but they leave it unspoken. “This bed does look quite comfy.”

“It is,” is all he can croak before he bids her goodnight and leaves her be.

Their couch is comfortable – Jemma made sure of that. All the same he can’t sleep. Not that he was ever expecting to. His mind races with all of the things he wants to say, wants to be allowed to think. About how he never could have slept in that bed without her. That all the days when she was in the hospital he never did. That this is their home, their house. That their lives are so entwined that it’s not as simple as just pulling apart chopsticks, but more like unravelling and unwrapping the DNA double helix. Things get affected, change irrevocably. Things fall apart.

In the back of his mind, in some small naïve part, he expected it to be the way it was when they were at university. They didn’t know each other, well; it took them time. And he thought it wouldn’t be so bad if it went back to that. He could do that. It would be fine.

But things have changed, and how he’s forgotten that he’s a substance who, once changed, could not go back to its original composition. They cannot be those people again. Because they were on the same page, the same people. Two, young, wife-eyed and naïve scientists looking for answers and, though perhaps unconsciously, each other.

Now it’s all different. They are not those people. She knows nothing and he knows everything and the knowledge that he cannot share eats him alive.

Seized by a sudden desire to have something of the past, Fitz bolts up and flips on the light to dig around in the pockets of his jacket that lies abandoned on the coffee table. The velvet underneath his fingers brings him mere moments of relief and he pulls the box out, sitting with it cupped gently between his two hands.

The doctors gave it to him along with everything else after she was pulled from the wreckage. It had been covered in blood and engine grease and that first night he sat by her bedside and cleaned it until it shone so brightly, with the hope that in the morning everything would be right again. And when she couldn’t remember, when she had groggily opened her eyes and asked him who he was, he had put it in his pocket, and decided that he wouldn’t make her feel like she owed him anything. That, eventually, she would find her way back to him and everything would be ready for when that day came.

Tears in his eyes, on his face, that he doesn’t care to wipe away, Fitz opens the box. The ring doesn’t shine the way he remembers. It looks dull and faded and, somehow, he’s not surprised at all.

He closes the box. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he quietly sobs himself to sleep.

-x-

In the morning he forgets.

He wonders why he’s asleep on the couch. What did he and Jemma do last night? Were they out? He hasn’t slept on the couch since Daisy’s engagement party got a little bit out of hand…

But then it comes back. Those seconds go as quickly as they came and he is left with the memory of what reality is for them now.

Someone is singing in the kitchen. Fitz hears the radio, the sound of a whisk against the bowl, the splashing of milk into a jug. Normal Sunday morning sounds. What he knows to be true, and what he hears are very different things. Before he goes to investigate, he tucks the little velvet box back into his jacket pocket and hangs it up behind the door. Out of sight, just not quite out of mind.

He watches her in the kitchen. Just for a moment. Her hair tumbles loose across her shoulders – he recognises the freshly washed wave it has. Her forehead has that crease in it, the one she gets from concentrating. She peers into her recipe book before whisking what appears to be pancake batter. The radio plays an upbeat tune but his heart slows. She looks up and sees him watching and she beams and it’s almost the same.

“Good morning, Fitz.” There is no longer the pause before his name. Small steps in the right direction.

He pushes off the doorway and walks into the room. “Morning, Jemma.”

“I’m making pancakes,” she announces, grabbing a ladle from beside the cooker. “It felt like the right thing to do.”

Cautiously delighted, he nods. “Um, yeah. I mean if it feels right. I’ll never turn down pancakes.”

She chuckles, tilts her head slightly to one side. “I thought you would say that.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a second too long and the moment becomes too heavy to hold. They both cough, look away. He shuffles on his feet, unsure of the next steps.

Jemma’s the brave one. She points her ladle at the table, to the mug sitting on it. “I made you tea.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” His hands wrap around the cup like it’s a life ring. The warmth floods into his bones. Things feel bearable now.

“It already has milk and sugar in it. I wasn’t sure of the exact quantities so I’ve left the spoon for the sugar by the sink just in case.”

Knowing that he’ll never do that, he takes a sip of his tea, and closes his eyes and breathes deeply when it tastes exactly right.

[elounorfluff-blog]

Inhaling Every Moment

A/N: OK I already apologized for this in my previous post. The whole thing isn’t heart-wrenching, I promise. Like and comment, reblog or DM with feedback! And a super fluff-filled nothing sad at all Christmas one-shot is coming in December. So here’s Christmas 2016....

The air felt colder than usual, but it had nothing to do with close to freezing temperatures outside. Louis wasn’t sure his life could have been in a more horrific state than it was that chilly night in December. The funeral had been held two weeks ago and he didn’t know how there were any tears left in him. After that awful day, it had been too much for him to keep leaning on Dani. Snapping at her when she was just trying to help and then apologizing over and over again until their relationship had more tension than comfort. She had left two days after his X-factor performance, on amicable terms. He knew it wasn’t her fault he was so upset with the world right now, but he didn’t think he could be with anyone in his current state. And of course, she had been at the funeral. Some part of him had expected to see Eleanor there, but when he actually saw her in living, breathing, form, it was like someone had sliced open freshly sewn stitches. He’d barely been able to say more than a few words to her.

His birthday had passed yesterday without any festivity beyond reading a hopelessly long letter his mother had left behind for him, telling him how proud she was and that she wished him only to find peace in the coming year. Lottie had also made him eat something and changed his sheets, and then taken him and Fizzy, along with the older twins to get hot chocolate. It had been a sort of quiet he wasn’t used to, but he had never been more thankful to have so many sisters. They were all in this together, at least.

And there had been today. Christmas. In their rented London home close to the hospital that no one could bear to leave just yet. Nobody woke up early to open gifts, but Dan and Fizzy had started making pancakes around noon as people drifted downstairs. It was an odd kind of relief to have things to do that day. Traditions that simply had to be upheld lest they have one more reminder of Jay’s absence. And so, they had decorated the tree that had sat neglected for the past month as they had been too busy with goodbyes and funeral plans and grieving to worry about something as trivial as ornaments. The memories held in each little trinket he hung up ended up being of far more comfort than he thought they would. He had found all the little things he’d made her in primary school, ornaments from different years which read “the Tomlinsons”, and listed names on some item. The first looked like a cookie sheet and simply held Marks name, his mum’s, and his own. The most recent was in the shape of a large snow globe and held at the top “The Tomlinson-Deakin Family” and read on tiny name plaques, “Jay, Dan, Mark, Louis, Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, Doris, Ernest”. He’d smiled, wondering what the person who had done the calligraphy must have thought, writing all those names. Every single one of the kids had some creative ‘Baby’s 1st Christmas’ one as well, his own simply stating those words on a tiny silver frame that held a photo of his Mum with him at one day old, not even discharged from the hospital yet.

They had sat in the living room and opened a few gifts from each other, before they had finally addressed the tense absence hanging in the air. Each of them had gone around and told the happiest story they could think of about Johannah. And for awhile they had laughed even though the pain was still fresh. She had brought so much joy to their lives. They had stayed in their cocoon of togetherness, not wanting to leave the warmth and comfort of seeing their mum in each other’s eyes, but then children started to fuss, and the night had to end as Lottie and Fizzy got the younger twins off to bed. He had to let the great world spin, whether he wanted to or not.

It was close to midnight now. He knew all the older girls were probably crowded into one bedroom, asleep on each other, as they had been since the funeral. He sat downstairs, in a back room with vaulted ceilings that was full of windows to let light in during the day. He was curled up on the couch, with his knees hugged to his chest feeling completely numb.  He took out his phone in hopes of finding a distraction, scrolling mindlessly through the names in his phone. Louis wasn’t even sure how or why he had hit call on Eleanor’s contact, it just happened.

Meanwhile, El sat in her sweatpants alone in her London flat. She couldn’t bring herself to go home to Manchester. She’d tried to enjoy herself earlier with a friend who’d invited her to dinner, but now she simply felt alone, save for Bruce, who she was currently using as a pillow. She missed Jay with everything in her, but more than that, she missed the normalcy of being around the Tomlinsons and how comforting it had been just to wrap Daisy and Phoebe in her arms at the funeral. His family was the only one that was going through this process with her, but she felt like an intruder, so she kept her communication to a minimum. When her phone rang, she didn’t intend to answer it until she saw the contact name flash.

“…. Hello?” She answered hesitantly.

“Hey,” Louis said quietly.

“You’re up late,” she mumbled.

“Surprised you’re still awake,” Louis replied awkwardly.

“I haven’t really slept much since….you know. Did you need something?” She asked with curiosity rather than annoyance.

Louis paused as if trying to remember something. “Not…not really, I guess. Just can’t sleep either, although apparently everyone else can.”

Eleanor spoke before she thought, “Do you want me to come over?”

“I can’t say the answer is no. I promised you no more lies, but if you’re tired, I understand” he told her, which was true. They had spoken briefly after Jay told her about Brianna’s pregnancy. It had been a strange conversation where she questioned why he felt the need for her to know before the public, and he’d answered her that despite not feeling they could reconciliate, he felt he owed her honesty, and that honesty wasn’t letting someone you had been with for three and a half years find out you were having a child from the media.

“I’m a little tired, but that doesn’t mean I can fall asleep anytime soon. Be over in ten?” El didn’t know why she agreed. A little birdie (actually twin ones with iPhones) had informed her when Danielle had gone back to America and their general understanding that Louis and she had split.

“Yeah that works…. See you soon.” The line went dead as he hung up.

El turned to Bruce, “I have to go, love.” The dog answered by putting his head on his paws. “….Actually? Do you want to go for a ride in the car…yeah?” The dog’s ears perked up and he sat, pawing at her. “Alright, but we have to be very quiet.”

She grabbed a clean sweater, double checked she had on deodorant, and didn’t bother beyond that. She packed up her golden-doodle and started her car.

Lou texted her to come in the side door, where the deck was waiting off the room where he currently sat. He heard her pull up but didn’t see her until she was at the glass door, holding a giant bundle of tan fur in her arms. Lou gently slid the door open as she stepped in and set Bruce down. “You brought your dog?!” He whisper shouted.

El shushed him in reply, quietly telling Bruce to lay down. “Yes, I brought my dog. You have to take care of them you know.” She wasn’t sure why she was being so forward, although Louis had purchased Bruce for her and known him quite well. He had been their dog. “Besides, you can’t tell me that fluffball is anything other than comforting,” she told him quietly.

Louis gave her a look but then his eyes softened as he crouched down to pet the dog. “Hey Bruce-y. How’s life been?” He sat down on the ground against the back of a couch and pet him.

El joined him on the ground, still wearing her coat and boots, rubbing her dog’s belly as she talked mindlessly. “He’s been okay. Definitely missed you when you first left.” She tried to fill the endless silence. “What’s on your mind?”

Louis sighed, “Just…how lonely things seem without her. I didn’t even see her all that often before she was diagnosed, I was busy living it up in LA, but then I was here constantly after that call. I was afraid if I left for too long, I might never see her again,” he said without looking up. He scratched Bruce’s ears as a distraction.

“At least you got to say goodbye?” El tried to look for something comforting but wasn’t coming up with much.

“You’re only the hundredth person to say that to me”, Lou rolled his eyes, standing up. “I need to smoke,” he told no one in particular, slipping on his shoes and heading out to the deck. Eleanor followed him, since Bruce had fallen asleep in the warmth of the house.

El pulled her coat tighter around her in the still night air, watching Louis take a pack and a lighter out of his sweatshirt pocket. She leaned against the railing and put one of her hands out. “Give me one those,” she said.

Lou gave her a strange look, “Didn’t you quit smoking…. four or five years ago?”

“I quit because I was dating someone in a band who had in image to uphold for millions of thirteen-year-old girls in 2011, you hypocrite”, she deadpanned, but he still didn’t look like he planned on surrendering any. “Give me a fucking cigarette!” She whisper-shouted.

Lou looked he had been shaken out of trance as he handed one over to her and lit it for her. “Well at least I can count on you not to lecture me about the hazard”, he told her, taking a drag off his own.

El almost laughed as she exhaled, “I’m pretty sure the fact that Jay hated smoking is enough of a lecture by itself.”

“You’d think. I’ve been awful about it though. I can go through a pack in two hours easily,” he informed her. It was true. His nerves never seemed to calm down and for some reason the routine dispense of nicotine into his system felt at least somewhat relaxing.

“Well, we all have our vices,” she knew it wasn’t worth lecturing him about anyway. He was going to do it either way until he worked through Jay being gone. They were silent for a few minutes as they smoked, until she stomped hers out on the ledge, too cold to continue. “You almost done, it’s bloody freezing out here?”

Louis saw her shivering and threw his in the ashtray. “It’s warmer upstairs, inside I mean,” he said as he offered his hand to her to walk back in. El glanced at him suspiciously before accepting it.

“What have you been doing down here, then?” She asked as he slid the door open.

“I…I couldn’t fall asleep alone. The girls are all piled in with each other, and if you hadn’t heard, things weren’t really working between Dani and I. She left two weeks ago,” Louis pat his leg to call Bruce over while El took her boots off. He had forgotten how much he cared about the dog.

“I heard,” she said quietly, looking for a subject change. “He remembers you. I can tell, he wouldn’t let Max near him for months, but he doesn’t even make a sound when you pet him”, she said watching the two interact, “are we going upstairs?” She gestured to the staircase down the hall as she hung up her coat above her boots.

 He figured she was cold from being outside, and it wasn’t going to hurt anything for them to go up to his room, “I guess…as long as Bruce is quiet.” El nodded in reply and picked up her overgrown puppy. Lou shook his head at her, hinting at a smile. He crept down the hall and up the stairs with her in tow, until they got to his room. He shut the door and turned on a lamp.

El set Bruce down on the bed, while Lou cleared away random things from it. “What’s that?” She asked of an unopened gift bag sitting on the ground.

Lou looked to where she pointed, and his heart sank, “birthday gift from Mum. I read the letter, but I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Oh…well do it now then. While I’m here for moral support,” She knew it might be months before he got around to it if she didn’t push him. Lou gave her an annoying look but picked it up and sat down next to her.

He took out the tissue paper and removed the two items inside. The first one was an engraved picture frame with one of the last photos of him and Jay before she was hospitalized. It simply read ‘Love you always, Mum Xx’ in what was clearly her handwriting. He smiled at it before setting it down gently on his dresser and picking up the other gift. It was a flat silver circle with an inner an outer ring, hung from a ribbon. The inner circle had a teddy bear holding a gift etched into it, while the outer one read ‘Baby’s first Christmas 2016’. He blinked back tears as he showed it to El. “She has one of these for all seven of us. And everyone’s is different, even Daisy and Phoebe’s. They were some of her favorite ornaments, she always talked about getting one for Freddie.”, he said it solemnly, leaning against her shoulder without thinking.

El squeezed his hand gently and set the trinket down next to the photo. She went to kick the bag aside but noticed something white in the tissue paper and picked it up for Lou to see. It was a Polaroid of all things, from Jay’s wedding. “Is that us?” Eleanor asked, even though she knew it was her because she remembered taking the photo.

It was while everyone was still getting ready and somehow the bridesmaids had found themselves running around barefoot as they finished up. Sophia had come to help her fix her hair, and brought Liam with her, who had brought Niall, and before she knew it all of One Direction was in the house and her hair still hadn’t been fixed. Someone was taking Polaroids for fun and had gone to grab one of Louis and Liam after he first walked in. Joke was on that photographer, because Lou had called her over, which of course led to Liam calling Sophia over, and then Louis told Zayn and Perrie they may as well join, which led Niall and Harry to sarcastically complaining about not being included. Louis had told them it was a couples only photo, and they needed a date, which they responded to by waving over Daisy and Phoebe, also barefoot and dresses still untied, and putting the girls on their backs.

The end result had been a set of laughing twins on the backs of Harry and Niall with linked arms and ridiculous facial expressions on one end and Zayn and Perrie looking relatively normal on the other end. In between that mess was Louis holding El’s waist and kissing her on the cheek while she looked slightly to the side, bursting with laughter at Sophia who was standing on her tiptoes in her black dress, trying to be as tall as El in her bare feet while Liam had covered half his smile, trying to hide his laughter at Soph’s attempt to be taller.

Louis took the photo from her after studying it, wondering why his mum had included it. He turned it over where the back of it had written in sharpie, ‘Louis, never stop making people smile. :)’. He looked at El, “that is definitely us.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. The photo only stirred up more feelings, although not all of them were bad.

“Can I borrow a sweatshirt?” El asked out of the blue once the silence got to be too much. Her sweater felt tight and uncomfortable now.

“Yeah, I’ll grab you one”, he exhaled heavily as he set the photo down and pulled one of his drawers open, surrendering the warm fleece. “Did you want one of the guest rooms?” He turned to pet Bruce while she changed.

El pulled her sweater off and unclasped her bra, before discarding that as well. She pulled on his warm sweatshirt and scooted back, “I’m fine here.”

“You want to sleep in my room? As in….” Louis was confused.

El rolled her eyes, “I’ll sleep with you. Wait not like that, I didn’t mean-”

“I got it,” he cut her off, understanding her meaning. Bruce stayed curled up at the end of the bed as he went to lay beside her, taking the Polaroid with him to examine it further.

She put a hand on his arm out of habit, “You alright?”

Louis shook his head. “I know that was probably one of the happiest days of her life, but it’s definitely in me own top three. I got to walk down the aisle with you. And nobody was fighting, not the band or my siblings, or…us”, he tilted his head slightly.

“You really want to do this right now?” El turned on her own side to face him, leaning on her arm, “talk about us?”

“You say it like it’s such a bad thing”, his tone didn’t convey any particular emotion, besides the grief he was clearly carrying in general.

“Not bad, per say…. just doesn’t do anybody a lot of good. Reminiscing about a girl you used to be in love with,” Eleanor stated like it should be obvious.

Louis raised an eyebrow at her as if she had just told him something completely inconceivable, like the sky turning green. He took one of her hands and looked straight at her, “Eleanor, I didn’t used to be in love with you… I still am.”

El blinked back a tear and looked at their hands instead of back at him, “You promised… no more lies.” She didn’t ever want to risk having her heart shattered again.

Louis wasn’t holding back his tears as they slid down his cheeks. “I’m not lying. You’re my girl, Eleanor,” El tried to look anywhere but at his eyes. “I know I fucked up, and got really lost the last two years, in too many ways to count, but I promise I’m not lying about this,” he pleaded with her.

El let the tears fall down her face. “Why did you call me?” She asked through her tears, swallowing thickly. She stared at their fingers, still laced together between them.

“Because”, Louis choked out, “because you’re my family. Nobody can ever be you, which means no one can ever understand losing her the way you would. You don’t treat me like some…broken, fragile thing. And because…maybe, I missed you.” He blinked hard and wiped at his eyes with his sweatshirt

“Maybe?” El finally met his eyes.

“No. Not Maybe. I did miss you. Shit, El. I missed you so much”, it was like a million emotions came flooding back in one second.

El wiped at her own tears. She crept closer to him, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She lost herself in the ocean of his eyes.

“I missed you too,” she whispered.  She wasn’t sure why she admitted to that so freely, but she knew with every part of her that it was true.

Louis didn’t stop to wonder if her reply was genuine or second guess her, at least not with words. He just gave her a half smile and squeezed her hand gently, “Yeah?”

El nodded and pushed her palm against his so he fell on his back and pressed her lips to his. Her thought process was completely gone at this point. She had meant to be gentle and quick, but before she knew it, his other hand was tucking a stray hair behind her ear as she found the familiar taste of cigarettes and some expensive whiskey he must have been drinking earlier and him. She surrendered all her oxygen to it, kissing him as they both cried silent tears.

Lou wanted her back the second she pulled away to breathe, but he decided he could definitely settle for her body pressed to his as she curled around him and rested her head on his chest. He swallowed and found his tears finally subsiding as he wrapped his arm around her. “I can’t lose you too, not again.”

El didn’t look at him to argue or try to declare her love enough to convince him she wasn’t going anywhere. She didn’t have the energy or the motivation to do any of that. She simply snuggled closer to him and ran her thumb over his where they knotted together. “You won’t,” she stated simply, glancing at the clock reading eleven fifty. “Merry Christmas,” she said sleepily. And then her eyelids were getting heavy as she wrapped her body around his and shifted most of her upper bodyweight onto him.

He yawned under the comforting pressure of her head tucked beneath his chin and her chest against his abs, one arm wrapped lazily around him.  Eleanor drifted off with her nose tucked to his shoulder. Louis’ breathing finally became slow and even as he listened to her breathe and smelled the same perfume that had been a constant for almost four years of his life. Bruce came and laid beside them. This was the furthest thing from happily ever after as their tear stained faces dried, but there was no denying it was love. It didn’t matter how many mansions he bought, or how hard he tried to escape his feelings for her, she was his home.

“Merry Christmas, Eleanor, I love you,” he whispered in the darkness before sleep finally found him.

 A/N: Please like and comment! Title from “First Time” by Ellie Goulding and Kygo

[kathrynmaslow]

Love Lies (7/15)

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change.

Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that.

A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness. Rating: M Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content

Chapter Notes: Chapter 7!!!! This has to be one of my favorite chapters that I have ever written for any of my stories, and I am so excited for you all to finally read it! Thanks as always to @daveyjacobsthepotterhead for being a phenomenal beta and @princesse-swan for being an awesome artist. Check out her chapter art for Killian out on tumblr! (I was wrong in saying it was posted last week, it was actually this week, sorry!)

I also have to thank atruthuniversally for commenting on every chapter! It makes my day reading your comments every week.

Enjoy!

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Art by @princesse-swan here and here

Chapter 7

Emma was nervously waiting in her room for Killian to arrive to pick her up before they headed over to the circus on campus.

She told him that he didn’t have to come and pick her up, that it wasn’t a real date and all that jazz, but Killian insisted.

“It’s all about impressions, right?” He asked.

But because of that, now she was completely over-thinking everything. It was supposed to be a bit cooler out this evening, so she was wearing a long sleeved henley with a comfortable pair of jeans and her favorite beanie. But now she was worried that what she was wearing was entirely too casual for the evening.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thoughts.

“I can hear you overthinking in there Swan, open the door.” Killian said.

A smile spread across her face and she laughed a bit as she pulled the door open.

“How exactly did you know that?” Emma asked, “You couldn’t even see my face.”

Killian smiled at her. Emma was relieved to see that he was dressed as casually as she was, in a pair of blue jeans with a leather jacket covering what she assumed to be a long sleeved shirt. The chain for his dog tags was peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

“I don’t necessarily have to see your face to know what you are thinking Emma. I just know you well enough to know that you would be nervous about this,” Killian said, extending his hand out to take hers.

She turned back to grab her ID badge and dorm keys, tucking them into the back pocket of her jeans before reaching out and taking his hand.

She paused outside of her door to make sure she heard the locking mechanism slide into place before they made their way across campus to the main square between the upper and lower campuses.

Apparently they had opened both campuses up to allow them access to the circus tonight.

The Circus came to campus at least twice a year, but Emma had never once gone. She never had any reason to.

Until now it seemed.

“Did David or Mary Margaret say anything to you about where to meet them here Love?” Killian asked her.

She and Mary Margaret had made up during the days between their fight and tonight, but Emma still considered things a bit frosty between them. She hadn’t entirely forgiven her for the comments that she made about high risk students looking a certain type.

“David said they were going to be arriving a bit later in the evening, he had a group project that needed to be finished tonight prior to coming. Ruby said her and Victor would be here, but didn’t specify when they would be here.” Emma said, trying to remember the conversation she had had with them two days prior.

“Well then, looks like we will have a bit of time just to enjoy ourselves for a bit before getting hounded by the dogs.” Killian wagged his eyebrows at her, causing Emma to throw her head back and laugh.

Killian smiled at her and lead her down to the entrance of the circus tents that were sprawled out along the square. A security officer asked to see their ID badges, and gave them both a wristband that showed that they were upper campus students.

According to security, there were some tents that the younger students weren’t allowed to access and they had to have a wristband to denote the difference between the two groups of students.

Killian looked at Emma after that description, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘whatever’ type gesture.

He took her hand back in his as they began walking down the main aisle of tents, seeing all of the food and drink vendors lining the stalls off to their right, while all of the games and activities were scattered long to their left.

Lighting up the far corner of the grounds was a large ferris wheel, its blinking lights shining in random patterns along it’s spokes.

The Grand Stands in the Main tent took up about half of the square, looming up over the rest of the festival like some kind of red and white ghost.

“Hungry, Love?” Killian asked her, gesturing with his chin towards one of the food vendor's tents.

“Sure.” She said, following his lead.

He bought them both corn dogs, despite Emma’s protests, and settled them down at one of the standing tables while Emma hunted down a beer for both of them.

Emma noted the woman at the stand checked her wrist band when she ordered the beers, so that was what security was likely talking about when they mentioned the younger students not being allowed to have at the tents.

“I don’t think that I have had the pleasure of having a corn dog before now, Swan.” Killian said, setting down his food and gratefully taking the beer from her when she came back over to where he was waiting.

“There are probably a lot of ‘American’ delicacies that you haven’t had the pleasure of having before now either. Have you heard of a thing called deep fried butter?” Emma said, laughing at the look of disgust that crossed his face.

“I will probably just stick with the corn dog for now then if that’s the case.”

“We are at a circus Killian, their specialty is deep fried anything. Deep fried ice cream, butter, bacon, twinkies-”

“What in the devil is a twinkie?” Killian asked.

Emma laughed at the expression on his face. “Don’t say it like it is some kind of dirty word.” Emma had to pause to try and contain the laughter that was threatening to explode out of her. “It is a dessert pastry.”

“You Americans and your deep fried monstrosities.” Killian said, finishing off his corn dog and taking another swig of his beer.

Emma finished off her food as well and took to walking on Killian’s left side, looping her arm through his so he could use his hand to hold his beer.

They walked beside a bunch of high schoolers trying their luck at the games before heading back towards the main tent to see a lot of the performers.

Killian and Emma’s eyes widened when they walked into the tent. While it housed the main stage area where a group of trapeze artists were performing, there were also a bunch of other performers entertaining the students in random circles around the tent floor.

He pulled her to a stop in front of a performer who was currently breathing a small stream of fire over a younger students marshmallow.

“Can you do that Swan,” Killian asked, pointing at the gentleman, “Breath fire like that?”

“Yeah, I can actually,” Emma said, watching the performer with a pang of jealousy. While she didn’t hope to be a circus performer, she was jealous of the fact that he was free to use his gift as he saw fit, without anyone trying to keep his powers under lock and key like hers were.

“Ohh, David look, A fire-breather, how cool is that?”

Killian and Emma both turned to see Mary Margaret pulling David along towards the performer, Ruby and Victor following close behind.

Emma’s brows tightened at the insinuation and she felt Killian’s wrist move to wrap around her shoulders, rubbing them in a comforting manner.

David recognized them first. “Killian, Emma! There you are!”

“Emma! So good to see you here.” Mary Margaret pulled her into a hug as soon as she reached the couple. “Killian, you know David and Ruby. And this is Victor, Ruby’s boyfriend.”

Killian raised his beer in greeting.

Emma turned back to see the fire-breather looking at her.

“You a fire wielder?” He asked her. She shook her head mutely. “Light up the night little lady.”

The performer winked at her before spinning into his next trick, making a shower of little flames bloom up from his hands and spraying out like fireworks.

The younger kids watching cheered, looking in awe at the act.

“You alright Love?” Killian asked her, wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulders.

“Yeah, I will be.” She gave him a small smile the she hoped was reassuring. He smiled back at her and gave her a quick kiss to her forehead.

“I see you guys have already found the alcohol, did you already eat?” David asked them.

“Yeah, we got here about an hour ago, where did you come in?” Killian asked.

“We got in over by the ferris wheel, why?” David asked, having to speak up to be heard over the crowd cheering in the main stands.

“Because the food vendors are on the other side of the grounds mate.” Killian said, “Emma and I can show you.”

Killian turned to lead the way towards food, wrapping his arm around her. Ruby came up along side of her as David fell into conversation with Killian.

“Nothing going on between the two of you, huh?” She said.

“Ruby…” Emma started, really not wanting to get into it with her friend right now.

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But I just wanted to say that I haven’t seen you this happy in all the time that I have known you, so am I glad for whatever this is. Okay?” She said, giving Emma an encouraging smile.

“Thanks Ruby. He does make me happy.” She responded. Emma made an attempt at changing the topic, “Is Victor going to try winning any of those prizes for you?”

“While Victor might be an excellent scholar and all, I don’t think he would be amused by the games they have set up here. They aren’t meant for anyone to easily win, and he would spend more of his time complaining about the game than actually winning.” Ruby explained, “What about Killian? He express any interest in winning you any prizes tonight?”

Emma looked back up towards Killian, watching him and David laughing over a joke as they continued to walk through the grounds. “He hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort to me yet. But knowing him, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

They did eventually find a way to all of the games tents after finding food for the rest of their friends and getting fresh beers again for everyone.

David tried to cheat out one of the strong man games, winning on his first attempt at playing, but the game runner looked at him with a questioning eye after he did it for the second attempt.

It was when Killian snorted under his breath that the gentleman told him he had to switch which game he was playing to one of the ones meant for someone with his kind of strength.

Emma and Mary Margaret lost it then, laughing at their friend’s misfortune and having to retry his wins on the second game. David didn’t do as bad as Emma thought he would have considering the circumstances.

They continued making their way around through all the games tents, swapping stories and drinking amongst friends. Killian even won her a small purple bear at one of the games. It was the most fun that Emma had had in as long as she could remember.

After her fourth beer, she was feeling a pleasant buzz. She and Killian were hanging around the main tent still, watching as a group of acrobats swung from silk ribbons hung from the ceiling. Mary Margaret and David had already left for the evening, stating they had an early morning ahead of them. Ruby didn’t let them off the hook that easily, yelling a few crude comments after them, much to everyone’s enjoyment.

Ruby and Victor had also left for the evening, taking the chance for some time alone before Victor’s roommate returned to their dorm for the night, while also avoiding whatever David and Mary Margaret were surely getting up to in her room.

Emma wasn’t necessarily ready to head back to her room for the night, but she didn’t want to hang around the circus anymore.

Something Elsa and her had done a few years back on one of their school breaks popped into her head, and she turned to look at Killian.

“Hey, did you want to go somewhere else?” Emma asked, placing her hand on his arm to get his attention.

Killian turned towards her and gave her a smile, “Sure, what did you have in mind love?”

“There is this game that a friend of mine used to play whenever we had the chance, where we sneak into the tunnels under the grounds and try and avoid the guards, wanna play?” She asked.

The smile on his face turned absolutely sinful. “That sounds like an interesting game. Lead on Swan.”

A broad smile broke out across her face as they made their way out of the stands, both of them laughing and giggling as they both stumbled a bit getting down the stairs. Emma wasn’t drunk, far from it, but she was buzzing on both the alcohol and Killian’s presence.

Emma took his hand as she lead them across the campus towards one of the closest entrances to the tunnels that she could remember.

As she and Killian ducked behind a bush to avoid the detection by one of the security guards nearby, he shrugged out of his leather jacket.

“What are you doing?” She whispered at him.

“Covering your shirt up Love, the light color would give us away in an instant.” He explained, throwing the jacket over her shoulders.

Emma made quick work of pushing her arms through the sleeves and moving to tuck most of her hair under her beanie. It was always Elsa’s white blonde hair and love for blue shirts that usually got them caught by the guards.

As soon as the guard was past them, she tapped the leg nearest to her, signalling him to follow her towards the grate in the ground.

When she looked down, they could see light shining from the main tunnel towards the offshoot that lead towards this entrance. Perfect.

She wrapped her hands around one side of the grate and pulled, the heavy metal shifting enough that she could pull it further off to the side for her and Killian to climb through.

“You first, I have to move this back into place before we keep going, otherwise they are going to send a ton of people in after us.

“You sound like you have done this a lot.” Killian whispered back to her has he began making his way down into the tunnels.

“Almost every week when Elsa was here.” She replied as she began following him down, sliding the grate back into place.

“This Elsa lass sounded like quite the hoot.” Killian said as she landed next to him.

Emma took his hand and began leading him down towards the main tunnel area.

“Okay, there are multiple little passages and nooks which aren’t lit to hide in down these tunnels, so we just need to make sure that we avoid the guards for as long as possible.” Emma explained, tugging on his hand to draw him out further.

They began aimlessly wandering around the tunnels, just exploring and having fun. They had seen a few guards make passes down different shoots of the tunnels without coming very close to them yet.

They were whispering quietly to each other when they heard the footsteps approaching.

“Shit, hide.” Emma said, pulling Killian with her into the nearest side tunnel, tucking into an alcove before the guards came past.

He pressed his body against her, tucking her tightly into the alcove to make sure they both were out of sight. She felt his chest brushing against hers every time he breathed, the chain for his dog tags bumping into her collarbone.

He hadn’t started out the year wearing them, considering he told her that he had been discharged from the Navy, but he mentioned to her he had taken to wearing them on occasion to remind himself where he had come from.

Emma wrapped her hand around the tags to silence the noise they were making as they moved against one another. Killian unconsciously took another step closer to her in response to the action, eliminating any non-existent space between them.

She was completely aware of all the places his body touched hers, connected from thighs to chest. His hand was pressed against the wall next to her head while his wrist was resting against her back underneath his jacket. The footsteps sounded closer, and he shifted slightly, pulling her closer to him while tucking one of his legs between hers to tuck himself in closer to the wall.

Emma hadn’t thought through the size of the space when she pulled him into it, only thinking that they needed to get out of view of the guards. And Killian was a larger person than Elsa ever was, so a space that might have fit her and her friend wasn’t exactly as conducive to Killian’s larger frame.

“Did you see anything?” They heard one of the guards ask. Emma saw the beam of the flashlight shine down the tunnel over Killian’s shoulder.

“No I didn’t, you are just seeing things Jennings.” Another guard responded.

“Must be, too many nights working. Riggans is increasing the patrols all of a sudden…” He said, voice trailing off as he continued down the tunnel away from them.

Emma looked at Killian, smiling up at him in relief.

“That was close.” He whispered down to her, a broad smile spreading across his face as well.

Neither one of them made any move to exit their little alcove, or put any space between their bodies.

Killian’s eyebrows furrowed as he continued to look down at her. “...Emma,” He said in an almost warning tone as her hips shifted against his.

Emma pulled down on his tags, using her other hand to wrap around the back of his head and bring his lips down to hers.

Her eyes shut as he continued to press his lips against hers, and she felt as his hand moved from the wall to tangle in her hair, pushing her beanie off her head in the process.

Killian pulled back from her for a moment, and she opened her eye to look at him.

His pupils, already wide from the dark of the tunnel, had swallowed up the sky blue of his eyes. He licked his lips, seeming to make up his mind about something before leaning back into her, kissing her with more force, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, silencing her gasp of surprise.

His body pressed into hers fully again, her back hitting the wall behind her as he continued to ravish her mouth. Emma kissed him back with just as much fervor, enjoying the feel of his mouth, his body against hers.

She moved her hands, releasing his tags and running her hands down his back, her hands eventually landing on his hips. She pulled him forward, wanting to feel more of him.

“You are going to be the death of me, Swan.” Killian groaned, pulling away from her mouth.

Emma made a small sound of protest before he moved his lips to kiss along her jaw and neck. His hand and wrist moved down her body as well, the wrist settling on her lower back and his hand splayed between her shoulder blades.

She placed her fingers through the belt loops on his jeans, pulling his hips sharply into her’s, feeling his arousal pressing into her hip bone. He bit down on her collarbone in response, sucking a mark on the spot. Emma moaned, she felt like she was on fire. One of her hands pushed under his shirt, splaying out on his back.

Killian hissed and pulled back from her a bit breathless. His hand moved to pull hers out from under the back of his shirt.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” She asked, pulling her other hand away.

“You are burning up Love.” Killian said.

Emma huffed in response. She didn’t know why her powers reacted like that, increasing her temperature without her even thinking about it.

“Probably for the best anyway Emma, wouldn’t want a guard to walk over to find me ravishing you in the tunnels.” Killian said with a smirk.

“Let’s head somewhere a bit more private than,” Emma said, moving past him slightly to look out into the tunnel. No one was in their little side tunnel, so she pulled him behind her towards the grate where they entered, both of them giggling like teenagers and trying to shush one another at the same time.

They made it out of the tunnels without getting caught and chased each other across campus back towards the dorms. They made it back to Killian’s building first.

“Did you want to come up Love?” He asked, still holding onto her hand.

Emma hesitated. She didn’t know what she wanted all of a sudden. She had enjoyed herself in the tunnels with him, she really did, but she didn’t know if she wanted it to go any further than that just yet.

Killian seemed to read it all on her face. “We don’t have to do anything Emma. I even have a spare bed made up for a guest if she would like.” He said jokingly, remembering Emma’s first visit to his dorm.

Emma laughed. “Lead on then, Sailor.” She said, gesturing towards his building. She moved easily over to his other side so he could keep his hand free while they navigated to doors in his building.

Emma smiled up at him as he unlocked the door to his suite, wrapping her arms tightly around him as they made their way in for the night.

[ontheedgeofrecovery]

What was different?

Hang tight, this is going to be a long one. I hope it is worth your time to read. Also, I put a hell of a lot of time into writing this, so I really hope it is helpful for someone (anyone!) out there.  

So, I was messaging with a friend the other night (and by the other night I mean a few weeks ago because this took me forever to write) who I met a long time ago in treatment (you know who you are and I miss you and love you!). As we were talking about how hard it is to be in treatment, I started thinking about my own last experience in treatment. What made it stick? Why was it that time that I was able to stop the cycle of going in and out of the hospital? I have struggled with anorexia and restrictive eating since about the age of 7. It didn't turn into a full-blown eating disorder until I was 13, but the seeds were there around 7ish when I started to become very rigid about what and when I would eat. Anyway, it's been a long struggle. And then from 13 to 31 I cycled in and out of treatment. I literally have lost count of how many times I have been admitted - I don't say this to brag (I have noticed this is a thing in treatment), but rather to emphasize that clearly something was not clicking for a long time. In the summer of 2014 my treatment recommended palliative care and to stop trying to get better in the hospital. Basically, let nature take its course. 

I pretty much accepted that the only thing left to do was die, but then decided to give it one last go and embarked upon one of my longest stays in treatment ever (October 20, 2014 to August 22, 2015). Although to be fair, I "left" many times. Usually for a day or two and then I would come back and resume my stay. I am so lucky I found a place and a treatment team that was willing to put up with my flight impulses and always accepted me back. I went from inpatient to PHP to residential to PHP to inpatient to PHP, and then finally IOP. I really hung in there and allowed myself to get to about 90% of my ideal before I discharged. Which I don't think I had done since being 15 and being at Remuda. While I clearly think this is one of the bigger players in how I got myself stable, there are others. 

What was different? How did I allow myself to stay that long in treatment and sit through the discomfort of gaining almost double my body weight?

Well, there is no one simple answer, but I have been mulling it over in my head the past few days and I thought I would jot down my thoughts 1) because I feel stuck where I am at in recovery and maybe this will be motivation and 2) I don't have many readers, but for those of you who are out there maybe this will be helpful? So here they are in somewhat of a particular order (though these have changed over time in how they contribute and maintain my "recovery" (I hate using that word, because I still struggle a lot with food, but I am so much better than where I was and maybe this is what recovery looks like for me?).

Anyway.

1) Cannabis -  This is kind of what kick-started the whole journey. I was 31 and had NEVER been high. Not edibles (well, obviously), not smoking. Nothing. I was absolutely terrified of getting high. I had heard so many stories of people getting paranoid and having panic attacks. I am already so anxious that the thought of something making me more anxious was an absolute no go. In addition to that, I am a rule follower and smoking weed was definitely against the rules. 

My brother came to visit in March of 2014. I was not in a great space. This gets confusing because my brother and my ex are both named Nick, but we called my brother Nicky growing up so that is what I will call him here in order to differentiate. Nick had been trying to convince me to try smoking for years, pretty much since we started dating in 2008. I was steadfast in saying it was a no-go. However, Nicky made a compelling argument that I had tried everything else and was dying anyway so why not try it as a last-ditch effort to save myself. Or at the very least make the time I had left enjoyable.  

I did and it opened my world in so many ways. It made me feel more connected to a greater whole. It made me realize that I am not alone in this world and I felt less isolated. Coming to terms with this made me realize how insignificant I really am in the overall scheme of things. This really helped me put into perspective the amount of time and energy I was putting into something that was not contributing at all to the betterment of society, my relationships, and I was not okay with this. 

It also reduced my rigidity. Things just seemed clearer when I smoked. It was kind of like a veil lifted. I had more room for flexibility. Smoking also fills me with a feeling of hope (similar to my feelings of connectedness). Things just don't seem so dire and pointless when I am high. It seems like things could be different, that I can choose a different reality. 

And finally (I don't know why this is, but I would LOVE to do research on this someday), I saw myself somewhat accurately when I smoked. For some reason when I am high I am able to see myself more realistically. My distortion doesn't completely go away, but how I see myself is definitely closer to what is real. I would look down and see my body and be like, "oh shit, this is really bad”. This even happened to me tonight when I smoked. All day long I was feeling really uncomfortable in my body and seeing myself way bigger than I actually am. I hate to say "fat," because I don't see myself as fat, I just see myself as a little above average - which everyone tells me is not true. Tonight though, I looked down and was like, yeah, I am at a normal weight, but I am on the low side of normal and I could see it for a little while after I smoked. 

I don't know if that makes sense, but basically starting to use cannabis made me see things from an entirely different perspective. Throughout the summer of 2014 I gradually began to believe that things could be different. That maybe the amazing clarity I had when I smoked was how things were supposed to be. Maybe if I could get to a better place I would feel the happiness and hope I felt when I was high. Maybe if I gained weight things would get better. And for the first time in a long time, I believed it. 

2) My (now ex) husband drew a hard line in the sand - This was a huge influence as well. I started my treatment journey at Princeton (which I chose because I had never been there before - I also knew they had private rooms and that was a huge draw. Also, to be totally honest, I had been essentially banned from a number of other treatment centers for being a repeat customer and always leaving before I was ready). However, I signed myself out after a month.I had a million reasons - I was the oldest one there, they were making me gain weight too fast, I knew everything they were teaching me, it was depressing, I was sick of being on bedrest, it wasn’t fair, the staff sucked... on and on. 

Nick was PISSED. He had finally reached a point where he couldn't do it anymore. He told me I was not allowed to come home. He said if I came home he would either move out or that he would file for divorce. 

I was devastated. Nick had never done this before, he was never thrilled when I left treatment, but he also was a little happy to have me home and doing marginally better. I didn't know what to do or where to go, so I knew there was no escape, I had to go back to treatment. I chose a place near my family so I would a) have the support and b) if I stepped down I would have a place to stay. Nick made it clear I was not allowed home until I had put on a significant amount of weight and my treatment was onboard with a discharge from care. 

I knew if I was going to save my marriage and get home, I had to at least stay long enough to be appropriately discharged. There was no escaping it. Also, this didn't happen until a little while after, but when Nick did ask for a divorce, it hit me that I had become my dad. My father has a lot of mental health issues and my mom stuck by him through the years. But at some point, he stopped being an active participant in his own care and health. My mom couldn't do it anymore and she left him. The quote, “watching someone drown in a puddle and all they need to do is stand up” comes to mind. She just couldn’t watch him refuse to stand up anymore. 

It completely devastated him. I have always been afraid of becoming chronically mentally ill like my father and losing everyone in my life. By continuing to go in and out of treatment and cycle in and out of doing well enough to maintain relationships I was going to follow in the exact footsteps as my father. I see how miserable his life is and I continue to use that image to push to not listen to everything the eating disorder tells me. 

3) I wanted my dogs back/needed to get out of where I was living - In May of 2015 (when I was in PHP and living at my mom's boyfriend's - his name is Don - house) Nick asked for a divorce. I was doing pretty well in treatment, still struggling and being non-compliant at times, but continuing to attend every day and slowly weight restore. I still don't know entirely when the scales (no pun intended) tipped, but they did. I don't know if Nick realized how much more peaceful his life was without the eating disorder or if he just didn't believe things would change. Regardless, he said he was going to file for divorce. 

I went from "staying at Don's house" to living at Don's house in one phone call. To say I was devastated is an understatement. In fact, I am still devastated. I saw my parent's marriage end because my dad couldn't get sober and now I had done the same thing in my own marriage. I lost the person I was closest with because of the eating disorder. I guess, in a way, this was part of what kept me at treatment as well - the hope that I would get well and Nick would take me back. I still hope this will happen, but I know it won't. Anyhow, I digress.

Living at Don's house sucked. I was living with my mom again at age 32. I felt like such a failure. It wasn't even my mom's house I was staying at, it was her boyfriend's. It was not comfortable living there, it was awkward. It was awkward sharing a space with Don and his son who has a lot of anger issues. My bedroom was uncomfortable. I slept on a twin bed for the first time since I was a teenager and it was lopsided. It was out in rural NH and I hated that all my friends and anything to do was a quite a drive away. Everyone in the house smoked cigarettes and I hate the smell. But what I hated most was I was not allowed to have my dogs. 

My dogs are the most important thing in the world to me. I love those little beasts so fucking much it hurts at times. And I hadn't seen them in 7 months. I absolutely needed to get myself out of that house and get my dogs back. However, I could not do this without a job. And I could not get a job while I was still struggling so much with eating and reliant upon the structured schedule PHP was providing for me. I made it my mission to get to a point where I could hold a job and get my own apartment. If I was going to stay well long term and not have to be re-hospitalized, I knew I had to give myself more cushion room in terms of weight gain than I ever have before. 

4) Yoga - Yoga has become really trendy lately and with good reason. There are so many benefits to yoga that go far beyond the physical. For me, the primary thing I learned in yoga is that if you stay persistent, the uncomfortable gets more comfortable. And things that seem impossible become possible. 

I have a very special relationship with avoidance and perfectionistic behaviors. I tend to avoid things I am not good at or not even try at all. I hate being uncomfortable. Like, no one likes being uncomfortable, but I have a particularly difficult time with it. Not being good at something and building the skills you need to get better is often very uncomfortable. I pretty much have always shied away from things that challenge me to the point of being uncomfortable. This is for a couple of reasons 1) I hate not being good at things 2) It doesn't seem worth my time if I suck 3) Getting better at things requires being uncomfortable at some point and I don't like it. 

I often do not stick with things that I am not good at or require discomfort on my part. I will try to pick up a hobby and not be good at it and quit. Or I will try to get myself in better shape by trying to lift weights or run and it makes me feel discomfort, so I quit. Although I go to the gym every day, I will not do anything beyond walking because pushing myself physically is uncomfortable (though I will walk 7 miles in a go, I hate breaking a sweat). I don't like to eat because I have a nauseous stomach and that is uncomfortable. I don't like to try new things because the unknown is scary, so I avoid it. Basically, what I am saying is I never stick with anything long enough to see the discomfort dissipate and the rewards of tolerating the discomfort come through. i.e. weight restoration, facing fear foods, sitting with the feeling of food in my stomach, making choices about what to eat, physical activity, anything I am not immediately good at. 

Yoga at first seemed like a thing to get into because I wasn't allowed to really exercise and at least it was some physical movement. I was so desperate to be able to move more that I didn't care that I wasn't very good at it. Also, I went to a gentle yoga studio and everyone there was so accepting and welcoming to people who were just getting into yoga. I kept going to yoga and I actually started to get better at it. I didn't feel any pressure to be getting better, but I began to see it happen anyway.

I started taking harder classes. I started to learn to breathe through the uncomfortable poses. That they would end and that next time I did them they would be easier. A friend of mine sent me a yoga sequence and it was hard. Like, an hour long with a million chaturangas (when you lower yourself like a pushup, into up dog and go back into downward dog). The first couple times I did it I couldn't do all the chaturangas, so I skipped a lot of them. But as I did it everyday, I was able to do more and more. Eventually, I could do the whole sequence and even the jump back from crow into chaturanga! 

Committing to doing yoga every day was the first time I really stuck with something through the uncomfortable learning period and allowed myself to see the benefits of my practice. It started t make sense to me that other areas of my life could be similar to yoga - that if I didn't focus so much on the discomfort in the moment and rather on the fact that it would pass and I would be better for tolerating it that I would gain skills. I finally got that part of growing and evolving involves a certain amount of discomfort and acceptance that you won't see results right away. Yoga has taught me so much. To accept my limitations and also to push them, to breathe through discomfort, to not be so hard on myself, and that I am capable of growth and change. 

Here is a great little blurb on Reddit about discomfort and yoga: https://www.reddit.com/r/yoga/comments/5hc0b2/yoga_has_taught_me_to_welcome_discomfort_into_my/ 5) I agreed to medications - I have always had a not so great relationship with medications. I have a ton of side effects and I just really don't like taking them. Over the years I have gone on and off medications so many times. I will take them for a while, go off them, fall apart, go back on them, not really get better, have side effects, go off them - you get the idea. Even when I found something that helped I would frequently go off it after a time because I really didn't want to be on meds. 

I finally got desperate enough that I thought, hey, it improves my quality of life, fuck it. Even if the medications shorten my lifespan (worst-case scenario) then at least I had some years with decreased mental health issues. I started to really talk to a psychiatrist about finding something that worked. It was trial and error and took a little bit of time to find the right meds that a) helped and b) didn't cause horrible side effects. The two medications I am on certainly do not get rid of the obsessive thoughts or the anxiety, but they certainly make it way more manageable. 

I don't feel as much like a prisoner of my brain or that my brain is a prison - either or. And I have remained compliant instead of being like, "oh things are better, I don't need these!" Because I do need them. I have a brain-based illness and I wouldn't turn down medications if I had any other disease of the body, so really this is no different. 

6) I went slowly but surely - I stayed in treatment for a loooonnngggg time and took weight restoration pretty slowly. It sucked and I so wanted to get back to life, but every time I have done weight restoration the quick and dirty way in the past, it didn't stick. I would either leave treatment early because it was happening too fast and I was too uncomfortable. Or I would leave treatment and be unable to adjust to my new body and rapidly relapse. I knew I had to do things differently. I was very lucky I had good insurance and a treatment that was willing to work with me. Also, not lucky, but I have comorbid mental health issues (anxiety and OCD) that helped keep insurance covering me. 

7) I gave up trying to eat intuitively - This is a big one too. I always thought that recovery looked like eating normally. For me, it doesn't look like what most people would classify as normal. It is very regimented and I eat a lot of very safe foods. And I used to think that meant I wasn't in recovery and why keep trying. I might as well go back to listening to what my brain tells me and not eat. I mean, if I couldn't eat normally, why even bother?

I decided to try something different than what is encouraged in treatment. I began to eat the same thing every day. The same exact thing at the same exact times. No matter how I felt. This helped me for many reasons 1) I got used to the foods I was eating and desensitized myself a little 2) It took the overwhelming choice of what to eat out of the equation. Deciding what to eat is really stressful for me and so I often avoid it. Eating the same thing every day meant I didn't have to make decisions 3) I could stop counting calories. If I eat the same exact thing every day there is no reason to count calories. I did at first but eventually seeing the same number every day seemed like a waste of time and unnecessary. 4) I am super routine, so once I get in the groove of something, I stick with it. Now even when I feel nauseous or I had a rough day and don't feel like eating or I am having an uncomfortable body image day I still eat at my scheduled times, because, well, routine. It is more uncomfortable for me to break my routine at this point than it is just to eat what I have eaten every day for 3 years. 

I am not saying this is a great long term solution, but for people with chronic and severe anorexia, it is better than anything else I have found in managing a healthy weight. Like I said, maybe this is what recovery looks like for me right now. I hope it gets better in the future, but I am just happy to be participating in life.

8) I eliminated almost everyone I was in treatment with from my social media - Well, not everyone, but other people who were cycling in and out of treatment like I was. It just wasn’t healthy for me to see their posts. People would post how they were going back into treatment or pictures of them that were incredibly triggering. So, I didn’t want to see that anymore. It made me feel like there was no hope when I would see someone doing well no longer doing well. Or to see the constant treatment posts. Some people glorified being sick or seemed to take pride in how sick they would get or how much weight they had lost. It was just a world I needed to step back from. For me, I experienced a lot of competitive and self-destructive feelings when I would see people thinner/sicker than me. I would feel either a) I wasn’t really sick enough to need help and b) jealous they were thinner than me (I hate this part of the eating disorder and I am kind of ashamed to admit this here). 

I also needed to build a community that wasn’t treatment based so I wouldn’t miss it. I grew strong relationships in treatment that I had a hard time finding in the real world. Treatment and the community within it didn’t consciously keep me ill, but when I wasn’t there and I would see group pictures. It made me feel as though I needed to go back to the safety and community of treatment. Again, I just needed to focus on something other than anorexia to escape the cyclical pattern I was in. 

I certainly kept in touch with some people who continue to struggle, but these are the people I regularly talk to and have authentic, real friendships with - not people I just followed because we spent time in treatment together. It was sad to unfriend these people, but I just needed to build a life outside of treatment and to focus on my friendships that had nothing to do with eating disorders. It helped me regain an identity outside of anorexia. I needed to be exposed to normalcy around eating after being surrounded by people who struggled with food/weight/body image. I needed to start to have conversations outside of my obsession and dysfunctional relationship with food. 

Anyway, that was long, but I hope there were some nuggets in there that helps someone. Thanks for sticking with me through to the end if you read this!