"Madoka... is that what you want? Even if I don't remember you ever again? How am I gonna know you're there when I can't even feel you standing next to me anymore?!"
May-lancholy 2025 Prompt Day 1 - "Don't leave me here."
Blown Away - Amelia Shepherd x Reader (Grey’s Anatomy)
requested: Hey, can I please request Amelia Shepherd dating Meredith Grey's sister (reader), who is a part of the BAU (FBI) and is best friends with Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan? (Maybe they're out on a case and something goes wrong and reader has to go to the hospital?) (Also can there be some fluffy content with Amelia like wearing reader FBI jacket around there apartment?) - anon
a/n: it’s been a WHILE that this has been in my inbox but i thought this would be a good time to use it! hoping to keep up with the month prompts but we shall see - for now, enjoy! (all medical langugae from heavy google sessions plus good old grey’s anatomy watching, will probs be wrong!)
cw: surgery, explosion
summary: Y/N Grey, part of the famous Grey family and member of the FBI’s BAU, is dating Amelia Shepherd. After a dangerous mission, Y/N is injured and rushed to the hospital. She’s surrounded as she recovers.
Part of Mayloncholy 2025: Day One, “Don’t leave me here.” of @may-lancholy
The radio alarm blared to life, the sharp voice of the morning news anchor cutting through the stillness of your bedroom like a knife.
You groaned, face still buried in the pillow. “Yeah, okay, I get it,” you muttered hoarsely, blindly reaching out to smack the snooze button. The volume only seemed to get louder. “Stop...” You grumbled out.
Eventually, the noise ceased, and silence trickled back into the room. You turned over slowly, arm reaching instinctively across the bed, expecting to pull Amelia into your chest for one of those soft, sleepy forehead kisses you’d grown to crave.
But your hand met only cold sheets.
You frowned, eyes cracking open despite the early hour. The bed was empty. Her side was still rumpled, but the chill there told you she hadn’t made it to bed last night. Your heart sank a little. You hoped she hadn’t been pulled into another marathon surgery. The last one had left her running on fumes for days.
With a reluctant sigh, you peeled yourself from the warmth of the comforter before you could be tempted back under. The light under the door caught your attention - faint and yellow from the living room lamp.
“Amelia?” you called softly, your voice still rough with sleep.
Padding barefoot across the cool wooden floor, you nudged the door open.
And there she was.
Asleep on the couch, still fully dressed in her scrubs, half-wrapped in the thick fleece throw you’d given her for Christmas last year. One foot hung off the edge of the cushion, her face slack with exhaustion, mouth slightly parted in a quiet snore.
Your chest ached with a mixture of affection and concern.
You walked over quietly and sat beside her, careful not to wake her too roughly. The dip in the cushion stirred her, and her eyes fluttered open in a start, panic there for a brief second before recognition settled in.
You gave her a small smile, lacing your fingers with hers. “Good morning, trouble.”
She blinked at you, disoriented, brows furrowed. “Wha—?”
“You never came to bed,” you said gently, brushing a few stray hairs out of her eyes.
She groaned, stretching under the blanket. “I just… laid down for a minute. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Her voice was scratchy. You could tell from her face that she hadn’t meant to worry you.
You smoothed the blanket back over her shoulders. “I figured. Long shift?”
“Busy.” She sighed and brought your hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “I didn’t even notice how tired I was.”
You nodded toward the bedroom. “Come on, my love. The bed’s still warm.”
With a little coaxing and a sleepy laugh, she climbed onto your back, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and legs around your waist.
“I should stay up,” she mumbled into your hair. “I’ve got emails to answer… maybe even laundry-”
“Nope.” You cut her off, adjusting your grip so she wouldn’t slip. “You’re going back to sleep. There’s lunch in the fridge and fresh clothes by the shower.”
“Mmm, overachiever,” she sighed contentedly.
You ducked through the doorframe, careful not to bump her legs, and lowered her gently onto the bed. She immediately burrowed under the covers, eyes fluttering shut even as she reached for you.
“I love you,” she whispered, her hand brushing your neck before falling back to the sheets.
You adjusted the comforter again, tucking her in like you had when she was sick last winter. “Rest up, okay?”
She tugged you down for one more kiss, this time lingering longer, noses brushing, her warmth anchoring you for a moment.
“Don’t go just yet.”
It almost worked. You hesitated, watching the curve of her shoulder as she sank into the bed, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her fingers refused to let go of yours completely. But eventually, you had to pull away.
“I’m sorry. I really have to get to work.”
She frowned, soft and small. “I miss you,” she admitted, catching your hand again and squeezing.
“I know,” you said gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m right here.”
Her eyes flitted away. “I know,” she repeated, quieter this time.
“I love you,” you murmured.
“Love you too. Have a good day,” she mumbled, already curling into the blankets.
As you shut the door behind you, a small unease settled in your stomach - not quite a worry, but something quieter, heavier. You’d been through worse together. Opposite shifts were nothing compared to what you’d already survived.
Still, the way she said ‘I miss you’ stuck with you.
You made a mental note to come home early if you could. Maybe cook dinner. Maybe just… be there.
She’d always been your home.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You rushed through the bullpen, weaving between desks with coffee in one hand and a crumpled paper bag in the other, muttering curses under your breath. The weather had been a nightmare with rain coming down in sheets and traffic had decided to stage a small-scale apocalypse. You’d thought a quick detour for caffeine and a pastry might make the morning more tolerable.
Timewise? Not your best decision. But emotionally? Worth it.
From across the room, a voice rang out like a cannon. “Well, damn. Is that Y/N Grey actually gracing us with her presence?”
You didn’t even have to look up to recognize the booming sarcasm of Derek Morgan. He was already halfway across the floor, grinning.
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start, guys.”
He clutched his chest dramatically. “Start? You’ve been missing for,” he paused to check an imaginary watch, “fourteen minutes! We were about to put out an Amber Alert.”
“Oh, hilarious,” you deadpanned, brushing past him.
Just then, Emily Prentiss rounded the corner with the perfect flair of timing. She gasped as if she were genuinely shocked. “No. It can’t be. Y/N Grey? Walking? Talking? Existing in physical form?”
You were already mid-eye-roll before she even finished.
“I’m literally ten minutes late. You two need hobbies.”
Dropping your bag beside your desk, you collapsed into your chair with the defeated sigh of someone who already regretted getting out of bed. Emily perched on the corner of your desk like a cat in observation mode, while Derek leaned over the back of your chair, clearly not finished.
“She distracted you this morning, didn’t she?” he teased.
You didn’t need to ask who she was.
“Shut up,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.
Emily smirked and started leafing through one of your files. “I mean, if I had the hot doc waiting for me in bed, I’d never show up to work either.”
You snatched the folder back and tossed it unceremoniously on top of the disorganized stack on your desk. “When exactly did we form a torment-Y/N club?”
“Roughly the minute you fell for someone hotter and smarter than you,” Derek grinned.
You tried to tuck your chair in, but it didn’t budge. You turned to glare at him. “Derek, are you literally pinning my chair down with your body weight?”
He gave you a smug look. “That’s what being late gets you. Public humiliation and mild physical restraint.”
You yelped as he swatted playfully at the back of your head, and the two of them erupted into laughter.
“I’d hate to see what you do if I was thirty minutes late.”
Emily leaned back with an innocent smile. “Oh, that’s when we start psychoanalyzing your childhood.”
“And if you hit the one-hour mark…” Derek trailed off as he walked back toward his desk, “...we go full character assassination. No mercy.”
“You do that every day anyway!” you called after him.
Before either of them could volley back, JJ’s voice floated out from the open office door.
“Hey, team? Let’s move. We’ve got a case. It’s local.”
You, Derek, and Emily all exchanged the same tired glance.
“Do they ever let us breathe?” you groaned. “I’ve got, like, a mountain of paperwork to catch up on.”
JJ offered a small shrug, almost apologetic. “Look at it this way, you got here just in time.”
You exhaled heavily and reached for your coat again. “Great. Guess I should call Amelia and let her know it’s another sleepover with my bulletproof vest.”
“Call her on the road,” Derek said as he passed you, tossing you a smirk. “Maybe she’ll forgive you faster if you sound breathless and heroic.”
You chuckled, despite yourself. “Unfortunately, she’s used to the hero complex by now.”
You followed him out of the bullpen, phone already halfway to your ear. Amelia’s number was the first on your screen, always. And as you waited for her to pick up, you reminded yourself: the job might pull you away, but at the end of it, she’d still be home.
And that was everything.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
“There’s nothing! How is there nothing?” Derek shouted, slamming his hand down on the hood of the SUV in frustration after a fruitless search of the Unsub’s property.
“Hey, we found a dog. I’m calling that a small win,” you called out from a few meters away, crouched beside a shaggy black mutt whose tongue was lolling out as he gazed up at you like you hung the moon.
Derek turned toward you. “How about this... try not to get so distracted next time?” he said, his tone sharp with sarcasm.
You hummed, unbothered. “I think Amelia and I should adopt a dog.”
Emily snorted as she approached, sliding her gun back into its holster. “Whoa, slow down. Everyone knows the only step after adopting a dog is proposing.”
You let out a dramatic groan. “You two are insufferable.”
Derek grinned. “And maybe this is your way of saying that you do want to propose?” He arched an eyebrow, “As long as I’m the maid of honour of course,” he added, bending to scratch the dog behind the ears.
Emily raised a brow and laughed. “Please. She’d pick me.”
“Hell no,” Derek scoffed, turning to you. “You wouldn’t… right?”
You paused, biting your lip. “She might not say yes.”
“Of course she’ll say yes,” Emily said without hesitation.
Before you could respond, Hotch’s voice cut through the air. “Let’s wrap it up. We’ll reassess back at base.”
Emily, of course, wasn’t done. “Wait, you’re really thinking of proposing?”
“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug, but your voice softened. “I love her. A lot.”
“Lock her down before she figures out what a softie you are,” Derek teased.
You ignored him, stroking the dog under its chin. “You’re cute, huh? I think Amelia would love you.”
“Y/N!” Derek called.
You sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
“You know you can’t adopt every stray you find,” Emily said with a grin.
“Watch me.”
“Place the dog... on the ground.”
“Fine,” you muttered, setting the dog gently back on the ground. As you turned to usher him toward the house he probably wandered from, something in the upper window caught your eye. A flicker of movement. A curtain, shifting.
Your body stilled. “Hey... did anyone else see that?”
“What?” Derek asked, already halfway back to the SUV.
“That window. Top floor, two from the left.” You pointed. “The curtain just moved. Someone’s up there.”
Derek sighed. “We cleared that house top to bottom. It’s empty.”
“I know, but… I saw something.”
“One more sweep?” Emily offered.
“Wouldn’t hurt.” You started back toward the house, more alert now. Your hand instinctively dropped to your sidearm.
“Y/N, wait up,” Derek called, jogging to catch up.
“Hurry up, slowpokes,” you shouted back, picking up the pace. “I swear to God, if we lose someone because you two are dragging your feet, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?”
“I don’t know, but it’ll be super fucking annoyi-”
You didn’t finish.
A deafening rip shattered the air, and the ground beneath you exploded. You didn’t feel the blast before it threw you backward - but you definitely felt the landing. The jarring, shattering collapse. The rain of debris. The weight. The dust.
You couldn’t breathe.
Panic clawed at your chest as you gasped, desperate for air. Your hearing was warped, muffled like cotton in your ears, but you could still make out Derek’s voice in the distance.
“Y/N!”
Your radio crackled with urgency. Officer down.
You blinked. Someone was down. Who? Was someone hurt? You couldn’t think properly.
You heard Hotch’s voice cutting through the chaos. “Derek, stop! There could be a second blast!” But it was too late, Derek was already there, sliding into your line of sight. Your mouth opened but no words came. Just wheezing.
“Y/N,” he breathed, his hands cradling your head with a kind of desperation. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
“Der—” You barely choked it out.
“I’m here. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
Emily appeared beside him, horror flooding her expression.
“Don’t—” you croaked, torn between not wanting either of them near any kind of danger but also craving their presence.
“You’re okay,” Derek whispered again. “Just stay with me.”
The fear overwhelmed you and you decided you just wanted them, needed them to keep you safe, “Please… don’t leave me here,” you gasped, voice cracked and barely audible.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Not if you stay with me, too.”
“I-” You didn’t finish the thought. You didn’t have the breath.
“Y/N, stay with me. Just breathe.”
“I’m okay, it’s...” You looked at Emily. “Em… I’m okay,” you tried to promise, voice rasping.
“The ambulance is on its way,” she said softly, her hand finding yours. “Just breathe. That’s all you need to do.”
“Amelia,” you rasped, mind flashing to your girlfriend. “Call her. You have to call Amelia.”
“I’m already on it,” Emily said, pressing her comm.
“The dog… is the dog okay?” You winced as you tried to look around. Pain radiated through your ribs.
A sharp bark rang out across the lawn, high-pitched, frantic. You couldn’t see the dog, but the sound cut through the fog in your brain like a thread tethering you to something real.
“That enough of an answer?” Derek said, voice cracking with emotion as he tried to keep things light. His hands were covered in dust and blood, your blood, and they trembled where they held your head steady. “You’re lying in rubble, and you’re asking about the damn dog.”
You tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’ve…” You gasped, chest seizing. “I’ve had worse.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said, barely above a whisper. You saw it in his eyes, the fear, the helplessness he rarely showed. “You doing okay?”
“Y/N?” Emily’s voice came in tight, controlled, but barely hanging on.
“Yeah, I’m... just-” Your voice broke off into another pained wheeze, and this time the fear wasn’t just in their eyes. It was in yours, too. Your vision swam. The world blurred at the edges.
“Stop. Don’t talk. Just breathe,” Emily said urgently, crouching at your side, her hand wrapping tightly around yours like an anchor. “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”
You looked between them, struggling to find air, to find words. “Derek…”
“I’m here.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’m right here.”
Shouts echoed from the road. Boots pounded against pavement. Gravel scattered.
“Careful with her!” someone yelled as medics rushed in, their voices sharp, movements efficient but frantic.
Hands were on you now, checking your pulse, cutting away fabric, pressing gauze to your side. One of them was talking into a radio. “Female agent, multiple contusions, possible internal-”
The rest faded. Your hearing was pulsing in and out again like the rise and fall of the tide.
Emily leaned in, brushing hair from your face, her fingers shaking. “We’re right behind you, okay? We’re coming. Just hang on.”
The pain wasn’t sharp anymore. It was a dull, deep, blooming pain like ink spreading through your veins. You could feel the weight of it in your chest, your limbs going numb.
Your eyes fluttered, and behind them, a face formed - not Emily’s, not Derek’s.
Amelia.
The curve of her smile. The sound of her laugh. The warmth of her body curled into yours on quiet mornings. The way she said your name like it meant something.
Even as the pain surged, even as your blood stained the grass beneath you, the thought of her was the only thing that kept you grounded.
Hold on, you thought.
You had to get back to her.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
“Meredith.”
“I’ve got two minutes, Amelia, max - I’ve got a consult in Room-”
“Meredith.” Amelia’s voice cracked, cutting through the sterile rhythm of the hospital like a fault line.
Meredith froze. The hallway outside the OR suddenly felt louder - footsteps, intercom buzz, machines whirring behind closed doors.
Amelia swallowed, breath caught in her throat. “It’s Y/N.”
Meredith’s face fell instantly. “No.”
“I just got a call. From her team.”
“No.” Louder this time, more desperate. As if saying it twice might rewind the universe.
“She was hurt,” Amelia whispered. “Badly. In the field.”
“No. No, she-” Meredith took a step back. “She’s okay. She... what happened?”
“There was an explosion, and she-” Amelia blinked rapidly. “I- I paged Bailey. Because she’s the best. They’re bringing her here. The whole team is already on their way.”
Meredith’s mind started racing, already calculating. Blast radius. Internal trauma. Time of arrival. What she’d need to ask. What she couldn’t afford to know.
“She’s not...” Meredith’s voice faltered. “She’s okay though, right? You asked. You know?”
“I- I don’t know.” Amelia cried out, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. “Something about shrapnel. And blood. She couldn’t breathe, and- I didn’t get more, I just... I panicked.”
“You didn’t ask for more details?” Meredith’s voice came sharp, too sharp, too scared. “You didn’t-”
“I didn’t know what to ask! I just- I can’t think, Meredith.” A silence stretched between them, thick with the kind of fear that leaves no room for air.
Meredith took a shaky breath. “Okay. It’s Y/N. She’s strong. She’s stubborn as hell.”
“I saw her this morning. And she was smiling.”
“She’s going to be smiling again.”
“I love her,” Amelia said, and it came out like a confession, like saying it made the possibility of losing her even more unbearable. “What if-”
“No.” Meredith’s tone turned. Steel beneath the grief. “We don’t go there. She needs us. We show up.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Well, get ready.” Meredith took Amelia’s hand, squeezing it hard. “We don’t lose her.”
Amelia’s eyes were wide, unfocused, filled with tears that hadn’t yet fallen. “We can’t.”
“We won’t.” Meredith’s voice shook, but she held firm. “Come on, Amelia. Come on, Y/N. Please, just hang on.”
They stood together in that hallway - two surgeons, two sisters, two women trying not to shatter under the weight of love and fear.
And still holding hands.
Waiting for the ambulance doors to open.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
“I’m staying with her,” Amelia said immediately, arms crossed and voice firm, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her.
Teddy Altman didn’t even hesitate. “You’re not. I’m sorry, but no one is allowed in the OR who isn’t scrubbed in and vital to this surgery.”
Amelia stepped forward, fists clenched. “I am vital. I’m her-”
“I am staying with her,” Derek interrupted, barreling into the hallway in a swirl of panic, breathless from sprinting through the hospital. His eyes locked on Teddy, wild and pleading. Her eyes were quickly drawn to his FBI jacket and she sighed.
“Sir,” Teddy said firmly, holding up a hand, “I understand you care, but this is a sterile surgical procedure and I cannot-”
“Are you working on Y/N’s surgery?” he snapped, cutting her off.
“Yes, I’m leading-”
“Then I’m coming with you,” he said again, resolute.
Teddy's jaw tightened, clearly fighting to stay calm. “I cannot have any of you distracting me. I need focus. She’s critical. This is already... this is already tight.”
“You’re wasting time,” Meredith snapped. “Every second we stand here, she’s bleeding out.”
“I can’t operate with all of you staring at me from the scrub room like ghosts at a funeral,” Teddy said, her voice trembling with contained stress. “She’s not just another patient. She’s... her. And I can’t lose her either. It’s... I just can’t.”
“Teddy,” Meredith tried again, softer now.
“No.”
“Please,” Meredith begged, her voice cracking, “She’s my sister.”
Teddy faltered, her eyes flicking over to Amelia, who hadn’t said another word but was trembling like she’d fall apart if someone breathed too hard. "It’s just you’re... she’s-”
“My partner,” Amelia whispered. “She’s mine.”
The silence pulsed like a second heartbeat in the hallway.
Teddy closed her eyes briefly, then nodded. “Fine. Both. Outside the OR. You do not come inside. You will be updated first, I swear.”
“And me.” Derek stepped up.
“Fine,” Teddy snapped. “But do not interfere. Not one word through that intercom. I need silence.”
Derek nodded, “I wasn’t asking. I was always coming.”
“I don’t care who you are,” Teddy said, her voice steel. “Don’t get in my way. Let me save her.”
Bailey appeared behind them, surgical gown already on, clipboard in hand. “X-rays just came through. If we’re going to do this, we move now.”
They all surged forward, rushing toward the OR. No more talking. Only action.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Teddy stood over Y/N’s body under the harsh overhead lights. She looked small beneath the sterile drapes, wires and leads tracing lines across her chest. The monitors were too loud, too fast, every beep was a reminder of how little time they had.
“We need to be precise,” Teddy said to the room. Her voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of tension. “This is a high-risk trauma. These are our people involved. Let’s do this right.”
Bailey nodded, already scrubbing in beside her. “Vitals?”
“Blood pressure’s 85 over 45, heart rate 128 and rising,” called out the nurse.
Teddy looked over at the trauma imaging on the overhead monitor. “Blast injury from an IED. The pattern of the fragments suggests high-velocity shrapnel. There’s a piece lodged close to the anterior wall of the left ventricle, dangerously close to breaking through.”
“She was wearing a vest, but it failed to protect the lower torso,” Bailey added, flipping through the trauma report. “There’s also a liver laceration and a closed femur fracture on the left side.”
“Priority has to be cardiac,” Teddy said. “That fragment moves even a millimeter- we risk myocardial rupture. We need to move forward without cardiac bypass if possible.”
“Can you get in without opening the pericardium completely?” Bailey asked.
“I think so. I need minimal movement. Set up suction and be ready to assist.” Teddy flexed her hand and took a deep breath.
“Understood.” Bailey turned to the circulating nurse. “Two units of O-neg, now. Prep for emergency thoracotomy. I’ll handle the abdomen.”
Teddy nodded. “Let’s get her stabilised.”
Bailey made her first incision in the right upper quadrant, voice calm but focused. “Liver’s bleeding. Packing now. Let’s get some gauze in here.”
“BP’s creeping up. Ninety over fifty,” someone said from anesthesia. “She’s responding to fluids.”
“Hold pressure on that gauze. Let’s see if it holds.”
The room buzzed with quiet urgency... until the monitor suddenly flatlined.
The tone changed instantly.
“V-tach!” someone shouted. “No pulse!”
“Everyone stop,” Teddy shouted. “Charging to 200. Clear the field.”
“Clear.”
Y/N’s body jumped as the defibrillator delivered the shock.
“Still no rhythm. Recharging.”
“Clear.”
After the second shock, the line flickered.
“She’s back. Weak but stable.”
Teddy exhaled, but didn’t pause. “We don’t get a third shot. I’m going in for the shrapnel.”
“I’ve got the liver packed,” Bailey confirmed. “Bleeding’s slowing but still present.”
Teddy adjusted the retractor carefully, guiding her hands into the thoracic cavity. “Suction.”
A moment of tense silence passed as everyone focused on her movements.
“There it is,” she murmured. “Anterior to the pericardium, adjacent to the ventricular wall. It’s not embedded.”
“Any penetration?” Bailey asked.
“No obvious breach. No active bleeding. I’m lifting it. Steady... steady-”
The suction whirred. The room held its breath.
“Got it.”
Monitors stabilized.
“BP’s holding at 100 over 70. Heart rate normalizing.”
Teddy glanced up at the wall clock, then back down. “Let’s close. Keep an eye on that chest tube output post-op.”
Bailey nodded and only as the final sutures were placed did Teddy allow herself a breath.
“She’s stable, for now.”
Bailey glanced toward the scrub room. “Let’s get her to recovery before those two kick the door down.”
Behind the glass, Amelia’s hands were braced against the window, eyes unblinking. Meredith stood beside her, jaw clenched, arms wrapped tight around her chest. Derek stood against the opposite wall, a grim look on his face.
“They’re going to be glued to her bedside,” Teddy muttered, almost to herself.
“And the FBI,” Bailey added with a wry smile. “Don’t forget the feds.”
Teddy gave a tired nod. “Alright. Let’s move her. We’re not losing her.”
“Not today,” Bailey agreed, peeling off her gloves.
The room slowly began to move again.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
Warm light spilled through the curtains, leaving long golden stripes across the bed. The room smelled faintly of clean laundry and the trace of coffee that had long since gone cold. You stirred against the pillow, slow and sore, muscles stiff from healing. Beside you, Amelia’s arm lay draped lightly over your waist, fingers twitching as she blinked awake.
“Good morning,” she murmured, voice low and husky.
You turned your head toward her, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Hi.”
For a moment, neither of you moved. You just watched each other, the weight of the past week still humming beneath the silence.
“I don’t think we’ve woken up together in a long time,” Amelia said quietly.
“Not without one of us having to run off to work,” you agreed, eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her hair stuck up on one side.
She nodded, shifting slightly closer. “I could get used to this. To you. Every morning.”
“Oh yeah?” you teased, voice scratchy from sleep and healing lungs.
“Yes,” she said, with a seriousness that made your chest ache. “You are very, very beautiful. I’m a lucky woman.”
You raised a brow. “Even with all the fresh scars?”
She reached up to gently brush your hair back from your forehead. “Hmm. I love you in every way. I just wish you weren’t hurting.”
You went to sit up, wincing at the pull in your ribs.
“Careful,” she said immediately, her hand bracing your back. “You’re still healing.”
“I’m okay,” you breathed. “I just wanted you right here.”
“You have me,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “You always will.”
You tilted your head. “Day off?”
“Yeah. Swapped my shift.” She grinned and sat up, revealing the oversized black FBI jacket wrapped around her small frame. It nearly swallowed her. “I’ve already cooked breakfast in bed for us, did three loads of laundry, and cleaned the bathroom. Plus a little nap as a treat for the past half hour or so.”
You blinked at her. “It’s not even 8.”
“I am... unstoppable,” she said proudly.
“And slightly terrifying.” You shook your head, amused. “You didn’t have to do all that. You should rest too.”
She shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep too easily. I was worried about you.”
“When did you get up?”
“Not long ago,” she lied easily, brushing it off. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you were still here.”
“I’m still breathing,” you said, offering a weak smile.
Her face fell a little. “Don’t joke. Not about that.”
“Sorry.”
She touched your side again, more purposeful this time. “Let me check. Lift your shirt.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Amelia rolled her eyes as she sat up, her fingers were gentle as she examined the healing incision. Her touch was clinical at first, but lingered slightly at your hip, grounding you both.
“It’s healing well,” she murmured. “No signs of infection. Sutures are holding.”
You watched her work, calm and precise, the jacket sleeves pushed up to her elbows. “I like watching you when you’re in doctor mode.”
“I’m trying to be serious.”
“I know.” You rested your hand on her knee. “I’m lucky to have you.”
“You are,” she said, but her smile was full of warmth. “very lucky.” She leant down, pressing a kiss to your lips.
“I’m okay, Amelia. You can relax.”
She hesitated, then gave you a look. “And you need to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your everything.”
You leaned forward, brushing your nose to hers. “Okay. So what? Maybe I have a crush on you.”
She grinned. “You lo-o-o-ove me.”
“I love you,” you said, and this time, there was no teasing in your voice.
Her expression stilled. Then she whispered, “I love you too.”
She let her forehead rest against yours for a beat before pulling back. “Stay here. I’ll get the food.”
You appreciated the fact that she was taking such good care of you, but you quickly became bored. You wanted her here, with you, after all you’d been through. You squirmed your way across the bed, pushing yourself up to a sitting position and swinging (and by that, you slowly inched) your legs over the bed and landed your feet on the floor.
You'd made it as far as the wardrobe, wobbling slightly on crutches you definitely didn’t need, by the time she returned. Amelia paused in the doorway, tray in hand, her brows lifting.
“I told you to stay in bed,” she scolded, though her tone was more amused than angry.
“How was I supposed to stay away from you?” you asked, leaning against the furniture for balance.
Amelia rolled her eyes, setting the tray down on the bed-side table. The jacket shifted slightly on her as she moved, it dwarfed her, yet looked somehow perfect. She caught you staring.
“What?” she said, glancing down. “Emily dropped it off yesterday. Along with some stuff from the office. And flowers.”
“You wear it well.”
“She calls me the hot doctor, you know,” Amelia said, smirking.
“I know. And she’s not wrong.”
“I like her even more now.”
You hobbled closer and tugged lightly on the hem of the jacket. “I’ll get you one of your own.”
She shook her head. “This one’s warm now. Smells like you. I’m keeping it.”
You stepped into her space, letting your crutches fall to one side as she caught you. “You’re cute.”
“And you were supposed to stay in bed.” She repeated, clearly aggrieved that you had dared to move, “I was bringing you breakfast in bed.”
“Well, I missed you.”
“You saw me, like, ten minutes ago.”
“I still missed you.”
She looked at you like she might melt, then helped ease you onto a chair. “You had surgery. You can’t just wander around like nothing happened.”
“I know. You don’t have to remind me.”
Her hands, warm and steady, lingered at your waist as she helped you settle. “I’m just scared,” she said softly.
“I know,” you said, wrapping your arms around her waist, careful not to press too close. “But I’m okay.”
She leaned down and kissed the crown of your head, arms tightening slightly. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You are.”
The closer they got to the exit, the more Lumina felt like her feet were turning to lead. But she kept walking, obediently following the nurse without a peep. Though, to be honest, it had been jarring to hear her own voice after being muzzled for so long. Her jaw still ached. Being able to move it felt almost alien now.
She continued to stay silent during the car ride. The nurse didn’t seem to care or notice, her cheery voice filling up the car on its own. If Lumina closed her eyes, she could imagine being back in high school, back in a carpool or something, listening to a friend’s mom telling them stories as she and the others dozed off. Heck, even just watching the scenery fly by was enough to escape for a little while.
But it didn’t last. As familiar trees surrounded them, Lumina hunched in on herself. She felt a weight on her chest. As if someone was trying to suffocate her.
When the car pulled to a stop in front of the base, she whispered, “Please don’t leave me here.”
She knew it was a long shot. That the nurse probably wouldn’t care. And that she could get in trouble with the trio by saying anything.
She just… she had to try.
The nurse gave her a sympathetic pat on her knee. “I know the process is hard, honey.” she said kindly. “But if you give it a chance, you can really turn things around. Give it time, dear.”
Shoulders drooping, Lumina kept her head down as she nodded. She didn’t try to say anything more or to resist as the nurse brought her to the front door.
Thankfully, the nurse said nothing as her words as they went inside and she spoke to Cruella. For that, at least, she could be grateful for.
Fish Out of Water Taglist:
@melpomenelamusa, @elle297382, @iamheretohurt,
May posts on scheduled queue, including times when I'll be asleep or at work, so keep an eye out if you request to be on the taglist but not edited into the scheduled posts yet
I have medical bills coming up. If you like my stuff and/or want to help me out, here's my ko-fi. Any help is appreciated. Bonus, you'd see my future book content, too!
And after a hectic April I've decided to push on and continue with May, not a great start to be a little late.
Familiar Faces - Zach thinks about EJ
Day 1 for @may-lancholy 2025.
possible warning for institutionalization.
---
The first time he had heard it was the first time he visited the hospital with his family.
He was in his teens and little Elijah had just turned seven in the hospital, Zach had asked father if Elijah was well enough to return home with them and the man had just quietly shook his head.
By the end of the visit father had left to speak to a doctor leaving Zach with Elijah.
"Don't leave me here." his little cousin whispered to him as he got up to leave looking up at him with wide pleading eyes.
It was only the first of many, said in different ways but always with the same desperation and pleading over the years.
"Don't leave me here." shouted by the little boy as the several adults pulled him away.
"Please, don't leave me here." asked politely by the older child and met with disappointed frowns from father and the doctors before being pulled away.
"Don't leave me here." slurred the young teen as the drugs took effect before he was carried away.
Zach doesn’t remember the last time he heard it but it was years later when he realised why E.J. stopped saying it.
It wasn’t that he accepted his life locked away or understood why they left him there.
He just grew up to realise they weren’t listening, that it always led to new treatments, not to make him better but to make him better behaved.
When EJ died, killed himself to escape, Zach’s father was dead and he was in control of their family.
He could lie to himself and claim he was protecting EJ from their Uncles, the last thing person he struggled with reality needed was a pair of vampires around but the truth was Zach hadn’t heard him, he had grown up to ignore the words that EJ used to scream to be heard.
The only one keeping EJ institutionalized when he choice death, was him.
It meant EJ’s blood was on his hand and he had to learn to live with that.
This fic contains: slave auction, implied torture.
Edit: (forgot to tag lol) @may-lancholy
They were expecting a wedding invitation at the time, so when a handwritten envelope showed up in their mailbox sealed with wax, they hadn't thought twice about opening it. The paper neatly unfolded to reveal letters embossed with gold. At the top in large bold letters read:
"THE AUCTION BEGINS"
Caretaker's eyes skipped to the end, noticing the large bold signature. It was signed by Whumper, a millionaire from a few towns over.
The address was correct but the name was wrong. Most likely it was meant to be sent to the similarly spelt street on the other side of the town.
Caretaker read the rest and their eyes halted at one word. "Slaves" written inconspicuously in the center of a block of text describing the various property for sale. A chill filled the air. Surely it was just a joke. A joke in bad taste, but still a joke.
Still, a nagging feeling pulled at them, what if it was real? Being unable to dismiss it and unable to fully believe it. Caretaker made the stupid decision to check it out for themselves.
It was amazing how little the rich bothered with security, all it took was showing the invitation and they were in. Gilded halls stretched before them and they tried not to look out of place as they searched.
It had been almost two hours of nothing and Caretaker was ready to dismiss the whole thing and go home. Just...one more door.
The cellar light blinked on and Caretaker froze. Lines of cells filled the walls. Caretaker quickly closed the door behind them and forced themselves to go forward.
Most of them were graciously empty but when Caretaker came across a person their heart shattered.
An emaciated form curled up tightly on the floor, blood stains covering their clothes. It wasn't until Caretaker saw them that they truly accepted it was real. All of it was real.
"Are you okay?" It was a stupid question, but caretaker had no idea what else to say.
The figure turned to look at them. They looked like they wanted to say something but remained silent.
"I'll get you out of here okay? I have a car outside, i just need to get you out of that cell."
The door to the cellar swung open and Caretaker was suddenly face to face with Whumper.
"Getting an early look at the merchandise?"
Caretaker nodded mutely, not trusting themselves to speak. Whumper approached them, following their gaze to the prisoner, who had once again turned away from them and now laid completely still on the floor.
"Ah, i remember training this one, they resisted at first of course. You know how it goes." Whumper laughed. "You'll find them quite obedient now. Isn't that right Whumpee?" The figure nodded. Caretaker had to think quickly.
"Could I get uh, closer, look?" Whumper smiled,
"Of course." The door slid open quickly and Whumpee was pulled to their feet by their shoulder and dragged out to face Caretaker. They pretended to inspect Whumpee as their mind raced trying to come up with an escape plan.
-
Whumpee, for their part, made thier own escape plan. The carkeys hung glittering from Caretaker's belt and Whumpee was not as conditioned as Whumper believed. The moment the grip on their shoulder relaxed they moved. The leapt backward into Whumper, who was knocked back onto the ground momentarily and made a grab for the keys.
Caretaker, unprepared for the outburst, didn't stop whumpee as they ripped the keys from their belt. It took them a second to even try to follow whumpee as they sped through the confused auction attendees.
Whumper didn't take long to get back to their feet. Fury filled them, both at Whumpee and the odd guest who had brought them into the open.
Whumpee found the vehicle soon enough, despite the large parking lot. It was much more beat up than the others and looked like it was held together exclusively by duct tape. Whumpee thought it was the most beautiful car they had ever seen.
Footsteps were coming up behind them, they had to be quick. They unlocked the car and threw themselves inside. Locking the doors. Caretaker ran across the parking lot, pursued by whumper. They saw Whumpee sitting in the drivers seat and their eyes widened.
"Wait! Don't leave me here!" Caretaker cried. Whumpee turned away from them.
"I'm sorry..." they started the engine, driving off as fast as the car could take them.
Drakkon’s expression was one of contemptuous exasperation, much like a weary parent chastising a small child.
“How many times are we to have to do this, Jason? As much as I do so enjoy your feisty disposition, I’m a trifle concerned about your mental state,” he sighed, his long, elegant fingers sliding along the taut muscle in the captive’s thigh. “ I believe there’s a saying about doing the same thing over and over while expecting a different outcome.”
The former Red Ranger wanted to recoil from the fucker’s vile caress, the leather of his white gloves rather pristine for the type of recreational activities he indulged in. Yet the medication was starting to take hold, the intramuscular sedative causing his vision to grow hazy and dim, Drakkon’s voice growing muffled as if underwater. A defiant grunt and shifting of his leg was all Jason could manage.
“Now, now…It must come out, you know. I can’t risk you getting a nasty infection,” the evil dictator scolded. “How many needles have you broken off by being bullishly disobedient? I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve had to fish them out.”
Jason caught the scent of alcohol and felt the coolness of the disinfectant over the stinging place on his left thigh. Drakkon’s grip was firm though his thumb tenderly brushed the bruised flesh as he waited for the area to dry.
He was right. The teen had foolishly resisted every damn time he saw the syringe in the warlord’s hand, even knowing it was futile and would only result in getting hurt worse before the real festivities began. Yet, Jason just couldn’t bring himself to obey this demonic prick…
Drakkon expertly palpated the swollen site where he could just discern the broken end of the hypodermic needle dotting the reddened skin like a small spot of ink. He whistled a tune as he began easing the sharp sliver from Jason’s muscle.
“There we are! I’ve become quite the pro at this by now!”
He tossed the hateful thing into the bag with the empty syringe barrel and gracefully hauled himself to his feet. Jason could still make out the self-satisfied smirk on the tyrant’s haughty face and wished he could pummel the asshole until he was a bloody smear on the gritty stone floor. His chest ached with the rage he felt as he continued to seethe despite the fogginess taking hold.
Drakkon clucked his tongue in admonishment.
“That isn’t very becoming, darling…” he cooed, grinning like a rabid possum. “But don’t worry. I’ve decided to take it upon myself to teach you proper decorum…since you refuse to serve as my battle strategist.”
He turned on his heel, moving to the cell door, boots clipping sharply.
“You should know me well enough now, Jason. I always have a contingency plan. Especially since I knew you’d be so deliciously resistant. Rest assured I won’t be asking how you’d stop me anymore…”
The statement was ominous though Drakkon’s tone was nonplussed. He’d never cared if the former Red Ranger answered his question honestly or not.
‘It didn’t matter because he already knew the answers. He just wanted to torment me…’
Jason’s dry tongue snaked out to lick his cracked lips, his head lolling to the side as he watched Drakkon’s trek towards the door. A primal, childish part of his mind wanted to scream in abject terror especially when the lights clicked off and he was ensconced in darkness once more.
‘Don’t leave me here!’
How long would he be left alone this time? The isolation was tearing at his sanity already, almost more so than the vicious taunting, the sight of himself in the mirror as Drakkon forced him to watch his own torture, the agony of the dagger through his skin, the strap that cracked like fire over his back…
‘He drugged me for a reason…he’ll have to come back before it wears off…’
Jason was taken by surprise when Drakkon’s voice came from the fuzzy square of flickering light, his large frame lounging against the door frame.
“Get your beauty rest, princess. We’ve got so much to look forward to, you and I…”
Mozart l'Opéra Rock Maylancholy Whump Drabbles! :)
I saw the event (Maylancholy by @may-lancholy) a bit late, but I can't resist trying monthly challenges, so I'll try to catch up. Love the prompts <3 I don't know if I will do all 31, maybe, maybe not, but anyway, here comes the first one.
Under the cut, and also on AO3, here.
Day 1: "Don't leave me here."
“Don’t leave me here.”
Words whispered, but slicing through the soft rain like a blade.
Salieri and Mozart, their gazes fixed on one another.
Their faces close, too close – longing glistening in the younger one’s eyes.
Panic arising in Salieri’s face, his own longing rushing back behind his shield.
Sinful, disgusting - learned values vivisecting his heart.
Desire, love - forbidden feelings keeping it beating.
Pain and pleasure, driving him deeper into insanity each day.
An exhale, containing all he cannot say. The reasons why this cannot be.
Tears in Mozart’s eyes, down his cheeks, rivalling the rain.
