#so scared to see a doctor because they’ll blame my weight

[holdmeclosertinytaron]

23 and I can’t run around after my brothers, niece and nephew. I can’t stand for long periods of time which means I miss out on employment. I’m 23 and feel like an invalid 😭

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Joshua: Second Chance (Part Three)

Characters: Joshua x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, some fluffy angst too so it’s not really angst is it lmao

Word count: 1,988

Summary: After his mate died, Joshua always blamed himself and never wanted to imprint again. However, fate has other ideas when he meets you: a young, energetic werecoyote that’s quite the opposite of him. He insists he doesn’t want a new mate – nobody’s even sure if he’s ready for a new one – but he can’t ignore his instincts.

Previous | Next | Second Chance Masterlist

“Oh,” the girl beside you seemed surprised that your eyes opened, squinting against the light, “you’re awake. How do you feel?”

You only groaned in reply. You definitely didn’t feel as awful as you recalled, but you still didn’t feel good.

“We’ve cleaned the remaining wolfsbane from your system, so you should make a full recovery,” the girl told you, her voice soft and soothing.

She definitely didn’t look like she was from here. She had brown skin, round eyes, and long black hair that she kept clipped back away from her face. Had you seen her before when you were dying? No, you couldn’t tell. Your memories from then were too foggy.

Wait, you were dying. How were you alive?

You opened your mouth to speak, but your eyes finally adjusted enough where you could see the person laying on a cot behind the girl. His eyes were closed, and you couldn’t tell if he was passed out or sleeping, but you just felt very strongly toward him. Much stronger than you’d felt about anybody ever. He was absolutely beautiful, and all you wanted to do was walk the couple feet of space between your cot and his to stroke his hair and cheek.

You didn’t know why you felt so strongly about a stranger, but you also weren’t questioning it. You were a curious person, yes, but you tended to just roll with the punches.

The girl noticed your gaze had drifted behind her, and she chuckled, “Would you like to be closer? It’s better for mates to heal if they’re as close as possible, and he needs all the healing he can get.”

Mates? That wasn’t something you’d heard about before, but you could probably guess what it implied. Either way, your head was nodding before your brain could really think much about it.

The girl stood and moved her stool out of the way before wheeling your cot closer to his until they were pressed together. Your face was almost right next to his now, and you observed every single detail of him. You didn’t even know his name or anything about him, but your heart and your instincts already told you you’d do anything for him.

“They’re cute,” Minjee commented once she entered the room as her partner continued to stand by the doorway and watch the two of you.

Prajya hummed in reply, her hand finding Minjee’s, “I don’t think the girl knows anything about herself. I told her he’s her mate and she seemed a little clueless.”

“Well, she is young,” Minjee noted. “Maybe nobody’s told her about creatures like her.”

Prajya nodded slowly before turning her head to look at her partner, “Did things with the other wolf go well?”

Minjee nodded, “Perfect, actually. Sura’s just finishing a few minor things and getting him settled into a bed to recover. His brother and the girls are still waiting in the living room.”

“I should go see if they need anything,” Prajya decided, pressing a quick kiss to Minjee’s cheek before she left.

Minjee turned back to the two of you after her girlfriend had left, but saw that you weren’t awake anymore. Your eyes were closed, one of your hands resting on Joshua’s as he slept. Minjee smiled to herself, thinking both of you looked like you were doing better already.

-

Josh still wasn’t awake. Even Hansol had woken up before his older brother did. Wonwoo had already brought Soomin and Suvi back to the house, and Joshua still wasn’t awake. It worried Hansol that he was asleep for so long, but Minjee assured him it was just because he had exerted his power too much.

“Is he going to get it back...?” Hansol wondered, his yellow eyes warily watching Joshua sleep beside you.

“Yes, with time,” Minjee replied with a warm smile. “You really have nothing to worry about, Hansol. Besides, he has his mate with him, so the healing will be faster.”

“Yeah, if he isn’t stubborn about it,” he muttered to himself, the human girl unable to make out what he said.

That was something else that was worrying Hansol. Joshua already had a mate and lost her. Would he really be so open about a new mate? Even if he did use the remaining energy he had in him just to save you, he did that on pure instinct. It didn’t necessarily mean things would go smoothly when he’d wake up.

“Who is she, anyway?” Kyung wondered, nodding her head in your direction. 

You were still sleeping beside him, your hand still in his. Neither of you had even moved, either, but Minjee also promised that was nothing to worry about.

“I’m not sure of her name,” Minjee sighed, “but my partners and I found her when we were out checking traps one night. My mate, Sura, knows where some of the werewolf hunters place traps regularly. He likes to patrol them and see if anyone was caught so we can help. We found her in one of them. Sura said she might be a werecoyote.”

“Werecoyote?” Hansol repeated.

The doctor nodded, “Yes. He noticed she doesn’t smell quite like werewolf, but she’s definitely something.”

The two mated wolves could admit they noticed the same thing but kept to themselves about it. They thought maybe it was just because of the wolfsbane.

The pair looked between the two of you. While Joshua seemed peaceful now, both Hansol and Kyung weren’t sure how he’d react when he woke up. They could practically already see the sour look on his face before grumbling something about not wanting a new mate. They hoped maybe they’d be wrong, but…

“What do you think she’ll do if he denies her?” Kyung wondered to her mate, unsure if you’d be as patient and understanding as Hansol. They didn’t know anything about you.

Hansol let out a quiet sigh, “I don’t know, but they’ll both just...eventually...” he didn’t even want to say it, but after a beat of silence, he quietly said, “die.”

-

“Werecoyotes are creatures I’ve never encountered,” Soomin hummed thoughtfully as she flipped through Beom’s book of creatures.

Once Wonwoo had returned home with her and Suvi, the youngest excitedly began talking about how Joshua had imprinted and saved his new mate. Meanwhile, the rest of the pack seemed shocked and almost horrified. They knew how Joshua was, and they knew he wouldn’t want another mate. What happened with Lilly messed him up pretty badly, but it also made him afraid of himself for a long time. He’d be too scared to be with someone else.

While Suvi was explaining what happened and the pack began spewing questions, Soomin was already looking through Beom’s stuff to find some answers.

“I think Beom had told me a story or two of werecoyotes, though,” Soomin continued.

“I met a few,” Yeji chimed in. “They didn’t really seem too different from you guys.”

“They’re not -- not really, other than some minor stuff,” Soomin said after finally reaching the page she was looking for. She scanned it over, using her finger to guide her eyes. “Overall, they’re essentially the same, just a little weaker -- smaller, not as strong, but they are a little quicker because of their smaller size. It makes them more agile.”

“Anyone can outrun that old man,” Jeonghan scoffed.

“Who’s the oldest, anyway?” Suvi asked.

“Nobody really knows anymore, but we just assume it’s Josh,” Jun shrugged. “Years start to blend together after a while.”

“Speaking of not knowing things,” Danbi spoke up as she looked around the packed living room, “where’s Soonyoung?”

“It’s nighttime, so he’s in town,” Jihoon sighed.

“I thought we were still being careful?”

“Since when does Soonyoung follow rules?” Seungcheol asked with a quirked brow.

Soomin cleared her throat to grab the pack’s attention and bring them back to the bigger matter at hand: you. Once they were paying attention again, she continued, “Werecoyotes have the same heightened senses, the same weaknesses, and the same instincts as werewolves. However, because they’re smaller and weaker, they recover slower and are more likely to die from things like silver bullets.”

“So Joshua’s new mate is essentially a hyperactive accident-prone child?” Wonwoo snorted.

Soomin frowned, finally looking up from the book to look at her mate, “That’s mean. And she may very well act mature. Just because they’re faster than werewolves doesn’t make them hyper.”

“You said werecoyotes are just werewolves, basically,” Jeonghan shrugged. “You’ve seen our pack.”

Seungcheol nodded, “Seokmin specifically.”

“Hey,” the young wolf whined.

“Let’s not judge her just yet,” Soomin sighed.

Jihoon raised his eyebrows, “You didn’t even meet her?”

“She was passed out,” Suvi was the one to explain. “Her and Joshua were sleeping beside each other when we left.”

“I wish I could be there when they wake up,” Seungkwan chuckled. “I’m sure that’ll be a mess.”

-

It wasn’t until the sun was about to peak over the horizon that Josh finally groaned and rubbed his eyes with one hand. The other felt warm with a light weight in it that kept him from moving it.

Wait…

The older wolf’s eyes opened before slowly looking to his left hand. He saw another hand in his and his eyes followed the arm up to the owner. He recognized your face. Not only did he remember what had happened as soon as he saw you, but he was bombarded with your face in his dreams -- well, more like nightmares. All he dreamt about was you and Lilly.

He wanted to snatch his hand away. He wanted to growl at you and wake you up and tell you to keep your hands to yourself. He wanted to yell at you to not touch him.

But he was too exhausted to do anything but lay there and glare at you with golden eyes.

“Oh, good,” a voice made him turn his head, “you’re finally awake.”

Joshua was briefly introduced to Prajya during his first check-up. She was a nice girl, but she had a little...bite to her. Josh liked her from the get go.

“See you’ve noticed your little friend,” Prajya chuckled. “You don’t seem too fond of her, though.”

His face scrunched up in almost disgust, “What is that?”

Prajya let out a snort at his reaction to his mate.

In your sleep, your nose wiggled a few times before you reached up to scratch it. Joshua rolled his eyes feeling his heart swell at how cute you seemed. He wanted his instincts to fuck off.

“I think you already know,” she replied in amusement.

“Who is she?” he asked.

The foreign girl just shrugged, “Beats me. We didn’t get a name from her or where she came from or anything.”

Unable to resist the curiosity, he slowly wondered, “...What happened to her?”

“Caught in a net that had barbs laced with wolfsbane,” she sighed as she leaned back against a wall and studied your face. “We were sure she was going to die until you showed up and--”

“Don’t,” he said sharply before dropping his tone to be only grumpy rather than angry, “mention it.”

Prajya just shrugged, “If you didn’t want it mentioned, you shouldn’t have done it. Kyung was right, you are a grumpy old man.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. Of course Kyung was gossiping with her old friends about him. The new alpha was a piece of work.

But she wasn’t really wrong, and even he knew that.

Prajya was silent as she watched Joshua watch you. It was clear that even though he openly showed his distaste for his new mate, his instincts were strong and hard to ignore. Even through the disgust and annoyance on his face, Prajya could see the love and adoration clear in his eyes.

The grumpy, old werewolf, and the young, carefree werecoyote. This would be interesting to see.

[lawslessons]

Hey! LOVE your writing a lot, have been going back to back on them! I'm also a Law simp, but for once something funny with him would be nice to see. What about reader getting a checkup from Law, Law pointing out some minor sickness reader doesn't know about and requires a shot. reader gets nervous about the thought of a needle in them, so spends time running away from law in the submarine, hiding in places, using bepo as hiding place, etc until law gets tired and just uses his powers on them?

Ah! This is so cute! This was one of my favorite pieces to write and I really hope you enjoy this, my dear!

Law x Reader - Shot in the Heart

Warnings: Mentions of shots, medical paraphernalia 

Synopsis: Needles, why did that have to be the treatment they needed? Scared of their doctor and the needle he was holding, they began a long and humorous journey around the ship all in an attempt to evade the frustrated doctor.

“You should’ve come to me sooner when you weren’t feeling well, you have a high fever now,” Law scolded as he went about doing the rest of his checkup. He looked at their vitals and found that mostly everything seemed normal. Blood pressure? Good. Reflexes? Superb. But something that worried the stressed doctor seemed to be the high fever, rashes and sore throat they had. “Did you happen to swim in that place I told you not to swim back at the last island?” Law asked. They sheepishly smiled and Law got his answer from that, of course they wouldn’t listen to him. He sighed in frustration and pulled back from them. “Thanks to that, you were infected with cyanobacteria from the algae blooms that were in that water,” Law scolded.

Cyano… what?

They looked at him and frowned, their throat hurt from the infection so their voice was a little raspy and scratchy.

“It can’t be that bad, it was just water,” they tried to assure him, but the look on Law’s face implied that no matter what they said, Law would be frustrated. Law sighed and rubbed his temples in his aggravation, no one seemed to ever listen to him. But they couldn’t really blame him, they did go against Law’s medical advice after all.

“Poisoned water, human immune systems can’t handle that level of bacteria. Now, if you don’t want to go into kidney or liver failure, I need to give you a shot that will help your immune system fight the bacteria,” Law explained as he turned away from them and moved to look at his vials of medication to get the syringe prepared for them. They tensed when the shot was brought up, while they were capable of fighting navy soldiers and holding up their own against their captain, the one thing they seemed to always get petrified of was shots. Those thin, pointed needles pressing into their skin was a horrifying thought. The pain and the uncomfortable feeling of something being injected into their veins and then spreading across their body? Even worse. They started to breathe a little faster, their heart sped up and their hands became sweaty the more they thought about it. They looked at Law and noticed how he was focusing on getting the measurements right for the treatment, but they didn’t want to watch. Taking advantage of the captain’s focus, they slowly stood up and began to back out of the room. When they reached the door, they slowly opened it before they darted out and went to run away from the room they were previously in.

“Sorry, can’t talk now! Don’t tell Law where I’m going!” They yelled at their fellow cremates as they darted into the strange room and looked around at all of the crates. They finally decided on one in the back and moved to sit behind it and make themselves comfortable for now. They hoped that this would be enough to get the doctor’s attention off of them, but of course it wouldn’t be. From the hallway outside, he could hear a frustrated voice and some terrified shouting.

“T-they went in there!” Someone squeaked, they could even hear their knees shaking together from outside of the room. Law must really be mad to scare a subordinate like that. The door to the storage room opened a second later and footsteps resonated around the room.

“I know you’re in here, come out,” Law stated as he stared right into the corner they were hiding in. Their breath hitched in their throat as they looked back at Law. Just as they felt like they were making eye contact, Law looked away and sighed. “Guess you’re not here,” he said as he walked out. But they knew that Law knew they were there, what was he trying to do right now? They curiously peeked their head out of the corner and were met with Law’s piercing gray eyes. But he didn’t make any move to grab them, instead he just continued on his walk out of the room. Still frightful, they carefully peeled themselves away from the box and crept out of the room and into the dim hallway of the submarine. They looked both ways and saw some of their fellow cremates looking at them fearfully, but they didn’t blame them, after all, they were being pulled into this mess because of them. Sighing, they started to look for another hiding spot on the ship, and it seemed that their next refuge would be with Bepo, the ship’s resident bear. The bear looked over at them in surprise when they suddenly latched onto him. He panicked and tried to pry them away with no avail.

“W-what are you doing?” The poor bear sputtered out.

“I need you to do me a favor and help hide me,” They tiredly mumbled, the bear’s warm fur was slowly lulling them to sleep. Bepo looked surprised but didn’t object the task.

“From who?” He asked.

“Law.”

“What?! No! I can’t do that!”

“Come on, Bepo, for me?” They asked with a small pout on their face. Bepo looked down at them and sighed, he had a hard time saying no to people, and his weak will made it that much easier.

“…ok,” He reluctantly said. They grinned and hugged the bear even tighter.

“Yay! Thank you, Bepo!” They chirped. With that, they and the accomplice Bepo went to venture out to find a hiding spot where Law wouldn’t find them. Not being so bright, they both decided that the most predictable place would be the place he would least expect, and that place happened to be the cafeteria. Bepo sat near a corner and they sat right behind him to stay hidden.

“Will this work?” Bepo asked as he started to chew on his soft paws.

“It has to, Law won’t expect this coming,” They confidently stated. Just as they finished speaking, the door opened to reveal their tall captain. His gaze was even more piercing now, he had a stopwatch in his hand and continued to look up from it as he walked around the perimeter of the cafeteria.

“Bepo.” Law began as he approached the bear. Bepo began to sweat and looked up at his captain with a fearful expression which confused the captain, but instead of asking what was wrong, he instead went to state his purpose of being there. “Have you seen them anywhere? I need to give them their shot, it’s getting urgent. They’ll soon go into septic shock if I don’t administer it soon,” he explained as he held up his hand which held a rather large, intimidating syringe in it. Bepo and them both let out a small squeak in surprise but Bepo was quick to cover for them.

“I-I haven’t seen them at all, sir. Maybe they’re somewhere not obvious?” Bepo blurted out. Law rose a brow and they smacked their forehead, of course Bepo was beginning to break.

“Bepo.” Law’s brows furrowed and his eye’s became even sharper, the poor bear began to shake and leaned back against the wall leading to him accidentally smothering his friend. “Are you not telling me something?” Law asked.

“No! Wait, yes, I mean no!” Bepo sputtered out, that only encouraged Law to stare him down even more. “They’re not behind me!” He finally squeaked. Law rolled his eyes and glanced behind the bear and saw that they were being crushed behind the weight of Bepo.

“You can’t hide anymore, I know where you are,” Law stated as he tried to pull them out with his hand.

“No! No! You don’t!” They quickly said. They stood up when Law pulled them, but they were quick to break free and make a run for the door. Law scowled and lifted his hand up.

“Room!” He yelled, he enveloped the cafeteria in a light blue light. “Shambles!” He then said. They gasped and looked around them, they felt this strange coldness on their side, and when they looked over, they noticed that their arm wasn’t attached to their side. Their vision began to dance and slowly became black at the gruesome sight. When they looked at Law, they noticed him pulling out the syringe and quickly and painlessly injecting the medication into their arm. They were stunned, they didn’t know how to react other than pointing over at Law and the arm he was holding.

“T-that’s my — “

“Shambles,” Law said again as he got their arm reattached, he removed the room and scowled down at them. “That was dangerous, that infection could kill you, and on top of that you were running around the ship too?” He was fuming, and they couldn’t help but feel a little bad.

“I’m sorry, I don’t like shots and the syringe you’re holding has a massive needle,” they pointed out, Law was still holding the syringe and didn’t look impressed.

“And I don’t like seeing you infected with algae bloom bacteria. Now go to your room and rest,” Law grumbled as he went to walk back to his office. They watched him walk away and softly smiled, they were already starting to feel better thanks to him.

“Law?” They softly mumbled. “Thank you,” they grinned. Law paused and looked over his shoulder, his cheeks turned a soft pink as he watched them smile. He looked away and huffed.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said as he left the cafeteria before they saw his blush. But oh, they did see it. They smirked and went to walk after the doctor.

“Law? I know where you are!” they teased before another pursuit began. 

[petri808]

N4+Inukag Ex’s Still in Love @liz8080 its angst 🙃

It had been a year since the break up, but Inuyasha was no closer to moving on and according to his best friend, neither was Kagome. He only knew what his ex was going through because their best friends were caught in the middle and providing updates. Poor Miroku and Sango, Inuyasha was sure they thought he and Kagome were idiots by this point.

Not that it was from a lack of trying, because they both were trying... maybe a little too hard to start dating again. Inuyasha had tried the typical avenues like bar hopping and even posting a profile on dating sites. But if irony wasn’t such a bitch, every single site he tried would match him to none other than Kagome Higurashi. It was fate, Miroku would coax the idea onto his friend. Yeah, well fate didn’t have to deal with reality and they were two stubborn fools unwilling to relent.

At the bars, Inuyasha’s handsome hanyo looks gained a lot of attention and the night would always start off right. Every single woman in the place took a chance to talk to him. If he liked what he saw, he’d give them a shot to butter him up, lulling them in with his molten amber eyes. Flirty conversations and flowing alcohol made for... women making excuses and leaving him to walk out single. Every. Damn. Time. Because something always sparked his ex’s introduction to the conversation. It turned out once Inuyasha was past the tipsy stage, all he wanted to do was talk about Kagome. Good or bad. It didn’t matter and according to Miroku during one very drunken evening, he’d even cried. If it wasn’t for the blackmail video, he wouldn’t have believed it.

Okay fine! So he still loved the woman! They’d been together for seven years, that’s not something you just get over quickly! She wanted kids and he was hesitant... it wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a yes. That’s when Kagome broke up with him.

Inuyasha swirled the drink in his hand with a low growl. “You know our world isn’t always safe,” he admonished his co-worker, a fellow Yokai named Kouga. “And she’s human, the child could be born human, and what if I can’t protect them both?”

“Stupid,” the Wolf yokai sneered back. “You’d lose the woman you love over fear? The Taisho’s son showing weakness, that’s pathetic.”

“Bite your tongue wolf. It’s not just about fear and you know it.”

“Yes, it is.” Kouga countered. “Modern times or not, that woman has spiritual blood coursing through her veins, so an offspring will most likely be a full hanyo. I suspect Kagome senses this, so it is your own fears that’s overruling you.”

“Tch, I didn’t come here for a lecture!” Inuyasha stood up from his bar stool. But as he turned to leave, his phone rang.

It was Miroku. “Something happened Inuyasha. Kagome was attacked on her way home by a yokai. No one knows who. She’s been taken to Shinkon Medical and she’s... in a coma.”

“What?!”

“It’s really bad, you should get here as soon as possible.”

Inuyasha doesn’t respond and quickly rushed out of the bar with Kouga hot on his heels.

“What’s going on?!” Kouga questioned.

“Something attacked Kagome.”

“Oh, fuck.” Kouga could see Inuyasha’s demon side manifesting, purple stripes along his cheeks and red eyes replacing gold. It must be serious.

When they arrived at the hospital, Miroku took them up to the room Kagome was in. Not that Inuyasha needed his help to track the woman’s scent, but thanks to Kouga’s steadfast hand in his shoulder, he stayed cognizant enough to follow quietly so as to not scare the staff. Sango stood just outside of the door ready for their arrival.

“Brace yourself Inu,” the woman warned, “she’s... it’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

He simply nodded shakily and walked through, leaving his friends to wait. There really was no way to brace himself for what he saw. Kagome was almost unrecognizable. She had tubes and wires hooked up to beeping machines that flashed her life on a screen. It was an unnerving sound in an otherwise deadly silent room. Her arms were all bandaged up, one leg in a cast with pins and metal sticking out, but her head... his fists clenched tighter. Her forehead was wrapped in gauze, face bruised and swollen, her nose and mouth with tubes coming out of them to keep her alive. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the blood, smelled the dried blood stuck in her hair.

It was his nightmares turned reality.

That’s when he smelt it, the lingering stench of a familiar panther yokai left on Kagome’s body. Had this been a targeted attack? Anger surged to the forefront. Inuyasha leaned down and took her hand gently while placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Regardless of reason, this yokai would pay dearly!

Inuyasha growled and sped off faster then any of his stunned friends could stop him, out of the hospital. Kouga called from behind in pursuit, but his demon side had taken over and nothing could stop him. He leapt over buildings, speeding through alleyways before humans could even register what had passed them by. There was no way to know exactly where the rogue could be, but he had a territory to start in.

The panther yokai had always hated the inu’s reign over the central part of Japan. They fought and lost an epic battle during the edo period, forever retaining a grudge. But this was a brazen attack, the first since those long ago days, and on a human?! It was unforgivable. It was because of the inu’s control that the human world was safe from the yokai inhabiting it. Most of the other’s, like Kouga’s wolf clan fell in line without any problems, and peace remained. Oh, this panther will pay dearly for trying to kill the chosen mate of the Inu no Taisho’s son!! This wasn’t the first time the two men will clash, but it will be the last.

From a rooftop, Inuyasha perched as he quickly scanned the dock area. The yokai was alone. Perfect. With a deep roar, he dropped down on top of the male before it could take off. Claws and fangs unhinged as the two males battled. Despite being a hanyo, Inuyasha’s blood was no different than a full-blooded yokai, and worse, his adrenaline and anger was without remorse due to the bloodied images of his girl lying in a hospital bed to fuel his rage. If there were any humans in this desolate part of town at night, it must have sounded like the unholy blood bath it was.

Over and over, Inuyasha tore his claws and teeth into the panther yokai’s flesh. Though he sustained some injuries of his own, Inuyasha felt nothing but the pure hatred coursing through his veins. Kouga had finally arrived as well, his screams to his friend to stop, deaf in his ears. His blood lust had taken control.

“Stop!!” Kouga roared and jumped onto Inuyasha’s back. He hooked his arms around both of his friends shoulders, lifting, and wrapping his hands behind the man’s head to restrain them from moving freely. Inuyasha thrashed hard against the hold, but Kouga refused to let go, continuously growling at the man to stop resisting. “You’re gonna kill him!”

“He deserves it!” Inuyasha countered.

“Agreed! But that’s not for you to decide my friend, so stop! He’s done!”

“Let me go Kouga!”

“Only if you’ll stop resisting. Think about Kagome, idiot! I’ll take the panther to your father for punishment, you need to get back to her!”

At hearing Kagome’s name, the human side of Inuyasha began taking back control from his inner demon. Kouga was right. If they were caught like this by authorities, being thrown in jail for murder would do her no good. Inuyasha let out a long exhale as his body slowly transformed back to normal, and he slumped in his friends arms. “You’re right.”

“I know I am, idiot.” Kouga let him go. “Now get out of here, and make sure you clean up! You don’t wanna scare the hospital people to death!”

“Yeah, yeah,” the hanyo growled, though he appreciated his friends help. “Tell my dad what’s going on and I’ll contact him as soon as I can.”

“Will do.”

It didn’t take him long to get back to his own house to clean up, and it was only then did Inuyasha realize just how far he’d gone that night. What little of his clothes was left undamaged was soaked in the blood of the panther yokai. He threw it all away and showered the filth from his body, then bandaged his wounds as best he could. By morning they’ll probably be healed, but with the adrenaline gone, the pain had also kicked in. He’d still do it all again in a heartbeat.

When he shambled back to the hospital, of course Miroku and Sango were concerned with his appearance. He assuaged their worries before flopping painfully into a chair at Kagome’s bedside.

“The doctors say she has stabled,” Sango explained now that he had time to listen. “But the shock has left her in a coma, so now we can only wait for her to wake up...” the woman paused, “there’s a small chance, Kagome may never wake up.”

Inuyasha shook his head refusing to entertain such a suggestion. “She’s strong, I know she will,” he spoke even though inside he wasn’t so sure. He just needed to hear those words of reassurance.

“You’re right.” Sango agreed. “We think so too.”

“Hang in there.” Miroku patted the hanyo’s shoulder. “We’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

“Thanks,” Inuyasha nodded weakly.

Now that he was there, the couple left him alone, safe in the knowledge that no one would bother Kagome anymore. So, at the sound of the door closing behind him, the full weight of emotions engulfed Inuyasha. The guilt tore away at what little sanity held him together. He blamed himself for her state. If he hadn’t been so stupid and stubborn to leave her alone, that panther would never have dared to strike at Kagome. She was strong, but couldn’t have fended off a surprise attack by herself.

“I’m so sorry,” the tears broke free as he held her hand tightly in his own. “Please don’t leave me, Kagome. I’ll do anything! You want kids? I’ll give you all the pups you desire, just please come back to me. I can’t— I can’t lose you. It shouldn’t have taken something like this to make me realize that I’m nothing without you.”

Inuyasha thought the pain of losing his mother at a young age was hard, but this was a thousand times worse. His soul was bonded to Kagome by choice and his heart felt shattered at the thought of never hearing her voice again. If she died, a piece of him would die along with her.

Night turned to day, and days passed by with little to no change in Kagome’s condition. Inuyasha rarely left her side, except to take care of bodily functions or shower at the behest of friends and staff. Her family, his family, and their friends visited, but at night it was just her and him alone between the stale white walls of the hospital room. For two weeks, Inuyasha didn’t get a full night sleep. Exhaustion forced him to pass out at times, only to be awaken by nightmares. To suffer along side Kagome was his penitence as far he believed.

He clung to the smallest of improvements. By week three, all the bruising and abrasions were healing well, and Kagome was taken off of the breathing tubes since she was doing it on her own. She was still fed intravenously with a high protein diet to give her body the fuel it needed to mend. To pass the time, Inuyasha would talk to her about everything and nothing, sometimes telling her stories of ancient tales, or just reading the newspaper aloud. The doctors had told him coma patients can sometimes hear them talking, so it was worth a shot.

“It’s crazy right?” Inuyasha chuckled if only to keep his sanity intact. “I’d give anything to hear you yell at me right now.” He sighed. “Just call me an idiot, because I deserve it.”

“You’re not... an idiot.”

Inuyasha sat up stunned at the beautiful sound of Kagome voice. It was soft and raspy, but music to his ears nonetheless. He squeezed her hand. “Yes, I am,” he smiled. “But it’s okay, as long as I still have you— if you’ll still have... me? I’ll give you what ever you want, Kagome. Kids, anything, just please stay with me. I love you too much to let you go again.”

This time it was Kagome who squeezed his hand weakly. “I love you too, you big idiot.”

Inuyasha leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Now there’s the woman I fell in love with.” Everything was gonna be just fine...

The banner is for my AO3

[perriewinklenerdie]

History repeats itself  (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hi guys! I'm on a roll (it's that high that patients that are about to die experience right before they crash. Kinda fitting, giving the fact that I'm going to die tomorrow bc of OH, isn't it? :D), like back in the old, good days. This was a request made by a wonderfull Nonnie. Thank you so much for suggesting it! I hope you enjoy it and that I didn’t disappoint :D

This fic is part of the ESIMY series (Claire and Ethan met and got married before they started working together and that’s basically all you need to know, as the fic can be read as a separate work)

Tag list: @paleweasels, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian, @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @awhmilkywey @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @justanotherrookie @mvalentine @starrystarrytrouble 

  Enjoy! <3

-----------

Paging Dr. Ramsey to Dr. Banerji’s office.

He looked up from the article he was reading, expecting a message from his wife. They were supposed to go home soon, finishing her last day of work before she would go on maternal leave. The page didn’t read as urgent, and yet somehow, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn’t explain it. Call it a hunch that made him abandon his work and rush through the halls of the hospital.

Naveen was waiting for him by the door, his expression gravely. The air in the room was so thick that Ethan, who was running, stopped abruptly in his tracks, feeling weight being slammed against his chest. He didn’t know what was happening yet, but it couldn’t have been anything good.

“Naveen?” he asked, walking closer, treading slowly and carefully, as though it would save him from the approaching heartbreak he could already feel. His friend sighed heavily, stepping towards to him and laying his hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“You might want to sit down.”

“Tell me. I need to go pick Claire up from the locker room in five minutes.” He didn’t miss how his mentor’s face fell at the mention of her name, making his stomach drop in worry. “What happened?”

“Claire is being transferred to the OR as we speak.” He said, the next words being an almost exact echo of his own words years back. “She had a seizure, full eclampsia. We’re delivering the baby.”

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

That day, from the very beginning, was a bust. Her head was pounding, slowly but surely rising and breaking through the threshold of her pain tolerance, causing her to reach out to her OB-GYN in search of any advice, along with some painkillers. Her vision was getting blurred around the sides from time to time, making it incredibly difficult to read charts or look her patients in the eye. Esme asked her about it, figuring out something was wrong when she misread the patient’s name while they were walking towards their room, but she dismissed her with a kind smile.

“That’s pregnancy for you.” she joked, seeing in her resident’s eyes that she didn’t believe her. Sighing heavily, she nodded. “Okay, it’s not typical. I- I would appreciate if you kept your eye on me today. I feel like something is about to go south and I’d like to avoid that.”

“Of course, I’ll watch you like a hawk.”

Light sensitivity came next. Supply closets were her biggest friends that day, providing with as much darkness as she wanted, blocking out any traces of light. She couldn’t barricade herself in there, no matter how much she’d want that, so she braced herself and pushed through.

She knew all those symptoms too well. She was, after all, treating her pre-eclampsia since it reared its ugly head three weeks ago. The moment she heard her diagnosis, she felt as though she has been struck by a lightning. It was the same diagnosis she gave Dolores not even three years ago.

Ethan wouldn’t survive it if this case ended the same way.

Claire was battling with herself. Should she tell him about it and let him worry about her every second of every day until she gave birth and the postpartum eclampsia was ruled out, or should she shoulder that weight on her own, treating it behind his back and praying that he’d never have to find out that the very same complication that took away his dear friend not that long ago, now threatened to take away his wife too.

She opted for something in between. There were symptoms that she couldn’t hide from him, about which they talked and she let him ask about them on their appointments. Dr. Weland, her OB-GYN, was aware of the whole situation, carefully formulating her answers for the first-time father.

It kept her up at night. She knew he would be scared, disappointed that she didn’t tell him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. He’d lock them both up at home for the remainder of her pregnancy, with a private doctor at hand, and treat her with extra caution. But most of all, she didn’t want to see the panic in his eyes, which she knew she’d find there. He would stop sleeping, watching over her at every moment.

Dr. Weland expressed her concerns when she saw Claire that day, hence her asking Esme to keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t be wise to send her home; she would need help in case something went horribly wrong.

Three hours later, as though on cue, she felt pain in her stomach, right below her belly button. All the symptoms she’s been experiencing that day cumulated, striking her at once with double their force, bending her in half. Esme, who was just down the hall, called out her name, rushing towards her, just in time to catch her as she crashed towards the ground, her body shaking.

“She’s seizing! Page Dr. Banerji!” the resident shouted, taking care of the fallen doctor.

“What about Ramsey?” someone asked, pager in their hand.

“Do as I say!”

What happened next could only be described as a chain reaction, its magnitude that of an avalanche. Naveen was called, OR was ordered, Claire was moved onto the bed and wheeled away. The hardest was still ahead of them.

Ethan fell against the wall heavily, struggling to catch his breath. “What do you mean eclampsia? Did she have any symptoms before that? Did she know? Who found her?”

“Dr. Ortega. She probably has more answers for you than I do. Come on, we’ll talk to her and Dr. Weland.”

His every move felt as though there were two impossibly heavy bricks attached to his feet, and another three on his shoulders and his chest. Panic began rising in his chest, fighting the overwhelming urge to let the tears fall. Esme was waiting for them by the entrance to the OR, worry spelled on her face.

“Can someone tell me why my wife and my daughter are fighting for their lives in there?” he barked the question, shaking in emotional distress. Naveen placed his hand on his shoulder, asking him silently to let the doctors speak.

“She’s been not feeling well for the whole day. Asked me to keep an eye on her; she told me she felt like something was about to happen.” the youngest doctor explained, stepping away to make space for Dr. Weland.

“Claire was treating her pre-eclampsia for the past three and a half weeks. The symptoms you noticed and were asking about were all a part of it. She asked me to not tell you, hoping that she would be able to avoid developing eclampsia.”

Never before in his life had he looked up at someone so fast. “She knew? And she didn’t tell me?”

“Ethan, I know you’re angry but-“

“I’m not angry. Right now, I’m terrified, because my family is fighting for their lives and I’m here, instead of being by their side. Step aside, I’m scrubbing in.”

“No.” Naveen shook his head, pulling him aside firmly. “And you know why.”

“Move out of the way, Naveen, I’m going in there.”

“I’m going to lock you in my office if you don’t calm down. You won’t help anyone by being emotional and reckless. Breathe, son, they’re going to be alright.” Ethan’s breathing was treading on the line of hyperventilating, panic rising in his chest even more. At last, tears fell, two trails running down his cheeks. He fell into his friend’s embrace, sobbing like he hasn’t done in a very long time. Helplessness, anger at fate and at himself for not noticing it sooner. “Claire is a fighter, so are you, and so is your daughter. They’ll pull through.”

“The last time I had to give this diagnosis to a person I cared about was Dolores, and she was dead within ours. Don’t tell me to calm down.” He stumbled over his words, holding onto Naveen’s arms for dear life.

“This time will be different.”

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

Not even an hour passed before the surgery ended. It gave Ethan enough time to go over the last weeks, all the pieces falling together into one tragic picture. It was all there, right before his eyes. Edema on her hands and feet, which could be written off as a pregnancy symptom. Headaches plagued her quite often even before she was married, so he didn’t even bat an eye on it, maybe except for the intensity of them. Her nausea returned long after her morning sickness phase passed, but again, pregnancy manifested itself with a variety of things.

He blamed himself. After Dolores died, he thought he’d be able to see the symptoms and prevent it from getting worse, but when it mattered the most, with his own beloved wife, he failed to add two and two.

“Ethan, you can see them now. The baby is safe and healthy, Claire’s condition is under control, she’s stable and conscious.” Naveen called out for him, a small smile on his face spelled out relief.

Jumping to his feet, he ran towards them, catching the room number from a shouting Naveen, not waiting for anyone. Nurses and doctors moved out of his way, some of them knowing what happened, others having no idea but knowing better than to stand in Dr. Ramsey’s way.

The lights in the room were dimmed, curtains closed, providing privacy and peace. Ethan opened the door as quietly and gently as he could, his stare falling onto Claire immediately. She smiled at him lazily, watching his every move in anticipation. He strode towards her, sitting at the edge of the bed and taking her hand in his, rising it to his lips and kissing it, over and over again, saying silent prayers of gratitude. Tears started running down his cheeks again, wetting her skin, his shoulders shaking as he let out all the emotions.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, choking on her words, her face wet with tears too. He looked up at her, shaking his head.

“No. It’s my fault. I- I somehow attract tragedy. My Mother, Naveen, Dolores… and now you.” She looked at him confused, not understanding his reasoning at first, only seconds later did she remember his thought process, her eyes filling with horror.

“Ethan, that’s none of your fault. I won’t be sitting here, letting you blame yourself for something completely out of your control.” She grabbed him by the sides of his face, hauling him onto her, pressing their lips together and lingering there, connecting them, again and again. “Your Mother wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the nose. “Naveen wasn’t your fault.” Kiss on the forehead. “Dolores wasn’t your fault.” She kissed both his cheeks, catching his tears.  “I wasn’t your fault, and neither was she.” She cried, her voice getting thick from tears. Her head crooked towards his left, pointing towards their daughter.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his words stabbed her like a knife that she herself was holding against her heart. She knew he’d ask, but she wasn’t prepared for it, no matter how many times she rehearsed it in her head.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” She explained after a moment, biting her lip in shame. “I thought if I can get through this and not have any complications, you’d never have to find out. Especially with how it ended for Dolores…”

“There isn’t a single thing in this world more important to me than you two. Whatever it is, however hard it gets, I want to be there for you. For both of you.”

Both of them cried silently, embracing each other as closely as they dared, refusing to let the other get away even for a mere inch. Silent comfort, not needing any words, only each other, alive and well.

The soft sound of wailing pulled them out of their little bubble, pulling their attention towards the crib by the bed. Ethan stood up, walking over to look inside, Claire peaking from her position on her bed.

A little girl was staring up at him, her eyes blue and curious. She couldn’t smile yet, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t see how at peace she was. Perfectly fine.

His whole family was perfectly fine.

“Katherine…” he muttered, running the outer edge of his index finger along his daughter’s cheek softly.

“She looks like a Katherine to you?” Claire asked, humor in her voice. He nodded, turning to his wife. “I was thinking of Isabelle.”

“We can compromise.” He embraced her, kissing her head tenderly.

“Katherine Isabelle Ramsey. Perfect.”

[whump-town]

Whump. Very minimal, hardly there Hotchniss.

Jack is a big kid now and he’s still not forgotten the mortality of the adults around him-- not that they give a chance to

Jack puts up his best defense-- avoidance. Walking into the hospital, he holds his head high. He’d inherited his father’s height and in moments like these, it’s incredibly helpful. No one so much as blinks as he walks to the front desk. Looking more like a man than a seventeen-year-old, it’s not hard to garner some attention from the desk.

“What can I do for you, sugar?”

Jack clears his throat, counting fingers his fingers so that he doesn’t exhibit all of the stress tells he knows he has. “I’m looking for my--” he looks to the side for a moment. He’s looking for Hotch and Emily but he needs to establish a relationship to get anywhere near them. “The agents?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “The agents that came in, they’re my-- my parents.” He brings his hands together to rub nervously at his palms. “Agent Hotchner and Prentiss?”

The woman nods her head, not even giving his stuttering or hesitation a second thought. She’s seen plenty of kids and parents come in through those doors. Most of which, aren’t in the best state of mind. Rather one tracked with their goals in mind. Not that she can blame them.

“Alright,” she says, pulling up both files. “Well,” she clicks her tongue. “Agent Hotchner is, currently, signing himself out AMA on the third floor.” She looks up at him. “You can get to him through that hallway straight back,” she turns and shows him. “Agent Prentiss is in surgery so I can’t do much for you there.”

Without taking his eyes off of the door she pointed out, Jack nods. “Okay, thank you.” Suddenly, he’s lost his nerve. 

“On through there,” the nurse repeats, her kind smile still in place.

Jack nods, “right.” Right.

Stepping into the hall he falters to put on some hand sanitizer-- which is always a good idea but it’s just a diversion. To keep as much space between him and all of this. Whatever has happened.

When he sees them, he pulls in a full breathe and straightens his back again. “You guys suck,” he announces to the room. Their heads shoot up and he gets a few forced smiles in response. “A family reunion without me?”

Dave forces himself up out of one of the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall. “How are you holding up, my boy?” Jack closes his eyes as he’s pulled into Dave’s arms. He stands just a little taller than him now but that doesn’t stop him from pushing his face into his Pop’s shoulder. 

Jack has to fight back the tears Dave is attempting to wrangle out of him. “Me?” he asks, voice stiff with the emotions bursting in his chest. “Dandy,” he replies. “How are dumb and dumber?”

Dave chuckles and the sentiment is shared with the others. Jack can see Derek shaking his head, JJ even smiling and rolling her eyes. Good, he thinks. They need to laugh more.

Dave releases him with one final squeeze. “Emily,” he says, “is back in surgery. She was holding on pretty strong there until the end.” His face pinches as he fails to decide just how much of the truth he’s willing to divulge and how much of it Jack can handle. Placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder he smiles sadly, “she gave us quite the scare.”

Jack takes the news as he has to-- without flinching. He nods his head and digs his nails into his palms to keep his voice steady. “And Dad?” 

No sooner than Dave can even process the question, Hotch steps out of a room. He’s leaning to the left, using his dominant hand to keep him balanced as he slowly shuffles the two steps through the doorway. “Jack?” His white dress shirt is pulled open and his hair is pushed in every direction by thick white gauze wrapped around his head. 

JJ is the first to move. Before anything can be said, she’s moving to stand in front of Hotch. She starts to button his shirt, ignoring just how far off Hotch looks when he just stands and watches her deftly manipulate the tiny buttons into the equally tiny holes. Covering up his exposed chest because if he were in a better state of mind he wouldn’t want any of them seeing the scars littering his chest.

“You need to sit down,” JJ says, taking his elbow and gently turning him back towards the room. Hotch grunts but doesn’t go with her. She reaches up and cups his cheek, waiting for his cloudy brown eyes to find her. “Come with me, Hotch. Jack can come too.”

It makes Jack feel immensely guilty but he has no desire to be anywhere near his father right now. The sight of him so vulnerable-- his blood is still soaked into his shirt, confusion twisted into his pained expression, and the emotion in his eyes-- is too much. Of course, Jack understands everyone is mortal. His father will die. Maybe not today but eventually. 

But he’s still a seventeen-year-old kid who can’t wrap his head around what he’s seeing right now. 

“Don’t…” Hotch grunts again this time pinned between Morgan and JJ and losing any say he has in the matter. “I’m not gonna sit in that bed,” he mumbles, shuffling where he’s guided. 

Morgan shakes his head, “it’s the bed or the wheelchair, Hotch.”

Jack scowls at the ground. As they’re all funneling into the room, Dave makes Jack go next right after Morgan, JJ, and his father. He’d much prefer being in the back. Away from all of this. 

Settled into the wheelchair and grumply allowing Garcia to tuck a blanket around him, Hotch looks a little better. The blanket covers his bloodied t-shirt and the bulk of where the bandages sit on his chest. “How’s Emily?”

Jack keeps his eyes on the floor even when he’s certain his father is looking up at him. He just glares at the floor and wills his tears away. He does glance up as someone-- Dave-- steps into the room. But he’s looking at the ground again before he catches anyone’s eye. 

“I just talked to the doctor,” Dave says. He comes into the room and Jack can feel Dave looking at him. “She’s doing well. They’ve put her in a room and she’s already responding to them.”

Jack makes the mistake of looking up and when he catches his father’s eye he feels a heat across his face. Hotch looks away first. 

Dave clears his throat, “they’re gonna let Aaron back to see her--”

Jack looks up, torn between anger and ease that he doesn’t have to go too. 

“So the rest of you can head on home,” Dave says. “Come back in the morning, well rested, and they’ll let us all back. But for now it’s just Jack and Aaron.”

Fuck.

They share awkward half-hugs which are really just bad because neither Hotch nor Jack do much more than limply allow the hugs they’re being pulled into. Hotch won’t actually look at any of them, not that Jack does much more than mirror Morgan’s chuckle and lean into Garcia’s hug.

“Come on, boys.” 

Sooner than they’re ready for, it’s just Jack, Dave, and Hotch. The later of which is losing his fight against the drugs he was given upon being admitted into the hospital. 

Jack down right looks pissed when he realizes Dave standing at the door means he’s being left to push his father’s wheelchair. Once again, he loves the man. Hotch has been an amazing father. He’s kind and loving and Jack’s never felt anything but safe and loved but… he’s uncomfortable. 

Without a word, Jack moves behind Hotch and heaves all his weight forward. They go no where.

Hotch glances back at him with a shake of his head, silent judgement. “Brakes, genius,” he rasps.

Jack puffs out an impatient sound and moves to the side, shooting Hotch a frown as he unlocks the brakes. “I’ll run you into a wall,” Jack threatens. This time, when he moves behind the wheelchair, they move when he pushes. “Lay off the brownies, old man.” It’s hard to take turns but he successfully makes it down two halls and an elevator without running them into anything. Not that Hotch certainly acts like he’s being reckless. 

They take an elevator to the next floor up.

“Jack?” 

He gets really, really hot. Glancing at Dave out of the corner of his eyes, he realizes that bastard has left him completely on his own. “Mhm.” He pulls his hands from the wheelchair he rubs at them nervously.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack turns his head away from Dave and Hotch, thankful the elevator stop just then.

He doesn’t say anything. 

Hotch has been sorry for stupid crap like this Jack’s entire life. While he doubts whatever happened occurred without fault of some kind on his father, he also knows he can’t change his dad. 

Hotch is a hero and Jack knows what happens to heroes. 

His entire life he’s looked up to heroes. Equating his father with the likes of Captain America or… Ironman. Jack had seen how that ended. He’d gone to see the last Avengers movie with his friends, Henry amongst them. And when Ironman snapped, dying a slow painful death, and leaving behind his kids and wife… Jack had excused himself to the bathroom. 

Because he knows that he’s more than likely going to loose his father in the same way.

Except, men like Aaron Hotchner don’t get memorilized. They turn into ghost and lessons. 

Jack pushes Hotch right up to Emily’s side, never once looking at either. He settles himself into a chair on the opposite side of Emily, away from Hotch. He looks up at his father once, catching his eye. He has to look away. 

He’s lost a mother, already. He remembers what that was like. To hug his mother for the last time while his father cried on the other end of the line. A serial killer standing in their living room and being told to go hide and just hope… what would have happened if Hotch wasn’t a little quicker? If he’d died that day or both of them?

Glancing up at Hotch once more time… 

Jack knows his father wishes he’d died that day. That Haley were still here and Foyet had killed him. 

Jack can’t imagine life going any other way than how it did. Would his mother take him out to the park every Saturday like he and Hotch had? Would his mother have stayed in touch with the team? Would he view his father like he now views his mother?

What he does know, is that he’s scared by the way his mother died but he’s glad his father is still around. He loves and appreciates Hotch fighting the way he did that day and everyday sense and one day, Jack will learn how to say that.

But for now he’s got to worry about Emily. Who is not only awake but reading his tension like an open book.

Jack fiddles with his thumbs, unwilling, or unable to look at Emily. 

She doesn’t say anything about it. In the low light of the room, silent while Hotch sleeps peacefully, she’s content. Slowly, she keeps drawing her fingers through Hotch’s hair. His back is going to ache and his ribs will give him hell but for now, he’s bent over the side of the bed with his head on her hip. Snoring softly. Sleeping, as he should be. 

“Do you want to talk about it,” she asks, keeping her eyes on the steady rise and fall of Hotch’s back.

Jack shakes his head, clutching his hands tighter and willing them to steady. “No, ma’am.”

Ma’am. That makes her snort a little. There’s nothing that really says Hotchner like manners popping up out of nowhere. Well, was she not the Queen of pettily calling Hotch sir just to piss him off? Maybe it’s just them thing. The three of them.

“I’m mad at you,” he whispers. He tries so hard to keep that humorous undertone but it falls sort of flat. Not that she doesn’t get he’s being slightly funny. “Always out running around like reckless kids.” He leaves out that if they die they’re leaving behind a kid. Him. And at seventeen it wouldn’t be a big deal having to deal with foster-care or even adoption.

They know Dave would take care of him. That’s just not the point.

“Baby,” she whispers, her own tears pooling over as one runs down Jack’s face. 

He wipes it away angrily. “I’m fine,” he grumbles.

Her smile saddens. She reaches out to him, hand palm up on the bed. He takes it without really thinking. “You’re too much like your father,” she chides, softly. “You’ve got to get out of that head of yours and tell me what’s wrong.” Squeezing his hand, a hot tear runs down her cheek. 

Jack sucks in a choked breath and he stands, not even asking when Emily opens her arms up and he buries his face in her neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, holding him closer. “I promise, Jack.”

And, God, what he would give to believe her.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #452

“what i’ve felt, what i’ve known, never shined doing what i’ve shown  /  never free, never me, so i dub thee unforgiven”

Are you a part of the LGBTQ+ community? I am. Do you have Tiktok? Are you addicted? I don't. Do you enjoy being outside? IF it's cool outside, yes. Do you like being around kids? No, not really. Have you ever gotten Covid-19? No. What's your ethnicity? Caucasian. If you were president, what's the first change you would make? I'd probably put in place free healthcare first. What is an animal that you'd like to have as a pet but it's not allowed? If an animal shouldn't be a pet, there's a reason. So none. What was your favorite meal as as kid? Has it changed now? It was spaghetti. I still love it, but it's not my favorite now. Which doctor is your least favorite? Primary, eye, dentist, gynecologist, etc. Potential TMI answer follows. So, the VERY easy answer is gynecologist. Like, I've never even BEEN to one because I'm too scared. Not because I think they'll find anything wrong, but because I'm just very self-conscious about stuff like that and I do fucking not want some random stranger laying a goddamn finger on me like that. My doctor is really pushing me to go by now though as a safety precaution, but I just really, really don't want to. Do you feel that you'd be any good at solving a murder? No. I'm so clueless. You own a dragon, but it doesn't breathe fire; what comes out instead? Water, I guess? That could be beneficial in a lot of ways. Have you ever been sprayed by a giant rain puddle when a car passed by? No. Do you remember the last movie you saw while on a date? Yeah, IT with Girt. What color is your iPod? Hot pink. Do you think baby clothes are adorable? Ha ha yeah, I just tend to like miniature things in general, and babies are just... miniature humans lmao. Whose house did you last sleep over at? Sara's. If you could adopt 3 unique pets, what would you get? A plains hognose morph (probably a lavender, or snow?), a Brazilian black tarantula, andddd... an African fat-tailed gecko morph. What grade are you in, if you’re still in school? I'm not in school. Do you get a lot of tourists in the area where you live? Hell no, there's not shit here. Do you enjoy watching vlogs? Only occasionally by certain people I like. What was the last new video game you were excited about? It really sucks I don't have the appropriate console to play it myself, but I was SUPER stoked for Resident Evil 8: Village to be released and literally watched like four different playthroughs at the same time, ha ha. Have you ever talked about your period with a guy? Were they okay with it, or grossed out? In a three-and-a-half years intimate relationship, it obviously came up before. He didn't care, because he wasn't 12. Have you ever been to small church/bible group/study? Forced to or wanted to? I was forced to go to Sunday school, as well as church. Have you ever been to an Asian (any type) market? If so, what is the closest one to you? I've never seen one here, even. How would you feel if your significant other had tattoos? That'd be a bonus to how physically attracted I was to them, probably, lol. I just love tattoos. Where was the last place on your body that you felt physical pain? My uterus is screaming. :') What are you listening to right now? I am fucking unhealthily obsessed with Violet Orlandi & Skar's cover of "The Unforgiven" by Metallica lkasdjkflawjerwr like I will not stop listening to it lol. Last person you texted? My mom. Have you ever gone out of your way to make someone happy? Yes. Is there a certain person that makes you feel safe? My mom. Have you ever used a chainsaw? Nooo, and I don't want to. Do you celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa? crihmuh Ever been so stunned, no words came out? Oh yes. Ever written that you were going to end your life? I have. I was fucking stupid and made a suicide note on Facebook. I genuinely wanted everyone on there to know what they meant to me, so like it seriously wasn't for attention, which I still worry people think that. Ever put fake bugs around your house to scare someone? Not to scare people, no. I have two faux tarantulas in my room as decor, though. Is there a reason you have the name you do? Not particularly. My parents just liked it, ig. Choose: the best song by Green Day? Aw, that's way too hard! I love Green Day. I guess if I absolutely had to pick, maybe "21 Guns." It's just a truly beautiful song. Have you ever tried to “save”, or “fix” someone, before? No. I don't believe that works and only damages you. Were ethics discovered or invented? That's a good question. I really can't say I know. Do you put effort into getting tan during the summer? Nah. Are you a fairly self-motivated person? NO. I need external motivation pretty badly. Be honest, does the person you like actually deserve you? Or are they actually not worthy of your affections? I don't deserve him. List 5 things that have been on your mind most recently. 1.) wtf I feel about Girt and wtf to do about it; 2.) my weight; 3.) what job I'm going to search for once I make progress at the gym; 4.) whether or not to quit photography and focus my efforts elsewhere; and 5.), as always, Jason. What is better, history or science? Science is way more interesting. Do you flinch at the sight of blood? No. Do you enjoy swimming? Yeah. When you swear, is it usually in general or directed at someone? In general. I don't generally swear at people. Are any of your friends hoping to be famous one day? Yeah; I've got a couple of musician friends. Who would you kiss right now if you could kiss anyone? GO AWAY Ever slapped a guy in the face? No. I don't hit people. Do you think you’re a good friend? I sure try to be. Have you ever thrown your cell phone in anger? When? I have on only one occasion when I Jason and I were texting and he pissed me off. I don't remember what we were even talking about now. My phone was fine btw, ha ha, I didn't like, chuck it. What color of hair do you find the sexiest on the opposite gender? Out of the natural hair colors, black. But I really like hair that's dyed exotic colors on like... anyone. Have you slept over at a member of the opposite sex’s house in their bed? Yeah. When you lost your virginity, were you sober? Yeah. Have you ever given your phone number to somebody you met online? Quite a few people, actually. Most of my friendships are online. On average, how much does gas cost where you live? When I was out today, it was $2.99. Why are you happy? Who said I was? I'm not happy. What is in your pocket? Nothing. What was the worst feeling you last felt? Severe indecision. Worthlessness. Yesterday had some grim periods. What would you name your future son? I always answer with the first name, "Damien," so let's see about a middle name... uhhhh... maybe Damien James? I'm not really sure about a middle name, but that sounds nice. What are you waiting for? Girt to message me back. He barely touches Facebook, so I can't blame him, but I wanna plan a day for him to visit and we can hang and I can decide what the fuck it is I feel towards him. What takes your breath away? Big waterfalls, to name a major one. What fact of life would you rather not know about? That the world doesn't give a fuck about you. It sounds super pessimistic, I know, but it doesn't. There is no sentience to it, no will to keep you safe and happy, it just... exists, and we're thrown onto it to figure it out. Unfair things happen. That's life. ... Damn, this answer was dark lol. What’re a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww?” Meerkat pups doing so much as blinking, guys being really cute with kids, seeing elderly couples holding hands and just generally being precious, proposals (especially gay ones just because of how hard that was fought for), seeing literally any picture in existence of Mark and Amy together, veterans coming home and their dogs freaking out... Man, a lot of things. This question brightened my mood to think about. :') Are you easily scared by horror movies? Nah. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Illinois to visit Sara. :') I really wanna hang. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No, but a former best friend had her bday a day before mine. Are you wearing a ring? I always wear two. Do you hate to hug people? No, I love hugs. How many rooms does your house consist of? Seven. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? Can I be a Pokemon trainer, pls???? What would you want to be famous for? Most ideally, a great wildlife photographer. The kind photography students would see and be inspired by. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? No, I sleep with a real animal, ha ha. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don’t have one. What is in your backyard? Not very much... I'm barely ever even out there, so I barely know. There's one shed, a small tree, and uh... idk. Who is/was your favorite teacher? I have a few. Mrs. Whitley, Mr. Proctor, Coach Collie, and Miss Tobey are some. What’s your favorite non-sexual thing to do with a girl/boy? Play video games together. Do you cheer for the bad guy? Ha, I have a tendency to do that... Would you rather start a new career or a new relationship? Career. I want one so very badly. Something on the human body that grossest you out the most: So even though I am sexually attracted to any gender, nevertheless, genitalia gross me the fuck out. Either kind. Penises especially though like what the fuck- Do you think it’s easier to raise a boy a girl? Why? From most parents, I've heard boys are much easier because girls (supposedly) tend to have more of an attitude. What is your favorite strawberry flavored food? Strawberry is generally my favorite flavor for like, everything, so this is just about impossible. Maybe uhhh slushies? What is the oldest video game system you’ve played? An Atari.

[shnuggletea]

Hey there! Been a minute, I know. Thank you all for being patient and checking in on me lol. I wasn't struggling, not with writer's block or anything. Quite the opposite technically. I was moving to my new place the first three weeks and the last two or three I was on 'vacation'. Eid was the end of last month and I went to my hometown to meet up with my adopted Muslim family. Would have met with my parents but thanks to the virus, their doctor said "No way!" and I had to video chat them while less than thirty minutes from them (cue sarcastic angry face). We all got struggles yeah? ANyway, home and moved in, for the most part, I finished my final edit of my book and got it out for review. So while I sit, waiting, I'll be working on the MANY promised projects, including this fic!

Many of you guessed what was coming here; a kiss, a lemon, and even that the guy at the door wasn't really Inuyasha! And I gotta say you were all... completely wrong! LOL! As far as a lemon or a kiss... this is a slllooooowwww burn guys, so strap in. And we aren't even halfway done with all the crazy crap this world has in store for the characters. You will be learning a lot more about that in this chapter and get an idea of how much more is to come from this.

We ain't close to done folks...

Fanfiction HERE

AO3 HERE

Chapter Ten

He gently pushed her aside and walked in. The guards by the door flared but said nothing, a strange sight for sure.

"I got a migraine." He said, more for the guards than for her.

She shut and locked the door, a habit she had gotten into since Kagura's visit a few days ago. Inuyasha hopped up on a gurney and stretched out, relaxing as if to stay. "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, still smirking. "Told ya, I got a migraine. I get one once a month around this time."

"Huh?"

Right before her eyes, he changed. His ears twitched and then folded into his head, disappearing completely. The white of his hair turned black, starting at his scalp and dripping like ink from a bottle to his tips. His eyes on her, she watched as they dulled and darkened, their bright gold shifting to black as well.

"What...what's going on?!"

He held a finger to his lips to hush her, then glanced at the door for a moment. She grabbed the curtain closest to him and wrenched it shut, hiding him from any immediate eyes that might enter. Usually, the guards would leave around this time, having no need to guard her all night as she was no threat.

They didn't care that others were a threat to her, something she had been thinking about all day since taking Shippo to his cell to rest. It would be nothing for someone to attack her in the middle of the night here.

"On the night of a new moon," Inuyasha whispered, bringing her focus back to him, "I become...human."

"...what?!"

"It's a half-demon thing. Happens every month."

She shifted her weight, feeling overwhelmed with information. "If it's monthly then how is this the first time.."

"Because I was in solitary the first month and then you moved in here. So you've missed it. I used to spend these nights in here anyway…"

"You would come to the infirmary to sleep as a human?"

He shrugged again, "can't let the others know when I'm at my weakest. Especially the guards."

She didn't understand, coming to sit on the end of his 'bed'. "If it's an important secret then why are you telling me?"

Grabbing her hand, he played with her fingers, watching his touch on her. "Seemed only fair, you showing me yours," his eyes danced up to hers, "besides if you tell mine I could just tell yours. But you'd never do that, would you Kagome?" She slowly shook her head, feeling as if she was in a trance. "I figured as much."

He shifted on the bed, getting comfortable. She rose, grabbing him a blanket and climbing onto the gurney next to his. The lights flicked off as soon as they were settled, on a timer, and it was completely black as usual. But she felt far less uneasy about it with Inuyasha here.

She still couldn't sleep, too curious and keyed up. "Can you...will you tell me some things?"

Kagome didn't want to ask specifics, she just wanted to learn more about him without having to tell him what she wanted to hear. And to her delight, he understood her perfectly. "When I was a kid, it was just me and my mom. She didn't know shit about being a demon, only how to get knocked up by one I guess. Or she just hoped I'd never learn. Naraku knew what I was at first glance and tried to take me. I screamed, he flinched, and I saw the darkness in him. I didn't really know what a demon was but I knew he was one. So then I screamed that he was a demon and the cops came quickly. He blames me but really it was his own damn fault if you ask me."

She could hear him shift in the bed, turning and probably looking at her in the dark. His silence was short but she knew it was her turn. "My mother told me what I was when I freaked out. We were in a grocery store and people started glowing. It runs in my family, apparently. My father was like me but died long before we got to talk about it. My grandfather taught me how to use my gifts, telling me to tell no one and that anyone with a red-tinted aura should be avoided. I always thought he meant they were bad people. But now I know he just meant they were demons."

"Demons are bad."

"Not all of them."

"Yeah, but if a demon had ever caught on to what you are? It wouldn't be good."

"You don't seem to have a problem with it?"

She couldn't see him and with his human eyes, she was sure he couldn't see her. But she still turned in his direction, knowing he was doing the same in the dark.

"I used to be on the anti-demon squad with Miroku. We had the highest catch rate without casualties, even though they would have liked it if we killed a few of 'em. When things changed and we became the targets, we split. My girlfriend ran with me but…" he paused, taking a deep breath, "she was like you, Kagome. But not nearly as strong. And I'd never seen her heal anyone but herself. She refused to heal others out of fear I guess. Even me. She got caught and traded me for her freedom." He huffed loud and sad into the air. "I can't even blame her for it. She never would have survived in here."

Brushing away her tears, the bed squeaked loudly with her movements. "My fiancé was shot. His father is a politician and not well-liked by many. I was with him and… he would have died. So, I didn't hesitate but the cops were called. Hojo visited me once here, only to tell me that he couldn't help me. The coward."

"I'm sorry." He said, sincerity dripping off his tone.

She shook her head, "I'm sorry too."

He chuckled darkly, "we aren't all that different, are we?" She didn't answer him because it wasn't really a question. Inuyasha laughed harder. "Miroku was caught by a demon hunter. The idiot fell in love with her while she was just targeting him the entire time. I heard she handcuffed him to the bed and left him to collect her fee!"

"He told me he was caught getting groceries?!"

"He likes to tell people that. Less pathetic."

"He mentioned an enchantress… Poor Miroku."

"That fool has no one else to blame but himself. And his penis."

A giggle rolled out of her even though she felt it was wrong. She sobered quickly when he grew silent.

"Did you love him?"

There was an edge to his tone that she couldn't understand. "I thought I did. But...yeah now I'll never feel anything for him. It's a good thing I saw his true self before I married him."

"Probably would have been better if you saw it before you saved his worthless ass!"

"I still would have saved him. I just would have run before the cops came." She said with a sad laugh. "Did you love her?"

He sighed heavily, waiting for a beat before answering. "No. I thought I did too. But after meeting you and seeing what you can do… I made excuses for her and her fear. Gave her too many chances to change. The truth is, she was selfish. You're even more powerful than she is… maybe that makes you fearless…"

"I'm always afraid, Inuyasha. Always. I don't let it stop me from doing the right thing."

"God damnit, you shouldn't be here!" He yelled at no one and everyone. "You don't deserve it and those fucking humans should feel the loss of you! I would!"

Her cheeks burned, probably glowing in the darkness. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Especially, in here."

"Feh. Don't take it too seriously. I'm more… emotional in my human state. It's fucking annoying."

Twisting, she stared at the ceiling, tracking the same cracks she did every night. "Is that why they put me in a cell with you? Because you're half-human?"

"If you think for one second they did that for your benefit then you're truly naive. The Warden put you in with me to mess with me. Believe it or not but beating the shit out of the Thunder Bro's was my first time in solidarity."

"Really?!" She cringed at the disbelief in her tone.

His response was to huff, "they may hate me in here but they're scared of me. They know what I can do even with the damn runes. Being half-human only makes me stronger."

"Why would Onigumo want to mess with you? You're half-human and you used to work with them? What reason could they have to dislike you that much?"

"What reason do humans have to hate any of us? They don't understand us so they fear and hate us." He growled.

"Do you think… we'll ever get out of here?"

He chewed on her words for a moment then released an exasperated sigh. "If any of us ever had a chance, it was you."

"Was?"

The bed squeaked, he was shifting in it, turning to face her fully. "Before you went in the goddamn basement and got on Naraku's bad side, yeah you could've gotten released."

"Naraku doesn't have any say…"

"Not because of him. Because of what you know. You drew the damn blood yourself!"

Now she turned, facing him and she could just make out his silhouette in the darkness now. "What do they do with it?"

"If I tell you, they'll never let you leave."

"I'm not leaving. Not by myself. Just tell me!"

She couldn't see it but she was sure he was grimacing at her. "They juice with it."

It took her tired mind a second but then she gasped. "That's crazy! It's so dangerous! And extremely illegal!"

"How else do you think the guards handle us in here? The runes may take away our powers but it doesn't take away nearly enough of our strength." He twisted, glancing at the door for a second and then back at her. "You've noticed, haven't you? The guards, they're hollow."

"You can see that too?"

"No. But I've heard stories about the effects of using demon blood. Sess says they've been taking more lately. Three times as much the day you did it. Have you done it since?"

She had. Two times now and each time Naraku tried to burn her soul with his evil intent. "Yes."

"Have the amounts increased?"

"Yes."

"Shit. Naraku is really going to have it out for you now."

"Gee, thanks."

He chuckled, "don't worry. I won't let him or anyone else touch you."

Narrowing her eyes, she looked as hard as she could right at his face, hoping to make out some of the details in the dark. "Why? You told me you would never help me. Ever. And yet all you've done is save my ass."

"It's a nice ass." He chuckled softly, showing he could see the bewildered look on her face while she could still only make out his nose. "You're special, Kagome. And you should be protected. Worshiped really. I'll do all I can to keep you safe, I promise. Even if that means keeping you at a distance. But I'll make sure Koga gets his and leaves you alone."

"From a distance?"

The loud squeak told her he had turned away from her. The conversation was coming to a swift end. "That's how I can protect you the most. Keeping you as far away from me as I can."

oOo

Shippo healed the rest of his wounds on his own quickly enough. And the wolves involved looked pretty disappointed he was alive. But it started a rumor that Shippo was unkillable.

Meanwhile, the kitsune still jumped and shrank away anytime someone large got close. Even when Kagome and Miroku were by his side. Shippo started spending his nights in the infirmary with her and Inuyasha kept his distance. More than he had before.

The trips, pushes, and pulls stopped. Koga and his buddies also kept their distance. Kagome was starting to relax, it looked like it was all over and she didn't know how much of that was thanks to Inuyasha.

None of this solved her main puzzle right now, Kagura's pregnancy. Kagome had made a promise and three weeks later, she was still coming up short with a solution.

Kagura sat, swinging her legs on the gurney, arms crossed in irritation. "I told Sessy yesterday."

"You did?" Kagome asked with genuine shock. "Was that why he was in such a foul mood on his way back to solitary?"

Kagura nodded. She really felt for the woman, she did. But it was hard to get upset with Sesshomaru for his poor reaction. No one wanted their child to be born in this kind of situation.

"Did he say anything about it? Did he have any ideas…"

"No, he has no clue what to do. But I know he's down there thinking it over right now. He won't rest." Kagura said sadly.

"I'm sorry. I'm still trying to figure something out. So far, the best I have is to sneak the baby out somehow after it's born."

Kagura shook her head, "the guards won't let it get that far. They'll be on me as soon as I start to give birth and won't let me or the baby out of their sights until they take it from me."

Sitting across from her, Kagome watched Kagura who watched her feet swing. "Who will come, Kagura? Who will take the baby?"

Kagura glanced at the door just as Inuyasha had weeks ago before telling her his secrets. Then looked her right in the eyes. "Ever heard of a company called Shikon?" When Kagome shook her head, Kagura huffed in irritation. "Of course not. They wouldn't want the public knowing about them, would they?"

"Who are they?"

"They are the ones who run experiments on demons. The blood you draw? It goes to them for processing and cleaning, turning it into a drug the guards use here to keep us in line. And for other clientele like rich humans."

Kagome was already shaking her head, "No. No way. It's illegal! How could they get away with that?"

She was angry. Angry that such risks were being taken and terrible things all done in the name of science. Her science. All while she was thrown in here for saving a life. There were real criminals running around out there and she had done nothing wrong!

Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. She was not the issue here, there were more important things then the slights against her.

Kagura sat back on her hands, smirking over at Kagome. "Is it really that surprising? Humans fear our power so, of course, they try to find ways to get their own."

"They should just have a baby with a demon. Half demons seem to be more powerful than the rest of you against these runes." She muttered.

Worried that was offensive too late, Kagome opened her mouth with an apology but Kagura just laughed. "Figures you would think that. What with your… relationship with Inuyasha…"

"We don't have a relationship…"

"But Inuyasha doesn't have the thing the Shikon people want the most. It's why they don't take his blood."

"And what's that?"

Kagome cringed, realizing she probably should ask Inuyasha this and not Kagura. But the question was out there now and she found she wanted to know more than anything.

"Inuyasha has the strength of a demon, more than many due to his training more than anything. But he ages just like any other human. Maybe a little slower but not enough for Shikon. He doesn't heal quite as fast as we do either. He's like… a human that's extra. Strength beyond a human but with mortality. They want to obtain longevity. Some demons here have nearly eternal life and that's why they take the most blood from Naraku. That bastard just won't die."

"So what you're telling me is…" she paused, needing to swallow her disgust back down her throat, "they experiment on demons to find a cure for death?"

Kagura snickered, "You humans. You're so much weaker than us, a cold could kill you. It causes you all to be terrified all the time of… well, time."

Kagome didn't fear death and that had nothing to with her gifts. She had never healed herself, not even from a cold like Kagura 'joked'. She had always held the belief that everything happens for a reason. She may not know the why at first but she always figured it out eventually. Like being thrown in this jail. Kagome was sure it was so she could help everyone like Kagura, Shippo, even Miroku. And that she was supposed to meet… all of them. Meet all of them and not just Inuyasha.

Grabbing Kagura by the shoulders, she held the demon completely still. "It's wrong. Dangerous or not, no one should be treated that way, experimented on. And I refuse to let that happen to your child."

Kagura's eyes were wide and unmoving. "So you have a plan then?"

Lowering her head, Kagome looked at the floor. "I do… but it's a last resort and I won't tell you what it is because…" Kagura would try to stop her, Kagome thought to herself, "it's dangerous and don't want to put anyone at risk. But I will if I have to to get you and your baby to safety."

"Me and my child?!"

She had said too much but Kagome had the hopes of keeping Kagura with her child since the beginning. Every child deserves to be loved and no one would love the child like it's mother undoubtedly would.

But the plan Kagome had at present would expose her to everyone; the guards, the Warden, and… Inuyasha and Naraku. And she didn't know which of those finding out would be worse.

Not gonna lie, I’ve forgotten who’s asked for tags on this fic... Just gonna tag at random... sorry if I bug you!!

@underwater0phelia @lavendertwilight89 @mamabearcat @nartista @nopenname22 @echobows @superpixie42 @smmahamazing @redflamesofpassion @jme-chan @cstorm86 @cicleydark-light @ruddcatha @lavaffair @kirrtash @sistasecbhere @inusgirl @obsessandfangirl @britonell @lordofthechips @mcornilliac @faolenwolf @classyhumanathletepalace @keichanz @phoenix-before-the-flame @artisticloveexpressitsall @lamuertadehambre @noyourenotreal @mitty-san @thenoammonster @little-deeluna @royaltrashpanda @sailorbabydoll92 @storyweaver2017 @malditamigs @adorabubblesblog @lilms-obsessed @petri808 @anniehcresta @fan-dumpp @itzatakahashi @utakuprincess @theschultinator @all-too-ale​ @little-inukag-obsessed @theseagullqueen @queenofthesquirps @inusgirl @jolinaaa00​ @knowall7k

Spoiler alert, the one bed sharing thing comes into play again next chapter ^_~

So this is random but you guys do know I write SM fanfiction too? Just putting it out there, if you like my Inu then you’re likely to love my Sm. I’m an AU freak but I do have some stuff that’s cannon. I try to keep it even. Something to consider since I love SM and Inu I’m sure there are more of you like me. And I have A LOT of SM fics done and posted lol!

[probably-writing-x]

Temporarily adored.

Ander x Reader

Request by @isthatmaryanna : ander: he met her in the school and she’s the one who finds out that he has cancer, she helps him and she’s starting to get feeling for him and he has for her to but he thinks that we should cut her off his life because of cancer

Reader has been made to have no specified gender

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed 🤍

Starting at Las Encinas was a lot easier than you thought it would be. You’d made friends with Carla and Valerio almost instantly and, though they weren’t the closest, it felt like you were meant to know each other from way before this. They’d integrated you a little into the rest of the group but you’d been more than happy to avoid that drama for as long as you could do rather than get yourself wrapped up in stuff that definitely felt out of your depth. Sometimes, though, that was practically unavoidable.

“Alright your interviews will only be short but they’ll be used as experience for you to understand what you actually want out of your next steps after Las Encinas and whether you are interested in university or alternative paths,” Your professor explains from the front of the class, “Go and take a look around the stalls around school today and make sure you’re all at your interviews on time, please. You’re dismissed.”

Everyone gets up at their own pace as people start to mill around outside, looking at the different universities that were here to pitch to you all today. You’d already seen a few that interested you, looking at a few prospects and reading through some of the information in the university prospectus.

“I can’t think of anything worse than university,” Valerio groans as he walks up beside you and steals some freebies from one of the stalls.

“I can’t think of anything worse than you at university,” You joke, “Maybe you’re just not cut out for that.”

“Definitely not!” He laughs, “I don’t think I’d fit in very well.”

You thank the lady from one of the stalls as she hands you her contact information and you start to stroll around a few more. You’d already lost Valerio amongst the crowd and dismissed the thought of him actually taking this remotely seriously. It’s only when you hear a door slam that your attention is drawn away from the university brochure you’d been intrigued by. You frown and watch as Ander pushes past a few students and hides around a corner, away from anybody’s prying eyes. It doesn’t take much to notice that he’s crying, breathing heavy and eyes squeezing shut as he tries to stop the overload of emotion.

“Ander?” You speak to involuntarily that you don’t have the opportunity to think about whether he’d appreciate your presence or not.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns at the sight of you, reaching up and swiping away his tears quickly, “Shit, um, I’m fine. It’s just dusty and I...”

You take a cautious step forward, “Okay, well maybe if you get some fresh air? Care to join me?”

He looks you up and down likes he’s trying to study your intentions, “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay,” You smile gently, starting to walk in the direction of the big doors that led out onto the land surrounding the school.

You’d hardly been here long enough to fully explore how much space this whole school expanded to, and half of you had the mind to think you’d get lost amongst this. Both you and Ander stay in silence as you start to walk around the empty paths. You focus on how Ander’s breathing becomes calmer and less shaky, watching from the corner of your eye as he brings up his sleeve again to wipe away a few more tears that had clung on.

“You know this place is pretty beautiful from the outside,” You comment as you pass more greenery than the place knew what to do with.

“Not so much once you’re in,” Ander lets out a little joke, “How have you found it so far?”

You glance at him, “Interesting, I just try to avoid the majority of gossip and keep my head down.”

“I think I’m doing the exact same at the minute,” He scoffs and the two of you fall back into a silence yet again.

It’s not the sort of silence that feels unsettling or awkward. It’s one of understanding and respect instead. You knew he’d been crying for a reason and you knew, if it had been you, you’d want someone to respect your space and give you enough time to process it yourself. So, you let him have that space and time.

“Don’t you have an interview to get to?” He frowns, slowing down his pace like he felt an instant guilt for drawing you away.

You shake your head, “I’m sure they’re not that important.”

Ander can’t help but smile a little, it felt like the most genuinely nice thing he’d seen anybody do in a long time. So, he lets you miss whatever time your interview was supposed to be and he carries on walking alongside you in a welcomed tranquility.

You eventually make your way back into the school and hold the door for him as you both step into the near empty corridor.

“Ander, whatever’s going on, you’re not on your own,” You assure him, “You won’t ever be on your own.”

He looks at you and swallows the lump in his throat, “I know.”

“And if you need someone or you-“

“I have cancer (Y/n),” It’s only four words but you’re certain they carry enough weight to knock you from your feet.

Your words completely fail you for the first time where you completely wish you could say the right thing, “I... Ander... I’m so...”

He shakes his head, “Nobody knows, so I’d appreciate if it stays that way.”

“You didn’t tell your Mum?” You frown a little, “Ander that’s not something you want to go through on your own.”

“Maybe not, but I have an appointment tomorrow morning so I’ll figure it out from there,” He states, “Thanks for today, (Y/n).”

- - - - - -

It felt like such an obvious reaction when you were sat in that waiting room in the hospital at nine in the morning. There were a few people milling around but nobody with the face of the boy you were waiting for.

“(Y/n)?” Ander speaks up as he walks through the doorway.

You glance up from your phone and take your earphones out, “I’m not late, am I?”

He frowns, “What are you talking about?”

You take a deep breath, “I know you might want to handle this whole thing on your own, but nobody deserves to go through something like that with nobody to support them.”

He swallows the lump in his throat, “You don’t have to do this, honestly.”

“I know,” You nod, “But I told you that you wouldn’t be alone and I meant it.”

He smiles a little and sits down beside you on the bench, “What are you watching?”

You hand him one of your earphones as you press play on the movie whilst the two of you wait for his name to be called. Somewhere along the line, you find yourself glancing at the boy beside you as he keeps his eyes focused on the screen whilst the film plays out. Nobody deserved to go through what he was going to face, what he was already starting to face. So, when his hand finds yours and squeezes it as the two of you walk up to the appointment, it’s impossible to not hold it there.

You try to listen to all of the information they tell you during the appointment to make sure that you pick up on everything that he might not do as the information becomes overwhelming. They explain the treatment process and encourage that Ander looks at the leaflets they’ve given him to understand what he was going to face. They offer the chance to answer any questions but the pair of you simply sit in silence until the doctor dismisses you.

Ander drops your hand almost instantly as you step outside, “You should go.”

“Ander...” You sigh, “You heard what they said, they’ll give you all the treatment that can an-“

“You should go, you should be at school anyway,” it’s cold but you can hardly blame him.

“You don’t have to be alone in this,” You encourage him.

“I didn’t ask for you to be here!” He raises his voice a little, “And why the fuck would you want to spend time with the dying kid?”

You open your mouth to try and defend yourself and him but it’s hopeless.

“Just go.”

- - - - - -

You don’t see Ander at school for the next couple of days and you become increasingly worried for his wellbeing when you ask Guzmán and Polo and they both have no idea where he is. You become so close to speaking to his Mum at one point. But part of you knew you’d never have it in you to go against your word to him.

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” You smile to Carla as you both part ways for your separate classes.

It’s as you turn the corner that you see Ander stood there. He looks odd in his uniform, like it wasn’t really meant for him anymore. His face looks a little darker, likely from his lack of sleep. But his curls still brighten up his appearance - you didn’t want to imagine him without them.

“You know I had to come up with a really good excuse why I missed both times they scheduled that interview for,” You joke to at least lighten the mood momentarily as you walk closer, “I’m not great at lying.”

He looks down at his feet, “Im sorry about what I said to you at the hospital. You didn’t deserve that.”

You shake your head, “Come on, we hardly knew each other before this week. I don’t expect you to want me to be with you through something like this.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” He assures you, “I guess I was just more scared of... Well, anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s fine honestly.”

“You said that we don’t really spend much time together,” He shuffles his feet a little, “Maybe we should, right?”

You fight back a grin at his innocence, “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you fancy missing class again, the weather’s nice?”

And just like that, you’re walking the perimeter of the school again alongside him. This time, you’re chatting the entire way. He asks you about your life before Las Encinas and which Marvel film you’d want to be in, and slowly, he comes to the realisation that he truly didn’t have to be alone.

- - - - - -

(((Let me know if I could’ve done anything better)))

[etherealwaifgoddess]

One In A Million - Chpt.6

Summary: Rose spends an idyllic holiday season with the guys before tragedy strikes, threatening to disrupt the timeline that Rose is trying so hard to keep on course.

Word Count: 2.9k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! We’re in full swing relationship mode now and I just adore the whole “stucky x reader” set up. Prepare yourself for sweet fluff and a pinch of angst before even sweeter fluff. Because ya’ll should know by now that’s my jam lol. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Six

Dating the guys turns out to be very similar to what you had been doing up until that point. They come over every other day, sometimes every day if your schedules align. In public Steve is your boyfriend and you happily chit chat with the girls at the office who all are curious about how smitten you are with the tiny, shy, artist. There’s always that ache in your chest though, when you want to share something about Bucky but can’t. He’s your boyfriend’s best friend and while you can tell the occasional story about the three of you hanging out, there’s so much you can’t share. The truth is, Bucky is actually the sweeter of the two. He’s desperately affectionate and tactile with you and Steve. While Steve will spend an afternoon drawing something in his sketch pad, Bucky isn’t happy unless he’s tangled around you like an octopus. You indulge him often, surprised by how easy it is to be close with him. Steve jokes that it’s nice having someone else for Bucky to throw himself on for a change. Not that Steve isn’t affectionate, but he’s more like a cat; coming to you in infrequent bursts when the mood strikes him. 

The holidays come and go quietly. Bucky and Steve head up to visit Bucky’s family for a few days and you stay home eagerly awaiting their return. You made them promise not to get anything but they both show up on your doorstep with gifts in hand when they get back. Steve gives you a sketch of the three of you sprawled out on the sofa together. It’s beautifully done and you promise to keep it on your bedside table. Bucky gives you a pair of the thick woolly socks you steal from him whenever you spend time at their place. They’re your favorite and you’re touched knowing he put a lot of thought into your gift. You grumble about them spending money on you but they ignore it, doing the same when they unwrap their packages. 

You had wanted to get them things they wouldn’t have bought for themselves. Steve has to stop halfway through thanking you for his new art supplies, choking up with emotion until he finally just pulls you in his arms for a hug that lasts for what feels like forever. Bucky actually is rendered speechless by his coat and gloves. He showers you with kisses when his brain finally catches up and you know he’s appreciative of the gift. He had gone without a new coat for a few years now, his getting more worn and threadbare each season. Bucky always claimed getting a warm coat for Steve was the priority, letting his own wait even when it really couldn’t. The gloves were likewise necessary. His hands were always chapped from the bitter cold and dampness down at the docks and they couldn’t afford good leather gloves that would keep his hands dry. 

The three of you spend the whole weekend in your apartment, snuggled safely away from the world. The guys are both gentlemen through and through, volunteering to take the sofa and the floor to sleep on. You know girls aren’t supposed to be so free in the ‘40s but you can’t possibly let them sleep uncomfortably when you have a bed big enough for the three of you to sleep in. Bucky caves first, pointing out that Steve has enough health problems without him sleeping badly and aggravating his back. You lead them both down the hall to your bed where they slip in next to you like they belong there. Bucky claims the middle, the prime cuddling spot, or so he claims, leaving you and Steve to trade amused grins over him. 

New Years Eve and Day are spent at their apartment, Steve claiming it’s only fair since they celebrated Christmas at yours. He cooks up a small hunk of corned beef, simmering it slowly all day with cabbage, potatoes, and other root vegetables he was able to get on sale. It’s quite different than the pork and sauerkraut you’re used to but you go along with their traditions without complaint. You sit around dreaming up plans for 1942 together, places to go and things to do. Bucky mentions the rink at Rockefeller center, everyone has been talking about it since it opened a few years ago and it’s supposed to be quite an experience. Steve agrees it would be a good time and tells Bucky they should start saving now so they can take you before spring comes. You shake your head, “Why wait?” you ask them, “It’s probably still decorated from Christmas. What better time to go than when it’s at it’s best? We can go tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, a tight smile on his face. “We’re just dreamin’, doll. As much as we want to take you, that place is for those fancy Manhattan folks. Last I heard, it was a dollar a skate and then we have the subway cost to get there and back.” 

“So I’ll pay for it, I don’t care. I want to take you two out and do something fun. Start the new year off right.” 

The pinched look on Steve’s face deepens, “We don’t need your charity…”

“My what!?” you bark at him. Bucky has inched back, wisely staying out of the escalating argument. He has enough sisters to know that Steve is not winning this one. 

“I know this isn’t the most traditional relationship but you gotta let us take care of you, doll. Like a man should.”

“Steven. Grant. Rogers.” you grit out in outrage, “If I want to take you out I damn well will. Don’t start with that antiquated, patriarchal, misogynistic bullshit!” 

Steve flushes, his cheeks burning brightly, and he stands up from his seat on the sofa to storm off to his bedroom where he slams the door behind him. 

Bucky shoots you a raised eyebrow, making sure he isn’t in trouble by association. You shake your head and sit back heavily, worried you ruined New Years Day. 

“He’ll be okay, just give him a minute to calm down.” Buck assures you, “You and I both know Stevie supports the women’s rights movement but it’s still a hard habit to break, wanting to take care of our best gal.” 

You climb into Bucky’s arms, wanting the comfort it brings you, “I’m sorry for ruining the holiday.”

“You didn’t ruin a thing. Just give him a few more minutes and then go talk to him. You have to understand, we didn’t grow up with money. I know you did so it’s not something you worry about, but that’s hard for us to adjust to.” 

You snuggle in against him, letting the minutes slip by until you can go to Steve and make things right. 

When you do finally go to him, Steve is staring out the window, brow furrowed under the weight of his thoughts. You apologize, and so does he. You both know your hearts were in the right place even if it doesn’t always come out that way. 

The next day you take your guys ice skating at Rockefeller Center just like you had wanted to. They insist on buying lunch and you let them, a quiet compromise to keep everyone happy. You skate for hours until your legs are weak and your fingertips and noses are frozen from the cold. Bucky fusses over both of you the whole way home, worried you’ll catch your death. It was the best day you can remember having in years, and one you’ll cherish the memory of forever. It was also the last good day you had together before it all went to hell. 

xxXxx

Bucky’s concern over Steve or you getting sick turns out to be legitimate. Two days after your trip Steve is coughing deep and rough, his asthmatic lungs not faring well against the illness he’s caught. By the third day he’s in bed with a fever that climbs faster than the medicine can work. Bucky can’t take the time off work, not if he wants to keep a roof over their heads, and so you call out from the SSR office, letting them know your boyfriend is not well. 

Seeing Steve suffering is a new level of hell. He’s sweaty from the fever, shaking from chills, and the cough in his chest could wake the dead. It’s amazing his body doesn’t just shatter apart from the force of it. You stay by his side, giving him sips of warm broth and tea when he can manage and reading to him from his favorite books. After a week he looks like a skeleton, shrunken on himself and devoid of the liveliness he normally radiates with. Bucky calls the doctor then, scared of the cost but more afraid of losing the love of his life. 

You can’t help but blame yourself. You knew Steve was prone to getting sick but you had pushed to go skating with them. It was selfish, so selfish, and now Steve was paying the price. Bucky tries to soothe your fears and guilt, reminding you Steve caught pneumonia just by stepping outside most years. You put on your bravest face and smile so Bucky will have one less thing to worry about, but it doesn’t alleviate your guilt in the least. There’s also the undercurrent of fear that you’ve messed up the timelines now and ruined everything. He has to pull through. He has to, so he can go be Captain America and save the world, you tell yourself.

Bucky won’t let you pay for the doctor who comes or the medicine he prescribes. You argue over it briefly but Bucky insists he saves for things like this and they’ll be fine. Steve comes out of it a few days later, the new medicine doing its job at last. 

“Hey,” Steve croaks, his voice rough from disuse. 

Your eyes fly up from the book you’re reading to meet bright blue eyes that are focusing on you for the first time in ten days. “Steve.” you squeak out through the tightness in your throat. You can’t contain your relief. “Oh honey, I thought we were gonna lose you.” you sob.

Steve reaches out with a painfully thin hand, “It’s gonna be okay.” 

“God, I was so scared.” 

“Come on, get in here with me if you can stand the smell.” he jokes weakly.

You carefully climb into bed with him, pulling him close until you’re lying flush against one another. You stroke the sweat sticky hair from his face, running your fingers over the sharp bones of his cheeks. Steve is too worn out to protest as you sprinkle kisses across his face. 

“If this is the treatment for whatever I had, sign me up for another round.” 

You frown at him fiercely. “Don’t even joke. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.” 

“I’ve done nothing else for ten days. I can’t lose you, I love you.” Tears are still falling from your eyes but you catch the change in Steve’s expression. You hadn’t even realized you said I love you out loud, having repeated it so often in your head while at his bedside that it feels natural now. 

“You love me, huh?” his eyes shine with amazement, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, I do.” you admit, not wanting to take it back now that the truth is out. 

“I love you too, Rose. Does Bucky know yet?”

“I haven’t said it to him yet. I will though, tonight.” 

“Make sure I’m there when you do. I’m sure he’ll react much better than when I said it to him the first time.” he huffs out a weak laugh and you reach back to get him a cup of tea from the side table. Steve sips slowly, letting his body adjust. “Do you wanna guess what that jerk said to me when I told him I was in love with him?” 

“I can’t even imagine.” 

“I was fifteen and he was sixteen. It was summer and we were flush after he got his first paycheck from helping sweep up at the docks where his dad worked. We spent the day at Coney Island eating hot dogs and riding the ferris wheel until they kicked us off. We were sitting down on the beach watching the waves as the moon came up, everyone else had left by then, and I realized it was the moment I’d been waiting for. I looked over at him and said ‘I love you, Buck’ to which the idiot said ‘love you too, pal.” easy as could be. So I told him ‘I’m in love with you.” and the great buffoon shoved at me and said “You do not!”. So then I shoved at him back and we ended up rolling around scrapping on the beach until finally, one of us let up. It wasn’t until we’d gotten home to my place that said he was in love with me too.” 

“That’s terrible and wonderful. I love it.” you tell him. 

“I never thought we’d find someone like you. I can’t believe I got this lucky twice.” 

You blush at his words, unable to believe his love for you could be even remotely close to his feelings for Bucky. 

“What time is it?” Steve asks squinting at the clock.

“Quarter after four.” you reach to the nightstand for his glasses so he can see for himself too.

“I hate to ask this of you, but could you help me to the bathroom? I could really use a shower.” 

“Honey, it’s okay. Bucky and I have been taking turns caring for you so it’s no big deal.” 

“Great. Not exactly the first impression I’d like to leave when you see me naked the first time.” 

“Hey, don’t be like that.” you scold him as you let him support himself on you to stand, “If you think for one minute I’m going to see something I don’t like when I look at you, you’re crazy.” 

Steve grumbles but decides he wants to be clean more than he wants to act tough. You half help, half carry Steve into the bathtub, setting him down carefully inside it while you get the water nice and warm. He tries to wash himself but his arms are shaking after a minute and you take over washing his hair for him, getting it nice and clean for the first time in over a week. The bath exhausts Steve and he naps while you make dinner, barely keeping his eyes open to dry off.

Bucky is ecstatic when you tell him Steve was awake and talking earlier. He barely stops to give you a kiss before he’s barging into the bedroom to see Steve. You join them a little while later, eating dinner in bed on trays so that Steve can rest but still be included. He’s sleeping again before he even finishes his soup, his tray whisked away to let him rest peacefully between you and Bucky. You talk quietly over him, catching up on your days and sharing in your relief that he’s finally improved. 

“Thank you for helping me care for him. It got really bad this time. I don’t know what we would have done without you.” Bucky says again, grateful for all your help over the past week.

“It was no problem. I love him, of course I wanted to take care of him when he’s sick.”

Bucky looks over, surprised. “You love him, huh?”

“I do.” 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s easy to love.” Bucky looks down at Steve with such sweetness it’s hard for you not to jump over Steve and kiss him.

“Hey Buck.” you catch his attention again.

“Hmm?” he finally looks over at you.

“I love you too.” 

Bucky smiles wide and warm like the sun. “You do, huh?”

“Yep.” you chew on your lip, waiting for his next move.

“It’s a good thing then. ‘Cause I love you too.” Bucky gets up, coming around to your side of the bed where he can pull you up into his arms. 

“I love you.” you whisper between kisses.

“I love you, so much doll.” he replies, burying his face into the curve of your neck. 

“Ah shit. Steve wanted to be awake for that.” you groan.

“What? Why?” Bucky asks with a chuckle.

“He wanted to make sure you didn’t shove me after I said it.” 

“Oh no, he told you the story!” Bucky is cringing, embarrassed by the memory. 

“It’s sweet.” you assure him. 

Bucky starts trailing kisses up your throat again and you sink into his embrace, letting yourself enjoy the contact after a week of tense worry. 

Steve really will be okay, you’re sure of that now. The timeline is intact despite all of your involvement in their lives and you just have to get through the next four months without disrupting anything else. Though how you are going to walk away from the two of them is getting more and more complicated.

Tag list! @wolfarrowepz​

[siriuslyshewrote]

Wrong Part Seven

Series Masterlist

Please make sure to like and reblog if you enjoy - it motivates me to make more content :)

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. Nine?” His calloused and scarred hands stroked your face gently, your foreheads almost touching, his eyes scanning your own. You both stood at the end of the street where you lived, you being determined to sneak in before your parents realised you had left.

“You can make a doctors appointment for then?”

“I’m a fucking Shelby, ain’t I?”

“How could I forget?” You laughed softly, kissing his grinning lips.

————————————————————

24th December, 1926

You stood in front of the hallway mirror, perfecting the rouge lipstick painted onto your lips, a small, nervous smile taking place there. A shawl covered your torso - looking perfectly normal, not like you were trying to hide anything. It was the bleak midwinter, after all.

You could hear the rest of your family arguing upstairs - George , in his hungover state, blaming your parents for something or other. Your head pounded in pain - this had been going on for hours now- as you glanced up the stairs, hand grasping the door handle, twisting it as quietly as possible, and slipped out into the street.

The cold, exhilarating air hit you, as you hurried up the lane - already seeing the boy you loved, leaning against a car which was most certainly stolen from one of his family members, a worried grin on his face, exhaling smoke.

“Hey.” You smiled, kissing his cheek. You didn’t care that your family could very well see this if they looked out of the window. That all seemed so inconsequential now.

“Stealin’ cars again, Finnegan?” You joked, as he opened the door for you to clamber in, his hand supporting the small of your back - as if he was terrified you would fall.

“It’s not stealing if they don’t know it’s gone yet.”

“You really have no concept of stealing, do you?” You giggled, as he started the engine, turning onto the main road.

“Pol won’t notice love, it’s alright.” Fin had told you a lot about his Aunt - the woman who had raised him, and if things were different, you would have been close, he had told you. You were both as blunt as each other. You supposed she really wouldn’t notice now - according to Finn, she had changed after the gallows. The whole family had. Even him.

“So. Did you manage to get an appointment?”

“Course. It’s only like three minutes away.”

“We could have walked!” You protested laughingly.

“Not in your condition-“ He looked at you worriedly.

Your heart melted at that - at this caring boy in front of you , who was so soft and so sweet despite what he had grown up around.

“You daft idiot.” You smiled, but you laced your fingers through his, as he brought the car to a stop outside a rather posh looking building.

He made no move to get out of the car, and you looked at him, confused.

“Finn-“

“I’m scared.” He said quietly, looking down in his lap, hands fidgety.

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to continue like you knew he would.

“I... what the fuck have I gotten you stuck into ? You’ll hate this fucking life... and our fucking kid, if we even have one, they’ll be stuck here for fucking ever!” He was angry, his head leaning against the metal wheel, words punctuated with swears you knew he usually tried to tone down around you.

“Finn...”

“Shelby’s dangerous fuckin name. And here I am - I’m sticking two innocent people with it. Draggin’ you down with me.” His voice cracked, as your eyes welled with tears - not in fear, in pain for him. You couldn’t truly empathise with what he was going through - could you ever? His life was so different to yours.

“I’m not scared, Finn.” Your fingers stroked his tense back, your voice soothing, soft.

“Yeah, well, you should be. I haven’t told you the half of what goes on... and now you don’t know everything before I’ve dragged you down.”

“Why do you keep saying you’ve dragged me down, Finn? Like I’m on some superior fucking level? Without you, I don’t know where I’d be. How could I have coped the last two years without you? I choose you. And whatever comes with you, I will accept, because I love you. So. Fucking. Much.” You spoke strongly, fingers tilting his chin so he could look in your eyes, know you were telling the truth.

“I love you too.” He spoke hoarsely, his eyes still unsure.

————————————————————

Your legs swung over the side of the doctors bed, the harsh smell of chemicals tickling your nose, making you feel even more nauseous. You glanced over to Finn, as the doctor scribbled something down. His face was pale, but his eyes met yours, and he pushed his normal grin onto his face. For you.

“Well, Mrs Shelby-“ The doctor turned around, giving a worried glance towards Finn - probably hoping he’d said the right name. He hadn’t - but neither of you corrected it. It was fine by you if he thought you were married. Then the shame you already felt wouldn’t intensify.

“It would appear, from what you’ve told me, that you are in the Second Trimester of pregnancy.”

You swallowed - so, it was definite, a tiny baby was growing inside of you - and your hand automatically started to cradle the bump jutting from in between your hips.

“How many months?” Finn inputted, clearly confused by the use of medical terms, which, to be honest, you were too.

You glanced at him - but for the first time, you couldn’t figure out how he felt. If you were truly honest, you didn’t know how you felt either.

“I’d say perhaps late four months, early five.”

“Five?” You furrowed your brows, in complete shock. That was so far along. “But - the bump isn’t that big - surely.”

“You will have been slowly putting on weight so I doubt either of you will have noticed. And I’m assuming you don’t track your periods?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

“Asides from that, from what I can tell, you are naturally rather slim, and still in that lanky teenager phase , so it won’t look the same as another woman’s pregnancy.”

The word teenager met your ears with force , and you were hit with the rememberance that you were only still seventeen, Finn too, he turning eighteen in a few weeks.

————————————————————

“And Mrs Shelby?” The doctor called you back, just as you and Finn were about to leave, the latter with his arm wound around your hip.

“Yes?”

“I’d... very heavily advise to not try to do anything that... may stop this pregnancy, with how far along you are.”

You felt Finn tense.

“So you think just because we’re a bit fucking younger that we’re just going to... you think I’m putting my fucking wife in danger with one of those back street abortionists?” Finn spat, absolutely furious.

“Finn.” You hissed, before sending the doctor a half, apologetic smile.

“Thanks doc, see you in a couple months, I guess?”

He nodded ascent, face pale, and you wondered truly how anyone could be intimidated by the boy next to you.

As you were walking out of the building - in silence - your heart warmed a little at how Finn had called you his wife, though it was incorrect. At how happy it made you feel.

- @audioshoes

- @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy

- @pacifythepanda

- @starscantshinewithoutdarknessx

- @covenforlilfangirl

- @wnygirl2012

- @misunderstood-sinner

- @bellarkebxtch

- @cthgee

- @meteora-fc

- @joebob15274

[itsclydebitches]

Clammy

Summary: Aziraphale's molt is upon him. He has to decide what to do with the feathers

A park bench and supernaturally beautiful weather. A basket of sandwiches, fruit, crisps, and a rather large selection of chocolate truffles. A bottle of Pinot Noir between them. Crowley stretched out his legs and thought that if this was it, all they ever managed to wring from this world, it just might be enough.

“Divine,” Aziraphale proclaimed, polishing off the last raspberry truffle. The sun had left chocolate coated over his fingers and he set to licking it off, heedless of decorum. Crowley designed to watch.

“Not precisely the word I’d choose,” he said. “Considering I bought them and all.”

“But Mrs. Sutherland made them.”

“But you don’t know what I did to them between here and the bakery.”

Aziraphale froze, thumb halfway between his lips and a smear of chocolate on his cheek. The shock lasted only a moment before he was rolling his eyes. “Of course I know. You forgot to chill them so now they’re a half-melted mess.”

“...touché.”

Not that half-melted messes had ever stopped him. Aziraphale continued to work his way steadily through dessert while Crowley watched the foot traffic in front of them, sneaking glances every now and then from behind the safety of his glasses. It was while he was most assuredly looking only at the changing leaves past Aziraphale’s shoulder that he noticed—

“That time of the century, huh?”

Aziraphale froze for the second time, eyes widening just a bit. But Crowley didn’t call him out on the absurd little wiggle he’d been trying (and apparently failing) to do subtly against the back of the bench. There was no one looking but Crowley and if he didn’t mind chocolate-covered fingers or crumbs down the front of his vest, there was little reason to think he’d mind this. With a sigh Aziraphale gave up and shoved the box away, reaching to scratch rather ferociously at his back.

“It’s so undignified,” he said, tone just this side of petulant. “I am meant to be an ethereal being. A creature of unsurpassed glory and wisdom—”

“Think rather highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Not some, some, some common avian enslaved to his biology. I don’t even have biology. Not technically.” The last part was definitely a whine.

Crowley indulged in a snort and slid further down the bench, nearly boneless against the wood. Literally. His body bent in ways not generally allowed by spines and pelvises, but no joints dared raise a complaint. “You’ve got it easy, angel. I go through two of them.”

“Two?”

“Wings and,” Crowley gestured down his entire body, suddenly looking a little unsure. “You know. I am a snake.”

“Right.” Nothing like the embarrassment of another to sooth a bit of your own. Aziraphale cast him a crooked smile. “That’s... well. Quite sorry to hear it, dear boy.”

“You and me both.”

Another quick press against the bench and then Aziraphale deliberately went still. He let out a breath. Popped another truffle into his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to savor it. When he opened them again he could see Crowley’s concerned look, even behind the glasses.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Over sixty molts since the beginning. You’d think we’d grow used to them by now.”

Crowley barked out a laugh. “Grow used to what? The incessant itching? Constant pain in your back? Exhaustion? I slept for a month after my last molt. Only woke up because Beez themselves was looking for me. Molts are proof that She’s more than a little sadistic, angel.”

“Hush.” But the slap against Crowley’s arm was half-hearted at best. “I suppose I could return Upstairs. It’s always easier without a mortal body compounding things...”

“You really want to spend the next few weeks up there?”

No. He didn’t.

There was a certain understanding that came with annoyances shared across thousands of years. Without being asked Crowley miracled together the rest of their lunch and sent a quick thought towards the London traffic, urging it to thin out. He’d drive Aziraphale back to his shop, say goodbye like it was any other day... and then proceed to only call and text for the next three to four weeks. Their first substantial time away from one another since the Tadfield airbase, but they’d been expecting this. Molts, for all the grumbling, were intensely private things.

And as Crowley stood just outside the bookshop’s entrance, pressing the basket of leftovers into Aziraphale’s hand, he didn’t dare ask that they might change that too.

***

The bookshop was a disaster.

The space had grown considerably in the last two weeks, making room for a collection of supplies that would have rivaled any doctor’s office. Electric heating pads were a marvelous invention that Aziraphale now hoarded, along with the small pharmacy of mortal medications that didn’t seem to do much, but he was inclined to try nonetheless. Safe from the books were melting ice packs he used when unexpectedly feverish; weighted blankets when, a mere hour later, he was suddenly chilled. In the leftover space surrounding his most comfortable couch was the food, a veritable feast of everything salty and sweet. Some of it he’d ordered in, slipping the containers through the smallest crack in the door and slipping exorbitant tips back out. The rest came from Crowley. Per the unspoken promise he hadn’t stopped by again in person, but he could easily miracle things directly into the shop. Aziraphale often looked up from one of his books to find chocolates or tarts or freshly made bubble tea now sitting on the table. He gobbled it all up with a hunger he wasn’t supposed to feel.

Where there weren’t supplies there were feathers. A stunning collection of white that settled into every nook and cranny; an ethereal blanket of snow. Aziraphale didn’t bother picking up after himself whenever an old feather dropped and a new one began the arduous process of growing in. Most would disappear over the next week, fading out of this reality entirely. It was a rather convenient thing (perhaps the only convenient part of this whole process), with just a handful of flight feathers to deal with in the end.

Which was precisely what Aziraphale dealt with now, curled up on the couch with Persuasion resting forgotten in his lap. Disposal of these feathers was no minor thing. It required patience and careful thought.

...Which Aziraphale was quite happy to ignore once his phone buzzed. It took him a full minute to find it amongst all the mess and another to remember which button allowed him to light up the screen. Two more remembering his passcode. Really, he could appreciate humans’ continued advancements in technology, but did they have to keep making them so hellishly complicated too?

Ah. Now that he thought about it, that drive might have been Ligur’s doing.

hows it going?

Aziraphale smiled. Three simple words from Crowley and he already felt better. Though admittedly only a bit. One breath later and that incessant itch reared its ugly head again, along with the familiar ache in his lower back. One wouldn’t think that losing and re-growing feathers would be such a monumental feat, yet here he was, taking a moment to breathe before daring a response.

Crowley,

I’ve been better, as you know. Nothing to be concerned with, however. I expect only another week of this nonsense before things return to normal. Shall we get lunch together next Thursday? I greatly appreciate the food you’ve sent over, though I find myself craving something a bit more substantial after all these sweets. Italian would do nicely.

- Aziraphale

The response was immediate.

sure, angel.

There was a beat of silence except for the tick of the clock and a very low hum emanating from two of the heating pads. Then,

need more time to gift your feathers?

Aziraphale’s throat tightened. He blamed it on his poor health.

Crowley,

No, I don’t expect they’ll be any travel this time around. It’s quite nice of you to be thinking about my needs though.

- Aziraphale

His words had the desired effect. Aziraphale’s phone suddenly buzzed as ferocious as a beehive, text after text coming through about how Crowley was not nice, they’d had this discussion, he was actually being selfish, if you’d just listen, and by the way texting isn’t the same as sending a letter you stuffy, outdated, impossible—

With a chuckle Aziraphale let him keep going, well aware that no answer was the best response of all. As he leaned further into the cushions another primary dislodged and settled in his lap. This one didn’t look like it was going anywhere.

Aziraphale stroked the feather tip to tip, thinking.

No. The person he wanted to give this to wasn’t far away at all.

***

Angel feathers had, shockingly, once been a part of an angel. Imagine that. As such, they had a bit more significance to them than what came from your average hawk or peacock or whatever else might be leaving bits of themselves behind. Aziraphale didn’t know why some primaries remained while the rest disappeared—another question on the tip of his tongue that he’d never dared ask—but every angel knew that they’d wind up with a small handful after their molting and those must be dealt with in the most careful fashion. There was a vault up in heaven that catalogued and stored each deposit, perhaps with the hope that the feathers might one day be turned into weapons against the enemy. For those on Earth, however, there was the expectation that they not allow these pieces of divinity to fall into the wrong hands.

Aziraphale knew it was the same among the demons, another similarity that others were too scared or blind to question. They would molt and be left with feathers that gave off what one might term a bad aura: nasty thoughts and feelings that radiated outward, soaking into the back of a mortal’s mind and strengthening the longer they held on. Aziraphale didn’t know what Crowley had done with his own feathers over the years, whether he simply tucked them away where they’d never be found, or handed them off to those who were later remembered as the more unhinged individuals throughout history. He’d never had the nerve to ask. He, however, had always considered the remains of his former wings to be a gift and gave careful consideration to who would receive them. Angel wings had rather the opposite effect, promoting feelings of goodwill, creativity, and a general sense of peace when held. Aziraphale had thus handed his off to writers who fashioned them into quills, great chiefs who wore them with pride, poor mothers who might not have jewels or vases to display in their homes, but they could set this on their mantelpiece and know that someone was watching over them. It was a process that deserved his utmost attention.

Though in truth, Aziraphale had an inkling of what he'd do with his next molt in 1941. Now, with Armageddon behind them, he was quite sure of his decision.

Crowley,

My deepest apologies, dear boy. I meant to say that you’re quite considerate. Is that better?

- Aziraphale

P.S. It’s hardly my fault humans have forgotten how to properly write to one another. Besides, you ought to be proud of me. Convincing this tech to put in line breaks was no easy task!

His phone blew up once more as Aziraphale shook out his wings, trying to encourage the remaining stragglers to finally let go. He must look a right mess, physically done in and sporting only half his usual plumage. It was perhaps no surprise that molting had become a rather private affair over the millennia. Anyone who saw an angel in this state might second-guess their supposed superiority. Aziraphale hadn’t bothered with a mirror in weeks.

The heat was doing wonders for the muscles surrounding his wings though. The ibuprofen, while perhaps not effective under normal circumstances, seemed to be taking the edge off his headache. Crowley kept up a vibrating litany in his lap. He was clearly busy, yet just a moment later Aziraphale caught the scent of garlic and looked up to find a takeout box of pasta sitting on the table.

Fondness surged, helping his new feathers to grow and his mind to settle. Aziraphale placed the primary on a stack of books beside the couch, safely away from his newly arrived lunch.

Crowley,

Thank you <3

~Aziraphale

He’d made his decision. Best to start the implementation of it early.

***

A week and two days later Aziraphale finally left the bookshop. He was what, in human terms, might be called an introvert. Had anyone asked him on an average day whether he’d enjoy spending nearly a month by himself, nothing but books and films to keep his attention, he would have gasped in pure pleasure at the idea. Now, having lived that life once more—one always tended to forget such things as the years went by—Aziraphale recalled how little fantasy matched up with reality. Taking that first breath of fresh air was an unexpected pleasure.

“Angel!”

As was the company. Though perhaps ‘unexpected’ was quite disingenuous of him.

Crowley waited for him down the street, Bentley parked and providing the perfect object to lean against. Aziraphale took in his appearance, identical to when they’d last met with the exception of a pendant necklace spicing up his outfit and rather longer hair. Crowley must have encouraged the growth. Aziraphale was rather sure hair didn’t get to that length in just three weeks time, no matter how much Crowley might yell at it in the mirror. He had most piled up in a bun with the occasional wisp framing his face.

Perfect. Aziraphale couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.

“You don’t like it,” Crowley said, noticing his gaze, assuming the worst. One hand lifted instinctually to his hair, twitching like he wanted to start tearing it out. “I’ll change it back. If you want.”

In that moment, with Crowley framed by London traffic and the quickly fading light, Aziraphale had the uncomfortable realization that he could ask him to do anything. Anything at all and it would be done without question or hesitation. The power made him hesitate. Aziraphale knew now that he had to guard his words: ask for nothing more than what Crowley deserved to give; certainly nothing worse than what he’d forced him to endure before.

Wait for me.

“Not at all,” he said. “I love it! You’re just missing that final touch.”

“...final touch?”

They knew separation well. One month was nothing to them. Aziraphale slipped back into Crowley’s space, easy as you please, allowed to turn him slightly and gain access to his bun. Crowley was so focused on the hand Aziraphale had placed on his arm that he didn’t notice the object until it was slipped beneath his hairband.

“What the devil did you put—” Crowley stopped, catching sight of his own reflection in the Bentley’s hood. Aziraphale watched his eyes blow wide behind his glasses.

“Hardly the devil, my dear.”

With the molting finished Aziraphale had been left with eight primaries still in existence on this plane. He’d told Crowley as much over text and had patiently sat through reading the same thoughts he’d already had: it was suspiciously convenient, one might say miraculously so, that he had just enough feathers remaining to number the humans involved in stopping Armageddon. Well, seven humans and one antichrist. The brats deserve it, Crowley had said, voice surprisingly tender down the line. They’ll appreciate it, angel.

No doubt they would. Appreciation wasn’t quite what Aziraphale was going for though.

Upon getting the text that Crowley was outside he’d miracled one of the feathers into the fern he’d gifted him two months back, the only plant in his apartment given the honor of a room to themselves and (Aziraphale would bet) the occasional kind word. The white beauty would be the first thing to greet Crowley when he opened the door, stark against the otherwise dark space.

As Aziraphale donned his coat he’d sent the second feather into the pocket of Crowley’s favorite coat, a surprise for when the weather turned cold and his mood predictably plummeted. The third appeared pressed between the pages of The Extremely Big Book of Astronomy; the fourth now slipped beneath his pillow. By the time Aziraphale was descending the steps of his shop the sixth feather was on its way to Lesley, accompanied by instructions to deliver the inconspicuous envelope at a future date and time, to be decided. It never hurt to have another pick-me-up waiting in the wings. Pun most certainly intended.

The seventh currently rested on the Bentley’s dashboard, yet unnoticed because Crowley was reeling from the feather Aziraphale had slipped into his hair.

“Angel.”

Just that. A breath. So much packed into one single, reverential word. Aziraphale had to swallow hard before he could speak himself.

“I know,” he whispered, trying for steady and failing spectacularly. “We needn’t speak of it if you don’t wish to. Simply know that this decision was the easiest I’ve ever made... and you look quite beautiful, my dear.”

Crowley’s hand rose to brush at the feather, shaking enough that Aziraphale could spot the emotion even in the fading light. He was steady enough to open the door for Aziraphale though, stumbling back around to the driver’s side, managing up until he spotted the second feather on his dashboard. Aziraphale watched him double over and thought that perhaps he’d made a mistake...

No. There’d been enough doubting between them and the care with which Crowley cradled the gift said it all. Even as the rest of him shot the Bentley recklessly through the streets.

For once Aziraphale did not call Crowley out on his driving. There was silence—not even any Queen—all the way back to Crowley’s apartment. Aziraphale caught the tinniest noise, like pain, when Crowley saw the feather in the fern and then he was moving again, nearly tripping over himself in an effort to get to the closet.

It was a door Aziraphale had never seen opened before. He couldn’t even be sure the space had existed before this moment. But the trunk Crowley pulled out was certainly real enough. Aziraphale sucked in a gasp at its age, wood now held together through will and more than one demonic miracle. Crowley hesitated only a moment before flipping the lid.

Inside were black primaries. A couple hundred at least. More than enough to account for one individual’s molts across the centuries.

“Never gave them away,” Crowley said. One hand gripped his feather while the other dove into the trunk, finding and extending a handful of himself. “I was waiting for you.”

Aziraphale tried vainly to keep the tears out of his eyes. He’d never been very good at that. Too soft. Too soft by far.

“Well... I’m here now.”

And he was. As Aziraphale knelt and took Crowley’s face in his hands the feather in his hair slipped out, drifting into the trunk. A spot of white among the black. New amidst the old. It nestled there, settling in.

As did those who had born them.

[whoneedssexed]

sorry if this is, like, a bad question, but i see a lot of stuff from blogs i trust like yours about how dieting is unhealthy, which makes sense given how bad i feel whenever i try it. but I'm Fat, and weight has caused legitimate health problems in my family-my grandma couldnt even walk for the last 10 years of her life. I'm scared and I need to lose weight. How do i do that without some kond of diet or extreme exercise plan? Intuitive eating says eat when youre hungry, but thats how i got fat!

I think this question would be better directed at @bigfatscience or @heavyweightheart or even @swolerbear​ - they’re all more eloquent and gathered than I am on this subject.

I’d say check our related tags and understand where the problem lies. One has to be significantly overweight plus have other problems in order to no longer be able to walk on their own, it’s not just purely a weight issue. Additionally, other “weight based” health issues are often not caused by weight - such as diabetes actually being caused by the issue that may make one gain weight: insulin resistance.

So verify that this is even a potential problem for you.

I’m significantly overweight yet my legs are very strong with good circulation, however I am also young and haven’t had any issues that may cause leg problems.

My mother weighs less than me, but her legs are very painful and she may soon end up in a wheelchair. She’s overweight, but the problem is that she has had many issues with her legs in her life and is now getting older, which compounds the problem.

She blames her weight, but it’s actually not to blame - she used to wrestle, she’s tore out her knees several times, she has a “work through the pain” ideology and refuses medical care, etc. That’s the true source of her problems, rather than her weight, but because we live in a fatphobic society, she thinks it’s the weight.

My grandmother, before she passed, was overweight and got around fine. Then she started losing weight, and she stopped being able to walk. Even though she was in the “healthy” range, that “healthy” range came at the cost of muscle mass instead of fat, making her unable to walk.

Disabled people often end up overweight because of being unable to move as much. Doctors will tell them to eat less before they’ll try to treat the disability that’s actually causing the mobility problems.

https://whoneedssexed.com/tagged/fatphobia

https://whoneedssexed.com/tagged/diet%20culture

- mod BP

[bibliocratic]

future jonmartin (cw for hospitals; no warnings for character death) The rocking against his shoulder knocks him shuddering from his worrying. It is like being unmoored, cast back into the tumult and it takes a while for Martin to blink, to align the vision of who is rousing him with who they are.

 It's both a relief and a disappointment that it's not the doctor with news.

“Anything?” Lewis asks. A brisk voice, demanding, but it's unsteady and catches in his throat and little things like that have always given him away. “Have they... is there any news?”

Martin is standing up, gathering him up in a tight hug. He's tall, but not in the way Martin is – he's bony and meatless and  his posture is terrible no matter how often he's been lectured on it, and it's such a relief that he's here, that Lewis is gripping just as hard and just as scared.

“Nothing yet,” Martin says, and he's attempting to sound optimistic, the sounds made wrong in his mouth, and it's too much like lying to comfort either of them. He doesn't want to deliver meaningless platitudes, repeat like rote statistics of recovery, of chances, but he doesn't want to worry him, and it's in that sort of double-think he lingers, the sort of equivocation that comes with parenthood.

Lewis must have come straight from uni, he thinks. He's washed out from the travel, wired and jittery from tasteless on-board coffee-grit. There was delays at every leg of the journey down from Liverpool, and when Lewis slumps himself down like a dropped bag, he's still not worn down those frantic mechanisms in him, the clock-watching, the checking for news, for updates.

“Have you eaten?” Martin asks, an old fall-back, casting an eye over him. He might have some change in his pocket, he thinks, for the vending machine back along the corridor. It's been a busy term, and video calls don't quite do things justice, because he worries that maybe Lewis has lost weight, maybe he's not eating properly, or it might simply be the unkind lighting of the waiting room.

“I'm not hungry,” Lewis says, providing a round-about answer to the question. He's a sharp young man, made of edges and this burning thirst to prove himself that Martin knows doesn't come from him, and to anyone else the way he sometimes talks can come across as dismissive, a hand-wave of a tone designed to disregard the topic. But Martin knows him. Knows his son. Knows it's not meant like that.

Watches him fiddle his bottom lip with his teeth, jitter his leg up and down, and wishes this was something he could kiss better like the old days.

“What about...” he fumbles for the strings of some other conversation. “Were your tutors ok? With you … just leaving like that?”

“They'll understand it was an emergency.”

“You had a... you have your final essay due on Monday, what will...?”

“They'll give me an extension, it's fine.”

Martin nods and goes back to twisting the ring on his left hand, round and round and round. Surely he should have heard something by now, it’s been hours of waiting, what if something's gone wrong, what if he wasn't fast enough...

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” Martin looks at Lewis, his glasses all smudged and mucky because he forgets to clean them.

Lewis puts a hand on his arm.

“Are you... are you ok?” he asks, uncharacteristically tentative, and looks right at Martin. A rare gesture of eye contact, held for more than a flicker of time.

“I'm... I'll be fine,” Martin says – Martin lies – because that's the best he can muster right now. What he thinks, but will never say out loud is – I'm not ready for this. I don't know how I ever could be. I can't imagine doing any of this on my own.

He hasn't moved from this chair. He's convinced himself that if he stays here, then everything will turn out ok, and it's stupid, yeah he knows it, but that this point he'll take any backwards ridiculous quirk of brain chemistry that counts as superstition.

His sleeves are damp and his eyes must be a mess and his fingers are bitten to nothing, and he's still got a coat thrown over his pyjamas for god's sake, and still he hasn't heard anything.

Lewis doesn't believe him, but he keeps his hand where he placed it on his arm. And Martin supposes that's fair.  He'd called Lewis after a few minutes of building his composure, swallowing down shuddering breaths and pushing out air too hard, telling himself that he needed to calm down, that he couldn't go to pieces, not now, not yet – Lew? Lew, it's – it's your... I'm sorry to be calling so early but I think you should.... You need to come home. As soon as you... It's – it's your father. He's had... he's at the hospital.

(And he was proud of himself then, because stammering as it was, incapable of communicating the enormity of a moment he couldn't comprehend fully, his voice did not betray the terror it had. Not when he had heard the sound of the fire alarm sniping, assuming the toaster settings had been left on too high or something, walking into the kitchen to see the toast popped up, burning and ignored, Jon, frowning, confused, breathing funny with his palm over his chest, sucking in air in straggling little hitching gasps; Jon meeting his eyes, tears already sprung into the corners – Martin, something's wrong. Not when Martin had juggled calling 999 and holding Jon's weight bodily up, swaying and light-headed and his breathing seeming a whetstone to the pain, clutching him too hard and none of Martin's words being enough. Not when he was sat in the back of the ambulance, Jon barely holding his hand, wondering if this, this was the great joke of the bloody universe, the Archivist surviving everything but his heart in the end.)

There is a patting sound, sensible shoes slapping squeaky tile, moving towards them. Martin's world loses colour when he sees the doctor.

Lewis is standing immediately, tumbling through a number of quick-fire questions, and the doctor does a good job of not looking rattled.

“Are you a family member?” he replies, and he's not obviously looking between Martin and Lewis, failing to find much resemblance, but he is definitely looking. It's perhaps more delicate than others have been in the past, inquiring about their relationship to each other. Martin is well aware that Lewis looks nothing like either of his parents. He likes to think, in his more fanciful paternal moments, that he has Jon's prominent jawline, his propensity for scruffy stubble, sees something of his husband in the brown of his eyes.

“My son,” he gestures with a weak wave and the doctor nods, before he slides into explanations. Lewis is keeping up, asking questions about the procedure, the complications, recovery and where they go from there, and the doctor is trying to be sensitive  but his son is bullish, wanting every detail and he's so much like his father like this, headstrong and unwilling to yield an inch.

It's good news. Better than hoped. Martin is too exhausted to smile. The rush of relief that should un-tense his muscles, pull the curtain down on the performance his anxieties have been playing out behind his eyes, instead it has left him hollow and dizzy.

“Lew,” Martin says, and Lewis turns, and must see something he can't because he quietens, his expression shifting softer, moves over to grab Martin's walking stick from where it's lent against the seat, pressing it into his palm. He puts a hand on Martin's shoulder.

“Let's go see him,” he says, and Martin takes the arm offered to help him to his feet.

They follow the doctor. Martin's not been fast on his feet, not since the Watcher's Crown, but he can't lay all the blame at the foot of that particular clusterfuck; age hasn't been on his side either in this regard, and his progress isn't as fast as he wants it to be. Lewis and the doctor are talking about Jon, something about local anaesthetic, sedation, how Mr Blackwood-Simms has an unusually high tolerance to anything they give him – and some part of Martin's brain thinks this is probably Jon's weird former Archivist powers, the rippling after-effects of which have never quite left him. Martin is not really listening to either of them. He puts one foot in front of another, and tries to feel relieved, and he should, he should, it's good news, this is what he wanted.

Jon nearly died today, his brain keeps reminding him. You nearly lost him, you nearly weren't fast enough.

And Martin is not strong enough to disagree.

Jon is awake when they go onto the shared ward. Propped up to sitting, already looking slightly bored at the lack of anything to do. There's an IV taped up and held in place on his scarred hand, and he looks like a wind-knocked scarecrow what with all the wires and tubes he's hooked up to, his hair unbrushed and tussled all over the place. He is not as pale as he was, more exasperated than frightened, and Martin tries to forget the last expression he saw on his husband’s face. He feels a hitch in his throat but swallows it down.

“Lewis?” Jon says, sounding surprised. “I thought you had an essay due Monday?”

“Before someone got themselves admitted to hospital,” Lewis replies easily, but he's striding forward, giving his father a hug that betrays his worries, holding on a bit too long, leaning over the bar around the bed with discomfort.

“Really,” Jon grumbles, but he seems pleased at the unexpected attention and hugs back with the hand not tangled up in wires. “All this fuss over nothing, you didn't need to come all this way.”

“I hear you got the ambulance service out. Doesn't seem like nothing,” Lewis responds and Jon waves a hand as though the comment is not worth his time.

“Are you eating?” he says instead, looking over their son critically. “You don't want your dad worrying. I won't hear the end of it.”

It's a teasing pattern of back-and-forth, familiar and shot through with affection, but Martin can't be part of it. His hands don't know what to do with themselves. He doesn't have any words that can make any of this palatable, none of this, because they're in a hospital, again, after surviving everything else, and he thought he was done being frightened of this.

He sees Lewis nudge his father.

“Go gentle, yeah?” he hears him murmur admonishingly. “You really scared him.”

Jon looks right at Martin then. There's sorrow cutting into the lines of wrinkles there, some acknowledgement of what just happened finally gracing his face. Martin is shuffling forwards to the side of the bed, and Jon is reaching up, cupping Martin's cheek.

“You saved me again,  I see,” he says, teasing if it wasn't so soft, so quiet, so clearly for only the two of them. There's a weight of histories there, the many times they've both been here before, but Jon is looking at him so sadly, rubbing a thumb over the tear-stains on Martin's cheek. There's such blinding trust in his eyes. Martin doesn't know, because Jon doesn't know how to put it into words, but even as the pain spiked hard in his chest and he struggled to breath, Martin had been there and so some part of him knew it would have been ok. Martin would have made it so. “I knew you would.”

Martin is wrapping his arms around him then – oh god, Jon, don't you ever do that to me again – and Jon is solid under him, gripping tight, and it's like being able to breath again.

[fanfiction27878]

Don’t Scare You? That’s My Specialty

Pairing - Harry Hook x Reader

Rating - PG

Warning - Blood, Pain, Abuse, etc.

“I’ve decided on the new VKs that are coming to Auradon and I’ve already received word that they accepted.” Ben announces to the 4 VKs standing in his office. “Who are they?” Evie asks curiously. “Well I invited 3 Gil, Harry, and Uma, but they said they weren’t going without” Ben says before Mal cuts him off by saying, “(Y/N) daughter of the Queen Of Hearts. Those 4 are inseparable.”

“I didn’t even know about (Y/N), she wasn’t at the fight.” Ben says. “She wouldn’t be. She’s more of the brains of the operations. I mean she’s probably one of the best fighters on the crew but she doesn’t want to see anyone hurt. I can’t blame her though what’s she goes through.” Evie says. The other VKs nod in agreement. “What do you mean?” Ben asks confused.

Carlos’s face displays a somber expression as he says, “No one has it good on the Isle. A lot of parents hit there kids and a lot just plain don’t like their kids. They are few who love their kids. Then there’s the Queen Of Hearts. She beats (Y/N) every chance she gets. That girl has so many scars littering her body and there’s a rumor that her back is only scars.” “Yeah the Queen throws her cards and they curve just right to leave scars. Not to mention all of the knives she throws at (Y/N) while here card army hold her down.” Jay adds

“Well I think the scars on her back are more than a rumor but no one knows since Harry is the only one that patches her up. I mean I think it’s because he would get jelly if someone else saw her without a shirt.” Mal says with a little humor at the end. “Are they dating?” Evie asks. Mal just shakes her head, no. “Even more reason to get her out of there. They come tomorrow at noon.” Ben says with a small smile.

———(Y/N) POV———

“You are a disgrace.” My mother spits at me. I had come home 10 minutes past curfew. I wish I could take up Harry’s offer to live with him or on the ship. Hell, even Uma offered to share her room with me on top of her mother’s shop. I couldn’t do that to them though it could put them in danger. What my mother wants my mother gets. Currently two of the card army are holding me back.

She already through a whole pack on cards at my back. She also had one of her minions have a go at my face. I have a black eye. I spit blood at her feet in retaliation. This must have been the wrong thing to do for she grabs one of her knives plunging it right in my stomach. “Let her go.” She orders. “Don’t ever come back.” She says with a little snarl. I then start running or stumbling as many would say out my house.

I clutch my bleeding wound. I know if I don’t get to the docks soon it will be fatal. After going as fast as I could for ten minutes leaving a trail of blood behind me. I get to Ursula’s Fish and Chips. “Hey guys.” I say. I can see Harry turn around when I stumble in. He can’t even register that I’m hurt before I’m falling to the floor. “(Y/N)!” I hear Harry scream before everything goes black.

———Harry POV———

I’m standing and eating some chips when I hear someone come in. “Hey guys.” The person says and I turn around with a smile on my face ready to greet (Y/N). My face falls when I see the growing spot of blood on her stomach and her ripped up shirt. She has a black eye and blood by her lip. She falls before I can get to her.

I scream her name and slide next to her. “Come on, (Y/N). Your going to be just fine.” I mumble to myself pulling off my shirt and tying it around the big wound on her stomach. “Someone go get Uma!” I yell at the shocked crew around me.

“Harry what happened?” Gil asks running in from the back. He understands when he sees (Y/N) bleeding in my hands. “Help me lift her.” I tell Gil grabbing her shoulders. We lift her onto the counter. That’s when Uma runs in with a frantic expression. “Someone said she was hurt.” Uma says coming next to me. That’s when a random crew member gives me the first aid pack.

I immediately grab the gauze. “She’ll need stitches.” Uma says looking at the knife wound. “We can’t stitch her up it’ll get infected.” I say. “Well what should we do?” Uma asks. “What about we cauterize it?” Gil asks. “Gil your a genius. They can also patch her up when we leave for Auradon tomorrow.” Uma says grabbing a clean knife.

“Give ma a lighter.” I say holding my hand out to one of the crew. They grab the lighter out of their pocket and I nod in thanks. I grab the knife from Uma and heat up the edge. I press it to her wound but she’s in so much pain she doesn’t wake up. “You’ll be fine (Y/N) I promise.” I tell her a few tears welling up in my eyes.

When the wound is finally closed I wrap gauze around her. “Come on let’s carry her to the ship.” Uma says. I than pick her up bridal style making sure her head is snuggled into my chest. “She can stay in my room.” I say. Neither of them bother arguing even though there are plenty of empty rooms.

“I’ll patch up her cuts on her back.” I tell them placing (Y/N) on my bed. “Ok. Goodnight.” Uma says her and Gil leaving. “It’s ok, love. We’re going to go to Auradon tomorrow and then they can help you.” I spend the next hour cleaning the multiple cutsvon her back and wrapping it up. I pull up my chair next to the bed and fall asleep watching the slow rise and fall of (Y/N)s chest.

“Come on Harry get up. You still need to grab everything your bringing to Auradon.” Uma says waking me up. “What time is it?” I ask through my bleary eyes. “8.” Gil says. “Yeah come on go grab you and (Y/N)’s stuff.” Gil adds. “I don’t want to leave her.” I whisper. “Well watch over her. Don’t worry.” Uma says placing a comfort hand on my shoulder.

I make my way to where my father and my sisters live. Most of (Y/N)s stuff is in my room at my fathers place. I sleep here most nights but I have a room on the ship. I get there and everyone is sleeping. I go to my room and grab all my valuable stuff. I also grab (Y/N)s rings, makeup, the necklace I gave her that I just fixed which is why it was off, and her favorite pack of cards.

I wake up my Dad and sisters and say goodbye before quickly hurrying back to the ship. I’m there by 9 to see Uma changing the bandages on her stomach. “The cauterize isn’t really working.” Uma tells me. “Then we’ll wrap the bandages extra tight.” I say. Uma does as I say. “Here I’ll do the back you guys go grab the rest of your stuff.” I tell them

By 10 I finished wrapping the cuts on her back. They’ll definitely get infected if she stays on the Isle anymore. What really worries me though is that she hasn’t waken up yet. Her knife wound is bleeding again. Her bandages are sleeping with red and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. She just has to hold out for another two hours.

I put anothe later of wrap a round her stomach, but that’s all I can do. It’s around 11:30 when Gil and Uma come back. “Here Harry I packed all of your stuff and (Y/N)s.” Gil says with a smile. “Thanks Gil.” I say knowing he just wants to be helpful. “Come on they’ll be comeing to pick us up soon and we have to get to Auradon fast or...” Uma doesn’t finish her sentence but the weight of what we know the next words were going to be hung in the air.

I pick up (Y/N) bridal style and we walk the ten minutes to the bridge. Gil is carrying the bags and Uma is sending a death glare at anyone who looks at us curiously. Soon the barrier is opening and the limo is driving through. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Come on lads.” I say walking towards the limo. The driver gets out and immediately widens his eyes at the sight of (Y/N) bloody in my arms. “Oh my god is she ok?” The driver immediately asks. “Come on. She’s hurt get in the car and drive.” I practically bark climbing in the back seat. Gil puts the bags in the trunk and then him and Uma climb in merely seconds later.

The driver speeds all the way to Auradon. (Y/N)s wound is bleeding a lot more now. It’s soaking her bandages and my shirt. She lays in my lap as I cradle her head. Her black eye is a lot more pronounced today. There’s dried blood in her hair and she looks like she’s dead. The small pulse I can feel from her wrist is the only thing stopping me from breaking down.

The limo abruptly stops in front of Auradon Prep. Uma is the first one out just in case and Gil follows. I grab (Y/N) and step out of the limo. The suns bright and there are colors everywhere. There whole school seems to be there and a band is playing. Although the band stops playing when they see (Y/N).

I don’t bother and walk straight up to King Ben and Mal. “She needs help now.” I say my voice holding authority. “Follow me.” Ben says without asking questions. “There are doctors in the first floor and not so far away.” Ben says hurrying as fast as he could. I’m behind him following. I’m also vaguely aware of Gil, Uma, and the other VKs behind me.

“Here.” Ben says as he leads us through a door. “What happened?” The doctor asks. “Knife wound to the stomach.” I tell her laying (Y/N) down on the cot. “You have to leave while I work.” The doctor says and we all leave even though I want to stay with (Y/N).

Ben leads us to a waiting room and as soon as we get there I sit down my head in my hands. “What happened? Who did that to her?” Evie asks. “We don’t know.” Uma says. I cut her off with a dark laugh. “We know exactly who hurt her. It was her mother.” I say. “Well she’s in good hands now.” Ben says putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

It takes all my will power not to shrug it off. I don’t want the king to feel bad and I take the form of remorse. We sit there for a while, all of us. We play a few card games but no one is really in it. Mal and Carlos gets food and makes us eat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor says we can see her but she probably won’t wake up soon. We all cram inside the little room. Me, Gil, and Uma gets the chairs right next to her bed. We sit there for an hour quietly. Ben breaks the silence by saying, “It’s getting late why don’t we show you to your dorms and you can see her in the morning.”

Uma and Gil get up but I don’t move. They must have gotten the message that I wasn’t leaving, because hey all left. I stayed sitting and watched (Y/N). The doctor washed the blood from her hair and her face was clean also. I say there for another hour or two before I started to drift off the sleep. I abruptly wake up when I hear a quiet broken, “Harry?” I look to (Y/N) who is blinking her eyes open.

I immediately sit up and lean on her bed. “I’m right here (Y/N). We’re in Auradon. Your going to be alright and your mother could never touch you again.” I tell her. Her eyes open and there’s a small smile on her face. “Don’t scare me like that.” I say a grin on my face, happy that she’s ok. “Don’t scare you? That’s my specialty.”

[hobisexually]

I have such bad anxiety and nothing works. I’m seriously thinking of going to my doctor which I’ve always been scared of before. It is tiring having a weight on your chest at night but I don’t want it to be like this anymore. :( does anything help with your anxiety?

Hi, darling, first of all, sorry to hear that, and secondly... If it’s this debilitating for you, I think going to a doctor is a good step. I know it’s scary and feels like a gigantic hurdle to get past, but you don’t have to figure this out on your own, this is what doctors and therapists are for! They can help you see perspective and give you tools to manage your anxiety. I’m not going to lie and say your anxiety will totally disappear, but you’ll be able to talk to someone you’ll grow to trust and who knows your brain objectively, and they’ll give you the tools to make it manageable, and it makes a world of difference. I know it’s scary, and you have to be ready, or it won’t do anything for you, but you’ve arrived at the point where you’ve had enough, and I think that’s a good sign. I know it feels like a low, coming to this decision, but in a way it’s a high because you’re breaking through something! 

Now, what helps for me... Firstly, I’m not a specialist, but I do have some things that help me. I don’t know what your anxiety gets triggered by? I would advise figuring that out first so you know what to be mindful of. I used to always fight against my anxiety thoughts, but that just makes it all the more exhausting, because all your energy goes into fighting it instead of simply living your life, and it’s so much energy wasted.

You can acknowledge the anxiety is there, and acknowledge the thoughts you’re having, and not fight against them. They’re allowed to be there, but they don’t hold any power over you. That always helps me. I realise they’re there, I think “oh no not again”, and sometimes I’ll give those thoughts a counter thought so I know they’re not true, but when that takes too much energy I just let them be. Acknowledge where I feel it in my body and just breathe. Write it down, sometimes, writing it down gives me perspective. And try not to see the whole thing at once, but break it into small pieces to make it manageable.

If that’s too vague for you, try the following: imagine/visualise that your anxiety thoughts are all people riding a bike. All these thoughts bike past you, and what happens now is that instead of watching them go, you try to pull at them all at once and get them to stop, or you run past them in order to be faster than the anxiety thoughts and outrun them. Neither of those options are helpful: you pay more and more attention to them, you can’t get them all to stop at the same time, there’s too many bikes, and you’ll get tired of running and you’ll get overwhelmed. Can you blame yourself for being this fucking tired all the time? You’re constantly in fight-mode! 

Whereas, imagine now that you’re sitting on a bench, and all these anxiety thoughts are on their bikes around you. You watch them, acknowledge that there are bikes, feel a second of discomfort at all these fucking bikes, and then you take a breathe and simply let them bike past you. And then it’s (hopefully) over, or at least quicker than before. It’s a second of discomfort instead of a big fucking spiral. 

I know that’s not always possible, when the situation is too dire, so there are a couple of things I do in that situation: find things that calm you down until then. Is it reading your favourite fic? Watching a tv show you really like? I’m not saying to escape your thoughts, but find a way to make it bearable for yourself until you are calm enough to face what happened. And if it’s super urgent, what helps is to do this:

Describe to yourself 5 things you can see in this moment

4 things you can touch

3 things you can hear

2 two things you can smell

and 1 thing you can taste

It helps you snap back to yourself. Same with meditation or yoga or mindfulness exercises, they can help, but it’s not for everyone. My therapist for example makes me do breathing exercises, but I need her for that, I have not yet mastered doing that on my own when I’m alone at home. But I do have an app, it’s called “Calm Harm” and it’s initially meant for people to distract themselves from self harm, but it also really helps me to distract myself from anxiety thoughts, you can try that out! Or I have some playlists that I listen to with songs to calm me down. 

You just have to figure out what works for you, love. But know that you’re strong enough to get through it, and I’m really proud of you for being brave enough to consider asking for help!