#something i've noticed going back and forth to the hospital is that people have a really hard time staying in their own lane lately

[sheyshen]

before i went to the hospital today i decided to just afk out on vincent with a dance emote going (cause i always think that's cute when people do it) and right before i left someone whispered me asking if i'm married to gaius (vincent's last name is baelsar in game) and when i said yes they went "nice! i ship it! :D" and man did that make my day.

[lauronk]

https://www.tumblr.com/redandpointy/160507446187?source=share hm... Maybe a fic that takes place in jackson? I've heard that sometimes when people experience childhood trauma they can develop some old childhood habits when they feel unsafe or triggered by someting, as a form of defense mechanism (like sucking their thumb when no one notices, rocking back and forth in a nervous way, isolate yourself in a specific place, don't talk at all, shut down with hobbies when they feel unease, bite or scratch their own hands with the nails as way to express anger or anxiety, trouble sleeping and in some cases even having bed wetting problems) - It's actually more common than we think, and I've always wondered how a orphan girl that was neglected all her childhood, saw people get killed and kill themselves in front of her and was almost molested by a creep never had psychological problems resulting from roots of her childhood in specific. So, yeah, maybe a fic where joel is noticing some problems with ellie and somehow knowing what is this coming from, and feeling guilty because he feels like he was also one to blame for her bottling her feelings on the road because he told her on the road they shouldn't talk about feelings. Did she had habits like that on the road and he didn't notice? When she saw him mutilate people and be violent, did that affected her too? She was dealing with stress on their journey and he stopped her from talking about it? Or when he feel and she had to be the adult...God, how could he forgive himself... And now he wants to comfort her and provide her safeness every time something triggers her, wants to create an habit of talking about her feelings everyday. Like he is her personal diary.

hi! thank you for sending this, sorry it took me so unbelievably long! this is definitely one i could see being continued eventually, i feel like i just scratched the surface here really. i hope you like it!

old habits die screaming

length: ~1.2k words tags: joel & ellie; canon divergence; nail biting/picking/peeling; technically self-harm? but without the intent to do harm; more like a stress reaction; joel is ellie's parent; ellie is bad at feelings; mentions of nightmares;

She’s doing it again.

Joel stares at Ellie’s wrecked cuticles, scabbed and picked at, the nail beds bitten down as far as possible, and feels worry sink like a boulder into his gut. No wonder every time he’s around lately her hands are in her pockets, or she’s actually wearing her goddamn gloves for once.

She’s been hiding this from him again.

He’d noticed it first after Silver Lake, when the temperature started to lift and they started to shed their winter layers. Fingernails chewed down to nothing, hangnails picked and pulled until they bled. And then getting to the hospital only to find it empty, no trace of the Fireflies or where they’d gone…it’s a wonder she hadn’t peeled the skin clean off her hands then.

It’s stress, the book he’d borrowed from Jackson’s library tells him. Stress and repressed emotions that need an outlet somewhere.

Repressed emotions, Joel thinks now, looking down at her hands. She’s curled up on her bed, fast asleep, and he’d just stepped in to check on her before going to his own room. But the moonlight slicing through her window had illuminated her hands just right and now he stood here, transfixed.

It’s his fault, Joel knows that. He’s the one that told her all those months ago that they keep their histories to themselves. That they didn’t have time for tears on the road unless something was seriously wrong, and that she was cargo.

No wonder she’s making herself bleed rather than talk to him about what’s bothering her. And now he’s gotta fix it.

—

Joel’s awake before Ellie the next morning, coffee brewed and the strainer with her tea ready and waiting. He thinks for a second about making her some eggs, but he’d heard her tossing and turning last night while he’d been lying awake thinking over his repeated failures. She’d had a nightmare, and she frequently woke up nauseous the morning after.

He’d wait on the eggs.

Ellie’s up not long after, shuffling to her seat at the coffee table with a yawn and giving him a small, grateful smile when he sets her tea and the jar of honey in front of her.

“Sleep okay?” Joel asks.

Ellie shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”

He should have expected that answer, honestly. Joel lowers himself to the chair across from her, hands wrapped around his mug. “School goin’ alright?”

Another shrug, another quiet “Yeah.”

God, he’s so damn rusty at this. Then again, he never really had to pry with Sarah - she always told him about her day in excruciating detail, every passing interaction she had, every step she took. And Ellie when he first knew her wouldn’t have taken much prying to get information out of. But after Silver Lake - and Joel still didn’t even really know what had happened to her there - she’d retreated in on herself, giving mumbled one word answers more often than not, and that had only changed a little when they’d come back here and started settling in.

Joel thinks again of the book from the library, the one from the early 80s about listening so kids will talk and talking so kids will listen or whatever the hell it was called.

Share, it had said. Make sure you open up enough so that your children feel safe doing the same and it’s not a one-sided relationship. Make sure they know that they can come to you with their problems and that you’ll be willing to listen.

“I had a nightmare last night,” Joel says, and Ellie’s head snaps up. It’s only a slight bending of the truth - he hadn’t really slept at all last night, but he’d had one the night before. “We were in Kansas City again, when that horde came up outta the ground.” He blows out a breath, eyes drifting out the window. “And my gun kept jamming every time I needed to fire because they were comin’ at you.”

Ellie’s grip on her mug tightens, skin bleaching white at the knuckles. “You still have nightmares?”

He hadn’t thought he’d ever be admitting this to her. Ever since they’d made it back here Joel had tried to be steady, show that he was alright and he liked it here in the hopes that it would be modeling a way to adjust for her.

Apparently, it had had the opposite effect.

“Probably every week or so,” Joel tells her honestly. “Not always the same ones, and when we first got here it was more like every other night. But yeah, I still have them a bit.”

Ellie’s eyes have dropped from him to her mug of tea, staring down at it like the dregs of it will have all the answers. “Me too,” she whispers, so quietly that if Joel hadn’t been as intently focused on her as he was he probably wouldn’t have heard it. He doesn’t say anything, just waits to see if she’ll continue. “A couple times a week lately. I had one last night where –” she sniffles, sitting back in her chair with her arms wrapped over her stomach. “Where we were in Colorado and you died in the basement and I couldn’t get out of the steakhouse and –” Ellie hiccups, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks.

Carefully, Joel reaches his hand across the table to her. An offering, if she wants it. He can see her weighing whether or not to take it, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Ellie still struggles with the idea of relying on anyone, whether she’d admit it or not. They’ve come leaps and bounds since that first mistrustful, angry conversation in his and Tess’s apartment, but a few months in a safe space isn’t enough to undo nearly fifteen years of suspicion and solitude.

Ellie sniffs again, her jaw working back and forth, before she finally reaches forward and clasps his hand. Joel squeezes it gently, waiting for her to look up at him. “I’m alright,” he tells her softly when she does. “And you’re alright. And I know this is a lot to get used to here. But baby, I am asking you –” Joel rotates their hands until hers is facing up, the damage to her nails on display. She tries to pull it back, relenting when Joel squeezes again. “Come talk to me when somethin’ is botherin’ you, alright? You ain’t…you ain’t gotta tell me all the details, don’t need to say more than you’re comfortable with. But I am askin’ you to please come say…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Just come say you had a nightmare, or say you’re sad, or even just say you need a hug. That’s all. You ain’t doin’ this alone, kiddo.”

Ellie just sort of looks at him for a moment, eyes rimmed in red. She seems…small. Withdrawn, unsure, five seconds from shattering into a thousand pieces, and until she speaks again Joel thinks he’s maybe made a horrendous mistake, and that all she’s gonna do now is retreat even further.

But then she gives him a wobbly nod and says okay and Joel knows that at least now, they’ve made a start.

thanks for reading! you can find the full ficlet collection on ao3

[blubushie]

do you stim and if so how? sorry if that's personal, i do and i'm curious how others stim

No wukkas mate, you're fine!

I don't stim in any way that's really noticeable.

In the past few months I've been gradually willing myself into breaking my dermatophagia habits. I used to obsessively bite my nails and the skin around my nails in addition to picking at them. I've been doing this since I was about three and I reckon it started because my nails used to be so long that they were outright uncomfortable and I started mutilating them to get rid of that feeling (this is speculation, but I think it's what happened because the longer they are, the higher my drive to bite them).

I still relapse and bite sometimes when I zone out but I usually catch myself before I end up biting them so low that you can tell they've been bitten. My nails have come a very long way from what they looked like a few years ago and I'll admit it's definitely something I'm very self-conscious about since they were so short they bled sometimes and I got made fun of it a lot when I was in school.

Right now the longest is my left thumb. The only nails I have short (and plan to keep at their current length) are my trigger and middle fingers on my left hand for reasons. Mostly for work though—if the trigger finger is long I'm worried about bumping my rifle because she's a hair trigger and having her fire before I'm ready.

Sometimes when I'm focused on something that doesn't require my hands, I'll rub the pad of my trigger finger over the edge of my thumb nail but I only do this on my left hand and I reckon I'll stop once I get used to the feeling of having a long nail there. For the first time since I was around 5 my nail is growing away from the bed and I can feel the edge of the nail when I touch the tip of my thumb and that hasn't happened for about 17 years so it's gonna take some getting used to.

Any other stimming I have isn't noticeable as stimming and usually just passed off as Bloke Shit. I scratch the left side of my jaw when I'm nervous, I scratch the back of my neck and won't make eye contact when I'm embarrassed or flustered, I scratch my right sideburn when I'm thinking about something. If I'm really nervous because there's a lot of people around I rub my thumb over the corkscrew on my pocketknife or I go through ny keyring while it's in my vest. All of this is funny to me because I use my right hand for these things despite being left-handed.

If I'm holding a knife sometimes I'll brush the sharp edge across the pad of my right thumb when I'm thinking about something. I don't make a habit of handling knives unless I'm using them, so this only happens when someone starts talking to me or I'm whittling and start zoning out.

I chew the inside of my lip/cheeks a lot. It's worse when I'm really anxious/in a high-stress situatiation and I once had to go to hospital because I was being yelled at by a teacher and almost chewed a hole all the way through to the front. I had to get two stitches and the teacher noticed because I couldn't swallow the blood in time (I also later threw up most of that blood at hospital).

Nowadays I mostly keep the oral stimming under wraps with things people wouldn't recognise as stimming unless you know me personally. I chew jerky for ten minutes at a time until it's soft. I smoke. I suck on TicTacs. I put a toothpick between my lips and roll that back and forth. I chew on clover or kangaroo grass.

I want to make a point that these only happen around people. I chainsmoke in cities. The more people there are, the worst I am. If I'm sitting outside a pub I'm probably smoking. If I'm inside a pub I'm sitting in a corner by myself and peoplewatching. I don't sit at the bar because people can come up behind me where I can't see but if I'm having a rougher evening I'll stand with my back against the bar and spin a yarn with the bartender if I know him.

If I'm by myself I don't do any of this shit aside from rubbing my thumb nail. It only happens around people (probably because I'm antisocial and people make me very nervous).

All this is to say I don't stim in ways people notice. I probably have some stims that I've never actually realised I'm doing or noticed as stims. Some of the behaviours I've picked up from my dad who aside from PTSD is neurotypical—for example, Dad also fidgets with his keys when he's thinking about something.

I think it's less a matter of stim and possibly just me having busy hands. I always have to be doing something and it's hard for me to ever really relax. I've never successfully meditated for example and the only time I get the clearheaded effect meditation is supposed to provide is when I'm looking down a scope, so there's that. Work is prayer.

[theofreakingbell]

The covid situation rn is just breaking me rn idk what else to say

like. I'm too exhausted from being very severely chronically ill to write a like nice lil educational post for y'all, but I've literally been on the verge of tears for about an hour because of how horrible I am feeling about all of this right now. I am currently in a back and forth argument with a surgery center that needs to do a necessary endoscopy to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with my stomach, over weither or not they will wear masks during the surgery. if I need to go to the ER, it's a coin toss weither they will be wearing any either, or have decent COVID screening protocols at the hospital to keep other patients safe. they've mostly been repealed since the first vaccine rollout despite people getting infected in their hospitals and dying from it that way (have run into people in local groups who attest to that directly). so right now I'm basically praying that the surgery center agrees to wear the masks we offered to provide for them so that I can get my stomach checked out and hopefully not get fucking COVID, and that my stomach doesn't break in the meantime so I can avoid the ER. and I am not the only person having issues like this nor the most dire or urgent. as fucked up as my body is I have a functional immune system and a lot of people don't, and I have thusfar been able to avoid the ER and have doctors that respect my masking needs. a lot of people don't. and they are getting sicker and putting off necessary care because doctors refuse to give it to them safely. because of chasing some 'normal' that doesn't exist. we are still loosing over 1000 people PER WEEK to COVID and that doesn't count those who gain longlasting or permanent disabilities from it. risk for long covid and covid in general is looking more and more like it's cumulative. the more times u get it the higher the risk. and it is being almost totally ignored or just... obliviously missed by the general public. I just... I feel like I'm drowning. I don't want to die. I don't want to have to beg people to take my life's worth into account when that is literally their job to help me. I don't want to keep watching people like me get sicker or die and have people shrug it off and say 'oh well they were sick anyways' as if being sick as the same as being dead. I will live my entire live in that bit of wiggle room they seem to think doesn't matter and it is huge and grand and worth something. and I just. do not fucking tell me it doesn't matter.

as if they won't expect help when they get long covid and have to deal with the same arguments but somehow it's different bc now it affects them🙄

it just all feels like some horrible nightmare that is invisible right in front of most people's eyes and the one thing I fear worse than dying is dying and nobody fucking noticing or thinking it matters bc 'I was vulnerable' as if that is some sin worthy of death. as if they didn't owe me the same respect I give them. I wear my mask for others, too. I just wish they'd show me the same sort of basic decency, especially in medical settings. I don't want to die over pointless risk. and nobody else should either.

I'm so tired.

[hyuccubus]

15 Tags 15 mutuals

Tagged again by @toribookworm22, which makes me very happy 😊

I don't have a lot of mutuals to tag, though 😶 I'm always looking to change that, I try to follow back, although I have been slacking in searching a little bit.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Funny story abut that, honestly. My father wanted to name me after himself. That would have made my name Teddy, which I would absolutely hate. My mother, whom he was divorcing at the time, hated it as well, and they argued back and forth until my uncle got a book of names from the hospital gift shop and they landed on my previous name, which I still don't have a problem with but is hardly what I'd consider feminine. The surname I use, Allen, is my middle name, which I did inherit from him. I might drop that, too, though, I've been processing a lot of feelings about my dad I couldn't fully come to terms with until he died about two years ago.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Hard? About a week or two ago. Earlier today I teared up during an emotional moment in a Ted Lasso episode. Great show, btw

3. Do you have kids?

Yes, I have one seven year old son. He's a wonderful little guy, and despite my trans-femme identity, I'm proud to be his father for now

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Speaking of having kids, I can say I use it far too much, because he's only just now getting when I'm being sarcastic.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Typically it's their hair or their fashion sense. I have trouble with eye contact, and I like finding something to compliment about someone that was a choice they made, like their nails or their shoes, that sort of thing.

6. What's your eye color?

Very, very blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings. I love scary stories and video games, but scary movies rev up my anxiety too much. I think it's the music, honestly, good sound design makes all the difference, and in video games I still feel in control.

8. Any special talents?

I am very, very, very good at Guitar Hero/Rock Band. 99% likely I am better than everyone else you know. Proof

9. Where were you born?

Louisville, Kentucky, where I've also lived in or near for all of my life.

10. What are your hobbies?

Apart from writing, I spend just about all of my time playing video games. I suppose a more specific thread of that is that I really enjoy emulating video games on their native hardware, which has nothing to do with being pretty poor and not being able to afford retro games that are becoming a speculative market, combined with anxieties about the limited lifespan of physical media. I get a lot of enjoyment out of tinkering with my PS3 or Wii U and making it do something the original creators never intended. The ingenuity of the gaming community never ceases to amaze me.

11. Have you any pets?

Yes, one cat named Piers.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I was pretty much forced in playing soccer for around 11 years or so. I really like tennis and I'd love to get into more extreme sports like BMX or skateboarding, although given that I'm going to be 30 this year, that'll need to be sooner rather than later 😆

13. How tall are you?

5' 7"

14. Favorite subject in school?

Drama, I'd say. I really like the stage, although I've never had the courage to join any kind of production once I left school. Could be fun if I had the opportunity!

15. Dream job?

Writing for video games, maybe for an indie studio. I don't have much faith in any of the big companies right now

I'll tag @daisywords, since my other new follower already got one from Tori 😋

[purplesurveys]

1856

Do you know anyone who has a hearing deficit? No, don't think so.

What is the average number of customers that stop by where you work? Doesn't really work that way in our industry, but I'd say the average number of accounts a team handles within our agency would be 5-6.

When you are having a bath, do you have the water low, medium, or high? Is this referring to temperature or height? as someone with no bathtub and would not be familiar with terms lmao. Anyway, I'll answer both ways - I like my water lukewarm but leaning towards hot, and I like it able to cover up to my neck so it feels like I'm swimming.

Do you know exactly what a physician is? Would you ever want to be one? Sure, and no.

Does your phone have a stopwatch? How often do you use it, and what for? It does, but I don't use it unless I'm rehearsing for a presentation that needs to be limited to a certain length (20 mins, 30 mins, etc) as some clients request that. I don't really have use for a stopwatch, otherwise.

What is your surname? If you could change it, what would you want it to be? I'm not sharing that and don't prefer a certain one over mine.

Do you know anyone who pronounces 'ketchup' with 'catsup'? Nope.

Speaking of cats, what is your favorite colours for a cat? I don't have a favorite color on animals lol, they're all beautiful.

What are you methods to remind yourself of something important? I have a to-do list that I keep updated no matter what and no matter how busy I could possibly get. If a day is particularly hectic and I feel like drowning in all the load, I take it a step further and place times on each of my to-do tasks so that I manage my time wisely.

So for example, Item 1 can be "Do this report - 10:30 AM," item 2 is "Review teammate's draft - 11:30 AM," item 3 is "Reply to so-and-so's email - 1 PM," so on and so forth until I get to organize everything until 6 PM.

What are your opinions on fake sugar? Do you use it? Why or why not? I dunno really, I don't think I've even had it before.

Would you ever want to study sociology? Why or why not? That'd be great. I looked up the sociology electives and majors from my university and now I'm asking myself why I never took any of them up, hahaha. The topics are right up my alley, plus you can say it's related to history/social history and that makes me very happy.

If you had to have a porch for your house, what colour would it be? I'd go with white or black.

What makes a person physically beautiful to you? Vibrant, genuine smile; healthy teeth; glowing cheeks.

Would you rather have a hospital become a church, or vice versa? We don't need any more churches here.

Would you miss winter if it never came back? Why or why not? Not really the best person to take this question on.

Do you notice a pattern with people who were born as the middle child? Yes for the most part, and I know this because I have a sister who's the middle child haha. She's *very* independent, is the one who avoids all conflict, way more responsible than my brother and I would ever be, and is down for anything in all contexts.

Did you ever play around a hydrant when you were younger? No.

Does bad weather ruin your day? Why or why not? To be honest no, because I like the rain. The only time I feel like it's my enemy is when it rains on a day when I have to drive, because that shit can be terrifying especially when it rains too hard that you can't see anything on the road.

What is one thing stopping you from becoming a veterinarian? All the big brain, science-y stuff that goes behind it, I guess. Even if I take all the courses in the world, my natural paranoid self might not trust myself when it comes to giving the correct dosages, being confident about diagnoses, identifying the best medication to give... things like that. I also don't think I'm mentally strong enough to handle emergency cases.

When you read 'bass' just now, was it read like the fish or the instrument? Instrument.

If you wear them, what is the average length of skirts you wear? I don't wear skirts but if I had to, I'd go with maxi ones.

Do you spell it like 'cheque' or 'check'? Also, do you even use them? Cheque, because check can mean so many things and I hate being confused haha. No, I don't.

If you had to live your life carrying a shield, what would its design be? Just a plain pastel purple one, idk.

[an-involentary-bystander]

Transcript:

“What makes us get sick? Look upstream”

|  Rishi Manchanda  |  TEDSalon NY2014  |  August 2014  |

For over a decade as a doctor, I've cared for homeless veterans, for working-class families. I've cared for people who live and work in conditions that can be hard, if not harsh, and that work has led me to believe that we need a fundamentally different way of looking at healthcare.

We simply need a healthcare system that moves beyond just looking at the symptoms that bring people into clinics, but instead actually is able to look and improve health where it begins. And where health begins is not in the four walls of a doctor's office, but where we live and where we work, where we eat, sleep, learn and play, where we spend the majority of our lives.

So what does this different approach to healthcare look like, an approach that can improve health where it begins?

To illustrate this, I'll tell you about Veronica. 

Veronica was the 17th patient out of my 26-patient day at that clinic in South Central Los Angeles. She came into our clinic with a chronic headache. This headache had been going on for a number of years, and this particular episode was very, very troubling.

In fact, three weeks before she came to visit us for the first time, she went to an emergency room in Los Angeles. 

The emergency room doctors said, "We've run some tests, Veronica. The results are normal, so here's some pain medication, and follow up with a primary care doctor, but if the pain persists or if it worsens, then come on back."

Veronica followed those standard instructions and she went back. 

She went back not just once, but twice more. In the three weeks before Veronica met us, she went to the emergency room three times. She went back and forth, in and out of hospitals and clinics, just like she had done in years past, trying to seek relief but still coming up short. 

Veronica came to our clinic, and despite all these encounters with healthcare professionals, Veronica was still sick. When she came to our clinic, though, we tried a different approach. Our approach started with our medical assistant, someone who had a GED-level training but knew the community. 

Our medical assistant asked some routine questions. 

She asked, "What's your chief complaint?" 

"Headache."

"Let's get your vital signs" — measure your blood pressure and your heart rate, but let's also ask something equally as vital to Veronica and a lot of patients like her in South Los Angeles. 

"Veronica, can you tell me about where you live? Specifically, about your housing conditions? Do you have mold? Do you have water leaks? Do you have roaches in your home?"

Turns out, Veronica said yes to three of those things: roaches, water leaks, mold. I received that chart in hand, reviewed it, and I turned the handle on the door and I entered the room.

You should understand that Veronica, like a lot of patients that I have the privilege of caring for, is a dignified person, a formidable presence, a personality that's larger than life, but here she was doubled over in pain sitting on my exam table. Her head, clearly throbbing, was resting in her hands. 

She lifted her head up, and I saw her face, said hello, and then I immediately noticed something across the bridge of her nose, a crease in her skin. 

In medicine, we call that crease the allergic salute. It's usually seen among children who have chronic allergies. It comes from chronically rubbing one's nose up and down, trying to get rid of those allergy symptoms, and yet, here was Veronica, a grown woman, with the same telltale sign of allergies. 

A few minutes later, in asking Veronica some questions, and examining her and listening to her, I said, "Veronica, I think I know what you have. I think you have chronic allergies, and I think you have migraine headaches and some sinus congestion, and I think all of those are related to where you live." 

She looked a little bit relieved, because for the first time, she had a diagnosis, but I said, "Veronica, now let's talk about your treatment. We're going to order some medications for your symptoms, but I also want to refer you to a specialist, if that's okay."

Now, specialists are a little hard to find in South Central Los Angeles, so she gave me this look, like, "Really?"

And I said, "Veronica, actually, the specialist I'm talking about is someone I call a community health worker, someone who, if it's okay with you, can come to your home and try to understand what's going on with those water leaks and that mold, trying to help you manage those conditions in your housing that I think are causing your symptoms, and if required, that specialist might refer you to another specialist that we call a public interest lawyer, because it might be that your landlord isn't making the fixes he's required to make."

Veronica came back in a few months later. She agreed to all of those treatment plans. 

She told us that her symptoms had improved by 90 percent. She was spending more time at work and with her family and less time shuttling back and forth between the emergency rooms of Los Angeles. Veronica had improved remarkably. 

Her sons, one of whom had asthma, were no longer as sick as they used to be. She had gotten better, and not coincidentally, Veronica's home was better too.

What was it about this different approach we tried that led to better care, fewer visits to the E.R., better health? Well, quite simply, it started with that question: "Veronica, where do you live?" 

But more importantly, it was that we put in place a system that allowed us to routinely ask questions to Veronica and hundreds more like her about the conditions that mattered in her community, about where health, and unfortunately sometimes illness, do begin in places like South L.A. 

In that community, substandard housing and food insecurity are the major conditions that we as a clinic had to be aware of, but in other communities it could be transportation barriers, obesity, access to parks, gun violence.

The important thing is, we put in place a system that worked, and it's an approach that I call an upstream approach. It's a term many of you are familiar with. It comes from a parable that's very common in the public health community. 

This is a parable of three friends. 

Imagine that you're one of these three friends who come to a river. It's a beautiful scene, but it's shattered by the cries of a child, and actually several children, in need of rescue in the water. 

So you do hopefully what everybody would do. You jump right in along with your friends. 

The first friend says, I'm going to rescue those who are about to drown, those at most risk of falling over the waterfall. 

The second friends says, I'm going to build a raft. I'm going to make sure that fewer people need to end up at the waterfall's edge. Let's usher more people to safety by building this raft, coordinating those branches together. 

Over time, they're successful, but not really, as much as they want to be. More people slip through, and they finally look up and they see that their third friend is nowhere to be seen. 

They finally spot her. She's in the water. She's swimming away from them upstream, rescuing children as she goes, and they shout to her, "Where are you going? There are children here to save."

And she says back, "I'm going to find out who or what is throwing these children in the water."

In healthcare, we have that first friend — we have the specialist, we have the trauma surgeon, the ICU nurse, the E.R. doctors. We have those people that are vital rescuers, people you want to be there when you're in dire straits.

We also know that we have the second friend — we have that raft-builder. That's the primary care clinician, people on the care team who are there to manage your chronic conditions, your diabetes, your hypertension, there to give you your annual checkups, there to make sure your vaccines are up to date, but also there to make sure that you have a raft to sit on and usher yourself to safety.

But while that's also vital and very necessary, what we're missing is that third friend. 

We don't have enough of that upstreamist. 

The upstreamists are the health care professionals who know that health does begin where we live and work and play, but beyond that awareness, is able to mobilize the resources to create the system in their clinics and in their hospitals that really does start to approach that, to connect people to the resources they need outside the four walls of the clinic.

Now you might ask, and it's a very obvious question that a lot of colleagues in medicine ask: 

"Doctors and nurses thinking about transportation and housing? Shouldn't we just provide pills and procedures and just make sure we focus on the task at hand?" 

Certainly, rescuing people at the water's edge is important enough work. Who has the time? I would argue, though, that if we were to use science as our guide, that we would find an upstream approach is absolutely necessary. 

Scientists now know that the living and working conditions that we all are part of have more than twice the impact on our health than does our genetic code, and living and working conditions, the structures of our environments, the ways in which our social fabric is woven together, and the impact those have on our behaviors, all together, those have more than five times the impact on our health than do all the pills and procedures administered by doctors and hospitals combined.

All together, living and working conditions account for 60 percent of preventable death.

Let me give you an example of what this feels like.

Let's say there was a company, a tech startup that came to you and said, "We have a great product. It's going to lower your risk of death from heart disease." 

Now, you might be likely to invest if that product was a drug or a device, but what if that product was a park?

A study in the U.K., a landmark study that reviewed the records of over 40 million residents in the U.K., looked at several variables, controlled for a lot of factors, and found that when trying to adjust the risk of heart disease, one's exposure to green space was a powerful influence.

The closer you were to green space, to parks and trees, the lower your chance of heart disease, and that stayed true for rich and for poor. 

That study illustrates what my friends in public health often say these days: that one's zip code matters more than your genetic code. We're also learning that zip code is actually shaping our genetic code.

The science of epigenetics looks at those molecular mechanisms, those intricate ways in which our DNA is literally shaped, genes turned on and off based on the exposures to the environment, to where we live and to where we work. 

So it's clear that these factors, these upstream issues, do matter. They matter to our health, and therefore our healthcare professionals should do something about it. 

And yet, Veronica asked me perhaps the most compelling question I've been asked in a long time. 

In that follow-up visit, she said, "Why did none of my doctors ask about my home before? In those visits to the emergency room, I had two CAT scans, I had a needle placed in the lower part of my back to collect spinal fluid, I had nearly a dozen blood tests. I went back and forth, I saw all sorts of people in healthcare, and no one asked about my home."

The honest answer is that in healthcare, we often treat symptoms without addressing the conditions that make you sick in the first place. And there are many reasons for that, but the big three are first, we don't pay for that. 

In healthcare, we often pay for volume and not value. We pay doctors and hospitals usually for the number of services they provide, but not necessarily on how healthy they make you.

That leads to a second phenomenon that I call the "don't ask, don't tell" approach to upstream issues in healthcare. We don't ask about where you live and where you work, because if there's a problem there, we don't know what to tell you. It's not that doctors don't know these are important issues. 

In a recent survey done in the U.S. among physicians, over 1,000 physicians, 80 percent of them actually said that they know that their patients' upstream problems are as important as their health issues, as their medical problems, and yet despite that widespread awareness of the importance of upstream issues, only one in five doctors said they had any sense of confidence to address those issues, to improve health where it begins. 

There's this gap between knowing that patients' lives, the context of where they live and work, matters, and the ability to do something about it in the systems in which we work.

This is a huge problem right now, because it leads them to this next question, which is, whose responsibility is it? 

And that brings me to that third point, that third answer to Veronica's compelling question. Part of the reason that we have this conundrum is because there are not nearly enough upstreamists in the healthcare system. 

There are not nearly enough of that third friend, that person who is going to find out who or what is throwing those kids in the water. 

Now, there are many upstreamists, and I've had the privilege of meeting many of them, in Los Angeles and in other parts of the country and around the world, and it's important to note that upstreamists sometimes are doctors, but they need not be. They can be nurses, other clinicians, care managers, social workers. 

It's not so important what specific degree upstreamists have at the end of their name. What's more important is that they all seem to share the same ability to implement a process that transforms their assistance, transforms the way they practice medicine. 

That process is a quite simple process. It's one, two and three. 

First, they sit down and they say, let's identify the clinical problem among a certain set of patients. 

Let's say, for instance, let's try to help children who are bouncing in and out of the hospital with asthma. 

After identifying the problem, they then move on to that second step, and they say, let's identify the root cause. 

Now, a root cause analysis, in healthcare, usually says, well, let's look at your genes, let's look at how you're behaving. Maybe you're not eating healthy enough. Eat healthier. It's a pretty simplistic approach to root cause analyses. It turns out, it doesn't really work when we just limit ourselves that worldview. 

The root cause analysis that an upstreamist brings to the table is to say, let's look at the living and the working conditions in your life. 

Perhaps, for children with asthma, it's what's happening in their home, or perhaps they live close to a freeway with major air pollution that triggers their asthma. And perhaps that's what we should mobilize our resources to address, because that third element, that third part of the process, is that next critical part of what upstreamists do. 

They mobilize the resources to create a solution, both within the clinical system, and then by bringing in people from public health, from other sectors, lawyers, whoever is willing to play ball, let's bring in to create a solution that makes sense, to take those patients who actually have clinical problems and address their root causes together by linking them to the resources you need. It's clear to me that there are so many stories of upstreamists who are doing remarkable things. 

The problem is that there's just not nearly enough of them out there. 

By some estimates, we need one upstreamist for every 20 to 30 clinicians in the healthcare system. In the U.S., for instance, that would mean that we need 25,000 upstreamists by the year 2020. 

But we only have a few thousand upstreamists out there right now, by all accounts, and that's why, a few years ago, my colleagues and I said, you know what, we need to train and make more upstreamists.

So we decided to start an organization called Health Begins, and Health Begins simply does that: We train upstreamists. And there are a lot of measures that we use for our success, but the main thing that we're interested in is making sure that we're changing the sense of confidence, that "don't ask, don't tell" metric among clinicians. 

We're trying to make sure that clinicians, and therefore their systems that they work in have the ability, the confidence to address the problems in the living and working conditions in our lives. We're seeing nearly a tripling of that confidence in our work.

It's remarkable, but I'll tell you the most compelling part of what it means to be working with upstreamists to gather them together. 

What is most compelling is that every day, every week, I hear stories just like Veronica's. 

There are stories out there of Veronica and many more like her, people who are coming to the healthcare system and getting a glimpse of what it feels like to be part of something that works, a health care system that stops bouncing you back and forth but actually improves your health, listens to you who you are, addresses the context of your life, whether you're rich or poor or middle class.

These stories are compelling because not only do they tell us that we're this close to getting the healthcare system that we want, but that there's something that we can all do to get there. 

Doctors and nurses can get better at asking about the context of patients' lives, not simply because it's better bedside manner, but frankly, because it's a better standard of care. 

Healthcare systems and payers can start to bring in public health agencies and departments and say, let's look at our data together. Let's see if we can discover some patterns in our data about our patients' lives and see if we can identify an upstream cause, and then, as importantly, can we align the resources to be able to address them? 

Medical schools, nursing schools, all sorts of health professional education programs can help by training the next generation of upstreamists. We can also make sure that these schools certify a backbone of the upstream approach, and that's the community health worker. 

We need many more of them in the healthcare system if we're truly going to have it be effective, to move from a sickcare system to a healthcare system. 

But finally, and perhaps most importantly, what do we do? What do we do as patients? 

We can start by simply going to our doctors and our nurses, to our clinics, and asking, "Is there something in where I live and where I work that I should be aware of?" 

Are there barriers to health that I'm just not aware of, and more importantly, if there are barriers that I'm surfacing, if I'm coming to you and I'm saying I think have a problem with my apartment or at my workplace or I don't have access to transportation, or there's a park that's way too far, so sorry doctor, I can't take your advice to go and jog, if those problems exist, then doctor, are you willing to listen? And what can we do together to improve my health where it begins?

If we're all able to do this work, doctors and healthcare systems, payers, and all of us together, we'll realize something about health. Health is not just a personal responsibility or phenomenon. Health is a common good. 

It comes from our personal investment in knowing that our lives matter, the context of where we live and where we work, eat, and sleep, matter, and that what we do for ourselves, we also should do for those whose living and working conditions again, can be hard, if not harsh. 

We can all invest in making sure that we improve the allocation of resources upstream, but at the same time work together and show that we can move healthcare upstream. 

We can improve health where it begins.

Thank you.

[venomous--fics]

Day 30

Anon Requested: i’m the same anon as before, the one who would like for you to see their ideas! i think i’ll just sign myself as -💡so that’s easier for you lol

(the majority of my ideas are angst, i have a thing for angsty things so yEAH)

• this one is something along the lines of: Eddie and reader have been dating for a long time, like a few years of something. Reader is one/two months pregnant but Eddie doesn’t know, she’s waiting for the right moment to tell him since they’ve both been very busy at work. One night they’re out for a date and they get attacked, reader ends up at the hospital but luckily both her and the baby are safe. However Eddie (who still doesn’t know about the pregnancy) breaks up with her bc he’s scared that she’ll die since they already got attacked a few times bc of him and Venom. after a few months he sees her in a store or something and notices the fact that she’s now heavily pregnant and idk THINGS GET ANGSTY

A/N:

Had you known how today was going to end, you probably would've asked to stay in the hospital at least one more night. You know there was no way that you could've, but it was wishful thinking.

Eddie seemed tired and strung out. Every direction seemed to point the same way to him. Danger was left, right and every which way he turned his head. And last night was the final straw. He couldn't keep putting you in these situations and he couldn't ask you to stay in them.

You got hurt, sure, not too bad, Hell, barely even a scrape, but it landed you in the hospital for a good two hours. And that was enough for him. People were putting two and two together, which meant he would never know a day of peace- Something he should be used to at this point.

But you took last night as a good wake up call to finally tell Eddie the truth. Things could only go up from here, right?

"Eddie, we need to talk." You said as you watched him toss his keys onto the counter.

He rubbed the back of his head as he paced back and forth in front of the couch. What does he do? What was the right thing to do.

"Yeah, I think we do."

"I know things didn't go exactly according to plan," You started, pulling at the sleeve of the hoodie Eddie let you borrow, "But, I really have to say something."

"Can I go first? Before you?" He stopped in his tracks, "Because I've been thinking, a dangerous thing, I know- But, uhm, I.. I don't think this is working."

You knew what he meant, but your brain worked faster than your mouth, "What's not working."

"Us being," He halted, not truly wanting to finish that statement, "Together."

It was almost like someone drove a train right into you. It felt like everything just stopped. He couldn't be serious right.

"Eddie-"

"No, no." He cut in, "It- I can't- We can't protect you. What are we supposed to do if you get killed one of these times? You don't deserve this shit."

"I can protect myself, thank you very much."

"Now is not the time to be high and-"

"You're being selfish." You snapped, "We both knew something like this could happen, but, now that it is, you just want to let me go? If I'm in danger when I'm with you, the hell do you think is gonna happen when I'm not with you?"

Eddie didn't have a good answer for that. This was supposed to be a quick, somehow underwhelming fight. He was supposed to say the thing, you'd cry about the thing and then you'd leave. That's how it always worked in those shows he watched.

"I don't want to go. I hope you know that." You said.

"I need you to."

Should you still tell him? Or would he change his mind out of some sick form of pity? Maybe last night was really an excuse. Maybe he just didn't want to be with you anymore. That was the type of guy Eddie always said he was- Or claimed to be the opposite of.

Maybe he really couldn't just be honest and say commitment wasn't his style. It scared him and maybe he just realized that he's in too deep for his own liking. Maybe he just decided that he can't go down that path again.

"Seriously, you deserve better."

"What about you." You raised an eyebrow, "What about Venom? Does he want me to go too or are you being an ass about it?"

"Don't bring him into this. This is my choice-"

"There's three of us, not two."

"And? It wouldn't matter what he wants right now. I need you to just go and be safe somewhere else."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"I don't care."

You were starting to feel the anger bubble up inside you, "Yes you do! That's why you're trying to do this! You're such a- God, Eddie, what is wrong with you?"

"Everything, apparently."

"Do you just not want to be with me? Is that it?" You spat out, "Are you just making me go because you're bored of me? Because you can say it."

"No-"

"Because that's the only reason that seems to make sense to me. Most people in your position would beg me to stay so you could protect me."

You had to stop yourself from getting worked up, remembering the doctor's words of, "Please, no more stress. You got lucky this time."

Whatever. He wanted you to go? If that's what he really wanted, then you'd let him have it. What's the point anyways? There was no reasoning with him when he's like this. You learned that ages ago. Sometimes he gets so far up into his own ass that he just cannot see any other point of view.

"Fine. I'll go." Was all you could say. Your entire being went into autopilot. You didn't even bother grabbing your things. You swore to yourself that you'd go back for it all later. You slammed the door behind you.

You never really went back.

Part of you remained at the apartment. Your things stayed in their place. Eddie was always too tired to put them in a box, and Venom practically begged for mercy, insisting that they stay put. If you never came home, the least Venom could do was watch your things collect dust.

You were always texting and calling, but he never answered. Often times, he's make the mistake of sending you right to voicemail after two rings, which caused a text or two to come in.

Can we talk please? It's important. I should've said it before I left, but I know you. You're a man beyond reason.

Arrogant. The word I wanted in that last text was arrogant. Can you just answer the phone.

Eddie, I can tell you're reading these.

Eddie, please just pick up your phone.

It went quiet again. A few more missed calls.

You'd try again later. And by later, that meant in a day or two. If it was so important, Eddie thought, you'd find some other way to tell him. You were a persistent person after all.

Maybe you were right about the arrogant thing.

"I want to know what they have to say."

"No." Eddie said, "Whole point of- No. The answer's no."

"I want to know."

"And I said no."

"This is your fault, Eddie, now you can either fix it or keep moping like the cry baby you are."

"Hey, why don't you do us both a favor and just butt out?"

"That's hard to do when all you can do physically and mentally is mope around."

Eddie rolled his eyes and tossed his phone onto the cushion next to him. Venom was right, he was behaving like a child, but if that's what he needed to do to be able to make it day in and day out, then he should be able to do it in peace. Maybe not quiet, but he'd be damned if he didn't get his peace.

You were on the other end of the spectrum. Most days were good for you. You stayed with Anne and Dan for a few weeks as Anne helped you find a place of your own that would be big enough for you and the little guy, or girl. Anne seemed more excited than anyone else. She already proclaimed herself as Auntie Anne.

Dan was promoted to the handyman, being tasked with helping you babyproof your place. He took great pride in it, claiming it was good practice for when him and Anne had one of their own.

And despite it being months since you last saw Eddie, you still spent some days just wallowing alone and missing him. He stopped reading your texts, and now instead of sending you to voicemail himself, he let his phone do it for him. You never left messages, though.

You liked your new place, but it just didn't feel home to you. All your things were moved in and filled all the possible empty space, but it just wasn't enough. But you had to get past that. You had to tell yourself that Eddie's probably moved on.

You should too. How else were you going to stay sane raising his kid.

Eddie decided, just to shut Venom up, he'd go be sad outside today. He was walking aimlessly through the city, dodging people who got too close. He'd stop and watch a few people every now and then, but nothing kept him entertained.

"Look, over there."

Eddie lifted his head and with Venom's guidance, saw what he was referring to.

You were just across the street, loving on a small cat that was owned by the shop keeper. He was an older guy who you befriended through your time in this part of the city. He was so nice, and his cat was just so sweet.

"You're just the sweetest, Petunia." You cooed as you gently handed the cat back.

Mr. Murray, the shop keep, chuckled as the cat simply hopped over his shoulder and onto one of the outdoor shelves. Petunia had made herself cozy amongst the packaged foods, purring softly.

You looked over the apples, "So, a little bird told me that you were having surgery?"

"Ah, yeah." Mr. Murray took a seat in his old chair, "Got a bad knee. Doctor's going to try and fix it."

"I hope that goes well. Will you need help with the store?"

"Oh, no, no." He waved whatever you were suggesting off the imaginary table, "My eldest daughter is going to take my place for a few weeks. You, my dear, shouldn't be lifting a finger."

"Tsk, tsk," You playfully clicked your tongue as you grabbed a few apples, "I'd be fine. Trust me, I'm sturdy."

Murray chuckled at your words, "You look like you're about to burst."

You chuckled with him, "The doctor says I got a few weeks left."

"Best not speed it up then, huh?"

"Since you won't let me help," You teased, handing him some cash for the fruit, "Maybe I'll drop a pie off. That sound like a good deal?"

"That would be wonderful."

"Have a wonderful rest of your day. Bye, Petunia." You waved to the cat.

"Don't be a stranger."

Mr. Murray's train of thought seemed to derail as he watched a man follow you. You were too far for him to say anything, and he was far too slow to catch up.

You, however, knew that someone was following you.

"Y'know," You started, a few by passers thinking you were talking to yourself, "For a guy who is supposed to blend in and disappear for a living."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around, "You suck at it."

Eddie stumbled a little.

"Why are you following me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"I asked a question first."

"Why didn't you tell me-"

"It's none of your business."

"None of my business?" His voice raised a little, before he quickly straightened it, "That's- You're pregnant with my kid!"

"And so what?" You said, "You wanted me to go, so I did. What? You want me back now?"

"A little, yeah."

"I can't do that, Eddie." You said, "The hell am I supposed to do if you just magically decide that yet again you can't do something right and you wanna leave."

Eddie stayed put, fighting the urge to just kiss you and take you home.

"I'm not going to just let you waltz in and out of our kids life just because you have issues."

"I'm not going to do that."

"How can I be sure."

Eddie's hands shook as he carefully reached out for your hands.

"I'm sorry, okay? You were right, I was being an ass."

"Sorry isn't going to fix this."

It could fix it. You knew how this was all going to end. You wanted to be with Eddie, no matter what.

"And for the record, I did try to tell you, but you never answered me."

"I'm sorry." Eddie begged, "I don't know what I need to say for you to believe me."

"You really think I'm-" You stopped yourself, "You have a lot of ass kissing to do."

"I'm sorry, and I'll do whatever you want me to."

You still had reservations, but when you thought about them, they really didn't seem like that big of a deal.

You moved your hands and cupped Eddie's face, "I want you to stay with me. No more fighting, or being all high and mighty."

"I can do that-"

"And I want you to understand that I'm stubborn, and I'm not going to listen to you the next time you ask me to leave."

"I won't ask you to leave again."

You stared at him, desperately fighting every emotion you had in that moment.

"I was so dumb. I- I thought about what you said, and you were right. But I was too afraid that maybe you-"

"Found someone else, and moved on, yeah yeah. No, that didn't happen." You moved back, adjusting your grocery bag, "Nobody wants to date a pregnant lady."

Eddie stood before you, looking awfully nervous, "Can we just start with a clean slate?"

You turned around and continued walking, "No."

"No?" Eddie followed after you.

"No. That's what I said. A clean slate means we're gonna forget this all. We're not. We're going back to my place to talk about it."

"Oh," He said, "That's it?"

"You want me to be dramatic? I can do that."

"No, no. I'm good. But, are we...?"

"Why don't you invite me out to dinner first?" You playfully rolled your eyes, "Men these days. Always just asking for my hand rather than get to know me."

Eddie was quick to take your hand and walk alongside you, "I swear I'm going to work way harder to make it up to you- And I'm not going to be that big of an ass. And our kid is always going to have me around, okay? I swear. Because that's what I want. I want you, I want them. I just want this."

You looked over at him, "You're not going to change your mind?"

Eddie quickly shook his head.

"You're not lying to me?"

Again, you got a head shake. And now you weren't sure if that was Eddie's doing or Venom's. Well, it wasn't hard to tell.

"Thank you, V. I appreciate it." You said as you got out your building keys, "Fine, I suppose giving you a second chance wouldn't be the worst thing ever."

"I'll make it worth your while." Eddie pleaded.

"I think you doing that is why we're in this mess."

Eddie sheepishly follow you up the stairs. He wanted to follow you to the ends of the Earth, if that's what it took. You weren't asking for that, so following you up the stairs would have to do.

[bellarkeselection]

Code Virus

Based on 4x24. Spencer's girlfriend is a nurse at the hospital when he gets infected.

(Y/n/n) - Your nickname

"Hi, Y/n. It's Spencer. I just wanted you to know - I love you. If I don't make it out of this - just know I love you." Spencer's voicemail came through my phone when I'm on my break. The hospital has been filled with sick patients all being infected with Anthrax, at least that's what the doctors are coming back with. Suddenly someone is rolled in front the emergency doors of the hospital and I recognized the brown curls of my boyfriend. "Spencer - Spencer - hey let me go - Spence, get off me!" I try rushing to him but two other nurses hold me back as I feel my heart starting to race.

Patients who were infected have been dying and there's no cure found yet. Spencer can't die, he simply can't. I've always feared he'd get injured on the job, but he loves what he does. Just like I like helping take care of people. The nurses finally let me go when one of hus friends entered the floor. "Morgan - he's, he's-" He shooshed me pulling me into his chest feeling my entire body shaking. "Ssshh I know I tried to pull him out but he wouldn't let me." I feel tears stating to fall thinking the last time we were together this morning when he dropped me off before heading to his job. "I don't know what I'll do if he dies - I love him!"

Right now he's lying in a hospital bed, probably slowly dying. And I can't do anything about it. Morgan had went to check on him as I heavily pace back and forth outside his room, biting my nails. "Y/n?" Morgan's voice broke me from my nervous habit, tears in my eyes. "He's waking up." Running into his room my tennis shoes shriek on the tile floor, bursting into his hospital room. His hair is a tousled mess as he slowly blinked his eyes opening still waking up from being under anstsha. "Y/ - Y/n?" He croaked out tilting his head up to see me better. Racing to the chair pulled up at him bedside I squeeze his freehand in mine sniffing out with happy tears.

"Spencer, I thought I'd lost you...what the hell made you think it was a good idea to go into a virus lab!" I slap his hand intertwined with mine causing him to wince slightly. "Ow, Y/n is sorry for scaring you. I still love you baby." I sigh brushing his hair from his face with my other hand before he notices something in my pocket. "Is that Jell-O?" Shifting my gaze to my pocket I pulled it out with a plastic spoon, he opened his mouth taking a bite. "I remembered how much you liked it. I can send Morgan to get more in a little while." He grunts shifting so there's space beside him in the bed, giving me puppy dog eyes. "Come here."

Climbing into bed with him I lay my head on his chest feeling him playing with strands of my hair. "I love you too, Spencer Reid..." Lifting my head I lean on kissing his lips gently and he smiles into the kiss. "I just wish the first time we admitted it to each other wasn't during all this." I trailed off fiddling with his hospital gown, he hums kissing my forehead. "Yeah, me too. But look at it this way. We get to tell each other how much we love one another for the rest of our lives." He mumbled into my hair yawning as I snuggled into his comfortable embrace. "I'll never stop loving you, Spence." I yawn feeling my eyes starting to close. "I'll love you forever, (Y/n/n)."

Comment and reblog 🤗

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 01 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.9 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

Next part (02) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

A/N: I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Blue Eyes and Angel Wings

“Stay with me.”

The sentence is the only thing keeping you alive. The only thing keeping you from surrendering into darkness permanently. The lips from where they flow belong to the human blur that's constantly in your sight. The man with worried, blue eyes, the eyes that gave you something you didn't have for a very long time.

Hope.

You have been in the backseat of the useless car you stole, out of gas, surrounded by a sea of death. Their hands pushing the glass, blocking the daylight from coming in as you lied down, trying not to move, not to breathe, waiting for them to move along. But they didn't. Your sore, beat up body struggled, as the blood dried, as the wounds ached, as the pain became greater and greater until it stopped. Until your body went numb.

The glass wouldn't resist for too long. You only wished you'd die before they reached you.

The notion of time left your mind after a while. You only noticed as the day became night when the darkness overcame you completely. It happened twice. And yet, there you were still, more dead than alive, eyes locked on the back of the driver seat before you.

You don't understand why you didn't just die. Why your body was still trying to live. It was useless. A waste of time. In death, maybe, you'd find peace.

But at some point in your agony, a gap among the dead allowed the light to come in. But it only lasted a second before it was gone. Then it happened again. Your tired eyes followed the source of the light as they kept coming, over and over. Until you saw it. One of the dead falling, colliding against the window with an arrow on its head.

Someone had to fire that arrow, you thought. More gaps kept coming, and some of them remained for a little while. You didn't think you'd love the daylight so much, that you could miss the sun so much. Holding your breath, closing your eyes tightly shut, you used all the strength left in you to push yourself up, until you were seated, back colliding against the leather of the backseat. When another arrow came, your head moved to look for the source. That's when you saw him.

Blue eyes. Living eyes. They found you, going wide at the sight.

The dead kept dying. For another day and a half, until they were gone.

“Stay with me.” He says again, as your eyes open just enough to see the bottle he's holding before you. “Hold on. Jus’ a lil’ longer.” You feel the bottle touching your lips, and water fills your mouth, but most of it just rolls down, soaking your neck, chest, and clothes.

“Alright. Let's get goin’.” When he turns around, doing something out of your sight, your eyes fall on the angel wings on his vest. That's the image that burns in your head as you slip into your half-conscious state, being lifted up once again, moving, floating, hurting.

Sometimes you wonder if he only found you to carry you into death. Because that's where you feel like your heading. Right into death.

• • •

Breathing comes easily. A lot easier then it has for the last... You don't know. Time is lost to you, minutes, hours, days or weeks, it's all mixed up.

But you shouldn't be breathing if you're dead, then maybe you're not. Pushing the air in, a groan leaves your lips when a sharp pain on your side pushes the air out again. The pain is back. Death doesn't hurt, so this gotta be life.

So with that thought in your mind, you force your eyes to open, taking in a bright white ceiling. There's something in your face, covering the nose and mouth, and you're quick to remove it, suddenly realizing that thing was helping with the breathing. Your eyes scan through the place, seeing shelves and things on top of them. Beeps on your right, windows, and equipments you don't know.

Hospital. It looks like a hospital. But how can you be at a hospital?

“She wasn't just hurt, she was–”

The voice makes your heart start pounding, and you sit up, breathing heavily. You wonder where's the man with blue eyes. Did he leave you here?

The door is opened and two women come in. Pure terror clouds your senses and your blood runs cold, like ice. It can't happen again. It can't be happening again. You couldn't be given such a tiny bit of hope jut to fall into the same nightmare.

The younger woman moves, just a little, but it's enough to make you jump, pushing yourself further away, your body leaving the bed and hitting the ground hard. Trying to get up is useless. You know your body won't respond, so you pull the hospital bed down, and it collapses loudly on the floor. The tears already cover your face as you crawl backward until you find a wall. There's no place to go now. No way to run, or fight. You're trapped.

They'll hurt you again and there's nothing you can do.

Covering your head with both your hands, you pull your legs into your chest, despite the pain it shoots through your body, curling into a ball. As if it would protect you from anything.

“Honey?” Someone says in a low, feminine voice. “We won't hurt you.”

You've heard that before. It's always a lie.

“Hello?”

“Denise. Go get Daryl. Now.”

You feel them coming closer, and you hear as the hospital bed is lifted. This is it. It'll start. All over again.

“Hi, there.” A voice says, the same voice you've been listening for a while. Telling you to stay awake, to stay alive. Carrying you, holding you.

He's here. He didn't leave you.

Soaking in a sharp breath, you raise your head, your eyes finding him by the door. Your whole body relaxes, almost involuntary. The man hesitates, looking at the woman before making his way over you. The blue eyes capture you as he crouches next to you.

The words try to make they way out, but your throat is dry, sore.

“I'm Daryl.” He says, looking down before looking at you once again. “Yer hurt. Ya need to be taken care of.” He moves to the side a little, gesturing at the two women. “They'll take care of ya. Ok?”

Nodding weakly, you try to move, to stand up, but you don't know how to. When you look at your leg, you finally notice the blood that soaked the fabric of your jeans, ripped in the middle of your tight, giving you a sight of what's underneath. Your skin was sliced open, and you remember why. And who did it. The smile on his face as he drew the knife through your skin, inflicting the last wound he could before the dead came. Before you fled that hell on Earth.

Through the corner of your eye, you see Daryl's hand.

“I've been hurt too. I know how yer feelin’. But these people only want to help, alright?”

Lifting your eyes from his hands to his face, you remember it clearly now, with no share of doubt, how this man took care of you. For how long he carried you after almost two days killing off the dead for you. Slowly, you lay your shaking hand on top of his.

Slowly, moving your legs and holding your breath, you gather the courage to stand up again.

“I can put ya in the bed.” Daryl offers, and you lock eyes with him again. “I'm gonna pick ya up, is that alright?”

Nodding again, you watch as he slowly moves, an arm on your back and the other under your legs, slowly, carefully pulling you up. Soon enough you feel the soft mattress against your back as Daryl puts you down. Breathing out in relief, you see a woman approaching, the younger one, and Daryl steps back.

In a jolt of adrenaline, as fear starts building up again, you reach out, the sudden, fast movement making you groan a little when pain spreads through your arm. But you keep moving, grabbing Daryl's hand before he's out of reach. His skin is warm against yours, or maybe you're just too cold. You try to speak again, ask him to stay, beg if needed, but it just doesn't come out. Then you just look into his eyes, hoping it will be enough, squeezing his hand just a little bit.

“Daryl, I think she needs you to stay.” The other woman says, the one with gray hair. “Is that what you want, honey?”

Without looking away from Daryl, you nod, relieved when he steps closer.

“I'll start, ok? I need to see where exactly you're hurt and how serious the injuries are.”

“That's Denise,” Daryl explains, and you look at the girl as she hesitates before taking a scissor from somewhere, cutting your jeans just above the wound you saw. “And that's Carol. Ya can trust them, alright?”

Can you?

Holding Daryl's hand, you moan and wince, as many tears roll down. Every shot of pain makes you go back to imprisonment. The dark basement, the cold concrete, the men and women who came to hurt you, beat you, trying to force you to agree on complying with their filthy desires. And every time you said no, it got worse.

If it wasn't for Daryl's hand, you'd swear you were back there, being tortured again. But he keeps you anchored here, and you try to keep in mind that these people are trying to help. He said they would, so they might be.

“I will need her cleaned up before continuing. There's a lot of mud, dirt, and dried blood. I need her body to be clean to avoid any infections.” The woman Denise says.

“I can help her,” Carol speaks up.

“Good. Let's put her on the bathtub we have here.” Denise speaks fast, and you can't do anything but follow her with your eyes, motionless. “Daryl, get her some clothes. But pay attention. Nothing tight. And get those cotton shorts, you know? They look like leggings but are really short, I don't want nothing squeezing her leg, this wound is worrying me, and I–”

“Denise, why don't you go get those. I'll clean her up and...” Carol gives you a glance. “...I don't think she'll let go of Daryl.”

“Alright.” She nods, getting a piece of fabric to clean her hands. Clean them from your blood.

“Ok, honey. Let's do this.” When Denise leaves, Carol comes closer. “Daryl will take you to the bathroom and I'll help you, is that ok?”

Squeezing Daryl's hand, you look at him. Even though he's a man, you know you'd feel better if he helped you instead of this Carol.

“Daryl can stay there. Looking away. Would that make you feel better?”

Breathing out in relief, you nod. “I'll pick ya up then. Ready?” Daryl asks, carefully moving to hold you in his arms once again.

You close your eyes shut as the small trip to the bathroom makes your body complain. Your state of numbness is fading, so the pain gets more and more real now. It's hard to tell exactly where it comes from. You're aware of the cut on your leg, and sharp pain on your side, but all the rest is just mixed up.

Daryl puts you down in the tub, slowly. Carol comes in soon after, kneeling and turning on the water. Your eyes follow Daryl as he moves to the door, standing there, his back at you, giving you the sight of the angel wings on his back. Seeing it makes you relax, and you close your eyes to feel the warm water filling the tub.

Carol is patient. Very patient. The last thing you want is to take off your clothes, so she asks and waits until you let her help you remove them. The wounds burn in contact with the water, and the fact that you must rub the soap on them, to avoid any infections, only makes it worse. You can't help the tears rolling down, and the groans that leave your mouth. It feels good to take a bath, to remove all the mud and dirt, but you wish it didn't hurt this much. Your eyes always fall on Daryl, just to make sure he's still there. Carol also washes your hair, and you're thankful for that because you'd never be able to do that yourself.

After some time, you don't really know how much, you're done, and you have no choice but to sit on the edge of the tub as Carol helps you get dressed. The doctor, Denise, got you black underwear, a light gray tank top, and these soft shorts, that end up right above the cut on your leg. “I'm sorry, I know it's cold, but I don't want anything compressing your body right now. You're very...” Her voice fades and you look at the floor in between your feet. “Here. Take this.” You shake a little when you feel a weight on your shoulders, only to realize it's just a blanket. “Sorry.”

“Daryl. Can you take her back to the bed?”

“Yeah.” He finally turns around, those blue eyes finding yours almost immediately. “Hey. I can see yer face now.” He mumbles, picking you up again.

Once you're back in at the hospital bed, Denise finishes her job, covering all the major wounds. You just found out why your side hurts. Apparently, there are a few cuts on your ribs, right below your breast. As Denise stitches them up, the memory comes back, as vivid as if you were there again. That man, with dark brown eyes and a devilish smile, hovers over you, the needlepoint knife pressed against your skin as he said you'd soon give in, enjoy the pain, and ask him to that over and over again, in the most fun parts of your body.

The memory makes you flinch away when Denise's finger brush on your skin, and you desperately look around, looking for him.

“Hey. S’ alright.” Daryl's voice comes from behind you, and shyly, you reach out your hand, which he takes in a loose grip.

You're not sure how long you stay there, cold and whining, but eventually, the doctor is over. Carol wraps the blanket around you as Denise talks about the pills you'll need to take and how to keep the wounds clean. You don't really pay attention, wondering what happens now. Where you are, and if this new world revolves around this room alone.

“Honey.” Carol stands beside the bed, getting your attention. “We'll take you home now. Daryl and I share the house so you'll be with us, ok?”

Knowing you'll be around Daryl is what makes you nod, agreeing with her. Carol gestures at him, and he's quick to hold you up one more time.

In the last days, you've spent more time in Daryl's arms than anywhere else. It hurts, way too much, with every step he takes, even though you feel that he tries to keep you as still as possible. Ever since the man showed up, you've been feeling safe. You didn't think you'd ever feel safe around someone again. Everyone you met after you were forcefully separated from your first group tried to hurt you. But this man, a complete stranger, stopped whatever he's doing to rescue you. To bring you here, wherever this is, to help you survive.

When he steps out the hospital-like room you were in, you can't help but hide your face on his neck, protecting your eyes from the daylight. And protecting yourself from the small group of people you spot downstreet. Despite being curious to know where you are, you don't wanna look. You don't want people to see you, to know you exist, to think about you. If they don't know you're here, they won't want to hurt you.

“Welcome to your new house.” You hear Carol saying, and the noise of a door being open. Finally, you open your eyes to take in the... Normal house. If you tried really hard, you could even pretend this was a normal house from before... When the dead remained dead. “Daryl, upstairs. The guest room.”

He only murmurs a response you can't understand, and a minute later you're on a bed again, much more comfortable than the first. Your head rests on a fluffy pillow and a long breathe leaves from your lips.

Daryl steps back, turning to talk to Carol, both standing by the door, talking low. You don't try to understand, you just keep your eyes on the wings... Until they leave, disappearing in the hall.

“Sweety, Daryl will take a shower, ok? And I will make you something to eat, to sustain you until dinner. I'll be downstairs so if you need me, you just have to call.”

She waits a while before leaving too.

Being alone isn't the problem. The memories are. You wish your brain would stop working, stop trying to take you back to the cold, hard floor of the basement where you had a taste of what hell must be like. You try closing your eyes, but the darkness brings their faces back. Smiles, laughter, yells. All those people having fun with your suffering, placing bets on how long you'd resist before surrendering.

A couple of minutes later Carol comes back with a glass of water and scrambled eggs, helping you get into a sitting position and urging you to eat before leaving you alone again.

Frozen, you look at the eggs. They smell amazing, and slowly, you take some with your fork, raising it up to your mouth. The taste is so good it makes you ignore the pain spreading through your arm. Your stomach starts complaining violently, urging you to eat more. It's been quite a while, but still, you can't seem to push your body to work any faster. So you just keep looking at your food, trying to figure out which pain you can endure. On your arm or on your stomach.

A knock makes you look up, finding Daryl by the open door, damp hair, and a clean face. The very image of him calms your heart, setting it at ease. “Won't ya eat?” He asks, stepping inside and gesturing at the plate in your lap.

Weakly, you nod, taking some more and raising the fork to your mouth again, trying not to let him notice how your hand shakes, and you almost drop everything before successfully reaching your mouth.

“Do ya... Do ya need help?”

Blushing and embarrassed, you shake your head no, giving up eating. Focusing on not making a mess, you put the plate, still half full, on the nightstand, taking the glass of water. The weight seems to be too much, and your muscles give up trying to lift it, letting it slip and fall back on the nightstand.

“Lemme–” He mumbles, coming fast and taking the glass from your hand. You don't understand why he hesitates there for a moment, before kneeling beside the bed. “Here, drink.” Carefully, he brings the glass close to your mouth, and you lay your hand on top of his, taking fews sips, only then noticing the water is cold. How is the water cold?

That's when you finally take in the lamp on the ceiling, above the bed, the light on. They have electricity. What the hell is this place?

Pushing the glass away, you clear your throat, taking a deep breath.

“I'll leave ya to–”

“Stay.” It comes out suddenly, your voice so weak, so terribly low you barely recognize it. You didn't know you would actually say it, that this feeling, this need would build up and crawl its way out of your heart like that.

It makes Daryl stop in his tracks, already up and ready to walk away. The way he looks down at you, it's clear he's also wondering if he did hear you. You haven't spoken yet, you realize.

“Stay with me.” You force the words out again, repeating the same thing he said to you while he had to carry you through the woods. The words that kept you trying, fighting, struggling to have another chance to live.

“Alright.” He makes a small pause, eyes on the ground before taking a deep breath and sitting on the bed, near your knees. “We were worried. Thinkin’ ya couldn't speak.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you pull the blanket up when you shiver, holding it above your shoulders.

“Will ya tell me yer name?”

His blue eyes are locked on yours, and you feel yourself relaxing, calming down, more comfortable. “(Y/N).” You say, your throat burning a little.

A small, quick smile flashes on Daryl's lips, soon disappearing. But it was there, you know it. Slowly, he reaches out his hand, and you take it without hesitating, watching as he lightly shakes it.

“I'm Daryl. Nice to meet ya, (Y/N).”

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

A sequel to "A Forgotten Memory"

Alex is once again tasked to continue his mission in pursuing the threat that had caused hundreds of missing persons turn up dazed the next day. But now he isn't alone, join him along with the elite Task Force 141 as they hunt down Nero, discover the secrets behind his plans and put an end to this memory erasing nightmare.

Chapter 1 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

"Resurgence"

"Alex"

CIA Warcom

Boracay Island, Philippines

Alex basked himself on the warm sandy beaches of the Philippines. He wasn't able to enjoy his vacation after the Nero mission, because he was sent immediately to Urzikstan and Verdansk immediately followed. And now that all of those were over, he now laid down on a beach chair and let the ocean breeze blow on his relaxed state.

Philippines was a nice country, the people were hospitable, the food was delicious and unique and the scenery was beyond amazing. Despite his metal leg, people still looked up at him the way they look at tourists and he was all of the hospitality and attention from his fellow Americans who are also on vacation to locals who were just amazed on how the leg works.

It's been a lot of months ever since Samantha forgot him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'll meet again, that's why no matter many women try to show interest in him, he shrugs them off politely by pretending he has a girlfriend. A simple lie that he built for himself in hopes of a miracle of meeting her again.

He always brought her letter with him, some edges of it got burnt from the time he manually detonated a C4 explosive to destroy a gas factory, It was almost torn and faded, but he couldn't leave it somewhere safe. He wanted it to be with him wherever he goes. 

'Don't you dare forget about me'

His phone rang. He quickly fished it from a small pouch he bought that the locals made and immediately answered.

"This is Alex speaking." he chimed.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of day Alex, but I have a feeling you'd want to jump in on this." a British accent so familiar informed him over the other side of the line, It was none other than Captain John Price or Bravo Six, a comrade he once fought with back in Urzikstan.

"I'm all ears." he said, sitting up straight and letting his metal leg sink in the sand.

"Looks like your boy Nero is back on the grid. That Sneaky bastard kidnapped the Daughter of the Head of Defense, again." Price relayed.

Alex's heart thumped faster, his breathing became quick. He wished to meet her again but not like this. Not her being in harm's way all over again.

"Shit. Count me in. But.." he hesitated. He wanted to help but remembered he disobeyed CIA orders back in Urzikstan, making him unable to provide support.

"I've talked to Laswell. She's creating a special assignment for you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means welcome to the 141, Alex." Price said as he cut off the call, followed by a message regarding his departure to their base.

~

Alex can't help but worry about Samantha's condition. They've played with her memories multiple times and he thought that it would all be over after she decided to alter everything about them. Guess the enemy didn't know and they're still after her.

The soldier leaned on to the small circular glass pane as he looked at the clouds pass by. His hands were fidgeting each other while his non-metal foot bounced up and down at a fast rate. His seatmate, who happens to be a teenager, noticed his distracting leg movement but ignored it as rock music blasted from his ears. He was a completely different Alex right now and he believed that he'll be back to normal as soon as he sees Samantha safe and within his grasp.

When you have a heavy metal stick as a leg, customs is going to be the most annoying place in the world. Everyone looked at Alex as soon as he passes the metal detector and everyone else's eyes were on him. Of course with a few more safety checks and a whole lot of explaining, Alex was good to go. 

"So, you're the one they call Alex" the heavily British accented driver mused, breaking the silence of their ride to the 141 base. He was looking at him via the rearview mirror, chewing on what Alex hoped to be gum.

"Yep. That's me." he replied, turning to the view of the British streets which confused him a lot as it was the opposite of American or even Global streets.

"Heard they thought you were dead back there. In Georgia." he added. He was quite the chatterbox but CIA Agents are all about the information.

"Yeah. Tried to manually detonate the C4. After that… I just ran for my life." Alex answered, his head was realizing why he did it. What pushed him to think that he could make it out alive. Was it because it's for the greater good? The idea of freeing Farah's country from the harm of the gas? The idea of a chance to meet Samantha all over again? Or something he couldn't explain.

"Well, we're glad to have you back, Alex. But it's a shame it's no longer in the CIA." the driver waved as Alex opened the door and unloaded his stuff.

"As long as it's still about saving the world." he replied, making the driver smile. 

"That's what we do, right?" he agreed as he entered in his car leaving Alex in front a quiet gray building, the Task Force 141 Base, his new home.

Alex pushed the heavy doors open revealing a large hall, multiple round sofas were embedded to the ground and a huge staircase that split left and right greeted him. Multiple heads turned as he opened the said door and slowly walked his way to the nearest person who happened to be panting from exhaustion by the sofa. His metal leg clanked on his every step as the soldiers begin to recognize him. They smiled as soon as Alex's eyes met theirs and some even waved, Alex met them from several missions from the past, some were from the Demon Dogs and his previous designations, Delta Force.

"Where's the briefing room in this huge building?" he asked the soldier in a black t shirt drenched in sweat as he spun his towel trying to keep up with his breathing. He didn't speak but he nodded in acknowledgement and pointed to the hallway on the left. Alex left him a thanks and he walked his way to the direction where he pointed.

Just a few steps after the beginning of the hallway, the people from the main hall cheered and laughed, this made Alex turn around and he saw a young blonde man with spiky hair dash across him, he looked like he's on his way to your destination as well.

"Excuse me! Sir!" he yelled and Alex immediately halted. The young man panted in front of him and took a few seconds to breathe before he countinued his words.

"I'm Gary Sanderson, and I was supposed to guide you to the briefing room. You must be Alex." he reached out a hand and Alex shook it, quietly making your way to the room.

The huge door slid open and they found themselves in a dimly lit room, a huge screen loomed just by the wall and chairs were placed around a long circular table. Alex could spot a few familiar faces, faces he once saw and fought alongside with in Verdansk. There was the balaclava boy, Ghost, the Mohawk Man, Soap, their Captain, John Price and a few big heads from the United States. There were also new faces like Gary, who was now discussing something with another new soldier, a female soldier who sat by Price and a few new more who were already sitting on the chairs. There's also someone missing, Kyle Garrick, he pondered where he was.

The former CIA quickly saw Gary rush to Price's seat and whispered something causing him to lean on his chair, stand up and walk to his side. 

"Glad to see you back in the fight, Alex." he muttered, patting Alex's shoulder.

"I won't skip out on this mission, this one's close to home." he replied, patting his back in return.

"Yeah, heard this was your last mission before the Russian Gas." 

"Yeah. It's a loose end on my side." Alex nodded, crossing his arms.

"Good thing Shepherd had some sense in him. Not unlike your CIA heads, huh?" 

Alex nodded. He remembered he did an illegal thing against the CIA, and that was siding with Farah's forces, who were reclassified as global terror groups at that time. He silently thanked he could still step back in the fight along with the good guys even after that event.

"Yeah. I might have to thank him soon enough." Alex murmured and Price guided him to the briefing which was about to start in a few minutes.

~

"Before we start our mission briefing, I'd like to welcome each and everyone of you to the 141. A group of the most elite warriors from around the world tasked to eliminate terrorist threats lurking in the shadows. One of which, goes by the name Nero…" General Shepherd's voice was deep and serious, while the screen showed a photo of the guy they're after. His face looked punchable, as manifested by the way Alex clenched his fists while he stared at his soulless eyes.

"… whose goal is still unknown. He poses a threat as he has been out in American soil, which we believe is the one behind the multiple missing and reappearing person cases across the country." he continued, eyeing Alex. He knew a little bit about the case, maybe because he read his report.

"Since he poses no evidence of terrorist activity as of now, we are assigned to rescue and locate the daughter of Richard Coleman, America's Head of National Defense. We don't know why she was kidnapped but we believed it is or ransom or threatening purposes." The general explained, pacing back and forth, his shadow covered the screen.

Alex wanted to say something. Something about the details surrounding the case. It was written on his report. But then again, maybe the general already knew about the alteration, and since Samantha doesn't remember any IP Address, it was no longer worth noting.

Samantha's face was projected on the screen. Alex's heart began to beat faster, she looked different now, a little chubbier, longer hair and her smile felt happier. It was heartbreaking that she got caught in the crossfire again. After all those efforts of making her life normal.

'If our paths would cross again, I hope you'll remember me the way I remembered you before I take this operation, A good memory that's supposed to last forever. '

'Don't you dare forget about me.'

Her words echoed in his mind, using the same voice she had when they were together. 

"I will save you again if I had to.." he promised to her mentally, as he tightened the clench he was already doing.

"Our intel reports that twelve hours ago, local informants spotted an unknown flying vehicle just by the Georgian Border, local authorities confirmed that this wasn't one of their aircraft and we believe it could be the getaway vehicle of Samantha Coleman and her captors… We are still looking on to this so for the meantime I want each and one of you to be fully alert and ready for deployment."

Everyone else fell silent. It meant they agreed at what the high ranking official said. A few more words were exchanged such as new additions to the team, aside from Alex. He didn't seem to focus much on the second part of the brief as his mind worried a lot about Samantha. If his instincts were right, she's probably sedated once again, taking a trip down her own memory lane.

Chapter 2 : F.N.G.

[kiwikyuu]

━━━━━━━━ greatest asset ; oikawa tōru

summary — there was only one thing you could think in that moment; oikawa could not lose his greatest asset no matter the cost

word count — 1.3k

genre — imagine ; enemies to lovers, slight angst, fluff

warning(s) — car accident + coma, self sacrifice (read: not death). sort of cliché oops, cursing, not edited

a/n — i read a hand holding headcanon and something about it just spurred this idea in me. also this might be a little out of character but everything just kinda made sense in my head so oops. it has been so long since i've written imagines so please be patient with me

❝ IT ALL HAPPENED SO FAST, BUT HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN FASTER. ❞

They called him the Great King—Oikawa the Great. He was a star on and off the court. With his impeccable serves and his seemingly endless fan club of girls, people found it hard to believe that a guy so stuck up his own flat ass could ever yield willingly to someone.

Then you came into the picture.

You two clashed in every way possible from the moment you met. The dislike was mutual and unwavering. There were even whispers that Oikawa found you more intolerable than Kageyama Tobio, the infamous genius setter of Karasuno High.

"There's a thin line between love and hatred, Y/N."

"Yeah, it's called rationality, Tōru, and my balance is impeccable."

Bickering became but a pastime between you two, and considering that you took the same bus as Oikawa, it happened often.

It was foggy out this afternoon. Mondays were his day off, which meant you found yourself walking stubbornly beside him. Oikawa tried his best not to mind you, but his eyebrows furrowed in frustration regardless.

"Take a picture, Tōru. It'll last longer," you said, narrowing your eyes at him as the bus stop came into view just across the street.

He scoffed. "Like I'd want a picture of you in my phone."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Stop acting so high and mighty, you arrogant asshole."

Arrogant asshole.

There it was, the words he had heard so many times before whether it was directly at him on the court or behind his back when he was turned. Everyone always had something to say, something to critique.

Oikawa wasn't sure why it bothered him so much today, but it did. Maybe it was the recent loss against Shiratorizawa at Inter-High, or maybe it was the underlying fear of not wanting to be like Kageyama and knowing what you said sounded exactly like something that he would have said to insufferable first-year. Regardless, it struck a nerve and it struck hard.

You had never seen the expression that Oikawa had donned cross his face before, and for the first time, you worried you had overstepped. Sure, he was annoying, but your comments were always meant to irritate not cause genuine harm.

"You know Y/N, for someone who acts so smart you're really fucking dense," Oikawa said, his voice small but slowly getting louder. He let out a booming laugh as he turned to face you.

"Calm down," you said.

Oikawa shook his head. "I mean, arrogant asshole? Your vocabulary is shit. Why not pompous prick or ingenuine idiot?" He took a step forward as you took one back leaving the both of you to stand dangerously close to the edge of the sidewalk.

"You're going to – " slip if you don't be careful.

But the damage had already been done, and Oikawa felt his foot slide off the curb. He would have went flailing backwards if he hadn't had the reflexes of a skilled volleyball player. He steadied himself quickly, shoes coming down flat against the asphalt of the side of the road.

For a moment, you thought he was safe again because he hadn't hurt himself. The fog was thick but not thick enough to cover the blinding headlights of an approaching car that definitely did not have enough time to swerve safely away from Oikawa who didn't even realize what was happening behind him.

There was only one thing you could think in that moment; Oikawa could not lose his greatest asset no matter the cost. You weren't stupid. You knew if the car hit him, it would have affected his hands. What was a setter without functioning hands?

It was a split-second decision. Suddenly, you were pulling Oikawa back onto the sidewalk as the momentum propelled you forward to take his place.

It all happened so fast, but he should have been faster.

Everything went dark but not before you saw the abject horror in Oikawa's eyes.

A week later, you woke up in the hospital.

"If those are tears in your eyes, Shittykawa, I'm going to – "

"You're too mean, Y/N. You just woke up from a coma."

The doctors had informed you that considering your injuries, it would take you at least a month to recover and that was if you were lucky. You weren't overjoyed to be missing school, but Aoba Johsai was just considerate enough after a certain whiny setter complained to everyone he possibly could to provide accommodations so you'd be able to graduate in time.

Meanwhile, during your recovery, if Oikawa wasn't practicing for the upcoming Spring Nationals, he was to be by your side.

"I saved your life, Tōru, so you bet your flat ass that you're going to help me during recovery," you said when he objected to your request. Eventually, he agreed.

And so began an interesting friendship.

The students of Aoba Johsai were shocked when they found out. Oikawa Tōru, the Great King of the court, reduced to a compliant errand boy?

Iwaizumi was just glad Oikawa had finally met his match. Perhaps, this would turn to be for the better.

"Tōru, buy me milk bread."

"Only if we can share." THUD. "Y/N, you hit almost as hard as Iwa-chan."

"I'm bored, Tōru."

"Okay, and?"

"Stupidkawa, read me a story."

"Jared, 19."

"Oikawa, I want bubble tea."

"And milk bread?"

"You know me so well now."

Until finally you were discharged, and with your recovery, a strong bond with the pretty setter that made your heart flutter from time to time.

The volleyball team was still preparing for Spring Nationals which was slowly approaching. Oikawa, now able to turn his full attention to it, fully immersed himself into practice. He was the captain after all.

And it was only once you started to drop by that you noticed it.

It being the swarm of butterflies that pooled in your stomach whenever you found yourself around Oikawa now. For some reason, you could no longer overlook the handsome features of his face or the attractiveness in his confidence.

Really, you wanted nothing more than to disappear in a hole once you realized.

Iwaizumi figured out Oikawa's feelings for you before he did.

It was the way the usually level-headed setter would become even more boastful on the court if you were sitting in the bleachers during their practices. Sometimes, a slight pink even tinged his cheeks when you managed a smile at him.

Slowly, the two of you were falling for each other more and more.

Oikawa would take you home after practice if you were still there, getting off at your stop which was three earlier than his so he could walk you.

"You don't have to take me all the way, Tōru."

"I want to."

You would come bearing gifts the next morning after a particularly rough night, somehow managing to get through all his fan girls to give him milk bread packaged prettily and decorated with a post-it note holding a message.

"Cheer up, Stupidkawa."

"You really know what warms my heart, Y/N."

It continued like this for a while. Iwaizumi declared he'd kick Oikawa off the team if he had bear any more of this overly-sweet pre-relationship period. Then finally it happened.

Mondays were his day off, which meant you found yourself walking happily beside him. Oikawa and you were bumping shoulders—a back-and-forth that you were now used to.

"We should get bubble tea," you decided.

"And milk bread," he added.

You stared at him blankly. "You had milk bread like every day this week. How are you not sick of it?"

"I hang out with you every day, and I'm not sick of you," he countered.

"Yeah, but I'm not bread," you said, still looking at him blankly despite the bubbling pit of affection in your chest at his words.

Oikawa nodded thoughtfully. "You're better."

You scoffed, trying to play it off, though your cheeks burned. "Your fan girls would trample me if they heard," you joked. "Something about stealing you from them when we're not even – "

"Go out with me."

[pink-peony-princess]

Deliverance| S.M Werewolf AU

Part One🐺

The woods had always been a place of comfort for me. A place to escape the madness of my life- of serenity. of course I'd heard the stories of vicious wolves who roamed the darkness waiting to prey on the innocent,but I always put it down to stories, gossip, folklore designed to stop kids from venturing too far. That was until the day I was taken.

A rogue pack had taken me as their personal toy, all the anger and frustration they felt was taken out on me. It was a good day if I got a bit of stale bread, and only one beating. On bad days there would be no food and constant, torturous abuse.

I had endured it for 13 year, my small body the reflection of years of malnutrition and hurt, but I'd finally escaped.

I had bid my time, waiting till they made an inevitable error, and it had finally happend. One of the younger wolves had forgotten to check the padlock when they'd had their fun with me and I'd seized the opportunity and run as fast as I could. but I wasn't fast enough. The alarm had been sounded and there were now several wolves hot on my heels and I could run no further I had to accept my fate. He was less than a metre away from me when our of nowhere another wolf - russet in colour intercepted him in mid air, knocking him over with the force of an elephant. I could hear the snarling and snapping of jaws as I finally collapsed and

surrendered, the last thing I remember was a tall young man walking towards me .

When I woke it was to a mass of activity.

I drifted in and out of sleep, hearing people talking.feeling hands on me, there was even something about the alpha wanting to see 'her', and a 'mate' and something else about ' killing the pack that did this'. What that meant I couldn't know in my delirium.

When I managed to finally open my eyes and get past the blindly bright light above me, I was met with the image of a man-pacing back land forth, muttering to himself. And the more immediate threat of someone fiddling with the sheet that lay over me.

Surely with a man this good looking, this close to me it had to be a dream, I tried to convince myself, but someone shattered the dream almost as soon as is materialised.

"Well hello sweetheart, I'm glad to see you're finally awake," the voice came from that of and older woman with long greying hair braided out of her face "My name's Judy, I'm your nurse," she smiled down at me. "Are you in any pain?" She asked.

I took a moment to take everything in, but I was still unable to make sense of it all.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to sit up, but everything protested as soon as I moved, even muscles I didn't know I had.

"Just stay still for now dear, you don't want to hurt yourself further," the nurse-Judy spoke kindly, helping me to resettle myself.

Something, maybe me speaking seemed to wake the man from his trance like state and he turned to meet my confused gaze.

He was tall, he had to be at least 6 foot, with sliflghtly tanned skin, the most rich brown eyes I'd ever seen, and hair that was neatly cut, except for a few unruly curls at the front of his head which didn't want to co-operate with the hair gel he'd obviously used to style it.

"Oh,oh thank God." the man rushed over to the side of the bed stopping mere inches from my face.

I could feel my heart rate picking up as panic set in, not used to people (let alone males) being this close without hurting me.

I turned to Judy asking desperately with my eyes for help

She must have got the memo because she cleared her throat and spoke.

She seemed somewhat hesitant though "Alpha, I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, I know you must be worried sick as we all are, however would it not be prudent to give the girl some space?"

The man searched my face for a moment, before straightening and stepping backwards.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he muttered guiltily.

"You didn't," I lied before I could think about it.

"My name's Shawn what's yours?" he asked holding his hand out for me to take.

I kept my mouth shut, years of torture telling me to keep quiet. He dropped his extended up so it was back at his side.

"Alrighty then, when you're ready. I won't push you." He spoke, it seemed as though he was trying deliberately to keep his tone, soft, conversational and I appreciated it.

At that moment the doctor walked in. "It's good to see you awake Miss," he spoke echoing Judy's words.

"I'm sorry to say you're quite banged up." Shawn started pacing again at his words.

"

I would have sworn I heard a growl.

"Shawn you have to stay calm," Judy spoke, it sounded almost as if she was trying to comfort him, confusing me further.

Once the doctor left Shawn calmed down, having dragging a chair from outside my room to sit beside my bed.

"I heard something about killing another pack?" I asked weighing my words cafefully. "So are you all wolves too?"

"Yes, honey, but I promise you're safe here," he replied softly, looking over at me. I looked down again, not able to take the human interaction.

"Everytime I look at you, you look down. Why is that?"he asked, sounding sad.

" I didn't mean to upset you," I panicked.Starting to pick at the I.V in my arm, it was something I always did when I was nervous, picking things, my skin, nails whatever seemed to help.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I'm not mad," he cut me off. "I just mean I've noticed it is all," he lay a hand carefully on my arm and surprisingly the contact helped.

"I don't know," I pondered, distracted by his touch. There was a weird, warm feeling flowing from the point of contact straight up to my chest, not dissimilar to when your hands or feet go numb and then start to respond again. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. "I guess, I'm not used to positive human contact," I admitted, looking up to see him shaking his head.

"Are you the Alpha?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me, surprise washing over his face at the boldness of my question.

"Yes, I am," he spoke proudly. "Of the Shadowmoon Pack, greatest pack in all of Canada if you ask me," he smiled.

I liked the way he was so confident. It made me feel safe and secure. A few more hours past with us sitting in a comfortable silence, I couldn't help but feel safe around him, and as foreign as the feeling was, I also craved it.

"Are you ready to go home now Poppet?" Judy ssekd, making her way into my room again sometime later and starting to mess around with the I.V tubing.

I looked at her panicked.

"Home?" I squeeked. Surely they weren't really going to send me home. It wasn't a home where I'd come from it was a hell, my own personal hell and I'd be damned if I was going back.

Shawn seemed to noticed my emotions and stepped forward, slowly holding his arms out, and instead of backing away as I had done earlier,I surprised us both and stepped into his hold.

He was warm and comfortable, our bodies seemed to fit perfectly,denim of his jacket just scratchy enough and the now semi familiar tingling from our contact pleasant enough to ground me somewhat. I stayed like that for a minute or so before I became a little more aware of what I was doing. I was hugging a near stranger,worse he was a male, worse again Ii was actually lettung myself like it.

Sorry, I blushed, stepoing away quicky and looking down.

"You don't need to apologise," he smiled.

"What was the tingling I felt" I asked wanting to change the subject.

"That is what you get when two mates make contact" He smiled wider than I had ever seen a person smile, his fangs being exposed in the process.

I stood, silently, shocked.

"Are you okay" He asked moving to step towards me, I held a hand up and he halted midstride.

"I promise you. We'll take things slowly, right now I just want to get you home- to our home," he amended when he saw the look of panic in my face. "So you can rest."

I nodded. Still not entirely comfortable, but what other choice did I have? Go back to the pack that had tortured me all these years, or even end up homeless on the street? And from everything I'd seen Shawn seemed like a genuinely nice person, who everyone respected. Plus,if he was telling the truth, which from heat I could tell, he was, he was my mate and from all the stories I'd heard as a child, your mate was meant to be the one person in the world who would do anything for you, be anywhere for you. They would literally protect you with their lives.

"Shawn I don't have anything to wear," I whispered embarrassed again, looking down at the gown which barely covered anything as Judy finally finished what she was doing in the corner of he room having taken out my I.V. and left.

"I brought you some clothes, don't worry," he smiled.Pullnig out the most comfortable pale pink sweater I'd ever seen, he handed it to me and I was hit with his scent.

"This is yours?"

",Is that okay?" he worried. " I could go home and get something from one of the girls if you're uncomfortable," he offered.

I just smiled,letting out a little giggle at the extreme level of concern he was showing, which caused him to immediately relax l, shoulders dropping, a slight smile gracing his lips as he shook his head softly.

"Can you turn around please?" I requested. He did as asked giving the privacy I so desperately craved.

When I was finished he took my hand, holding his other under my elbow to support my weight.

He was so patient, never rushing me as he lead me through the hospital and out the doors into the world. I couldn't help but savour the fresh air,the cold winter air burning my lungs but in a good way.

"I bet it feels nice to be outside again,"

I nodded, "How did you find me" I asked, as we continued to walk. It was as if now that I was free my mind could finally ask questions and process all the stuff I had never done previously.

"That's a story for when you've had some more rest," he answered, coming to a stop in front of a Jeep, opening the door and lifting me in. The tingling was still a shock,l everytime he touched my skin.

"Feel free to sleep we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us" he smiled reassuringly, before turning the ignition,the car coming to life.

I woke to someone shaking me,it was dark now and I immediately jumped back in my seat, unsure, before my groggy eyes made contact with Shawn's and I realised where I was and relaxed.

"I won't hurt you, you're safe now Pup," he murmured, moving to brush some hair out of my face with a feather-light touch. I blushed at the nickname."I was just waking you because we're here, this is home" I took in the house illuminated by lights in complete awe.

"So you're an Alpha and you don't hurt humans?" I asked as he helped me cafefully from he car.

"You're not human, you're an omega, but no I have nothing against humans," he added, holding me steady as I swayed on my feet slightly, not used to standing anymore.

I stood stunned again," I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll get to all of that, for now though, you need rest.

We made our way through the house in silence, I could hear other voices, yet we never came across anyone.

"This is my room," he spoke, shifting his grip on me slightly to open the door.

The room was large with huge french doors leading out to a balcony overlooking a big yard and a lake, soft- what looked like silk curtains framing the windows, a guitar sat in one corner a futon in the other. There was a record player in the corner, playing a soft melody which filled the space, creating a warm inviting feeling. In the centre of the room was the biggest bed I had ever seen.

It had several large cushions on it and a duvet cover that looked like it would feel like laying on clouds. Just this bed was bigger than he cell I'd been forced to spend so many years in,I thought with a shudder.

"This is your room?I stumbled over my words.

"Well I'm hoping it will be our room actually." Shawn spoke, scratching at his neck.

I turned panicked. "But only when you're comfortable I'm not about to force you into anything I promise."

He held his pinkie finger out, and I just looked at it unsure of what he wanted.

"Here," he smiled, taking my hand and locking my own little finger with his. "This is called a pinkie promise. It's like a pact that you don't break," he explained with a smile.

"Oh,I guess, I must have forgotten." I felt extremely stupid and shit up quickly, the only sound that of the record player still in the corner. I found it so comforting, my own father had had one when I was little and I could remember watching the record and needle spin for hours.

"There's a room adjacent to mine which I've had the maids freshen up, there's a comfortable bed and an ensuite with fresh towels and a toothbrush." he continued as if there wasn't just a massive awkward silence emitting solely from my lack of understanding.

He turned leading me back out and across the hallway to another door. When he opened it, I saw a room, smaller than his, but still warm and cosy, with a big bed, a window, lots of pretty lights and yet more records, this time hung in the wall.

"You didn't need to do this for me," I told him, as I took it all in.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," he shrugged.

He lead me back to his room where he sat down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and patting the spot next to him.

"How long was I out" I asked after a minute. He got what I meant immediately.

"Three days," he answered somberly.

"How are you feeling? he asked.

"Still very sore," I admitted.

"Here let me see your injuries." he reached over picking up a box of what I soon realised was full of first aid stuff.

He was extremely gentle as he tended to he cuts and scrapes that covered my shoulders, arms,and legs. He even managed to convince me to let him check my ribs. This I found uncomfortsbly and awkward once again, but he was careful not to make it any worse than it had to be and he had rewrapped them quicky and easily.

"How do you know how to do all this?" I asked quietly as he gently dabbed at a cut on my hand. "We'll I'm actually a trained doctor. When I'm not working as the Alpha, I work at the pack hospital. There all done," he announced,packing up the box and disposing of he rubbish in a small medical waste tin.

Half an hour later and I'd gotten changed, again into one of Shawn's oversized hoodies and made myself comfortable in his bed after he insisted I stay in his room incase I needed him.

"Sleep well, Pup, I'll be here if you need me."

He went to lounge on the futon, and I was left to drift to sleep, exhausted by the day's events. My sleep was fitful to satly the least, dreams bad nightmares melding to form weird and wonderful scenarios which would never make sense.

When I woke, it was to a soft knock on the door. Opening my eyes, I could see that it was still slightly light out, though dinner than it had been, probably somewhere around dusk. A girl with dark hair, dark eyes and a kind smile stepped tenntively into the room.

"My name's Karla. Im in the pack. It's nice to meet you," she added warmly. "Shawn's had to go deal with some pack matters so he asked me to come keep you company. I brought you some food. He said you might be hungry." She held out what looked like a croisant, the smell of butter instantly filling the room."I also brought a hair brush," she added. "I thought you might like to brush your hair, I know that always makes me feel better. Or I could do it?" she added again, shyly.

"Thank you."I whispered, my voice still hoarse.

The girl, Karla, came to sit on the bed. She had to be the same age as me. Maybe a year or two older.

"I hope the pack meeting doesn't go too long," she said as I started picking at my croisant. "Shawn won't want to be away from you, it's hard to be away from our mates." She looked dreamy as she spoke, leaving no question that she too had a mate.

"I'm nervous to meet everyone," I admitted with a frown, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"Aww, don't worry everyone will love you," she smiled. "We've all been waiting for ages for him to meet his mate and you're finally here." she clapped in excitement, breaking E and forcing me to smile just as Shawn came through the door with another soft knock.

"Ahhh, I see you've meet Karla," he smiled, raising his eyebrow a little bit. " I hope she's been telling you good things."

"Yep, what were you doing" I asked watching as he took his deniem jacket off- the same one from earlier and chucked it onto the futon, coming to sit next to me on the bed, careful not to invade my personal space.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked watching as I pulled the crosiant to pieces no longer interested by the food, now that I had him here.

"I'm alright," I shrugged.

He nodded, and we lapsed into yet another comfortable quiet.

It was only then that I realised Karla had left the room, she must have excused herself, seeing that she was no longer needed and didn't feel the need to encroach.The hairbrush however was still laying on the bed.

"I just want you to know," he spoke, breaking the silence after a while, "that no matter what happeneds you'll be safe here. I'll protect you with my life, it's my job both as your Alpha and as your mate," he spoke earnestly.

He was looking at me with such an intensity as he spoke that something broke inside of me, and I cracked. "Lucy," I whispered looking down and away from his gaze.

"What?" I could here the confusion in his voice.

"Lucy, my name, my name is Lucy." I spoke more clearly this time, though I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Lucy, that's a pretty name," he murmured. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was reaching for me, and as much as I wanted to move, my body was frozen whether in fear or anticipation I couldn't know, but the next thing I knew both his hands were cupping my face. He was so gentle, almost as if he thought I would break. I looked up at him, once again taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You're so pretty when you blush," he smiled, caressing my cheek.

"Please don't compliment me, I don't deserve it, I'm ugly," I repeated the words my captors had drilled into me for so many years.

"You, Lucy," he put emphasis on my name. "are anything but ugly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out."

"How can you say that?" I replied.

"Because, I can feel it Lucy, right here," he took my hand in his and placed it over his chest where I could feel his heart beat strong and sure. "I've been waiting for you my entire life. And now that I have you, it's my job, my honour to protect you with my life," he explained fiercly.

"Thank you," I chocked out, tears welling in my eyes.Leaning into his frame just slightly despite myself and my fears.

"No pup, thank you."

[tirednerd2012]

ooooooh, maybe a work where there's a terrible monster or a crazy criminal on the loose? ian is out, and everybody's panicing because no one can get hold of him and no one knows where he is. maybe i've watched too many horror/suspense/thriller movies...

Okay, guys, so this is how I'm going to introduce Drew into the EIGTBO series. If you guys don't like it, let me know and I can mess around with some other ideas. It's okay if he doesn't fit, I just wanted to give it a shot. Something you should know though, in this timeline, Barley was dating Drew when he was 16 and Drew was 21. He lied to Barley about his age and the relationship was more physically abusive to the point where Drew was actually arrested for hurting Barley because Barley's dad is the one to break the fight up since Ian would have been 2 years old. In this story, Drew is going to escape prison. I tried to make it where this could be either a one time thing in case it didn't work out, or multiple if it did. I'd appreciate any feedback!

Barley laughed as Jenny turned the music up and pulled herself close to him. It had been two days since their first kiss and while neither of them really talked about it, he was on Cloud 9 with her. They danced in the kitchen. Barley looked out through the front window and saw Ian playing with his toys. He'd go out there in a few minutes, but he noticed how Ian's social battery ran low these days and decided to give his brother some space. They lived in a safe neighborhood and the yard was fenced in, it should have been okay.

Barley would go on to install a deadbolt lock on the fence after this day's events.

As he and Jenny continued to dance and joke around with each other, the music changed to an emergency broadcast. An inmate with a history of violence had escaped and police were on the lookout. Drew Kings.

Barley almost had a panic attack hearing that name for the first time in almost 6 years.

He had been dating Drew Kings for a few weeks now. Drew knew everything to say to make Barley fall in love with him. He was a sweet, caring and protective boyfriend at first. But as time went on, he started to become more violent towards Barley. Once, he and his friend had talked after school and Barley was about 5 minutes late to meeting with Drew and in return, the older boy busted Barley's lip. He had to lie to his dad and tell him that he fell, but his dad didn't believe it. He was thankful his dad never fell for any of his bullshit.

One day, he and Drew had been at Drew's house. His curfew was coming up, but Drew didn't want Barley to leave. He kept kissing him and at first, being gentle and loving towards him. When Barley insisted he had to go home, Drew flipped like a switch. He became a different person and hit Barley in the face, then slammed him against the wall. Drew told him he was sick of waiting for Barley to be ready to take their relationship further. Barley tried to fight back, but Drew was stronger than he looked and easily able to overpower him. He kissed Barley, but the teenager headbutted him as hard as he could and then next thing he knew, Drew's hands were around his neck.

That's when his dad came. Barely doesn't remember much about what happened after that. He woke up in a hospital bed the next day. Drew, who was 21, not 18 like he told Barley, had beaten him bloody and was arrested for assault and attempted murder and sentenced to 30 years. But now, he escaped and he was running around somewhere.

Barley immediately went into a state of shock followed by panic and terror. He still lived in the same house Drew knew.

"Barley? Barley, what's wrong? Look at me," Jen said and he did, but he wasn't sure how to tell her. His mind had thousands of thoughts swirling around to the point where he couldn't grasp a single one. Until he thought of Ian. Outside. Alone.

He darted outside, but Ian wasn't anywhere in sight. He knew better than to run off in the neighborhood without Barley. Jenny followed him and she gasped when she couldn't see Ian.

"Barley, what's going on?" she asked.

"That guy, Drew, he's my ex," Barley confessed as he looked around both sides of the street. Still no sign of Ian. Barley felt like he could break down and cry. He'd never felt so damn helpless.

"He's your ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Long story, but he was put in jail for beating the hell out of me. He almost killed me when I was 16 and fuck, we still live in the same house and what if he came and-," Barley stopped talking because now the tears were flowing freely.

Drew knew about Ian. His little brother was 2 when he was dating the guy. Though he only met Ian once and that's because Barley waited a while before introducing him to his family, and when things turned sour, Barley was too scared and didn't want to leave the relationship, but he didn't trust Drew around them after that. If he ever hurt Ian, Barley would never forgive himself.

"Call the police. I'm going searching. Tell them to get here immediately."

"I can go with you," Jenny offered. She put her hand in his and for a moment he was pulled back into reality.

"No, no, stay here and lock the door until the police get here. He doesn't know about you and that's for the best. Call Frank and tell him to keep Leo away," Barley responded. He quickly kissed her than jumped in his van and started looking.

Drew had to be on foot. There wasn't many places he could go in the 10 minutes Ian had been unsupervised.

10 minutes. That's how long Barley let his guard down and that's all it took for his worst nightmare to happen.

He drove down either sides of the street until he saw Ian with a man in a jacket. No one lived in this neighborhood and Ian was trying to pull away, but the man wouldn't let go of his wrist.

All Barley's fear turned to anger.

"Drew! Get your hands off him!" he demanded. His ex turned and faced him with the same cold eyes he had when he almost killed Barley. Ian looked over at him and cried harder.

"Barley!" he yelled and tried to get over, but Drew didn't let him go. Barley felt his heart pound and his veins burned. For a split second he wondered what his dad felt when he walked in and saw Drew strangling Barley.

"Well hey, babe. Kid sure has grown up, huh?" Drew asked. He yanked Ian closer and Barley went to charge. Drew put his hand close to Ian's neck. "Watch it, love. One wrong move and I could kill him. We both know I'm more than capable."

"Barley," Ian said. He looked at Barley as if to ask how scared he should be.

"What do you want?"

"I made it clear what I wanted years ago. Now I'm just pissed off with nothing to lose. Went by your house after I escaped, pretty easy by the way the security is full of idiots, and I saw this little elf," Drew said and played with Ian's hair. "He looks like your father. Hardly recognized him until I remembered, you had a little brother. And Dad's not here to save you this time, huh?"

"Leave him alone. He has nothing to do with this."

"But he does. You love him, therefore he has his own place."

"Drew, I swear, if you hurt him I'll kill you, leave him alone," Barley warned.

"I'm not scared of you, Barley, but we both know you have reasons to be scared of me. Had your dad not shown up that day, you would be dead. And now your parents are gone, all you have left is this little freak, who's here to help you?" Drew snapped, glaring daggers at Barley. Ian looked over at him and then did something even Barley didn't see coming. He bit Drew. Hard.

Drew, clearly surprised, yelped in pain and threw Ian away from him and on the ground. His brother landed with a hard thud, but he was away from Drew. Barley charged without missing a beat. He slammed his ex against the fence nearby. Drew hit him in the face, but Barley was full of resentment and adrenaline. No one hurt his little brother.

He remembered how he felt that day, the air draining from his lungs and screaming out. Thinking he would never see his family again. He held on to the panic he felt when Ian was gone and the anger he felt when Drew threw Ian on the ground.

He wouldn't deal with this anymore. He had a new life. His brother needed him. He was with a girl who was actually good for him. His family was expanding. And he needed to protect it from his past.

He busted Drew's head against the concrete and beat the absolute shit out of him.

He held Drew down until he heard police sirens. The police dragged Drew away and promised Barley that this was the end of it, but Barley had a knot in his stomach that disagreed.

He lifted Ian in his arms and cried. He tried not to lose it like that in front of his little brother, but he couldn't help it.

"Ian, thank God, I-I thought I lost you, bud. I'm so sorry," he apologized over and over.

He remembered how people questioned whether or not he was a suitable guardian for Ian, and now he was wondering that, too. He let this happen. He wasn't watching Ian closely enough and something horrible almost happened. Something from his past came back to hurt him.

Then Ian let go of his hug and wiped one of Barley's tears away. He had his own, but he seemed to hate the idea of Barley crying. He told himself he didn't deserve to have such an amazing kid for a brother.

"I'm okay, Barley. You got him. I knew you were coming, I even told him he was going to be sorry once you got here," Ian said.

"Did you now?" Barley asked.

"Yeah, because I knew you'd find me," he said. Barley got him strapped up in the van and then drove home.

"From now on, you can only play outback and Jen or I will be out there with you, okay?" Barley said and Ian nodded. When they got home, Jenny cried as she held on to Ian. His brother fell asleep in his arms, refusing to let go and it was then that Barley confessed everything that happened when he was a teenager.

As he recounted the story, he rocked Ian back and forth and held on like his little brother was his life line, the only thing keeping him in this world. In return, Ian curled in his arms, hugging Barley.

"Barley, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Jenny said after he finished.

"I was too scared to tell you. I mean, I let all that happen and I thought you wouldn't want to be with me anymore."

"No, you were a victim in a horrible situation. And that's not going to make me change my mind about loving you," she said and then they both blushed. Neither of them had ever said that, but she shook her head. "Look, I understand that this relationship is going to take a lot of work. We both have a lot of responsibility and a lot of trauma to work through, but I'm willing to try if you are."

"I'm with you every step of the way," Barley responded. She didn't stay the night that night, but she stayed until the anxiety eased a bit. No one would sleep well.

Ian ended up in his brother's bed when bedtime came around. He was still scared and Barley couldn't blame him, so he wrapped an arm around Ian and rubbed his back until he fell asleep. Barley didn't get any sleep that night. No, instead he listened to every sound the house made.

[carnalpleasure]

Sleepy Bunny

Just a lil self indulgent Jim x Reader I've been working on💕 I was originally writing this with Michael, but after rewatching TTOPV last night, I haven't been able to get Jim out of my mind. And I think this story works so much better with him anyway. Based on personal experience. TW.

Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital recovering from a suicide attempt where she meets Jim, who's recovering from the overdose that was supposed to kill him.

Warnings: suicide mention, drug mention, hospitalization, 51/50, needles

You know that feeling when you wake up from a nap, and you’re more tired than when you went to sleep? That was how you felt waking up this morning.

You slowly pried your eyes open and peered around the room. You weren’t completely sure, but the whole layout seemed different.

The lamp was to the left before. There wasn’t a window there. Wasn’t the door on the other side of the room?

Your eyes were still struggling to focus when one of the nurses walked in. “Look who finally woke up,” she said flatly. She was carrying two trays of food. It smelled like burgers and fries... the smell of food made your stomach turn.

She handed one tray to the boy in the bed beside you with a gentle, “there ya go, honey.” You rolled over and pulled the blanket up, hoping to avoid the nurse altogether and go back to sleep. You closed your eyes tight and prayed she’d go away as her soft soled footsteps on the linoleum floor crept closer.

“You have to eat now. You haven’t eaten in days,” the nurse scolded you from behind. She didn’t sound concerned or compassionate, she just sounded cranky and cruel. Why is she so mad at me?

You turned back to look at the nurse over your shoulder, glaring right back at her. “I just ate last night. Leave me alone,” you replied weakly before turning away from both of them again.

“That wasn’t yesterday,” she huffed. “You slept through yesterday. You’ve been asleep since Friday night.” You quickly sat up in shock and turned around to look back at her. You searched your mind, looking for any detail you could remember from the vague memories you had lying around.

“You have to eat or they won’t take you,” the nurse’s bitchy voice interrupted and threw your whole train of thought off course.

You looked confused. “Who-?“ you started, but she cut you off again. “Eat. I’ll be back in 30 minutes for the trays,” she snapped. Then she turned to exit the room, but not before giving one last genuine smile to the boy in the next bed.

You pushed the tray away and sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest and balling up. There was an awkward silence in the room now. You were too ashamed to look at the other patient.

You didn’t know why he was here, but it couldn’t be more embarrassing than purposely overdosing on your own medication. But his soft, smooth voice broke the silence.

“Their food sucks. Makes me wanna gag too,” he said jokingly. It was meant to help ease your nerves but your embarrassment was growing too fast. Oh my god, do I look nauseous? I feel sick. Be cool, bitch. Be cool.

You peaked your head up to look at him and you were met with the sweetest, most sincere smile you’d ever seen. It lit up the room. Yet the moment you first laid eyes on his face, all you could think was, if there is a god, he fucking hates me.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than waking up in a random hospital bed looking like shit?.. That’s right. Waking up in the bed right next to the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, while looking like shit.

“What day is it?” was all you could think to say back. A yawn escaped your lips. You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the dried mascara. Everything felt foggy. Your thoughts, your vision, your memory. But you could see his face glowing bright as day.

He sat up in his bed and turned to face you, crossing his legs and pulling the sheet over his lap. “It’s Sunday. So you’ve been asleep for..” he glanced up at the clock on the wall and then back at you, “..about 34 hours? You opened your eyes a couple times but.. you were pretty out of it.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. It’s a strange feeling losing an entire day of your life just like that. But it feels even stranger when it finally starts coming back to you.

“Motherfuckers..” you cursed under your breath as the memories played back in your head like a reel of film. A single tear formed in the corner of your eye and then strolled leisurely down your cheek.

You saw it as if you were hovering over your body, watching from above as two nurses held you down by your arms. You were lying flat on your stomach with your shorts pulled down while each of the nurses stuck a needle in your ass to sedate you because you wouldn’t stop crying. They said they needed to calm you down, not knock you out cold..

The boy in the matching gown stayed silent, giving you time to process. Unlike the nurses, his face did seem full of concern and compassion. He looked at you the way you looked at lost puppies on the street. Like he wanted to rescue you.. or at least give you a big hug and hold you for a while.

“This isn’t the same room,” you said, unsure of whether you were talking to him or to yourself. But he answered anyway. “No, you were across the hall when you first came in,” he nodded towards the doorway. He could see how out of it you still were and he wanted to protect you so bad.

“You put up quite a fight,” he gave a short laugh and you thought he was just teasing until flashbacks of you cussing out the hospital staff and shoving the security guard off you started to resurface.

You threw your hands over your face to hide the humiliation and fell backwards on the bed. You wanted to hide from him and everyone else. But he just sat patiently, studying your every reaction.

He’d spent the last couple days watching you sleep, wondering what you were like on a normal day outside of here, what made you laugh, what kind of music you were into.. everything about you was a mystery to him. But like the sad kinds of mysteries that go forever unsolved. That have people mourning and reminiscing still a hundred years later. She seemed like she wanted to take all her secrets with her to the grave.

More than anything, he wondered what could’ve happened to this girl to make her dread being alive so much. It was tragic to think about. But it actually took his mind off his own problems, and for that he was grateful.

Thinking about her distracted him from all of his dad’s bullshit stories, and his mom’s constant compulsive drama, and his sister’s quiet sadness that never seemed to go away. It distracted him from his constant urge to get high. For as long as he’d been around her, that longing to escape was replaced with a longing to be loved.

“I’m glad you’re awake now,” his soft, syrupy voice spoke up and pulled you from your thoughts into a warm embrace. He paused for a moment and you heard him digging around in the drawer on the other side of his bed. Then he sat back on the edge of his bed criss cross. “Now I have someone to play cards with,” he announced cheerfully.

You pulled your hands off your face and looked over at him. You couldn’t help but break into laughter at the sight of him holding up his deck of cards and smiling at you like a little kid who just made a new friend on the playground. Something about him was so innocent and gentle. The way he looked at you like a boy with a schoolyard crush made your heart melt.

“I only know how to play Go Fish,” you admitted shyly. His smile seemed to brighten after you said that, his excitement growing evident on his face. “That’s my favorite game,” he said with a wink as he slid the cards out of the box and began shuffling. They had pictures of pin-up girls in bikinis on the back.

You turned to face him and crossed your legs too, mirroring his position on the bed. The two of you took turns calling out numbers and passing cards back and forth. You were shy at first but the tension quickly melted away. His calm demeanor relaxed you beyond what you thought was capable.

Every once in a while you’d catch him peeking over his cards at you, stealing glimpses of your face when he thought you were too busy looking at your cards to notice.

Each time he’d quickly avert his gaze, hiding behind his cards until his cheeks stopped burning red.

And each time, it made you feel like a kid with an innocent crush again. Back when you thought true love was just holding hands with someone at nap time.

About halfway into the game, you finally got up the courage to ask the question that’d been floating around in the front of your mind. It hurt your heart to think about, but that’s why you had to know. Your mind would just keep coming up with sick scenarios to taunt you with unless you found out for yourself.

“Why are you in here?” you asked nervously, searching his face for his first reaction.

His eyes looked up to meet yours and he sighed. He looked like he’d been waiting for this question. “Overdosed on my mom’s percs,” he said with a soft laugh and a side smile. He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing serious. Like it didn’t scare him.

You recognized it right away. He was downplaying it so you wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He was used to hiding his pain and pretending his problems didn’t matter because he had other people’s problems to take care of. He didn’t want to burden you.

“On accident?” you asked gently. It was hard for him to talk about, but he could see how much you cared by the look in your eyes. He nodded.

The serene smile that graced his face had slowly faded away. His eyes avoided yours and a look of shame seemed to take over. “Yeah. Stupid, I know,” he forced a fake laugh, trying again to play it down.

“I felt so good, I just kept taking more. I just wanted to feel..better.” His voice was low and quiet, just barely above a whisper. He spoke as if he didn’t even want to hear what he had to say.

You wanted to say something to cheer him up, or to at least alleviate some of his shame. But the bitchy nurse from before came barging back in through the door. She was back to collect the trays and to her dismay they were both still untouched.

“James?” she scoffed, picking up the first full plate of food and looking at him disapprovingly.

“What.. now you’re not eating either?” she scowled. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything and kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on you.

She came for your plate next but she didn’t take it away. Instead she shoved it towards you again and waved a stern finger at you. “You, Y/N, you still need to eat. If you won’t eat, they won’t take you anywhere. And I don’t have room to keep you here.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you finally snapped back impatiently. You groaned and put down your cards, side eyeing her. You didn’t give a fuck about what she had to say. She’d been nothing but rude to you ever since you were brought to the emergency room and placed in her care.

She sighed dramatically in exasperation, wanting you to know just how irritated she was before answering. “You’re only here on a 72 hour hold. Then you’re being transferred to a mental health facility for a psychiatric evaluation. I explained all of this to you when you blah blah blah blah-“

You tuned her out and quickly turned your attention back to the cards in your hands. Your eyes carefully studied the bikini girl laminated on the back, desperately trying to distract yourself from everything. You couldn’t let yourself break down again. You couldn’t let them see you panic. You didn’t want another shot.

You had been so wrapped up in your little card game with the sweet stranger, you’d almost forgotten where you were and why. Once again, reality came crashing down on you.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too sad to look back at him. You waited until she was gone before finally letting yourself look at him. You could see the worry eating away at him already.

He looked as scared as you felt. At first you thought he was just feeling sorry for you, but it didn’t look like pity. It was more genuine that that. You didn’t want to admit it, but he looked heartbroken to see you go.

It was your turn to break the ice now. “So.. it’s James?” you asked, smiling as his name rolled off your tongue for the first time.

The way you said it made him look up at you like he was seeing God in your eyes. He was captivated by you. His sleeping beauty from the psych ward.

He slowly nodded, still mesmerized. “Yeah well.. I go by Jim” he added nervously. That charming smile returned as he ran his fingers through his wavy brunette hair before letting it fall back in his face.

You stared at him as intently as you could, wanting to savor every last moment you had together. You studied his features like you were cramming for a test, trying desperately to commit the beautiful boy to memory before time ran out.

The freckle on the left side of his face, his baby blue hooded eyes, his pink pillowy lips, the way he ran his hands through his dark tousled waves. You wanted to remember all of it.

You’d only known him a few hours but you already knew in your heart you were going to miss this boy forever.

💕taglist: (lemme know if u wanna be taken off<3) @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

[pinkpeonyprincessblog]

Deliverance| A Werewolf Shawn AU

Part One

The woods had always been a place of comfort for me... A place to escape the madness of my life of serenity. of course I'd heard the stories of vicious wolves who roamed the darkness waiting to prey on the innocent,but I always put it down to stories, gossip, folklore designed to stop kids from venturing too far. That was until the day I was taken.

A rogue pack had taken me as their personal toy, all the anger and frustration they felt was taken out on me. It was a good day if I got a bit of stale bread, and only one beating. On bad days there would be no food and constant, torturous abuse.

I had endured it for 13 year, my small body the reflection of years of malnutrition and hurt,.but I'd finally escaped.

I had bid my time, waiting till they made an inevitable error, and it had finally happend. One of the younger wolves had forgotten to check the padlock when they'd had their fun with me and I'd seized the opportunity and run as fast as I could. but I wasn't fast enough. The alarm had been sounded and there were now several wolves hot on my heels and I could run no further I had to accept my fate. He was less than a metre away from me when our of nowhere another wolf - russet in colour intercepted him in mid air, knocking him over with the force of an elephant. I could hear the snarling and snapping of jaws as I finally collapsed and

surrendered, the last thing I remember was a tall young man walking towards me .

When I woke it was to a mass of activity.

I drifted in and out of sleep, hearing people talking.feeling hands on me, there was even something about the alpha wanting to see 'her', and a.'mate' and something else about ' killing the pack that did this'.. What that meant I couldn't know in my delirium.

When I managed to finally open my eyes and get past the blindly bright light above me, I was met with the image of a man-pacing back land forth, muttering to himself. And the more immediate threat of someone fiddling with the sheet that lay over me.

Surely with a man this good looking, this close to me it had to be a dream, I tried to convince .myself, but someone shattered the dream almost as soon as is materialised.

"Well hello sweetheart, I'm glad to see you're finally awake," the voice came from that of and older woman with long greying hair braided out of her face "My name's Judy, I'm your nurse," she smiled down at me. "Are you in any pain?" She asked.

I took a moment to take everything in, but I was still unable to make sense of it all.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to sit up, but everything protested as soon as I moved, even muscles I didn't know I had.

"Just stay still for now dear, you don't want to hurt yourself further," the nurse-Judy spoke kindly, helping me to resettle myself.

Something, maybe me speaking seemed to wake the man from his trance like state and he turned to meet my confused gaze.

He was tall, he had to be at least 6 foot, with sliflghtly tanned skin, the most rich brown eyes I'd ever seen, and hair that was neatly cut, except for a few unruly curls at the front of his head which didn't want to co-operate with the hair gel he'd obviously used to style it.

"Oh,oh thank God." the man rushed over to the side of the bed stopping mere inches from my face.

I could feel my heart rate picking up as panic set in, not used to people (let alone males) being this close without hurting me.

I turned to Judy asking desperately with my eyes for help

She must have got the memo because she cleared her throat and spoke.

She seemed somewhat hesitant though "Alpha, I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, I know you must be worried sick as we all are, however would it not be prudent to give the girl some space?"

The man searched my face for a moment, before straightening and stepping backwards.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he muttered guiltily.

"You didn't," I lied before I could think about it.

"My name's Shawn what's yours?" he asked holding his hand out for me to take.

I kept my mouth shut, years of torture telling me to keep quiet. He dropped his extended up so it was back at his side.

"Alrighty then, when you're ready. I won't push you." He spoke, it seemed as though he was trying deliberately to keep his tone, soft, conversational and I appreciated it.

At that moment the doctor walked in. "It's good to see you awake Miss," he spoke echoing Judy's words.

"I'm sorry to say you're quite banged up." Shawn started pacing again at his words.

"

I would have sworn I heard a growl.

"Shawn you have to stay calm," Judy spoke, it sounded almost as if she was trying to comfort him, confusing me further.

Once the doctor left Shawn calmed down, having dragging a chair from outside my room to sit beside my bed.

"I heard something about killing another pack?" I asked weighing my words cafefully. "So are you all wolves too?"

"Yes, honey, but I promise you're safe here," he replied softly, looking over at me. I looked down again, not able to take the human interaction.

"Everytime I look at you, you look down. Why is that?"he asked, sounding sad.

" I didn't mean to upset you," I panicked.Starting to pick at the I.V in my arm, it was something I always did when I was nervous, picking things, my skin, nails whatever seemed to help.

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that, I'm not mad," he cut me off. "I just mean I've noticed it is all," he lay a hand carefully on my arm and surprisingly the contact helped.

"I don't know," I pondered, distracted by his touch. There was a weird, warm feeling flowing from the point of contact straight up to my chest, not dissimilar to when your hands or feet go numb and then start to respond again. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. "I guess, I'm not used to positive human contact," I admitted, looking up to see him shaking his head.

"Are you the Alpha?" I asked suddenly. He looked at me, surprise washing over his face at the boldness of my question.

"Yes, I am," he spoke proudly. "Of the Shadowmoon Pack, greatest pack in all of Canada if you ask me," he smiled.

I liked the way he was so confident. It made me feel safe and secure. A few more hours past with us sitting in a comfortable silence, I couldn't help but feel safe around him, and as foreign as the feeling was, I also craved it.

"Are you ready to go home now Poppet?" Judy ssekd, making her way into my room again sometime later and starting to mess around with the I.V tubing.

I looked at her panicked.

"Home?" I squeeked. Surely they weren't really going to send me home. It wasn't a home where I'd come from it was a hell, my own personal hell and I'd be damned if I was going back.

Shawn seemed to noticed my emotions and stepped forward, slowly holding his arms out, and instead of backing away as I had done earlier,I surprised us both and stepped into his hold.

He was warm and comfortable, our bodies seemed to fit perfectly,denim of his jacket just scratchy enough and the now semi familiar tingling from our contact pleasant enough to ground me somewhat. I stayed like that for a minute or so before I became a little more aware of what I was doing. I was hugging a near stranger,worse he was a male, worse again Ii was actually lettung myself like it.

Sorry, I blushed, stepoing away quicky and looking down.

"You don't need to apologise," he smiled.

"What was the tingling I felt" I asked wanting to change the subject.

"That is what you get when two mates make contact" He smiled wider than I had ever seen a person smile, his fangs being exposed in the process.

I stood, silently, shocked.

"Are you okay" He asked moving to step towards me, I held a hand up and he halted midstride.

"I promise you. We'll take things slowly, right now I just want to get you home- to our home," he amended when he saw the look of panic in my face. "So you can rest."

I nodded. Still not entirely comfortable, but what other choice did I have? Go back to the pack that had tortured me all these years, or even end up homeless on the street? And from everything I'd seen Shawn seemed like a genuinely nice person, who everyone respected. Plus,if he was telling the truth, which from heat I could tell, he was, he was my mate and from all the stories I'd heard as a child, your mate was meant to be the one person in the world who would do anything for you, be anywhere for you. They would literally protect you with their lives.

"Shawn I don't have anything to wear," I whispered embarrassed again, looking down at the gown which barely covered anything as Judy finally finished what she was doing in the corner of he room having taken out my I.V. and left.

"I brought you some clothes, don't worry," he smiled.Pullnig out the most comfortable pale pink sweater I'd ever seen, he handed it to me and I was hit with his scent.

"This is yours?"

",Is that okay?" he worried. " I could go home and get something from one of the girls if you're uncomfortable," he offered.

I just smiled,letting out a little giggle at the extreme level of concern he was showing, which caused him to immediately relax l, shoulders dropping, a slight smile gracing his lips as he shook his head softly.

"Can you turn around please?" I requested. He did as asked giving the privacy I so desperately craved.

When I was finished he took my hand, holding his other under my elbow to support my weight.

He was so patient, never rushing me as he lead me through the hospital and out the doors into the world. I couldn't help but savour the fresh air,the cold winter air burning my lungs but in a good way.

"I bet it feels nice to be outside again,"

I nodded, "How did you find me" I asked, as we continued to walk. It was as if now that I was free my mind could finally ask questions and process all the stuff I had never done previously.

"That's a story for when you've had some more rest," he answered, coming to a stop in front of a Jeep, opening the door and lifting me in. The tingling was still a shock,l everytime he touched my skin.

"Feel free to sleep we've got a bit of a drive ahead of us" he smiled reassuringly, before turning the ignition,the car coming to life.

I woke to someone shaking me,it was dark now and I immediately jumped back in my seat, unsure, before my groggy eyes made contact with Shawn's and I realised where I was and relaxed.

"I won't hurt you, you're safe now Pup," he murmured, moving to brush some hair out of my face with a feather-light touch. I blushed at the nickname."I was just waking you because we're here, this is home" I took in the house illuminated by lights in complete awe.

"So you're an Alpha and you don't hurt humans?" I asked as he helped me cafefully from he car.

"You're not human, you're an omega, but no I have nothing against humans," he added, holding me steady as I swayed on my feet slightly, not used to standing anymore.

I stood stunned again," I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll get to all of that, for now though, you need rest.

We made our way through the house in silence, I could hear other voices, yet we never came across anyone.

"This is my room," he spoke, shifting his grip on me slightly to open the door.

The room was large with huge french doors leading out to a balcony overlooking a big yard and a lake, soft- what looked like silk curtains framing the windows, a guitar sat in one corner a futon in the other. There was a record player in the corner, playing a soft melody which filled the space, creating a warm inviting feeling. In the centre of the room was the biggest bed I had ever seen.

It had several large cushions on it and a duvet cover that looked like it would feel like laying on clouds. Just this bed was bigger than he cell I'd been forced to spend so many years in,I thought with a shudder.

"This is your room?I stumbled over my words.

"Well I'm hoping it will be our room actually." Shawn spoke, scratching at his neck.

I turned panicked. "But only when you're comfortable I'm not about to force you into anything I promise."

He held his pinkie finger out, and I just looked at it unsure of what he wanted.

"Here," he smiled, taking my hand and locking my own little finger with his. "This is called a pinkie promise. It's like a pact that you don't break," he explained with a smile.

"Oh,I guess, I must have forgotten." I felt extremely stupid and shit up quickly, the only sound that of the record player still in the corner. I found it so comforting, my own father had had one when I was little and I could remember watching the record and needle spin for hours.

"There's a room adjacent to mine which I've had the maids freshen up, there's a comfortable bed and an ensuite with fresh towels and a toothbrush." he continued as if there wasn't just a massive awkward silence emitting solely from my lack of understanding.

He turned leading me back out and across the hallway to another door. When he opened it, I saw a room, smaller than his, but still warm and cosy, with a big bed, a window, lots of pretty lights and yet more records, this time hung in the wall.

"You didn't need to do this for me," I told him, as I took it all in.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," he shrugged.

He lead me back to his room where he sat down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and patting the spot next to him.

"How long was I out" I asked after a minute. He got what I meant immediately.

"Three days," he answered somberly.

"How are you feeling? he asked.

"Still very sore," I admitted.

"Here let me see your injuries." he reached over picking up a box of what I soon realised was full of first aid stuff.

He was extremely gentle as he tended to he cuts and scrapes that covered my shoulders, arms,and legs. He even managed to convince me to let him check my ribs. This I found uncomfortsbly and awkward once again, but he was careful not to make it any worse than it had to be and he had rewrapped them quicky and easily.

"How do you know how to do all this?" I asked quietly as he gently dabbed at a cut on my hand. "We'll I'm actually a trained doctor. When I'm not working as the Alpha, I work at the pack hospital. There all done," he announced,packing up the box and disposing of he rubbish in a small medical waste tin.

Half an hour later and I'd gotten changed, again into one of Shawn's oversized hoodies and made myself comfortable in his bed after he insisted I stay in his room incase I needed him.

"Sleep well, Pup, I'll be here if you need me."

He went to lounge on the futon, and I was left to drift to sleep, exhausted by the day's events. My sleep was fitful to satly the least, dreams bad nightmares melding to form weird and wonderful scenarios which would never make sense.

When I woke, it was to a soft knock on the door. Opening my eyes, I could see that it was still slightly light out, though dinner than it had been, probably somewhere around dusk. A girl with dark hair, dark eyes and a kind smile stepped tenntively into the room.

"My name's Karla. Im in the pack. It's nice to meet you," she added warmly. "Shawn's had to go deal with some pack matters so he asked me to come keep you company. I brought you some food. He said you might be hungry." She held out what looked like a croisant, the smell of butter instantly filling the room."I also brought a hair brush," she added. "I thought you might like to brush your hair, I know that always makes me feel better. Or I could do it?" she added again, shyly.

"Thank you."I whispered, my voice still hoarse.

The girl, Karla, came to sit on the bed. She had to be the same age as me. Maybe a year or two older.

"I hope the pack meeting doesn't go too long," she said as I started picking at my croisant. "Shawn won't want to be away from you, it's hard to be away from our mates." She looked dreamy as she spoke, leaving no question that she too had a mate.

"I'm nervous to meet everyone," I admitted with a frown, suddenly not hungry anymore.

"Aww, don't worry everyone will love you," she smiled. "We've all been waiting for ages for him to meet his mate and you're finally here." she clapped in excitement, breaking E and forcing me to smile just as Shawn came through the door with another soft knock.

"Ahhh, I see you've meet Karla," he smiled, raising his eyebrow a little bit. " I hope she's been telling you good things."

"Yep, what were you doing" I asked watching as he took his deniem jacket off- the same one from earlier and chucked it onto the futon, coming to sit next to me on the bed, careful not to invade my personal space.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked watching as I pulled the crosiant to pieces no longer interested by the food, now that I had him here.

"I'm alright," I shrugged.

He nodded, and we lapsed into yet another comfortable quiet.

It was only then that I realised Karla had left the room, she must have excused herself, seeing that she was no longer needed and didn't feel the need to encroach.The hairbrush however was still laying on the bed.

"I just want you to know," he spoke, breaking the silence after a while, "that no matter what happeneds you'll be safe here. I'll protect you with my life, it's my job both as your Alpha and as your mate," he spoke earnestly.

He was looking at me with such an intensity as he spoke that something broke inside of me, and I cracked. "Lucy," I whispered looking down and away from his gaze.

"What?" I could here the confusion in his voice.

"Lucy, my name, my name is Lucy." I spoke more clearly this time, though I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Lucy, that's a pretty name," he murmured. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was reaching for me, and as much as I wanted to move, my body was frozen whether in fear or anticipation I couldn't know, but the next thing I knew both his hands were cupping my face. He was so gentle, almost as if he thought I would break. I looked up at him, once again taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

"You're so pretty when you blush," he smiled, caressing my cheek.

"Please don't compliment me, I don't deserve it, I'm ugly," I repeated the words my captors had drilled into me for so many years.

"You, Lucy," he put emphasis on my name. "are anything but ugly. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out."

"How can you say that?" I replied.

"Because, I can feel it Lucy, right here," he took my hand in his and placed it over his chest where I could feel his heart beat strong and sure. "I've been waiting for you my entire life. And now that I have you, it's my job, my honour to protect you with my life," he explained fiercly.

"Thank you," I chocked out, tears welling in my eyes.Leaning into his frame just slightly despite myself and my fears.

"No pup, thank you."