check her blood pressure

Expectant - Request

Requested by anon:  could you do a Reader x Sherlock where she finds out she’s expecting and Sherlock has no idea how to react for awhile? Thank you :-)
Also, another anon requested for a fluffy one with Sherlock so…

Summary: (Y/N) is acting strange, and Sherlock notices. She ends up confessing the truth and… He struggles to find the words.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Warnings: Bit of angst (not really) because of Sherlock’s reaction. Also, fluffy.

Word count: 2,807

A/N: My Sherlock feels are rising like the fenix rises from the ashes, THANKS! This is fluffy and cheesy and I love it, hope you do too. Remember feedback is highly appreciated.


Originally posted by xthismeanswar

London had never been quieter. Not a single criminal dared to show up in the past week – or at least not one Sherlock cared about.

With his fiddle in hand and a melody on his head, Sherlock played for hours and hours throughout the morning. His feet with move along the music as he followed his girlfriend around the flat, making sure to keep his eyes on her at every moment.

(Y/N) was tiding it up a little since neither Sherlock nor John would do it.

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Sherlock spoke as he waltzed his way closer to her.

“I know, I just… Need to kill time, I guess.” Sherlock tilted his head.

“Anxiety?” She shook her head.

“Maybe I’m just bored.” Sherlock smiled warmly at her.

“I knew I wasn’t the only one getting bored here.” He said.

“Bored? You?” (Y/N) let out a fake laugh, “As far as I can tell you’re having a blast with your instrument.”

Sherlock didn’t reply with words but rather changing the tune to a faster one.

“Show off.” She hissed jokingly and moved to his room, where she picked up the dirty clothes and dusted the furniture.

Sherlock couldn’t help but to notice something strange in her. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it because it was such a slight change in her – and a good kind of change – that deducing it would take him hours. And that’s why he was following her.

She was resplendent yet she looked tired. “Why are you tired?”

(Y/N) looked up at him; she had been dragged out of her thoughts. “Sorry?”

“Why are you tired?” Sherlock repeated, “Last night we did… We did sleep late but we always do.”

“Maybe it’s all this cleaning.” (Y/N) suggested.

“You’ve followed me on cases that could get anyone tired after five minutes without even flinching, it’s not the cleaning.” Sherlock observed. He stopped playing and stood still, following her every move.

“Maybe I’m getting old.” Sherlock lifted an eyebrow.

“Impossible.” He stated, “If you were getting old I would be too and I’m feeling great.”

“We are getting old.” She emphasized, “With each second that passes.”

Sherlock sighed heavily and continued to play. (Y/N) excused herself and left to the bathroom. It was the fifth time she went and it wasn’t even close to mid-day.

Sherlock stopped playing once again and walked back to the living room where John was sitting and reading a newspaper.

“There’s something off about her.” Sherlock whispered without even looking at his friend but rather keeping his ice blue eyes glued to the bathroom door.

Watson, who knew exactly what was going on, shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and changed the page. He had been pretending to read the whole morning, for he knew it would be impossible for him not to react.

“You’ve read this newspaper three times already.” Sherlock observed.

“I like to re-read… Make sure everything sticks to my mind.” John replied.

“Guess that’s a method that works for common minds.” John couldn’t help but to roll his eyes, “But honestly, John, can’t you see? There’s something off about her.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Sherlock, not mine.” John beamed.

“She’s your friend, and you’re a doctor.” John sighed and scratched the corner of his eyes.

“She’s not sick.”

“How can you tell?” John inquired, “Did you check her body temperature? Her blood pressure? Her…”

“She’s fine!” John assured. Sherlock, of course, didn’t buy it and waited patiently for her to get out.

Keep reading


I Heart My Dads

by Zach Kobayashi, Marketing Assistant,

When you have two dads, June can become somewhat of a hectic month, but it’s also a distinctly special time.  The various Pride events throughout the month represent a feeling and a movement that resonates more strongly, and Father’s Day brings its own set of emotions.  June is a particularly important time of the year for Marly Leighton, Business Development Manager at, and her family.  Marly and her dads have been working together to fight for their equality and for the entire LGBTQ community since she came out in her freshman year of college, and she had supported her dads in their fight long before then.  Now, Marly continues to fight for the LGBTQ community alongside her dads and through her work at, helping to support campaigns like Celebrate Pride and Free to Pee.

Born to young, religious parents from Oklahoma, a five-year-old Marly found it difficult to understand when her dad came out as gay and her parents divorced.  It wasn’t until she was seven that Marly started to understand what it meant for her dad to be gay.  He had sat her down in a Wendy’s one night to explain it to her.  Her religious upbringing had led her to believe that her dad must be going to hell because of his sexuality, but her dad helped her understand his sexuality in its full truth and encouraged her to consider different perspectives as she grew up, even beyond sexuality.

Marly’s dad met his current partner, who she now calls her “bonus dad,” during her freshman year of high school.  Shortly after her dad started seeing his partner, Dan, Marly turned sixteen.  For her birthday dinner, Dan chose a vegetarian restaurant in Dallas because Marly was a vegetarian at the time.  It was this moment that helped her realize that Dan was thoughtful in ways he wasn’t required to be, and his thoughtfulness throughout her life has kept them close.  Both Marly’s dad and Dan have been there for her through difficult breakups, her own coming out during her freshman year of college, and so many years of her life.  

Marly continues to support her dads in return by encouraging them to stay healthy so they can be there for her for many more years and can continue their fight for the LGBTQ community.  After a family friend went for a routine check up a few months ago and was rushed to the hospital for emergency heart surgery, Marly called her dads and told them to visit their doctors for check ups.  She now regularly encourages her dads to have regular check ups with their doctors and be mindful of their heart health.  

The next time Marly visits her dads will be at a Father’s Day cookout, and she plans to give them cards that encourage them to check their blood pressure and consider their heart health.  Through’s I Heart Dad campaign, everyone can help remind their dad to check his blood pressure and think about his health.  Marly encourages her dads to be healthy to show her love for them, and everyone can show love for their dad with

Stop Your Crying

Originally posted by solo-harry

Hello, so ever since I heard the story behind SOTT, it inspired me to write this. It is my first piece of writing. I plan on writing a series inspired by the songs from Harry’s new album. I also take requests, and I want to build my collection of writing. Shoot me a message, and feedback is greatly welcomed. Also, follow me and give ideas! I am also planning on writing a plus size/ curve story this weekend. I don’t have a set in stone storyline yet, so send me ideas

9 months ago, Harry received the best news of his life. His wife, Y/N was expecting their first child together. Harry remembered his wife’s shaky hands and nervous smile. He remembers her uneasiness when she muttered those two words that would change his life forever, “I’m pregnant.”

He remembers how his heart skipped a beat when he heard her speak those two little words. He remembered how he felt those wet, burning tears prick his eyes.

4 months ago, Harry and Y/N were in the doctor’s office, waiting for the doctor to come into the room to perform the ultra sound that will let them know if they should name the baby after his mum or her dad. Harry had a feeling that there would a second Anne in the world, and even though Y/N argued saying “no, Harry, we’re having a Richard.” Deep down, she knew that the baby that was growing inside of her was a girl with her  hair color and his piercing green eyes.

When the doctor came into the room she greeted them, washed her hands and got straight to business. The doctor warned Y/N of the cold gel before she placed it on her growing, swelling belly. Y/N flinched, not because of the temperature of the gel, but because of excited, expectant father squeezing her hand.

Y/N looked at her husband, of a year and flashed him a bright smile when they heard their baby’s heartbeat. Harry was far more emotional than Y/N. Y/N was a strong person, and did not like to appear weak or emotion. There was always a joke between friends and family that Harry and Y/N were the perfect example how gender roles and characteristics in relationships were a sham.

However, Y/N did shed a tear when she found that out that in about 5 to 4 months there would be an Anne Katherine Styles. They were going to have a little girl. A little, delicate girl with her grandmother’s name, her mum’s hair, and her dad’s piercing green eyes.

But now, those memories seem like a lifetime away. Harry was supposed to helping his wife during late night feedings, and changes right now. He should not be laying in bed counting down the hours to his wife’s funeral. 

Keep reading

Okay, so I’ve written my first ever Grace and Frankie fic. It might be really bad, so read at your own risk. I’m waiting for my AO3 account to come through so posting it on here for now! Please be kind.
(Apparently Tumblr Mobile cuts this off because there is a ‘read more’ button so just be aware that you should be looking out for a happy ending.)


9:00pm, Santa Fe

Grace wrote her a list before she left. Her daily dos and don'ts, which Frankie really should detest, she really should. Reminders to stay away from sodium, to check her blood pressure, to take her pills. Things Frankie resents and despises. Or at least she would, usually. But the letter has not left her side since she found it tucked into her suitcase a week ago. Not once. Not even when she takes a shower - she’s perfected the art of plastic wrapping it to protect it from the steady fall of water (after several failed test-runs with the daily newspaper).

She always takes it out as soon as Jacob leaves the room. Scoffs at the absurdity of it all. The tone of it is so Grace - patronising in a way that honestly, she thinks, she should hate. She would have hated. But she doesn’t. Somehow, now, she has to admit that she finds it, inexplicably and almost laughably, sweet. Because Grace wants her to stay healthy. To live happily. To stick around for the next twenty years. Because Grace cared enough to write it. Because actually, she realises, she wants Grace to care.

She pulls it out from inside her shirt - from the little pocket she’s haphazardly stitched in near her chest. The one that now exists in all of Frankie’s clothes. Jaggedly sewn squares that fortunately don’t show too much from the other side, in everything from dungarees to her favourite pair of pajamas. She wonders, briefly, if Grace knows that her red silk set is missing. Wonders whether she’ll know Frankie has taken it. Wonders what she’ll think about it if she does.

She rests the flower-shaped paper in her palms. A piece torn from the block on the fridge. Their fridge, with their yam lube and overflowing amounts of cheese, and fresh olives for Grace’s martinis and her face cream that she insists needs to stay cold. Their fridge, with the magnetic letters Frankie ‘borrowed’ from Macklin so she could write cuss words at Grace when she was giving her the silent treatment. With the picture that Maddy had drawn of her 'grandmoms’ holding hands on a (rather too stony and red) beach. With the photo of their whole family at Coyote’s sobriety ceremony.

She focuses back on the note in front of her. Squints. She needs reading glasses really, she dares to admit to herself. But she only wants Grace’s. The bold, black frames that she always inwardly smirked at - the ones she thought were too bulky for Grace’s thin face. She wants them.

She brings her index finger to the page, traces over the neat, curled letters. Smiles that, despite all the signs it is Grace who is responsible for the list - the strict, underlined instructions - the words 'don’t try me, Frankie’ written in red - there is something else there too. Little phrases like 'touch base with Joanne’ and 'at least clean your bong’ slipped in organically, because Grace knows her, and knows how she operates. Yeah, it is Grace who wrote it, but it is a Grace who has a Frankie.

Frankie pulls her hand back, bringing it to her sternum and resting it there while she looks up at the stars. Wonders if Grace can see them, too. Wonders if they look just as blurry to her. As the first, heavy tear falls onto the paper - the sacred paper - the paper Frankie has never let near the sand, never let near to her bonfires - she makes out the last instruction with no visual aids needed (she’s read it a thousand times). Cradles the now blotchy and almost unreadable list to her chest. '15. Please don’t forget Grace.’

Keep reading

Thank God for the nurse

I went in to a family planning clinic to get a pelvic exam I had been dreading for over a month. I was taken to an exam room by a nurse (we’ll call her Mindy). Mindy took my blood pressure and checked my pulse. Then she began to ask questions about my family’s medical history, my medical history, immunizations, medications I’m taking, any symptoms I’d been having, questions, about my mental illnesses. Then we got to the hard part. The sexual history section. It started off easy. When was the last time you had sex, did you use a condom, are you still together, had I been tested for HIV/STDS, etc. Then she asked about my first time. I never know how to answer this question. I consider the guy I was with in high school to my first, but in reality, I lost my virginity at 14. I struggled to find an answer for her. Eventually, I reluctantly said 14. She asked if it was with my permission and I told her no. She asked a few more questions about it like was there emotional and physical abuse? Was I safe now? I answered honestly, and she moved on to the next section; reproductive health. Again, started off easy; when was my first period, how often, how heavy, when was my last. And then ‘have you ever been pregnant?’ to which I had to answer yes. She typed yes and said ‘I wouldn’t ask unless I had to; did you have a miscarriage or abortion?’ I answered ‘miscarriage’. I could tell she felt bad for bringing up some of my most painful memories. After another series of questions, she said 'I’m sorry. I have to put this in here; you were raped at 14, correct?’ I looked at the floor and mumbled yes. 'Ok. That’s all we have to talk about it.’

After she left, the midwife came in. She grazed over my abuse, told me I didn’t need a pap smear, performed a breast exam, then had me dress and talked to me about birth control options. I selected a method, peed in a cup and came back to have my blood drawn. Mindy re-entered the room saying 'guess who’s back!’ I smiled, relieved to see her. The midwife was nice and did a great job and I felt comfortable enough with her; but it was a really hard visit for me. It wasn’t just that I had to tell 2 complete strangers about things my closest friends don’t know about, but I realized that anytime I talked to someone about my sexual or reproductive health; he had to be a part of the conversation. He was technically my first and his will always be the first child I bore. And no matter what happens, I can’t change that that will never not be a part of my life. That hit me hard.

As Mindy drew my blood, she asked exactly what I needed right then: 'Are you ok?’ She knew it couldn’t have been easy for me, no matter how calm and composed I seemed. All she did was check to see if I was doing all right, but because she showed she cared and I wasn’t just some other patient, I was able to smile and honestly answer 'yeah. I’m ok’.

Day in the Life of A Hospital Patient

Here is the day Emmaline had yesterday. It is filled with chemo, physical therapy, scans, and a little bit of fun.

VERY long post :)

12:30 AM: Emmaline’s day begins at 12:30 AM when her nurse checks her vitals, her pulse, her respiratory rate, her temperature and her blood pressure.

3:00 AM: Emmaline’s night nurse comes in to check her vitals and flush her NG tube

7:30 AM: Emmaline wakes up somewhat refreshed and is ready to tackle another day!

8:00 AM: Breakfast arrives. We try to encourage Emmaline to eat as much as she can, though her appetite has been really low lately, and she often vomits her nutrients. So, we thankfully have an NG tube where we can give her nutrients directly without her having to ingest them. At breakfast her NG tube is flushed then hooked up to her feeding pump.

See more of Emmaline’s day under the cut :)

Keep reading

BLACKHILL MEME: [2/5] Tropes → Truth Serum

Tony gathered them in a room and sat Natasha down on a chair while they stood in front of the two of them, waiting for him to explain himself.

“So, I’ve made an astounding discovery. Pepper, you’re here because you’re the CEO, Maria is here as head of security and Clint” he paused and frowned. “Natasha brought him, I don’t know why he’s here. It is of vital importance to this experiment that neither one of you steps in and interrupts us, no matter what might happen.” They all nodded, he already remarked that five times.

“And why am I here, again?” Natasha sighed.

“I needed a subject and you’re pretty much immortal, so” he raised a siring with a green-ish limpid substance inside. “Raise your sleeve, please.”

Keep reading

Preference #7 - You Pass Out-Harry

Warning: fainting, hospitals, pregnancy.

You stood, blinking heavily and pressing a hand to your head. Your head was pounding, and you found it hard to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“H-Harry? Are you here?” You called out, your voice shaky and weak.

“I’m in the kitchen, love.” Harry called back.

“Can you come here?” You quietly said.

“Coming.” Harry replied, and you heard his footsteps coming towards you, before your vision began to go fuzzy, and all went black. Harry quickly dashed towards you, his arms wrapping around you as you started to fall to the ground. He gently picked you up, carrying you to the couch. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone, he dialled 911.

“Hello. It’s my fiancée, she fainted,” Harry explained, biting his lower lip. He rattled off his address, and then hung up, waiting for the EMT’s to show. After a few minutes, the scream of sirens grew louder, and Harry walked towards your front door. He pulled it open, watching as the EMT’s walked up the front steps.

“She’s in the living room,” Harry quietly said, stepping back to let them in. They filed in, immediately heading for the couch. One of the EMT’s got to work, taking her blood pressure and checking her other vitals, as the other approached Harry, who had moved off to the side and was staring at you, lying motionless on the couch.

Keep reading

What Almost Never Was

A/N: An anon request about an expecting reader and Spencer. Complications arise. Nearly twice as long as usual, hope you don’t mind! Fluff, angst, and then fluff. Enjoy!


Spencer and his wife, Y/N, had been trying to start a family for the past few months and just recently, they found out they were expecting. Today was their first appointment with the OBGYN, and the first-time parents were noticeably nervous.

“Ready, Y/N?” Spencer asked, placing his hand on her lower back.

“As I’ll ever be, Spence. Let’s go,” she said, grabbing his hand to make their way back to the exam room. 

Lying on the table with her stomach exposed and her husband beside her, Y/N felt her heart beat faster and faster. She was carrying a little life inside her and the thought that she had to house this little being until it was born was definitely a much bigger deal than people made it out to be. She so badly wanted this baby to be healthy and happy.

“Good morning, Dr. and Mrs. Reid,” Dr. Boucher greeted as she stepped through the door with a smile on her face. “Ready to see your baby?”

Spencer smiled wide, believing he was never going to be this lucky. “Absolutely,” he beamed, grasping his wife’s hand.

The obstetrician spread the petroleum jelly across Y/N’s stomach and waved over it with the ultrasound wand as the first-time parents waited with bated breath for news of their baby. 

“So, just starting your family?” The doctor asked, examining the screen in front of her. “Hoping to have a big family?”

Y/N smiled. It’s one of the few things she wanted for as long as she could remember. To teach at a university and to have a big, healthy family. “Yes,” she said dreamily, “maybe three or four kids. Right, Spence?”


Dr. Boucher looked directly at the expecting parents with great news. “Well, you’re going to have an instant family. You’re having twins.”

Spencer and his wife looked at each either, ecstatic, dumbfounded and scared beyond all reason. Speechless was probably the word.


Having found out they were expecting twins nearly two months earlier, at just six weeks, the shock and joy was just starting to settle in. They had to adjust housing plans, the nursery layout, and they needed twice as much of everything they had planned on - but none of that mattered. They were getting the family they always dreamed of. Y/N was due for another check-up at the doctor’s office.

“Fourteen weeks,” Y/N breathed, rubbing her ever-growing stomach. “Only 20-something weeks to go.”

Spencer laughed as he placed his hand on her stomach, hoping they would be able to get news of the babies’ genders today. They walked into the doctor’s office yet again, they would practically be living there until she gave birth, and Y/N assumed her position on the table, with her shirt up over her stomach.

Y/N had grown used to the cold jelly and wand on her stomach and connecting it with news of the babies helped the whole situation not feel so weird. “How are you feeling, Y/N?” the doctor asked.

“Pretty okay, actually. A little bit of back pain and occasional morning sickness, but not much else,” she responded happily.

“Dr. Boucher,” Spencer started, eager to hear more about his soon-to-be-children, “are you able to tell us their genders?”

She looked towards Spencer, beaming, like this was the best part of her job. “As a matter of fact, Doctor, I can. How do you feel about having two bouncing baby boys?”


The next seven weeks consisted of more morning sickness, even more back pain, nursery painting, crib-building, more than a little bit of panicking, and many, many discussions about the names of their two boys.

“So, we’ve decided, right? Because I’m about to start painting their names above their cribs?” Spencer said, looking back at his wife, who was sitting in a rocking chair, lightly cradling her baby bump.

“Definitely,” she sighed, closing her eyes and smiling, “Spencer Derek and Aaron Michael.”

Y/N was tired, worn, her hair was a mess, her eyes were drawn and she was living in baggy clothes, but to Spencer she had never looked more beautiful than she had in the past few months. He walked over to her, kissed her on the forehead and bent down to pat her stomach. “I can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered, kissing her stomach. “I love you boys.”


The day after Spencer had painted the boys’ names on the nursery walls, they had yet another appointment at the doctor’s office. Y/N still hadn’t felt much movement, some yes, but she honestly couldn’t tell if it was the boys moving, or if it was normal gastrointestinal issues.

The obstetrician assured her as soon as she walked in the door that it was completely normal not to feel much just yet - the coming weeks would more than make up for it. Spencer and Y/N collectively breathed a sigh of relief, although Spencer was, of course, aware of every milestone his wife and the babies would endure, it was still nice to here it from the doctor herself.

Dr. Boucher left the room to gather the results of her urine test and came back to check her blood pressure and scan the babies. “Well, good news is that the babies are looking good. They are relatively the same size and everything is developing as it should,” she rattled off, as if she had something else to say.

“Doctor?” Spencer inquired, noticing the same hesitance in her voice that his wife did.

“I don’t want to worry you. The babies look great. However, the results of your urine test and your heightened blood pressure indicate that you have preeclampsia.”

Y/N’s face dropped. She wasn’t a doctor, but she was well aware of preeclampsia, given that a friend of hers had miscarried because of it, and she was only pregnant with one child. She looked back at her husband for some kind of reassurance, feeling like the world was about the crumble beneath her. “It’s going to be okay,” he soothed unconvincingly. “There are medications and diet changes that can be used to help, right?” he motioned toward the doctor. 

“Absolutely,” she replied. “I’m going to start you on Methyldoma for high-blood pressure and magnesium sulfate to help prevent seizures.”

Y/N began to tear up, worrying more than ever before about the fate of her babies, which was when the doctor leaned over to lend an assuring hand. “I have had women, pregnant with twins, or more, that have had preeclampsia and gone home with their healthy babies. You’re going to be okay.”

Minutes later, she left the room to leave the worrying parents to process the newest information.

Spencer gathered his wife in his arms. “Just breathe deeply,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “We’re all going to make it through this.”


Although the weeks since they’d heard about Y/N’s preeclampsia had been fraught with nervousness, the new parents and growing babies were all still in good health, given increased prenatal visits, medication, a diet change and deep-breathing sessions arranged by Spencer at least twice a day. Thankfully, just mere days after the diagnosis, they’d felt the babies’ first kicks, which had grown to what felt like fist fights in there. Twenty-eight weeks along - between nine and twelve weeks to go, depending on symptoms and the health of both mother and babies.

Spencer was in the kitchen cooking dinner as he had been every night he was home, allowing Y/N to rest as often as possible. He called her in to the dining room for dinner and was greeted to his growing wife yelling at her stomach, “Don’t make me come in there!” she yelled down her shirt.

Spencer laughed, “Are they fighting again?” 

“Yes!” she said, rubbing her stomach and trying to soothe the pain. “They are gonna be a handful when they get out.”

He snorted. None of that mattered. All that mattered is that his boys and his wife were healthy. They were almost there.


At 34 weeks, Y/N couldn’t possibly get much bigger. She had been off from teaching at the university for two weeks and would be for the foreseeable future, but staying homebound and practically bedridden for the rest of the pregnancy was out of the question unless the doctor required it - and she hadn’t. So, Y/N had decided to make her way into the BAU to have lunch with her husband and the team, just for something to do.

“Hi, honey,” she said, waddling in to the conference room. She had intended to bend down to kiss her husband, but her stomach wouldn’t allow for bending anymore. “I can’t bend,” she laughed. “Get up here and kiss me.”

After giving his beloved a kiss on the lips, Spencer went to pick up the food they’d ordered from the Italian place they frequented. While he was gone, Y/N caught up with the team. Baby talk and baby prep had kept her from talking to them much in the past months and she missed them. They were her friends too.

“You okay?” JJ asked, noticing that Y/N looked a little clammy.

She was in a little bit of extra pain, but at this point it was nothing she couldn’t handle. “Yea, I’m good,” she replied, “There’s just a wrestling match going on in my stomach right now.”

“We’re almost there,” she heard Spencer say, returning with their lunch.

As Y/N stood up to stretch out her legs, she felt weak. The distant scream of her name from her husband’s lips was the last thing she remembered.


The minute Y/N hit the floor, Spencer knew what was wrong. His wife’s convulsing body was as out of control as his mind, as he screamed for the team to call an ambulance. 

She was rushed to the hospital, having suffered a moderate-to-severe seizure, and upon arrival, Spencer was greeted with the news he had been dreading the entire pregnancy.

“Dr. Reid?” a young physician asked, approaching the nervous father. “Your wife’s seizure has caused her to go into early labor. As she is unable to answer us right now, you have to tell us whether it’s ok to deliver your babies now.”

He grabbed his head in agony, wondering what he should do. Delivering them now could hurt them, but it could hurt her more. Having anesthesia in her system while she was already unconscious could hurt her - or worse.

“What do I do?” he cried to his teammates, who were all standing nearby.

Everyone looked on in fear and heartache, not knowing what to say. But JJ, a mother herself, looked at him and asked, “What would Y/N want?”

“She’d want me to save the boys…even if that means she’s at risk.”


After much deliberation, Spencer made the gut-wrenching decision to save his babies, even if that meant losing his wife. It wasn’t what he wanted - he wanted none of this, but Y/N would have done anything to bring the boys into the world safely.

Just an hour after the decision was made, the surgeon came out of the operating room. “Dr. Reid,” he began, not betraying what he was about to say in his voice, “The boys are out safely. They are a little underweight and underdeveloped, but they’ll be okay.” Spencer breathed a slight sigh as his family supported him from behind.

“What about Y/N?” he breathed quietly, tears brimming from the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Reid. Your wife has fallen into a coma.”


The love of his life was in a coma - and she might never come out of it. The only thing that had kept him sane the past few days was his sons. His beautiful boys - what might be his only reminder of the love he shared with his wife. They were slightly premature, but they were healthy. It destroyed him that they might never be able to meet their mother.

The doctors kept telling him that the longer she was out, the less likely she was to wake up and that he might have to let her go.

“No,” he said sternly, the harshness in his voice surprising his teammates as much as himself. Fatherly and husbandly love was coursing through him, not allowing him to give in to fear. “I’m not giving up on her. She’s going to come out of this and we’re all going to go home.” 

As the doctor turned away to return to his patient, Spencer practically crumbled to floor in a heap of tears, held up by his son’s namesakes.


For another three days, six since his boys were born and his wife had nearly taken from him, Spencer and the team practically lived in the hospital. The team only left to grab clothes and various other things for Spencer because he was glued to her side.

He sat in her room at her side, holding her hand in his own. Forlorn, he looked at his team and then turned to the doctor. “Do you think you can wheel the boys’ incubators in here? I feel like them being nearby might help her.” He was grasping at straws, and he knew it, but the doctor relented, noticing the desperation in his eyes. It wouldn’t hurt the babies, and it would make Spencer feel like he wasn’t losing control.

The mood in the room instantly lifted when the babies were wheeled in, smiles creeping upon the faces of grateful aunts and uncles who were happy to have two new boys to dote on. Spencer tried his best to smile as he walked over to the babies. “This is what she wanted,” he thought to himself. But not hearing her voice was tearing him apart.

“Spencer…” Y/N murmured, startling her husband.

“Y/N!” he practically screamed. “You’re okay! Can you open your eyes?”

“Where are the boys?” she croaked. “Are they okay? Please tell me they’re okay?”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as Spencer cried to his wife, “Baby, open your eyes. They’re in here right now. They’re perfectly healthy.”

At that her eyes shot open, blatantly weeping, “Oh thank God! Wheel them over here, please!”

Morgan and JJ wheeled the incubators over to her bedside, allowing her to reach inside and touch her precious boys. “I love you so much,” she cried.

Matching his wife’s cries, Spencer bent down to take her lips in his own, thankful more than ever before for his life and luck. “We’re all going to be okay. We can all go home.”

Torn 18
You can read past parts here.

Eric found Mandy in the infirmary working. He walked up to her just as she was about to take a patient’s blood pressure. Mandy was so busy checking the blood pressure cuff she did not notice her patient stifle a gasp as they saw the tall, angry looking Dauntless leader approach behind the nurse.

Eric grabbed her upper arm and pulled her out the door into the hallway.

“Eric! What are you doing?” Mandy started to panic when she saw Eric’s face. He was pissed and it showed in his eyes.

“I need you to listen to me carefully.” Eric’s voice was low and steady. He needed to get his point across to this woman. “Do not……Mandy…listen to me.” Eric grabbed her chin, as she looked away from his piercing blue eyes, to move her back into his line of sight. “You do not go near my child… you understand?” Eric squeezed her chin to get his point across. Mandy grimace as she felt his nails dig into the side of her face. “Do. You. Understand?” Tears sprung to Mandy’s eyes as Eric slammed her head against the wall as each word fell from his lips. Mandy nodded her head yes.

“Say it!” Eric’s tone was deadly as he moved closer to her face. He was just a mere inch from her.

“I understand.” Mandy managed to get out as more tears decorated her cheeks. Eric let go of her chin and watched as Mandy slid down the wall in tears. He looked at her with a hint of amusement in his face. Please with her response Eric headed back to your room. Mandy stayed seated on the floor against the wall as her body shook with sobs. It could not be over between her and Eric. She was not going to let it be over. Mandy gasped as her right cheek stung from a slap across her face. She looked at the palm of her hand and smiled as she slapped herself over and over again until her cheeks were flaming and red.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Dex gets hit. Hard. As in he goes unconscious for a few minutes. Nursey is not ok

It happens in slow motion, and every single fucking detail is burned into Nursey’s mind. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the sound Dex made as he crashed into the boards, or the lurching in his stomach when the ref blew the whistle and Dex wasn’t getting up, why isn’t he getting up, Jesus Christ Dex please get up.

Keep reading

more of the motocross!Percy bc I do what I want. find part 1 in this tag

  • It’s no surprise when Percy wins and advances to Nationals.
  • The race isn’t for a few months, just because the rest of the country has to race too, so Percy practices and enters a few races in the meantime to keep his skills sharp. 
  • He also starts spending more time with Annabeth. 
  • Sometimes they go out and grab dinner together or go see a movie. Sometimes they go back to his or her house to watch a movie. Percy’s mother loved her as soon as he introduced them, and even Annabeth’s father seemed to like Percy when they met a few weeks ago. 
  • To his knowledge, Percy doesn’t think that they are dating. Yet.
  • And he’s not really pushing her. He knows that she’s had a rough time since her mom left a few months ago, and he hasn’t wanted to ruin his friendship with her. It’s fine. He can wait. 
  • He’s at the track one day, months later, practicing with a few of his buddies when he gets a phone call from Annabeth’s dad. He frowns, pulling it up to his ear to answer and thinking that he was lucky that he had his phone in his hand. 
  • Percy feels sick to his stomach as he listens to Dr. Chase explain what’s going on. He knew that Annabeth’s dad was away for a conference this weekend, but now–

Keep reading

Understanding Love

Lily Evans and how she came to believe in love

LilyEvans did not believe in love.

Davey Gudgeon said he loved his girlfriend who went to Beauxbatons. They only saw each other during holidays, but they wrote constantly and Davey would talk about her whenever the opportunity arose. Davey was known to steer the conversation in such a way that he could talk about her. Davey Gudgeon said he loved his girlfriend, who was ‘the one’ and after graduation they would be married. He told Lily all this just minutes before he pressed himself against her on the common room lounge. As Lily kissed him back, she tried to understand how you could love someone but still want to actively seek comfort in others.

Dorcas Meadowes claimed she was in love with her boyfriend who was in the year above them. Between classes they would slip away down deserted hallways and everyone knew that unless you wanted to be scarred for life you would avoid said hallways at all costs. During dinners they would sit next to each other and lean together in hushed voices, giggling and smiling like no one else was around. Sometimes, late at night, Dorcas would tiptoe back into their dorm. Sometimes Lily would hear her crying herself to sleep. Dorcas slowly began to wear scarves and jumpers as the weather got warmer and their relationship became more intense. The bruises weren’t ones of love and yet Dorcas still claimed to be in love. Lily didn’t understand how you could love someone and want to hurt them so bad to leave permanent scars. She didn’t understand how you could love someone who made you cry more than they made you smile.

Mrs. Evans declared her love for her boss over dinner one night. Her husband had already left, already knowing that her love was no longer directed at him. Mrs. Evans would stay up late on the phone, even though she had just spent the whole day with her boss. Mrs. Evans would bring him home for dinners every now and then, forcing her two daughters to get to know him. Lily didn’t understand how you could love a man, like her father, for so many years and then so easily change your mind. Lily didn’t understand how you could fall out of love for man who was sweet and hardworking to falling into love with someone who was harsh and spoilt.

Lily Evans didn’t believe in love.

Lily Evans was a popular girl, she was well aware of that fact. She went through boys quickly but quietly, never anything serious enough that people talked too much but nothing anything too casual that people judged her. She was a hardworking student, a friendly person and could also make any situation hilarious. People liked Lily Evans.

And yet, every boy Lily found herself with she couldn’t help but worry. There was no spark, nothing that caused her blood to boil inside of her like books said, her mind didn’t go blank like she kept continuously expecting it to when you kissed a good looking boy. Each time she found herself either only finding it fun or sometimes even boring; each time she wondered what was wrong with her.

Remus Lupin sat in silence when she finally admitted that she felt nothing at all when kissing a cute boy; shouldn’t you feel something? He suggested kissing girls. She considered it and even though it was an interesting concept, she could tell that wasn’t it.

Lily knew she could feel that way. She had felt it on rare occasions. Like when Severus had hugged her so tight when her father left, she felt like everything inside of her was complete. It hadn’t been a hug of romance but in that small moment, Lily wondered if that was what love felt like.

When she first kissed a boy, she had felt those butterflies the movies always claimed existed. James Potter had been her secret crush since second year and when in third year she was dared to kiss him; it had been everything she had wanted. Those butterflies she had all those years ago, gave her hope that the next boy she kissed would bring them back.

Severus never gave her butterflies and although there were days when she missed his hugs, she had already accepted that wasn’t love.

So while she hoped loved existed, she still didn’t believe in it.

Then seventh year happened. Lily Evans was partnered up with James Potter to be heads of the school. Being in close proximity to him would set her on edge, she could feel every air particle that separated them, she could sense when he was about to move slightly whether to run a hand through his hair or to cross his arms over his chest. When they would sit together in their own personal common room, she would laugh so hard her stomach hurt even though the joke itself wasn’t that funny. In class, sometimes James would turn around and give her a smile that made her heart thump loudly. There had been a few occasions after that smile, a smile reserved just for her, that she had checked her blood pressure to make sure everything was okay.

After a while, somehow their hands would find each other while walking from class to class. Sometimes, Lily would find herself leaning against him during breakfast. Occasionally, James would hug her from behind while she was in a conversation with someone else and instead of throwing him off like she would’ve done in the past; she would lean back and place her arms over his. During Quidditch, whenever Gryffindor scored a point, James would fly straight to Lily just for a high five.

Slowly Lily began to believe in love.

Love wasn’t something you messed around with. You didn’t fool around with a stranger when you loved another. Harming someone couldn’t be excused with “loving them too much”. You couldn’t just fall out of love so easily for no reason.

Lily Evans was pretty sure she knew what love was. Love was in James’ eyes when he shook his head after she told a horrible joke. Love was looking at James from a distance and knowing everything was okay. Love was when James tightened Lily’s scarf to protect her from the harsh, cold winds. Love was when James gave Lily his coat even though he was equally as cold as her. Love was when Lily convinced him to share the coat, awkwardly fumbling around trying to fit the two of them at once. Love was when James finally got the courage to ask Lily out. Love was what Lily felt at night when James was wrapped around her and giving her butterflies that seemed to never die.

Love was simply James.

And that was something Lily could believe in.

Dr. Daddy - Luke

“Hi! Can you do a daddy 5sos one where the kids are teenagers & they wake up at night feeling sick & 5sos spends the night taking care of them until the kids finally fall asleep? Please?”

“Can you do a daddy 5sos where the kids are teenagers maybe like 13-16ish & they get REALLY sick like they’ve never gotten t hat sick before but the dad doesn’t have a lot of stuff in the house so he has to run out to get like medicine or soup and stuff but he doesn’t wanna leave the kid home alone so he takes them and stuff goes terribly wrong at the store and then they get home and it gets even worse? Like maybe they throw up at the store or in the car or something like that? Please?”

A/N: I had to reach a little bit for this one, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! This was really fun to write. Just like with some of my other prompts, these will be posted individually over the next few days. This is the first one, and after tomorrow, the others can be found on my masterlist! xx

Kayla Hemmings did not get sick. So when she woke up in the late hours of the night with a sore throat, she attempted to ignore it and go back to sleep. But she kept waking up, because her nose was so stopped up she couldn’t breathe through her nose, but breathing through her mouth hurt her raw throat.

When 3:30 AM came around, the young teen decided she couldn’t take it anymore. Pitifully, the fourteen year old stood on weak legs, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders before shuffling out of her room and down the hall to where she knew her dad was sleeping. As much as she wished she could wake you, Kayla knew there wasn’t much you could do from Los Angeles, where you were presenting a research project to the leaders of your company’s board.

Keep reading

Baby's Here

anonymous said: could you do a blurb of harry and Y/N at a prenatal appointment where they find out its a girl but they keep it a secret from everyone even their families and the boys and then flip to a few months later where you introduce everyone to your little baby girl

A/N: I completely forgot about this one and then rushed to finish it so my apologies for any mistakes/suckiness

“You’re making me nervous,” you said, holding your hand over your stomach. You were sat in a cold, white doctor’s office, waiting for the nurse to come and check your vitals. Harry had been pacing since you got here - in the waiting room and now in the examination room. Today was the day you found out the sex of the baby.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, stopping in his tracks. “I’m just so-”

“I know,” you said, cutting him off. “Me too.” You nervously chewed on your bottom lip.

Keep reading

supernaturallynoble  asked:

dean cas 38

“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

Castiel is a good brother; always has been. Growing up, whatever his siblings needed, he was willing to give: a dollar for a candy bar (Gabriel), a ride to the library (Anna), Someone to sing the harmony on Disney songs (Hannah), an alibi (Gabriel again). Castiel was always willing to help because that is what good big brothers do.

Emergency labor coach though… that was a new one.

“Thank you for doing this, Castiel,” Hannah mutters, coming down from a contraction. Castiel smiles at her warmly and hands her a cup of ice chips.

“Of course, Hannah,” He says. “I talked to mom and dad a little while ago. They said they are almost through Missouri. They should probably be here in a few hours.” Hannah nods and lays back against the pillow.

“Any word from Charlie?” She asks. Castiel had been trying to text Hannah’s girlfriend for close to two hours with no response. No one had expected her to go into labor three weeks early, especially not Charlie. This business trip was supposed to be the last before the baby’s arrival.

“Not yet,” Castiel sighs sadly. He opens his mouth to say something else when there is a soft knock on the door frame. As soon Castiel turns to see who it is, his eyes widen.

“Hi, can I come in?” A handsome guy with short, light brown hair dressed in seafoam green scrubs steps into the room. “I’m Dean. I’m going to be your nurse for the evening. Let’s see…” he grabs Hannah’s chart from the end of the bed. “Ms. Novak… Can I call you Hannah?”

“That’s fine,” she answers. Dean looks at Castiel.

“And you must be daddy?” he says. Castiel’s jaw drops and Hannah laughs loudly.

“No, no, this is my brother, Castiel,” Hannah clarifies. “He’s acting as my hypnobirth coach.” Dean smiles warmly.

Keep reading

Moved on/closed AU

He woke up in the middle of the night, looking up at the kind nurse with her pink scrubs. She was humming to herself as she fixed his drip bag, routine as usual. Then she turned to look at him, her face dropping a bit. Her eyes widened, her mouth hung open as she checked his heart rate and blood pressure. She turned, nearly tripping as she went to call the doctor.

He looked around as his body started to wake, looking for anyone in his room. He was all alone, but where was Matt?


in-spirational  asked:

cs au- doctor!killian & patient!emma

A/N: I’m 150% sure this is not exactly what you had in mind, but this is what my muse came up with. I hope you like it anyway! 

When Dr. Killian Jones walks into his newest patient’s hospital room, she is nothing like he expects. He is floored instantly, not just because she’s undeniably beautiful — and she is, she’s got these eyes that he can’t help but stare into, and everything about her seems to glow— but because she’s so young. 

He admits that he hasn’t read her file yet, because she’s the twentieth patient he’s had in the last four hours and he’s exhausted, but he still feels guilty. He should have read the file, he should have known more about her before he walked into the room, because he realizes he’s been staring at her for nearly ten full seconds. 

“I’m Doctor Jones,” he says, trying to get ahold of himself, and he holds out his hand for her to shake. 

She’s staring at him warily, and it’s a few seconds before she shakes his hand. He desperately tries to ignore the spark he feels at her touch, knowing that this is absolutely not the time or the place.

Keep reading