#it's not so urgent that i have to be hospitalized or anything but i feel like this episode is just gonna get worse if i don't start

[gloombog]

thinking a lot recently about how being chronically ill as a child must have really fucked with me. i never really thought about it that much in the past but now it's like. i am rotating it in my mind and so on and so forth

[chuluoyi]

✎ throughout heaven and earth

- gojo satoru x reader

a sudden mission. a curse beyond your grade. all hell breaks loose when gojo realizes that there are hidden machinations behind the incident that befalls you

genre: feral!gojo, injured!reader, hurt/comfort, exponential fluff !

note: we need a gojo who will go ballistic against the higher-ups for dragging you in their mess :) refer to this for the reader's CT, and this loosely takes place after the events in heaven's fury, and the epilogue is based on this very brilliant idea :))

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Something isn’t right.

You should’ve known it was strange when they assigned you with a sudden mission with little to no briefing. You should’ve gone through with your gut feeling and informed Satoru about it.

Because if you did... now you wouldn’t be running for your life like this, frantically dodging the hacks and slashes of this chainsaw-like cursed spirit that was evidently not a Grade 2 as what you were told.

“Ah!” you yelped as the sharp ends of its body struck your shoulder, leaving you bleeding openly. This was no small wound—it was deep enough to make you stagger.

You had to do something about this because merely avoiding wouldn’t save your life. You had to come back in one piece. You have to— for your baby and Satoru.

What if I can’t? The sheer thought made you tremble. Your baby boy was still so little and he needed you more than anyone, and Satoru...

God, you couldn’t bear to leave him alone. Not again. He couldn't handle losing someone again, not after all he had already lost.

You gripped your whip—your cursed weapon—tightly amidst your bleeding hand. You had barely enough cursed energy for a domain expansion that guaranteed a sure-hit effect. You have one shot. This was all or nothing.

But you weren’t sure if it would work, because you were on the verge of exhaustion, and this was a special grade curse. Your domain expansion was definitely not as refined as the Satoru’s, and this monster was an enemy of his class.

“Satoru...” your voice came out in a sob. You were terribly scared, and honestly you were entitled to. You weren’t even sure you would survive this at all, and all you could think now was your husband’s silly grin and how much you loved him.

And right afterwards, you saw the cursed spirit lunging at you, and with everything left that you had, you screamed—

“Domain Expansion: Transcendent Veil!”

“Gojo-sensei, p-please come back... Nee-san is...!”

Satoru was in Kyoto when he received that call from Megumi— and that moment shattered his world as he knew it.

“Megumi, what is it?”

“She w-was sent on a mission... but then it's a special grade— a-and... she... she e-exorcised it b-but—!”

He teleported without second thought to Tokyo. His mind was blank, the only sound he could hear was his own violent heartbeats, and his fists were clenched so tightly.

“The cursed spirit got her too… It made a cut on her neck.”

His most precious wife... the one person he must protect at all cost, was now possibly—

“Megumi.” He saw him sitting on the hallway of the headquarters’ hospital the with his son on his lap—you had asked him to look after your baby—and the boy looked up to him.

“Gojo-sensei...” Megumi appeared shaken, and seeing that, Satoru immediately took his child from his hands, pulling the little kid into his embrace.

“Go back home, I’ll stay here.”

In all his life, Megumi had never seen Gojo Satoru as calm as he was now. He looked fearsome, as if he was in the battlefield.

“Ichiji.” Satoru turned to the other man rigidly standing next to Megumi, causing him to stiffen up even more. He didn’t say anything further as he pat his little son’s back, and yet Ichiji knew all the same what he wanted from him.

“It’s from… the higher ups, Gojo-san.” Ichiji gulped as he said it. “Y/N-san was suddenly called in yesterday night, and she was told it was an urgent mission.”

“Who called her?”

“It was…”

When Ichiji told him the name, suddenly Satoru barked a snort, and his lips curled into a manic grin. It was a menacing sight for both Ichiji and Megumi, as he looked almost unhinged if not for his secure grip on his son.

But contrary to what they were thinking, what filled Satoru at that moment was pure, unadulterated fury. A righteous sense of being crossed—because, how fucking dare they?

Those higher ups first pressed him to execute Yuji, and when he paid them no mind… now they staged this atrocity against you, most definitely to serve as a warning to him.

“Ichiji, tell them that I’ll pay a visit tomorrow. And drive Megumi home tonight.”

He would make his point loud and clear. He would show them how wrong it was to ever test him. But…

The plan barely satisfied him. They hurt you. His heart finally lurched as he processed the fact… when he heard his baby’s soft whimper against his shoulder.

. . .

You sustained serious injuries, but finally, you were out of critical condition.

When Satoru was allowed to see you, you were still connected to many monitors and breathing machine. He brought your baby too inside, and upon clearly seeing both of them, suddenly your eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey…” his hand gripped yours reassuringly. You sniffled when the strain of your broken ribs made you almost cry out in pain, and Satoru immediately calmed you down.

“Sweets— hey, don’t cry, yeah? You did good.” He pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “You did freaking good. You’re okay now. You’re going to recover, yeah?”

You gave him a tearful little nod, feeling so grateful that you could see him again. And unbeknownst to you, seeing you like this broke his heart too.

“Mwa...” your baby, cradled in your husband’s arms, suddenly stretched his tiny hands towards you, and Satoru handed him over for you to hold.

With the little strength you possessed, you reached out to stroke his soft cheeks. Your son... the thought of how close you came to death brought another tear rolling down your cheek.

All sort of thoughts went through Satoru’s head at the sight. His wife, the mother of his son, who is proud of him for everything he does—

—and their sorry asses dared to hurt you.

Suddenly all he saw was red.

And he swore he would make it right to you. Soon.

“Ah, Satoru-kun… to what I owe the pleasure?”

“…I’ve heard that it was you who assigned that special grade mission to my wife, correct?”

“Oh, that. First of all, I must apologize for my... oversight. We were misinformed... Our scouts made a mistake while filling the files.”

Satoru was trying not to lose his composure first thing after coming here. Really.

But the knowing tone of the elderly Jujutsu Commander only fueled his rage, growing stronger the longer he stood behind this stupid paper divider.

“So it’s a mistake, huh?” he repeated in a satire manner. “Then do you know that my wife has just gotten out of her maternity leave this week?”

The man behind the divider chuckled quietly. “Satoru-kun… I know the sentiment. Of course you’ll be worried, and it did end in a rather… unfortunate incident. However, jujutsu sorcerers are bound to their duty, and your wife cannot rely too heavily on her status as a member of the Gojo clan to be excluded from—”

Fuck it. He had no patience any longer.

“Seems like I need to be a lot rougher, after all.”

Suddenly the room crackled with electricity and the Jujutsu Commander gasped at the sense of foreboding he felt. “Gojo, you can’t—!”

“Heh, but I can.” He let out the most satisfied laugh before opening his palm and chanting in a lower voice: “Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

In a matter of seconds, the audience chamber of jujutsu headquarters turned into a pile of destruction. The commander barely made it out the deadly vacuum vortex with a shriek.

“Ah! N-no! Get a-away from me!” Satoru stared down at him coldly through his unobstructed heavenly eyes, as he pitifully tried to crawl away. He took one step towards him, stomped on his hand ruthlessly—causing the man to scream, before he got down to his level.

“N-no! Please, s-spare me...!”

“This is my first and last warning to you.” It was beyond terrifying, to see those six eyes in this close proximity. But even more dreadful was the tight chokehold on his throat—

“If you ever try to pull this idiotic stunt again on my wife, know that I can and I will snap your neck.” Satoru’s face split into a sinister grin as he tapped the man’s nape, before he crushed the bones of his hand with a crack and made him howl. “Remember that, yeah?”

. . . that day, none in jujutsu headquarters dared to spread any word about Gojo Satoru’s outrageous conduct, even when it was an attack against their own highest ranking leader.

“Satoru, you don’t have to, really—”

“Nuh, uh! I’ve promised you I’ll nurse you back to health!”

Unaware of anything and everything, you thought that your loving husband was a silly jester trying to make you feel better. On the fifth day of your stay in hospital, you were well enough to eat solid food, and Satoru insisted on spoon feeding you the fruits he cut himself.

“Good girl,” he praised with a wholly playful smile as you chewed on the watermelon. You looked at him with a mock frown, pursing your lips.

“You’re making me look like a kid.”

“You are, in fact, my second kid, so I have all rights to baby you.”

You let out a giggle, but then suddenly your throat felt like it was closing in and you coughed. Instinctively, you reached for your neck— your fingers tracing the scar there.

You still could remember the sense of paralyzing fear you felt as soon as your neck was cut. The heavy bleeding that followed, the way the world blacking out around you…

“Sweets…?” Satoru put down the plate and got a grip on your trembling figure. He gently pushed your chin up to meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. Look at me, hmm?”

Your frantic eyes locked onto his, and your rapid breathing steadied. Your clammy hand reached out to touch his face... before you lunged forward, throwing your arms around him.

“Sweetheart…” Satoru hugged you back in return, sighing against the nape on your neck, as he planted a soft kiss there.

You tried your best not to cry but it was hard not to while remembering everything.

“I-I was so scared…”

“Mhm.”

“I-I kept thinking… w-what if I c-can’t see you… or baby again…? I… I s-still want to do a lot of… things… w-with you…”

The way you shook in his arms like a fragile leaf made something inside him burn. He was supposed to provide you with security, give you a life far removed from curses—

Having left that warning against the higher-ups wasn’t enough, he should’ve made him beg for his life more—

“Listen to me,” Satoru said as he broke the hug, the deep frown in his grave expression made you almost sob. He gently wiped your overflowing tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Stop thinking that. You’re alright. You’re going to get better. You and me—we are going to raise our son together.”

You took in each of his words fully, even as your lips quivered.

“And mark my words…” Right in this moment, you thought that your husband was most dashing as he gave you his promises—as his blue eyes glimmered under the light. “They won’t ever lay their hands on you ever again. Not while I’m here. Not ever. I already made sure of that.”

You were curious about what he did, but you chose not to press further when Satoru leaned in suddenly and brushed his lips against yours in a soft kiss, melting your heart into mush.

When he pulled away, it was his usual teasing grin on his handsome face. “Now, I only have one duty left— that is to get my cute wife back on her feet. So, be a good little wifey and have lots of fruits and sleep, okay?”

You giggled freely this time, feeling tremendously safe and loved, and instead of answering, you chose to peck his lips instead— hoping that he’d know that you trusted him with your whole life.

. . .

“By the way… Satoru, where’s our baby?” you missed your pumpkin, and while being with your funny husband lifted your spirits, you wanted to cuddle him too.

He chuckled in response. “Ah! Since Megumi is on an assignment, I left him with Ichiji earlier! Don’t worry, I’ll come pick him up soon, ‘kay?”

Epilogue

“I’m going out for a bit, and if you ever make him upset or cry… I can and I will sense it! So Ichiji—do your best!”

“Bwa…”

“Eeek!”

Ichiji stared at Baby Gojo with literal sweat on his forehead, as the little being curiously looked up at him.

By all means, this baby was adorable. Even more so when his father dressed him in a shark onesie. It was a peculiar choice—just like any of Gojo’s choices were—but it sure made the baby look even more endearing.

But the thing is… he didn’t feel secure enough to hold him! Especially when he didn’t know if Gojo’s claim of telepathic connection with his son was true or not!

Amidst his thoughts, suddenly Ichiji felt a soft touch on his arm and immediately turned to find the little munchkin putting his little hand on him and staring at him with such pureness unbefitting of Gojo Satoru’s son.

How can this baby be a stark contrast to his father? Ichiji was almost tempted to snuggle him, but he knew better.

“O-oh… d-don’t touch me…”

And as he retracted his hand back, the baby suddenly widened his eyes, feeling betrayed apparently, as his little lips wobbled and face scrunched up, so ready to burst into tears—

“Hic…”

“—!! Nooo! Don’t cry! Your father will fry me! Eeek!!”

[pastryfication]

Can you do another Piastri family fic where the reader is in pain or smth and Oscar can’t be there to help her so his family does xx

PAIN, MORE PAIN

pairing: oscar piastri x reader warnings: mentions of appendicitis & reader being in terrible pain.

the apartment you share with oscar in melbourne feels impossible big and lonely. the bed feels cold and strangely empty despite the humongous amount of throw pillows you have laying around.

the loneliness is something you’ve grown used to, but the loneliness mixed with this terrible pain in your stomach is too much to bear.

it hit you suddenly, no warning signs in sight, and now you lie curled up in the middle of the soft sheets, clutching your stomach as waves of unfamiliar, sharp pain hit, relentless and terrifying.

your hand trembles as you reach for your phone. oscar is thousands of miles away, getting much needed rest before the race. you know it’s late where he is—too late to be calling. you hesitate, your finger hovering over his name in your contacts. you shouldn’t bother him. shouldn’t steal away his focus—what could he do either way?

but as you curl even further into yourself, helplessness consuming you, it becomes too much, and you feel so weak. weak, helpless, and scared.

scared enough to press the call button. shame, guilt, pain, and more pain fills you as you watch your phone ring in silence.

oscar—your absolute angel of a boyfriend—picks up after a few rings, his voice groggy from sleep but instantly alert when he hears the panic in yours. “hey, love. what’s wrong?”

“i didn’t want to wake you,” you start, the guilt gnawing at you. “but something’s really wrong. my stomach . . .” you let out a involuntary whimper. “it hurts so bad, osc. i don’t know what to do.”

there’s a brief pause, and you can practically hear him sitting up in bed, a deep frown taking over his features. “how bad is it? have you taken anything? should i call a doctor?”

“i don’t know,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your side, trying to breathe through the pain. “it’s getting worse. i can barely move.”

“damn it,” oscar mutters angrily under his breath. “i wish i was there with you. but listen, i’m calling my mum. she’ll come and take you to the hospital. you need to get checked out, okay? don’t argue with me.”

you start to protest, your instinct telling you to handle things on your own. “oscar, i don’t want to bother her—”

“you’re not bothering anyone,” he cuts you off firmly. there’s no room for argument in his voice. “you’re in pain. we’re not messing around with this. i’m calling her now, and i’ll stay on the phone until she gets there. promise me you’ll let her help.”

you’re too exhausted to argue anymore, the pain blurring the edges of everything and you desperately want to cry. “okay,” you mumble, feeling a small wave of relief knowing help is on the way despite everything.

oscar keeps talking to you—for once, he’s the one doing the most talking—trying to keep you calm as he calls his mum. within minutes, she’s on her way, and oscar is back on the line, his voice soft but urgent. “she’ll be there soon, love. just hang in there.”

his words are comforting, but the pain is becoming unbearable, and by the time you hear the soft knock on the door, tears are slipping uncontrollably down your face. you barely manage to shuffle to the door, clutching your side, and open it to find nicole standing there, her face etched with worry. she takes one look at you and immediately wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, guiding you toward the couch. “you don’t look good at all. let’s get you to the hospital.”

even more tears spill over at that. it’s not just the pain, it’s the overwhelming sense of being cared for. nicole doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if it’s too much trouble. she’s just there, steady and reliable.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, hesitating to meet her eyes. “i didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

nicole shakes her head, already helping you into the car with a comforting arm around you. “don’t be ridiculous, love. you’re part of the family now. we look after each other.”

her words settle over you like a warm blanket, and you blink back more tears, grateful for the maternal gentleness she offers.

the ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and exhaustion as nicole speeds toward the emergency room. her hand reaches out to squeeze yours at every chance she gets, the worry in her eyes almost overwhelming.

when you finally arrive, nicole is by your side every step of the way, holding your hand as you’re wheeled into the exam room and after what feels like hours, the doctor finally returns with a diagnosis: appendicitis. you’ll need surgery, and soon.

oscar’s voice cracks through the phone when he hears the news. “i’m so sorry i’m not there. i feel useless.”

nicole gives your hand another reassuring squeeze. “she’s in good hands, oscar. i’ll be with her the whole time, don’t you worry.”

you try to smile, though the pain is still gnawing at your insides. “i’ll be okay. just focus on your race.”

“not a chance,” he replies, his voice softening. “i can’t concentrate when i know you’re in pain. you’re more important than any race.”

as they prep you for surgery, nicole stays by your side, never letting go of your hand.

the last thing you hear before drifting off is her voice, quiet and full of love. “i’ll stay here the entire time, sweetheart. just relax.”

when you wake up after surgery, very groggy but no longer in pain, nicole is still there, sitting by your bedside. she smiles as you blink awake, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“there you are,” she says softly. “everything went perfectly. you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

you blink away the tears that well up, overwhelmed by the care she’s shown you. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “for everything.”

nicole shakes her head, her smile warm and full of love. “no need to thank me, love. we’re family. that’s what family’s for.” she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before tugging your duvet up, helping you get more comfortable in the hospital bed. “hattie is here somewhere, too. came as soon as she woke. think she wanted to buy you some snacks first.”

her words hit you in a way that feels almost foreign. the casual way in which they came out feels weird. to you, it isn’t casual. family is a concept you’ve always struggled with, never having had one that felt like this. but now, with oscar, with nicole and the rest of his family—who are buying you snacks and worrying—you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing.

as you drift back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of the bed and something else—something warms from in your heart—you realize that for the first time in your life, you truly have a family—and it feels like home.

[marijuanita]

how to save on prescription drug prices: don't take them for weeks at a time 😍

[pathologicalreid]

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.” 

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! if you're feelin it, could you maybe do a poly!emt!marauders drabble, where the reader is chronically ill/disabled and usually has pains and problems and sickness, but one day it's really bad and reader asks to go to urgent care, which shocks/worries the others bc they usually are very adamant about not needing to go? no matter how ill i am i always refuse to go to the hospital unless i think i'm like actually dying 😭

Thanks for requesting ml <3

cw: chronic illness, descriptions of pain and mention of nausea, trembling

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 650 words

Your home is always a bit tense when you’re having a flare-up. It’s not your fault, not anyone’s, but your boyfriends feel for you when you’re hurting and they hate not having anything they can do to help. 

Remus can tell it’s a bad one. Ordinarily you try to act as though you aren’t in pain even when you are, tidying and running errands and forcing your way into the kitchen to help with dinner, but for hours now you’ve not wanted to do anything other than sit and breathe. Slow, deep breaths, like you’re trying to reside in your mind and not your body. Your hair is still wet from the warm bath James cajoled you into. Sirius is combing his fingers through it, gently working tangles out of the ends. 

“Still feeling sick, angel?” James asks you. 

You hum in quiet affirmation. Your eyes are closed, so you can’t see the pained helplessness that takes your boyfriend’s expression, but Remus does. He takes James’ hand between his own, rubbing over his knuckles. 

Sirius loosens a knot in your hair. “Do you think a distraction might help? We could read something.”

You mumble, as if even speech is too much, “I don’t think I could concentrate on anything. Sorry.” 

“You don’t have to be sorry, babydove,” Remus says gently. “Where is the pain the worst?” 

Again, your voice sounds labored. “In my face.” 

James makes a quiet, heartbroken sound. Though they all know that the location of your pain doesn’t indicate its intensity, Remus has to agree that the way you’ve described it in your face before sounds especially harrowing to him. Burns and aches behind your eyes, throbbing you can feel in your teeth. 

“What’s your level?” he asks. 

You continue taking deep breaths. None of the boys push you. Sometimes it takes you a while to find a rating for your pain, to force it into the context of all the flare-ups you’ve had before and assign it a number between one and ten. You tend to undershoot it anyway, so Remus knows that when you rate something a four it’s more likely a six, and a six is more likely a seven or an eight. 

“I think…” you say after a minute. “I think I want to go to A&E.” 

Behind you, Remus sees Sirius’ hands still in your hair, his eyes widening. He feels much the same. You never want to go to A&E. Your boyfriends have even mostly stopped suggesting it, your refusal is so guaranteed. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James reaches for you, crestfallen, his hand clasping around your own. “It’s really bad, huh?”

Your quiet hum breaks Remus’ heart. “Can we?” you ask. 

Remus knows it has to be awful for you to ask. You don’t like to go to A&E, and you like even less than that the hassle of going, having to divulge your symptoms to your boyfriends and sit in waiting rooms and talk to doctors. There���s no possibility that this is a decision you came to lightly. 

So Remus tries not to make you regret it. 

“Yeah, lovely.” He gestures for James to go get the car keys, and Sirius starts easing a hand behind your back, helping you up. “Of course we can. Do you want your hot pack for the wait?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“I’ve got it!” James calls from the kitchen. You all hear the microwave turn on. 

“Thanks for telling us, sweetness.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. He’s supporting most of your weight, the tremor back in your leg now that you’re standing and your balance unsteady. 

“Thanks for helping,” you murmur. 

Sirius makes a quiet scoffing sound, levity feigned for your benefit. “Don’t thank us for that, we love helping you. We’re gonna get you some good help at the hospital too, okay?” 

Remus is going to make sure that’s true.

[purplecoffee13]

NFWMB - part 2

Summary: “Y/N’s first self defense class leads to some inevitable tension, all of which is thrown out of Y/N’s mind when she gets an unexpected visit at her office desk…”

Wc: 4.8k

Tropes: boxer!Harry x innocent!reader

Warnings: sexual TENSION😈, brief mention of SA, blood

A/N: hi everyone! I am so positively overwhelmed by the great response this new series has been getting🥹. I have such a good feeling about this and I hope you’ll appreciate this little adventure we’re going on😋. Xxx

P.S. I would also recommend listening to ‘Knuckles’ by the Snuts. Not only because it’s a great song, but along with NFWMB, it’s kinda the theme song of this series🤭.

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It was 8:55pm.

Harry had never been so fixated on time before. It was like his brain was counting down each second, even when he was trying to concentrate on quite literally anything else.

All weekend he had been wondering whether or not Y/N would show up tonight. Even though he had other things to do, and plenty of more urgent matters occupying his mind, the thought of her still managed to take up some space.

He hadn't heard from her. Not that it was technically possible; he didn't give him any contact information. God, why was he sweating this so much?

8:59pm.

The gym was entirely empty. He always closed early on Tuesdays. The rest of the week he stays open until 12am. There are more people who go to the gym late at night than he thought, but since he needed to cut himself some slack, he decided to use Tuesdays for that.

Not that he really cut himself some slack. He'd stay and do his own exercises, then stay longer to work on administration. He would eventually go home at around 11pm. Greg scolded him for it, demanding he take some time for himself, but that seemed to be impossible for Harry.

He loved this. He loved helping people and the shitty administrative stuff was nothing in comparison to the smiles he would see on people's faces upon leaving the gym. Whether that was one of the women in his defense classes, or a man who'd reached his new weightlifting goal. He loved seeing people happy.

9:04pm.

A wave of disappointment flooded through Harry's body. He didn't even know why he thought she'd come. It's not like he gave any indication that she wanted to. She actually told him, outright, that she didn't. He needed to check himself into a mental hospital or something... occupying himself so much with a girl he met once. He needed some sort of reality check.

The sound of the reception bell tore Harry from his thoughts, his head shooting towards the hallway where the sound was coming from. His feet began to move before he could even comprehend, and when he turned around the corner, a small sigh left his mouth.

Shit. There she was. Wearing baggy sweatpants and an oversized Rolling Stones t-shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail, much like it had been the last time he saw her. It still looked different, though, as if she had put in more effort this time. There were no stray hairs, and the ponytail was braided. Her eyes were as big as ever, and he could've sworn they gleamed a bit when they landed on him.

Angel.

"Hi." She smiled shyly, adjusting the strap of her duffel bag that slung around her shoulder. The corner of Harry's mouth tugged up.

"Hi."

She didn't say anything, just stared at him and waited for him to continue talking. Harry, however, was too busy with looking at her that he forgot he should probably say something. It's why it took him a little longer to say:

"C'mon, let's go to the other room."

He waited for her to pace towards him before he turned around and walked to the training room. He tried, he truly did, to stay casual and just keep walking, but he couldn't help it. His head turned—just to check, he said to himself—to see the beautiful woman still walking behind him. She really was here.

Having entered the training room, Harry walked onto the mat, Y/N following him closely. He turned around and gestured for her to put her bag on the ground. She did as instructed, and stood back in front of him. He noticed her posture, the way it was extra straight. She was compensating for the insecurity that displayed in the way she fiddled with her fingers behind her back. She probably thought he didn't notice, but there were mirrors all around the room, so he could see every single part of her.

Harry titled his head downwards and looked at her. He was only realizing it now; the height difference between them. He had seen it last week, but now that he was standing close to her, it was more prominent.

"I want to say beforehand, that during these classes I will have to touch you." He said softly, his voice still in that low baritone. Y/N's lips slowly parted, but no words came out. "Is that okay with you?"

From the way her cheeks flushed after vigorously nodding her head, he could tell she had found her quick agreement to be a bit embarrassing. Harry only smiled.

"Words, please, Y/N."

"Y—yes," She quickly answered, and Harry opened his mouth to communicate his approval, but the continuation of her consent caught him off guard. "You can touch me."

His heartbeat began to pick up a bit, blood rushing towards parts that it should definitely not be rushing to. He clenched his jaw and balled up his fists, hoping the tension in the other parts of his body would refrain his cock from straining too hard against his pants.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? Why was he acting like he just got out of prison?

"Let's warm up." He said gruffly, sounding more moody than he wanted to. Y/N nodded, looking at her feet as she took a step backwards. She waited as Harry walked to the bench to get jump rope. When he walked back and handed it to her, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"It's to get your heart rate up. It'll have you ready for the exercises."

"Okay." She took the rope from his hands and got ready, but never started the exercise.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked. Her eyes went all big like it did in that first class.

"Oh— no, nothing. I was waiting for you. I don't know why... you're the instructor, of course." She was rambling again, shutting her eyes tightly for a few seconds after closing her mouth. Harry bit his lip to keep himself from chuckling at the woman in front of him.

"You know what, you're right, I'll join you. I haven't done my exercises today anyway." He said as he grabbed another rope. It was a big fat lie; he had trained for a good two hours today. But these exercises were harmless fun, and if it would make her feel more comfortable, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Would you like some music? I always prefer it because it tends to get kind of quiet in here. But we don't have to. It's really a personal preference." Harry explained, holding up his phone. A small smile appeared on Y/N's face.

"Uhm, yeah, that would be great. What do you usually listen to?"

Harry shrugged. "Uhm, rap usually."

Y/N hummed. Harry squinted his eyes at the woman in front of him, then raised a brow.

"You don't like that, do you?"

"What? No! I don't care, really. You can put on whatever you want." She was quick to defend herself. She wasn't exactly lying. Y/N didn't care, she wouldn't dream of opposing the man in front of her.

"What do you usually listen to?"

"Uhm, I like older music." You confessed. Harry tilted his head.

"Yeah? What kind?"

"Jazz, Soul, classic rock, a bit of hard rock, disco."

Harry nodded, and looked down at his phone to type in something. Y/N frowned—probably wondering what he was doing—but a giggle escaped her as 'Let's Hear It For The Boy' started playing through the speakers. Harry's eyes twinkled as he took in the sight of her. He couldn't help but smile pridefully, knowing he made her laugh like that. It felt like an accomplishment.

"Okay, let's begin."

And so, Harry and Y/N began jumping with the jump rope next to each other. He told her to count until fifty out loud, and she obeyed him. By the time they were done, Y/N's heavy breathing made her realize that her physical shape had gotten a lot worse since moving out. She always used to run back when she lived with her parents, she told Harry, but she hadn't found time for it since she'd moved.

They did a couple other warm-up exercises together, and when stretching the final time, Harry dared to comment.

"You're pretty flexible."

Y/N looked up, shrugging at her instructor. "I was a cheerleader back in high school, and I used to do a lot of yoga in college. Maybe it stuck."

"Yeah, probably." Harry nodded, admiring the woman in front of him. She talked so casually about herself. She was actually impressively flexible; it's why he noted it in the first place. She was taking herself for granted, he could tell.

"Okay, let's start, shall we?" Harry said, getting up to his feet. Y/N silently nodded as she followed in his footsteps. "I'm going to teach you some basic things, but I also want to ask you if there are some specific exercises you would like to focus on. If so, we can start by handling those after having learned the basics, okay?"

"Okay." Y/N said, taking a deep breath.

"You can think about it, and tell me next time." Harry added, and as The Jackson 5's ABC began to play, the real exercises started.

Y/N listened intently as he explained her the basic things about throwing a punch. Balance was the most important thing, Harry had said. She followed his instructions closely and stood with her feet shoulder-with apart, her right foot—the dominant one, he told her it had to be—slightly ahead of her left one.

"Good." Harry's sound of approval had awakened something in your stomach. "Now clench your fist— you have to wrap your thumb around your index and middle fingers. Otherwise you'll break your thumb."

Y/N did as he said, keeping her wrist straight. Her stomach dropped as he let out a disapproving hum. He went to stand beside her as he lowly said:

"Bend your knees."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Y/N bent her knees a bit. From all the nervousness she kept stretching her limbs all the time, going against his order. Seeing her answer to him so quickly had made him smirk a bit.

"Good."

He didn't miss the deep breath Y/N took as he spoke. She desperately wanted his approval. It was endearing... and other things that it shouldn't be. Harry mentally slapped himself in the face. This was a professional environment, why were his thoughts racing the same way they used to back when he was a teenager? It was pathetic, really.

"Now, when you punch someone, it's important to put your entire body into it. If you punch without moving the rest of your body, it won't have as much of an impact. You have to generate the power from your core and legs. That way, the blow will land way harder." He explained, trying not to smile at Y/N's faint frown as she took in all the he was saying. She was so concentrated, wanting to absorb every piece of information he shared. "Like this."

He showed her what he meant. Y/N nodded and tried to imitate her instructor, but without much luck.

"You don't have to lean forward that much. If you turn with your entire body, it'll do that for you." He said, and had to fight the small grin that threatened to form on his lips when she tried to hold herself back too much this time. She huffed in annoyance.

"How am I ever going to be able to defend myself again if I can't even get a punch right?" She murmured, mainly to herself, as she pinched the bridge between her nose. Harry's ears perked up at what she said.

What did she mean with 'again'? Rage started simmering in his body at the sole implication of someone having done something to this woman that made her have to defend herself. Is that why she was so interested in the class? Why she wanted to learn so bad despite being so shy? Because someone had hurt her, or threatened to, and made her feel unsafe?

"Can I touch you?"

Y/N's gaze shot up to Harry's, keeping them locked for a few seconds before she let out a soft 'yes'. He nodded once, went to stand behind her, and told her to get back into position. As soon as she had, he grabbed her hips. Firm, but light.

"Do it again, slowly."

Y/N did as he said, and let him help her move her body in the right way. Automatically, her foot stayed in the right position, and she wasn't really leaning forward anymore.

"That's it." Harry said proudly. He was kind of caught off guard when Y/N sucked in a breath and turned around, his hands falling off her hips immediately. For a second, he felt bad, not having wanted to make her feel uncomfortable in any way, but when he saw her swallow, biting her lip, he knew that his touch had caused something else.

Fuck. He was definitely better off not knowing.

"I— Can I drink some water?" Y/N asked, almost sounding like she was out of breath. Harry did his best not to let it get to his head too much as he nodded, biting inside of his cheek. She scurried over to her bag, and took out a water bottle, of which she probably gulped half down before she set it down on the bench.

"Okay, c'mon. We have a lot to cover." Harry said when he felt she was lingering by the bench too much. She immediately walked back to him, and there was sense of pride that filled Harry's chest. Such a good listener, she was.

Y/N was exhausted. Her first self defense class was finally over, and it was a lot harder than she thought it'd be. They went over the basics of punching, and Harry had decided that she definitely needed to build some muscle. In the end, they practiced half an hour longer than the original hour Y/N thought the class was going to be. The regular classes were sixty minutes, so she'd just assumed.

It was also unbearable. She couldn't believe how worked up she was getting over the proximity between her and Harry. It was embarrassing, she had to be ovulating or something. Of course, it probably also had something to do with the fact that Harry was singlehandedly the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, but she shouldn't have let that distract her from her goal. She needed these classes, she needed not to be weak anymore.

After the class, Harry told her to be here at the same time next week, and she thanked him before walking out of the gym.

Harry probably didn't expect her to still stand outside ten minutes later when he walked out to lock up, but when he noticed the pouring rain, it looked like he understood.

"Did you walk?" He asked casually, locking the door. Y/N shook her head.

"Bike." She pointed to the soaking wet bicycle a few feet away.

"D'you need a ride?" He questioned, stepping towards her. Again, she shook her head.

"It's fine, I'll just wait until this blows over."

As if the universe and the weather were playing a crude joke on her, loud thunder ripped through the sky just as the sentence left her mouth. Harry tilted his head a bit.

"Yeah, no. I'm dropping you off at home." He said, and before she could protest, Harry began to walk away, right into the rain. He stepped into his car and drove over to Y/N, then got out of the car again. As he approached her, he asked:

"Where are the keys to your bike?"

Too stunned to say anything, she just handed him the keys. She was a little occupied with how hot he looked all soaking wet and— oh Jesus, she needed shock therapy.

She watched as Harry carried the bicycle and out in the trunk of his car. The grey hoodie that he must've thrown on before leaving the gym was a few shades darker now, and strands of his hair clung to his forehead. He made his way to the passenger door, and opened it, a wave of his arm gesturing for her to get in. She ran into the car, the door closing behind her with a harsh thud.

Harry ran around the car and got in himself, closing the door and turning the vehicle on immediately. Y/N's eyes went wide as Harry pulled the hoodie over his head, tugging his t-shirt up a bit along with it. She eyed the tattoos that inked his hip bones. They seemed like... leaves of some kind? She couldn't exactly make it up in such a short time because she shifted her gaze to the car window and strictly kept it there as soon as she'd realized she was staring.

"Where to?" Harry asked, but Y/N only replied with a distracted hum, not daring to take her eyes off the car window. She had never been around someone who'd made her so nervous before. Sure, she'd been awkward a whole bunch in her life, especially around her crushes in high school. But she was 23 now, she shouldn't be behaving like this around men anymore!

"Y/N?" He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of her face. She snapped her head to him.

"Oh, sorry!" She said, her tone revealing how stressed she was.

"It's okay. Just type in your address, and I'll drive you home." Harry answered sweetly. His soft, green eyes made him seem like much less of an intimidating man. That was, until one would look further down his body of course. The man was extremely jacked, and while that was very hot, it could also be quite scary. But she couldn't find any part of herself that was afraid of him.

No, he might've intimidated her, and that might've made her act like an complet fool in front of him, but she wasn't scared of him.

The silence during the car ride was mostly filled up with Harry asking Y/N questions about herself. Where she was from, what she'd studied. She, alike, returned those questions and found out a bit more about Harry's past as well.

The he was a boxer, retired two years ago, and now owned several gyms. Y/N knows she should've been taken aback a bit when she asked Harry's age and he said he was 29, but for some reason it worked the opposite for her.

Was this a topic for therapy?

She hadn't time to think too much of it, as he soon pulled up in front of her apartment complex. They both got out of the car and Harry helped carry her bicycle to a little garage for bikes at the side of the apartment.

They walked back towards the car, both drenched in water by now, and Harry turned around to say goodbye, but Y/N interrupted him.

"What do I owe you?" She asked, not caring that she was standing in the pouring rain and she was shivering from the cold. A sort of didn't want the conversation to end just yet. Harry thought it over for a few seconds, then shrugged.

"Nothing." He said, to which Y/N knitted her brows.

"But I need to pay you for the classes." She stated the obvious, at least she felt like she was.

"It was a try-out class." Harry replied with a smile.

"I already had my try-out class." She reiterated. Harry shook his head.

"That was your group try-out class, this was your private try-out class. Try-outs are always free."

Y/N bit her lip, unsure of what to say to that. Eventually she settled on something in the middle. "Fine. I'll just tip you extra good the upcoming classes."

Harry let out a laugh. "Sure, angel."

She could've sworn that her heart skipped the beat at the sound of that nickname rolling off Harry's tongue. Did he really just call her that? Y/N scanned for answers in Harry's face, and only noticed a slight shock in his eyes, but it was quickly covered up with that casual ease that always seemed to be hanging over him.

"I— I'm gonna get inside. Thank you for the ride, and the class."

Harry just gave her a small nod. "Anytime."

With that, Y/N turned around and hurried to her apartment complex, shivering by the time she got inside her own place. Her mind was racing, everything that had happened tonight kept flashing through her brain and it was like she could feel the burn of his fingers on her hips.

This was so unlike her. Unlike anything she'd ever done. Taking this class was a risk, one she'd thought being worth it, because it would bring her safety and security.

But this... these tingling feelings crashing into her like an avalanche— she hadn't felt like this since college. Hadn't had a crush become so intense in such a short time.

What the hell was she gonna do about this?

All she knew is that she couldn't stop thinking about him. Not as she got in the shower, nor as she got into bed. She kept tossing and turning until she gave into that feeling that had been nagging at her all night, her hand slowly sliding down her belly and to the sensitive ache that had been growing between her legs.

She closed her eyes and didn't even have to try to imagine Harry's hands on her again, the way he'd said those words to her. As if he wanted her to misinterpret them for something dirty.

"Can I touch you?"

"Do it again, slowly."

"That's it."

The sound of his voice ringing through her head had Y/N rubbing her fingers faster over her clit, her legs starting to close from the immense stimulation. Nevertheless, she forced herself to keep them open as she pleasured herself. Small gasps for air began leaving her body as she felt her climax coming closer and closer.

"Sure, angel."

The teasing tone in which he spoke, the playfulness in his eyes and the accent with which he said the nickname, that memory is what made her make a mess all over her fingers. A small moan even left her mouth in the sound of his name, and although no one was there to hear it, Y/N was embarrassed as she went to the bathroom, cleaned herself up, and went back to bed.

She did fall asleep quite quickly after, though. She was exhausted.

The next morning, there was a slight flutter in her stomach and a smile on her face as she opened her eyes. A new reason to get up in the morning had been making its way into her life, and she couldn't feel anything but giddy about it. Having a crush was always fun.

Despite the replaying of yesterday's practice over breakfast, and the heating of her cheeks at the memories of his words in the car on her way to work, Y/N knew that she was playing with fire by letting herself indulge in this crush. She needed to be careful not to let it go too far. A simple crush wasn't a problem, but he was her instructor and if she truly wanted to learn something in those self defense classes, she better separate business and pleasure.

With the loads of work she had to do at work, Y/N managed to drown out most of the thoughts about Harry the rest of the morning. She was finally relaxing after getting some important papers sent over—which was a stressful problem, as they had to be sent yesterday but some incompetent idiot messed up, leaving Y/N to solve it by herself first thing in the morning—when she got an e-mail from Sophie.

You are invited to

SOPHIE'S 30th BIRTHDAY PARTY

SATURDAY 5 OCTOBER

8:00pm (don't be late!)

Theme: Casino Night

Y/N stared at the invitation on her computer screen, a wide smile covering most of her face. She knew she didn't have any plans, but she still checked her agenda to make sure she was available Saturday next week. She felt like a child who'd just gotten her first ever birthday invitation. It sure felt like that.

Y/N hadn't really had such sweet friends before. Getting along with Sophie had been so incredibly easy and although she always felt like it was too good to be true and there must be some sort of trap, there never was. Sophie just enjoyed Y/N's company, and vice versa. It was like having a big sister and a best friend in one.

About five seconds after silently celebrating having received the invitation, Y/N began to stress about what present she should bring her new friend. It had to be something good. Sophie had earned a lot of money, and could basically get herself anything she wanted, so it had to be more of a sentimental gift.

Y/N had her eyes on a present already. She was very enthusiastic about it; it was something Sophie would really like.

All caught up in the excitement, she didn't notice a tall shadow standing over her until he coughed to get her attention. Y/N looked up, dread filling her stomach as she locked eyes with Oscar. She was still trying to remember how to breathe since her body just shut down out of anxiousness at the sight of him, when he started talking.

"Look, I'll keep this short, because I know you don't want to talk to me," He looked to his left and right before grabbing onto the desk and leaning over it. "but I just want to make sure we're on the same page."

Y/N could do nothing but blink at the man in front of her. What was he talking about, 'same page'?

"Things didn't really go how I thought they would that night, and I've accepted that. But I would appreciate if you wouldn't go around telling people."

"Telling people what?" The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. Originally she didn't want to utter a word in front of this man, nor did she believe she was able to, but this demand of his made her stomach twist. The way he said it, the distaste so apparent on his tongue. As if she were an inconvenience to be dealt with. He'd really mastered that heartlessness that only the cruelest of lawyers could conjure.

"You know what..." He said through clenched teeth, giving her a bit of a warning glare. The anger that boiled within her was new. She had never experienced it in such a large quantity before, and it had her acting out of character.

"What? About you assaulting me?"

The sentence had barely escaped her mouth when Oscar leaped forward a bit, frown so deep that it had made the vein in his forehead extremely prominent. She flinched at the sudden movement, tilting back into her chair. She felt the sped up pace of heartbeat as she clenched her fists, the rest of her body frozen in anticipation of what he was going to do.

"I did not assault—" he stopped himself, his crazy eyes calming a bit, as if he realized he was still in the office. "You know what, you can run to whoever you want. This firm trusts me, and they know what kind of man I am, that I would never do such a thing. Either way, it’s most likely not my job you'll be risking by bringing forth such an accusation."

Y/N had no idea what to possibly say to that. Not that Oscar gave her the chance, seeing as he backed away and walked off before she had the chance to come up with something. She began breathing more heavily with every step he took away from her.

Did he just threaten her?

A tingling pain in her hand distracted Y/N from the rabbit hole of thoughts she was just about to fall into, and when her eyes moved to see what it was, she raised her brows at the sight of blood in her hand.

Unconsciously, somewhere in between looking at the invitation and Oscar's impromptu visit, she must've grabbed the pair of scissors that were laying on the desk. She must've balled up her fists so much that she cut her hand.

Staring at the blood, a thousand thoughts running through her head, only one was the loudest.

She needed to get out of here.

Taglist: @meetmeatyourworst @mema10 @seafoamwhispers @namoreno

[iannmin]

17:05 {by your side}

Idol!San x reader

You’re lying in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air as the steady beeping of the monitor matches the rhythm of your racing heart. The soft hum of activity outside your room is a distant murmur, but inside, your world is shrinking to a single point of fear and anticipation. Your hands tremble as you rest them on your swollen belly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. The contractions have started, each one a sharp reminder that you are on the brink of something monumental, something life-changing.

San is beside you, his hand wrapped around yours, strong and steady. His thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, a silent promise that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere. But despite his presence, the fear claws at your chest, threatening to overwhelm you.

“What if I’m not ready?” you whisper, your voice breaking as tears well up in your eyes. “What if I can’t do this, San?”

He shifts closer, his free hand coming up to cup your face, his touch warm and reassuring. “You are ready,” he says softly, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a love that makes your heart ache. “You’ve been ready for this since the day we found out. And you’re not alone, okay? I’m right here with you, every step of the way.”

His words are like a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of panic. But still, the fear lingers, the enormity of what’s about to happen pressing down on you. “I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been this scared in my life.”

San leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. “I know,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “I’m scared too. But you’re the strongest person I know, and I believe in you. More than anything, I believe in us.”

His words hit you hard, a wave of emotion crashing over you as the tears spill over. You turn your face into his mountain-like shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar scent of him, the solid presence of his body against yours. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you let the tears come, releasing all the fear and doubt that have been building up inside.

“I’m here,” he whispers into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to do this together, just like we’ve faced everything else. And when it’s over, we’re going to meet our little one. Our baby.”

The thought of it, of finally meeting the life that has been growing inside you, stirs something deep within you. A spark of hope, of determination. You pull back just enough to look into San’s eyes, finding strength in the love that shines there, in the unwavering belief he has in you.

“I love you,” you say, the words carrying the weight of all the emotions swirling inside you—love, fear, hope, and a fierce, protective determination.

San smiles, that dimple smile that has always been able to calm your storms. “I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with so much tenderness that it makes your heart ache. “And I can’t wait to meet the little one who’s going to be just as incredible as you.”

Another contraction hits, this one stronger than the last, and you grip his hand tightly, drawing on the strength he offers. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t let go, just holds on, anchoring you through the pain.

“We’ve got this,” he says, his voice steady, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re not alone. We’ve got this, together.”

In that moment, as the pain ebbs and flows, you realize that he’s right. You’re not alone. You have him, and together, you can face anything. The fear is still there, but it’s no longer overwhelming.

And just as the contraction subsides, leaving you breathless, the nurse enters the room, her voice calm but urgent.

“It’s time,” she says, looking at you with a reassuring smile. “Are you ready?”

You turn to San, his hand still holding yours, his eyes full of love and encouragement. He nods, a small, steady smile on his lips.

“We’re ready,” he whispers, and you feel a rush of emotion as you squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence, from his love.

With a deep breath, you nod to the nurse, your heart pounding as the moment you’ve been waiting for finally arrives.

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[dammn-dean]

Unexpected

Pairing: Simon Riley x Female Reader

Words: 4000

Warnings: Pregnancy, secrets, probably a bit out of character

I wanted to write a pregnant!Reader fic so here we are... I haven't written in a long time and this is my first time writing a COD character! Any and all feedback is welcome 🖤

Shout out to @babygirl-riley for helping me with this. Thank you!

“Simon?” your small voice echoes from the phone.

“Yeah?” He answers, in his typical bored voice.

Only letting the phone ring once before answering. Obviously he wouldn’t have answered if he wasn’t available at the moment, but you never know.

“Are you… busy?”

Your voice is different… raising Simon’s curiosity. He could only think of a handful of times since he met you that you had ever even tried calling him without sending a text first to check if he was in at base or not.

“A little, why?” He doesn’t mean to sound so gruff, but he does. He also wasn’t necessarily busy, but he wasn’t in the mood to chat with you. His day was especially shit today.

“I.. um well,” you hadn’t had time to come up with what to say. “I am sorry for not telling you before now and if you wish that I would have never said anything… well I’m sorry for that too.” Your words were rushed together, barely making any sense.

“Just spit it out will ya?”

You physically flinch from his rashness. Simon wasn’t always this way, but the past few months it seemed he stayed irritated at you. Just the sensitivity of the subject was already difficult enough, paired with his attitude towards you. This was going to be a rough call. “Sorry..” your heart is beating so fast you are wondering if it’s making matters worse, “I just wanted to tell you-“

Pain shoots through you, what once was a small little reminder of the state your body was in began its first real shock of what was happening. You let out a gasp and small noise of discomfort. That made him stand up from the chair he was sitting in and call your name over the phone. You almost missed it, the pain causing the phone to be pulled from your face.

“Love, what is it? Are you hurt?” Simon was actually worried now. Once the pain subsides you huff a small laugh. “Well, kind of yeah but no I’m okay.”

Simon’s brows pulled together at that, he was more confused than ever. Before waiting for a response he snagged his keys from his pants as his legs carried him to the parking lot at base. “Where are you?” He all but growled.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t need to come to me. I’m okay,” you smiled to yourself. You had convinced yourself you could do this alone. Damn your weakness for even calling him to begin with. “I am about to head to the hospital.”

“What do you mean? Tell me where you are… I’m on the way.” You could hear the door to his truck slamming and the engine cutting on.

“You may not want to once I say what I have to say,” you whispered.

“I’m pregnant.”

Simon felt his blood run cold. He didn’t speak, just continued his way out of the base. Brain not keeping up with what was happening.

“I… have been pregnant. And the baby is coming. I- Our baby is coming Simon.” Your eyes squeezed shut with the confession. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears so loud you almost missed his response.

“Where are you?” He actually growled this time.

“The apartment…” you replied meekly.

You could feel another round of contractions starting up. You dropped to the floor and before allowing yourself to scream over the phone you dropped it to your lap, and road out the contraction. Once the pain eased up some you heard your name being repeated from the speaker, his voice urgently asking for a response. You picked back up the phone, “I’m sorry…” you felt tears prickling your vision.

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

You hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. What started as something you happily found out turned into your best kept secret.

It was around the two year mark of you starting this relationship with Simon. You two had met and after many months of being friendly you had fallen for him first… it was quick for you to love him and you had fallen hard. Simon took a little more time to open up and things weren’t always easy, but you loved each other thoroughly.

Simon was gone on a month long mission when you started noticing something was up. You were getting queasy from random things that never had upset your stomach before. That was your first clue to get a test, so without much thought when you ran to the store for some things for dinner after work, you grabbed a pregnancy test. You got home, started working on dinner, making one of Simon’s favorites as a surprise. He was coming back for a short while before heading off for another mission and he was due home any moment. Since he hadn’t made it home yet so you figured you would bring the test into the bathroom and get it over with. Yet 5 minutes later the small white plastic showed you the truth - Positive.

You sat in your apartment’s bathroom, looking at the little plus sign. Mind reeling, a thousands thoughts flying through your head. Were you ready to become a mom? How would Simon take the news? Does he even want to be a dad? How would you balance having a baby with Simon’s work schedule?

He had knocked at the door, shaking you from your thoughts. “You alright love?” He had been in your apartment for about 10 minutes, waiting for you to leave the bathroom attached to the bedroom.

You hadn’t even noticed him coming into the apartment. Without much thought you grabbed the test, tossed it in the bin and quickly washed your hands before opening the door.

You grinned at him, “Yes of course. Sorry!”

Your arms wrapped around him instinctively as a greeting, but his body tensed instead of attempting to hug back like he usually did. You withdrew with a questioning face.

“I missed you,” you tried to adjust your face into a small smile. “Are you okay?” You questioned.

“Yeah.” Was all he offered, then he headed into the bathroom. Your eyes widened and followed his back until he shut door behind him. Definitely must not have been a great day at work. Simon doesn’t tell you much about what he does day to day, but you can’t imagine any of it is easy on him.

So without asking again, or following after him you went back to making dinner. Now your thoughts were muddled of the thoughts of parenthood, and this baby. Your face couldn’t help the small grin that popped up, a hand coming to gently rest on your stomach. By the end of cooking everything and getting plates ready you had decided you would tell Simon after dinner. Sure you only have taken the one pregnancy test, but you wanted to go ahead and give him the news. That’s when you realized he still hasn’t came from the bedroom, that used to be just yours and slowly has turned into both of yours. Now it was your turn to knock on the door to the bathroom.

“Dinner is ready… I made one of your favorites to celebrate you being home.” You couldn’t help the cheerful tone your voice held.

The door ripped open at that. His hair was still wet from his shower, he was dressed down in sweats and a black t-shirt. You smiled at him and reached a small hand out to him.

His eyes met yours for a moment before chancing a quick glance to your outstretched hand. “Not hungry.”

You were usually pretty receptive to his reactions and as much as it confused you, you dropped your hand back down to your side. “Oh okay… well I will put it in the oven to keep warm until you are,” you suggested. Your stomach was rolling, for many reasons. The news of the pregnancy, the actual sickness the pregnancy was bringing you and how Simon was acting had your nerves on edge.

“You go ahead,” his eyes didn’t quite meet yours “The crew and I have a lot to debrief on… we leave on the next mission in a few days. I think I’m going to head back to base for the night,” he bluntly stated. He gently walked past you into the room, collecting items into his duffel bag.

“Well I made dinner especially for you, I hoped we could enjoy it tog-“

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” He didn’t yell, but he definitely spoke louder to you than he typically did.

You couldn’t help the small breath of air you took in, and he rolled his eyes at that. “Please,” he said your name with a sigh. “I am not in the mood for this.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Eyes welling up with tears, but before they could fall in front of him, you turned to head back into the kitchen. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes before they could fall as you made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed the food you had spent the last hour or so working on and dumped it into the trash. You flung the pot into the sink before reaching for the next dish to toss.

“What are you doing?” Simon grasped your arm before you could throw away the main entrée.

“I’m throwing out the food. What does it look like??” You couldn’t help the angry tone your voice took on. “I made all of this for you. And you don’t want it, so I’m getting rid of it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want it… I just-“

“You aren’t hungry,” You cut him off. “I get it.” Using your free hand to wipe a stray tear that was threatening to fall.

His eyes softened and he released your arm. “I’m sorry… yeah? You know I hate when I get back then immediately have to leave again.” Simon tried to comfort you, but it was too late. “I probably should have just stayed at the base as is… I just have a lot on my plate.”

“Yeah I got it,” you coldly replied as you sat the now cold entrée onto the counter. To know you spent all day thinking of things to make his day back special… and to hear him wish he wouldn’t have even came. Just breaks your will. You then felt tired to your bones, unwilling to argue as you decided to call it a night. As you head to your bedroom, over your shoulder you said “Tell the boys I said hi.”

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

That was the last time you had seen Simon in person. A little over 7 months ago since he had stepped foot into your apartment. You had given him the silent treatment for a while. Well, if he would have had access to a phone you would have definitely given him the silent treatment.

He was gone with no way to contact him. Which you didn’t mind, initially. It had been a few weeks since Simon had left and since you found out about the pregnancy. Things were beginning to catch up and take a toll on you. From the physical aspects of being pregnant, to you being lonely with Simon being gone for so long, and work was awful. Your stomach was starting to grow, everyone around you noticing the baby bump but you never acknowledged it. You hadn’t even gotten to break the news to Simon, it didn’t feel fair to talk about the baby to random co-workers. A few doctors appointments had come and gone, confirming the pregnancy. You had decided to not find out the sex of the baby or really even look at the screen during the sonogram appointment. Just letting the doctor check on the baby’s health, that was all that mattered to you.

It’s the middle of the night, your bladder waking you. You got up and made your way to the bathroom to relieve yourself. Once you were back in bed under the covers you felt sleep pulling you back in but before you could fall asleep your phone started to vibrate. Incoming call from an unknown number. Simon

You were thinking about not answering but you decided to pick up the phone anyway.

“Hello…” you answered quietly.

“Sweetheart,” Simon sighs “I’m sorry to be calling you so late. I finally had access to a phone and I, well… missed you.”

Your lip was pulled between your teeth. You were feeling all kinds of emotions. You wanted to still be upset with him, but at this point you couldn’t even feel anything except the loneliness of life without him here.

“I miss you too,” you responded as you adjusted yourself in bed to sit up right.

“Fuck love, missed your voice.” He is talking low, probably just barely out of earshot from the guys. “Hate leaving how I did, and going this long from ya.”

“Was pretty bad Si,” you spoke honestly. “Don’t get me wrong… I know your job is insanely difficult and hard on you. I just wish sometimes you would think about what it does to me too.”

Simon sighs again, “I know… I just… I’m trying.”

And he was trying, he made that obvious to you. His communication was better than it was in the beginning. Simon is a very closed off man, and he has let you in more than he ever told himself he would allow another person in. You just have that way about you, and it drives him crazy in the best way.

“I wish I was calling with better news, it looks like it’ll be a while before I’m able to come back.”

“What is ‘a while’?” You whisper back, suddenly feeling choked up. He had already been gone for longer than usual.

“Price is thinking a couple weeks here, but we have some new intel… may keep us busy for the next couple of months, love.” Simon hated breaking this to you after staying away so long. Being with him was insanely unfair to you, but you had convinced him this was the life you wanted. You wanted him.

“Okay.” You had tears falling freely now. And you brought a hand to rest on your tummy.

“I have something to tell you,” you started.

“Hang on sweetheart.” He interrupted. You heard commotion on the other end of the phone. Then Simon’s voice was back, “I’m sorry, I have to go. When I’m back at base I’ll be able to text ya, yeah?”

“Oh… okay. Yeah.” You gave yourself a sad smile. “I love you. Stay safe.” As much as Simon needed to know about the baby… how wasn’t the time.

“Always.” And with that he hung up.

That was the last time you attempted to bring up the baby to him. You realized that Simon was going through a lot and you just could never figure out the best way to say it.

He did text you here and there, letting you know he was okay. Simon let you know when they were back at base a few days ago, with an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to your apartment. You wish that you could recall the reason, but it just seemed like maybe he didn’t want to come home to you. Simon just hadn’t been able to make the time to come see you… Until now.

Simon stood in the doorway watching your frantic form gather things from around the apartment. Shoving some things into a bag, before disappearing and returning with a baby bag that seemed to be full. That’s when your eyes connected. You felt your eyes well up with tears, oh how you missed him.

“Simon,” your lips trembling with emotion.

He honestly couldn’t place what he was feeling. Seeing you for the first time in months, and here you were, a few feet away with a hand on your pregnant belly… Belly holding /his/ child. A child he would have never known existed if you didn’t bravely call him moments ago. He ripped the balaclava off his head, showing you the true emotion of his face. One of the downsides of always wearing a mask, he can’t regulate his face well.

“Sweetheart,” Simon’s voice was almost unrecognizable. “I’m here… what do you need?”

You let a tear fall down your cheek and smiled. “I’m so happy you’re here.” You took the few steps left between you and reached in to hug him.

Although at the last moment you hesitated, unsure if he wanted the contact. Instead you let your hands awkwardly fall to your sides. Simon had never been so upset with himself. Watching you want nothing more than to hug him but withdrawing from him. You were always overly cautious of his needs, but had he ever shown you the same? You were pregnant with his child, yet you didn’t want to tell him the news, always scared you were a bother to him. Has he made you feel this way? All this time away from you… for what? He could have made the time to check in on you.

“I’m glad I’m here too, love…” his voice held a softness to it only held for you. His hand reaches out to brush softly against your arm. Softening you up to his presence. Unsure of what caused the next words to come out, Simon muttered “May I?” His eyes met yours before he glanced at your stomach.

Your heart was racing, blood pounding in your ears. “Of course Si…” and his hand immediately came to rest on your belly.

You let out a small gasp at the contact. Your hands gravitating to his ungloved hand resting on your protruding stomach. Stopping yourself an inch or two from making contact.

“Can you make me a promise?” Simon spoke softly, eyes meeting yours again.

“Anything, you know that,” you smiled at him.

“When you want to touch me, please just do it. When you want me to touch you, you tell me. If you have something you want to tell me… just say it. But especially when you need or want me here with you… you tell me love.” Simon felt the sensation of being choked up, he only hoped his voice didn’t crack. “I love you and I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you,” he whispered. He kept one hand on your stomach while the other came to grasp your face. “I am so sorry.”

You couldn’t even try to stop the tears from falling now. “It’s okay Simon… I am so glad you are here no-“ another contraction began. You grit your teeth, trying to remember the breathing you had practiced, but the pain was still there.

This is probably the biggest thing that Simon was not prepared for. Had he spent his life inflicting pain upon others? When needed, yes. How many people had he seen in distress and never felt one thing about it? Basically every time. Yet here he was watching you writhe in pain, wasn’t something he handled well.

“Jesus Christ…” he grasped onto you. Keeping you upright. “Let’s get to the hospital, yeah?”

You didn’t put up a fight, letting him help you to his truck. Before he could open the door you stopped him.

“What’s the matter?” He asked worriedly. “We can’t…” you took a deep breath before continuing. “We can’t drive the baby back in your truck. The car seat is in my car.” You avoided his eyes.

Simon felt a pang of something up his spine, similar to jealousy but close to disappointment in himself. You were completely and wholly ready to have this baby without him. He felt a huge sense of pride in you and your independence but he was also upset at himself for making you do all of this alone.

“Alright yeah, makes sense,” he kept his voice calm. Leading you to your car, asking for keys and guiding you in gently to the passenger side.

“I’m going to run backup for your things lovie… I’ll be back in a minute.” With that he was off and Simon was back in under the minute. Bags in hand, tossing them in the backseat before heading to the closest hospital.

Simon is as silent as ever. He was doing his best to drive safe, but he also had a huge sense of urgency to him. His mind couldn’t slow down and allow him to catch up with what was happening. Thoughts clouding his mind and taking up all his capacity to think.

“I’m sorry..” you started again. Breaking him of his thoughts. God how long had he been silent? “I know you’re busy and I ha-“

“Stop,” he said with a sigh.

Your eyes cut to him quickly, before returning to your lap.

“Please stop saying sorry to me,” eyes cutting to you. “I am the one who is sorry and who should be begging for your forgiveness. I can’t believe I haven’t made you understand what you are to me. I’m not upset about you not telling me, sweetheart. I’m just sad you have been through all of this alone.” He let out a dry chuckle. His hand reached out for your stomach again. “I have done nothing in this life to deserve you.” He let out a wet chuckle, “but fuck… am I glad you’re mine.”

You grinned between the tears. Your hand covered his easily now, without hesitation. The feeling of his warm hand softly brushing your stomach was something you had been longing for. “You deserve more than me, but I’m glad I’m yours too.” You let out a small wink when his eyes let yours briefly before they were back on the road in front of him.

You felt another surge of pain shooting through you. The contractions n were definitely getting more frequent. You started your breathing again, this time squeezing his hand to help take your mind off it. Once the pain subsided some you could hear Simon’s voice sweetly talking you through it.

After a couple breaths, you steadied yourself. “I found out I was pregnant the day you left, ya know… before.” You admitted. You heard his big inhale at the confession.

“The night with the… dinner?” You aren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify. It could have been a big moment to you and not to him, you suppose.

“Fuckin’ hell baby…” Simon sighed.

“I just wasn’t sure where we stood,” you gulped. “I couldn’t tell how you were feeling and I honestly don’t even know if you like kids.” You let out a dry laugh. “I had this whole plan, god it was a halfway thought out plan. We would eat dinner, celebrate you being home and I would tell you the news.” You hadn’t let go of his hand even as it fell to your lap. “But with the way everything happened I just didn’t know what to do or how to tell you… so I didn’t.” You finished with a shrug.

“I like kids,” he admitted. “In case you’re still wondering.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him for what felt like the 20th time since he arrived at your apartment.

“As for the rest… I don’t know how to explain how I behaved that night. Of course if I knew… I wouldn’t have acted like that. I shouldn’t have treated you that way. Fuck what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I’m glad you like kids.”

“Changing the subject, yeah?” You can hear his grin.

You turned a little to look at him better. “We will get through this. Will probably have to have a few talks about everything but for now. Let’s get this baby out of me.”

You can see the lights of the hospital casting over his features as he pulls into the emergency lane. With one deep breath that you two seemed to share, “It’s go time Si.”

I hope you all enjoyed this! If you would like a part 2 of the hospital and then the aftermath... feel free to let me know in a comment!

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part Two

[lisenberry]

Fluffy fluff.

CW: Pregnancy and child birth, language

Ch.2, Ch.3

You knew this day would come. Your due date wasn’t until the following week, but as of your last check-up, the midwife didn’t think you would make it that long.

But you were still surprised, and fought a rising panic, when you woke up around dawn to your first set of contractions. They weren’t terrible, at first, and you tried to remain calm as you showered, dressed in the comfortable outfit you’d set aside and checked your hospital bag for the thousandth time since you’d packed it weeks ago.

You’d read all of the books and watched all of the videos. It was a long process, and there was no rush to get to the hospital at this stage. It could be hours, days even before anything happened.

You were completely prepared and in control.

Until you stepped out into your hallway and straight into the wall of heat and muscle that was your neighbor.

“Oh, hi, John. I didn’t know you were back.” It’d been over a year since he’d left.

Why on earth he kept such an expensive apartment when he hardly ever lived in it, you couldn’t understand. He’d lived across the hall for five years, and had spent less than six months total sleeping in his bed.

And every so often, when it worked out, in yours.

“I got in late last night.” He paused, brows drawn together as he took in your obvious condition. “I was just heading to the gym.”

Jesus, he looked so good. Even in track shorts and a hooded sweatshirt. It pulled tightly across his chest as he rocked back on his heels. No doubt doing the quick math as to whether or not he could be responsible.

“I’m headed to have a baby,” you huffed out, as a sudden rush of spasming pain in your back nearly keeled you over.

That was a new feeling. It felt urgent. Shit, maybe you should’ve left sooner.

“Right now?” He lunged to grab your bags from your arms as you leaned against the wall for support.

“Not yours, don’t worry.” You laughed up at him, in an attempt to lighten the awkwardness of the exchange.

“Can I call someone for you?”

“I called a cab. It’s on its way.” The pressure started to ebb as you chanced a few steps towards the stairs.

“A cab? Absolutely not, I’ll drive you.”

“No, please. It’s fine. I have a plan. It’s all going to plan.”

But he’d taken possession of your hospital bag and your diaper bag, and had them loaded into the boot of his truck before you could protest.

“Is your boy—the father meeting you there?” Once he’d hoisted you into the passenger seat, and started the engine, he finally asked the question that had been left hanging between you.

“He’s not in the picture.”

Never was, you didn’t add. After you’d convinced yourself it would never work out between you and John, you'd had a brief fling with a visiting colleague from Berlin.

Imagine your surprise when you found out you were pregnant a month after he’d finished the project and gone home. To his wife, you found out later.

“You’re doing this alone?”

“It’s going to be fine. I told you, I have a plan.”

**********

“You don’t have to stay, really. I can do this on my own.” The contractions had become so intense, you couldn't control your voice enough to sound convincing.

His sympathetic smile as he finished filling out your intake paperwork was purely to placate. He had no intention of leaving. And you were grateful for his help.

The fact that he knew so much about you to only need to ask a few questions when completing the never-ending forms should’ve been alarming, not comforting.

Your blood type? Had you ever told him that?

“Aren’t you preregistered? How many times have you had to give them the same information?” He drew his eyebrows together in frustration as he realized the next packet was double sided.

“A fucking thousand.” You focused on your breathing and fought the waves of nausea that seemed to get worse along with the pain.

Weren’t there supposed to be breaks? You were told there would be breaks. You barely got a second to unclench your fists before another one started again.

You stood too quickly and steadied yourself with a hand to his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Concerned, he stood with you.

“I’m going to be sick.” You rushed, or rather waddled at your fastest pace, to the nearby family restroom and he trailed along close behind.

He stopped momentarily at the triage desk to slap the clipboard down and boom something about needing a room immediately, before following you in and holding your hair back as you wretched into the toilet.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” He soothed, as he rubbed your back and passed you a wad of tissue.

“Please don’t leave me,” you croaked out, tears flowing at your helplessness and the sudden realization that this was only the beginning. That your life would never be the same.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

Once you were admitted to a room and set up with effective pain management, you finally relaxed enough to get your wits about you. And that involved, in no small part, frequently reminding the staff that, no, John was not your husband. He wasn’t even the father.

He wasn’t nearly as dedicated to correcting them as you were.

Things seemed to happen quickly, although you’d find out later that you labored well into the night, with a tireless, supporting hand held firmly in yours.

“You did so good, love.” When it was all over, he wiped a sweaty, wayward lock of hair from your cheek and planted a kiss on the top of your head. Seemingly as relieved as you were. As if he’d been holding his breath along side you.

You missed the look the nurse gave you as she placed the squirming infant on your chest, nor did you hear her mutter under her breath, “Not the father, my ass.”

“Welcome to the world, sweetheart,” you cooed, the pain quickly forgotten as you felt a tremendous sense of peace. Clarity.

“And welcome home, John.”

[em-omer]

My name is Saadiya Masoud. My family and I have endured the horrors of war. Our home in Jabalia, northern Gaza, was bombed, and my husband was severely injured in the chest and legs. He urgently needs to travel abroad for treatment. His health is in a critical state, and he is also deeply affected psychologically, as he witnesses the hardship his family is going through—our struggle to secure daily food and the necessary medicine to ease his pain—feeling helpless in the face of it all.

I have three children: five-year-old twins, Omar and Zein, and my three-year-old daughter, Zeina. At the start of the aggression on Gaza, when our house was hit by a missile, my son Omar was injured in his spine after a pillar collapsed on him. We were barely rescued from the rubble. We were then forced to flee to the south. I, along with my three children, walked on foot, not knowing anything about my husband, as his injuries were severe, and we had no idea which hospital he was taken to. I spent almost a month without any information about my husband, suffering with my children as we slept on the streets, barely managing to find food once a day. After a month of hardship, I heard that some of the injured had been transferred from the north to the Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital. I was fortunate that day to be reunited with my husband. He was exhausted and still had shrapnel in his chest, but unfortunately, no hospital in Gaza could perform the necessary surgery due to a lack of equipment. We moved to live together in a tent shared with three other families at an UNRWA school in Deir al-Balah.

I am pleading with everyone to help us in any way possible. We need pain relief medication for my husband and my son Omar, as well as other medicines to treat skin diseases and rashes that have spread across our bodies due to the lack of cleaning supplies like soap and shampoo. We also need healthy food for our children, who are surviving on unhealthy canned food every day.

Even a few cents could make a huge difference in our lives right now. Your small contribution can help us secure the basic necessities we desperately need. Please, from the bottom of my heart, I ask you to share our story and offer whatever support you can. Every little bit counts, and it will bring us one step closer to relief. Thank you so much for your kindness and generosity.

https://gofund.me/42ba47b3

[red-riding-wood]

PSA - Community Predator

Over a series of months, myself and other Tumblr users -- fic writers, gif makers, fans of created content -- have been victimised by @mrkdvidal1989, who has extensively lied about who he is, preyed on multiple women and denied involvement -- therefore ruining friendships, reputations and feelings, and promised me life-saving medical treatment that he never followed through on.

More information including mine and their stories under the cut.

The reason I am going public with this is twofold:

A) To protect others from being hurt. He is known to reach out to many tumblr users, especially young women in the Cillian Murphy fandom -- but he may have a wider reach beyond this circle. B) Since his "disappearance" three weeks ago and the unravelling of his lies, this man has ruined my life and the only hope I had of obtaining treatment for a condition that has been plaguing me for four years.

Killian Vidal is the name he has chosen to give us, and has claimed to be both a officer commander and general in the mobility troop in the SAS (the general rank does not even exist), has beaten cancer a while ago (but said to another mutual that his "time was running out" and he is currently struggling with it), and a plethora of other life experiences and general knowledge about him that varies in consistency when talking to different people and is questionable in its validity. He has also shared pictures of "himself" that when reverse image searched, belong to different people.

I got to know Kill when he reblogged one of my fanfics (as the story seems to start with a lot of his victims) and he reached out via DMs. We quickly became close friends who called nearly every day on Discord and when I told him about my health issues, he immediately offered to pay for my medical treatment wherever I could find willing doctors.

I was hesitant to believe this at first since all of this seemed too good to be true (and was). He claimed to be very wealthy, enough to afford private jets like it was nothing and to rent me an apartment in the UK in the same building as him. Over time, I grew to trust him because he felt like such a genuine person and friend, which was made all the more believable by the fact that he has such a huge following on Tumblr and was, at the time, part of a vast social network of fans and friends (one of which he even claimed to know IRL -- who will remain anonymous unless they decide to speak out). I decided to ignore the little red flags because I was so desperate to receive this treatment that for me would be life-saving.

For four years, I have been plagued by an array of (mostly) undiagnosed digestive issues that have made my life almost unbearable and have on numerous occasions nearly killed me due to malnutrition. I've spent months in hospital, endured years of malpractice and misdiagnoses, undergone heart surgery, and have tried absolutely everything I can to get better. In the winter of 2023, I was told by my doctor that I was refused in the TPN program (a treatment that may have slowed or stopped my weight loss) and that with or without it, I was looking at mortality. Refusing to stop fighting but having exhausted the public health care system in Canada, I went into 2024 not really having much hope of anything anymore.

So, when Kill came along, that changed. He promised -- and I mean, from the bottom of his heart, promised -- that he would help me get treatment, that he would get me out of my abusive home and fly me to the UK, that he would be there for me as my friend, etc. I was beyond grateful, and as my trust with him built, so did my hope.

The travel plans kept getting put off; originally, he would fly me out as soon as the apartment became available, which was the 11th of Feb, 2024. He kept finding excuses to not book the jet. Finally, it seemed as if around the 15th/16th I would be flying. My health had been declining rapidly and the situation was becoming all the more urgent, and he said he was in contact with a pilot and would send the ticket soon and call me.

That was the last I heard from him. The 16th.

Initially thinking he had ended his life (he had discussed thoughts of suicide with me prior to this), I was beside myself with worry not only thinking one of my closest friends was gone but also that my chance at life was. I reached out to his other friends, and I made several calls to the UK authorities and emergency services and ended up requesting a welfare check be made to see if he was even alive.

They reported that no one under the name Killian Vidal was in the records of the building name he gave me -- the same building that I was meant to live in within that week.

After reaching out to my now beloved friend @kittenonpluto (A.K.A., Cas) on Tumblr, I learned that Kill was in fact alive, and had told her that he was in hospital for digestive issues in Indianopolis, United States (though again, no record of his name in their medical system). He still wouldn't talk to me, but told her to tell me that he would reach out when he was out of hospital.

Cas and I compared information he'd told us (her story will be attached to this post) and looked into the mystery more. He constantly dodged confrontation and questions about the fake photos and information he'd sent her, and seemed to use his completely fabricated hospitalisation as an excuse to not fulfil his promises to myself and her, as well as a means to garner sympathy.

It was quite obvious that he didn't know how the American medical system worked, and he even incorporated elements of my actual story and used them in his. When asked about his treatments, he responded with medically false information. He reported digestive issues, reflux, and having both an NG tube and TPN -- both of which I have experience with -- and let me say, I am beyond disgusted and infuriated that my real life trauma was used as a ploy in all this.

How do we know for a fact this is false? I checked the police case for his welfare check again, and they said that they confirmed him being in the UK at the same time he had told Cas he was in hospital in the States.

After a final confrontation from both Cas and myself (and a desperate final plea for the medical aid he promised me), he was never heard from again from either of us or our friend circles.

I'm now having to pick up the pieces he's left me in and to be honest, I have little to no idea of what the hell to do or how to save myself. The fact that he strung me along for a month and built up my hope that I was going to live only to abandon me without even a word is deplorable to me.

And mine isn't the only story. I've heard from four women on Tumblr (who, again, will remain anonymous unless they choose to speak out) who he has been romantic or sexually involved with (and lied about his involvement, made them out to seem insane or toxic, created rifts in our friendships, toyed with their emotions, and made false promises to of relationships, marriage, and finances).

And that's not including the ex-wife who came back to Tumblr to claim that her and Kill had never met nor married. She was promptly silenced by a "lawyer threat" that we have strong reason to believe was a bluff.

At the end of the day, there are so many lies, half-truths, inconsistencies, etc. this man has wrapped himself in and we don't know for the life of us what his motives are, but from the information that we do know is false, he isn't genuine. He toys with people. He hurts them. Myself and the others that have been affected by this want that to stop.

And at any point, he has the ability to make a new account, and take on a new persona, pretend to be someone else. Tumblr is a wonderful place and I have met so many cool people on here, but please be careful about who you interact with and what you share, because aside from making this post, it is beyond my power to stop him from doing what he does. But after what he did to me, I could not remain silent.

Other Stories

If you have an experience or story with Killian that you would like heard, please reblog it on this thread or make a post. With your consent, I can include a link to it below.

kittenonpluto's story

aurorag98's story

everyoneisawhore's story

your-nanas-house's story

hllywdwhre's story

Final Note

Lastly, if you have read this far, thank you.

If you want to reach out to me about this issue -- whether it's to anonymously share your experience, ask questions, ask for evidence (of which I can back up these statements with), or anything at all --, please do not hesitate to do so. <3

For those who may be worried about the potential legality of this post, everything that I have stated as fact is fact and it is not my intention to slander or spread false information.

[peachyhalstead]

alive | j. halstead

summary: chasing down an offender doesn't go quite as planned (dw it ends fluffy)

pairing: established (married) fem!reader x jay halstead, platonic!reader x adam ruzek

word count: 1.75k

warnings: canon-level violence, gunshot, hospitals, medical inaccuracies

a/n: meet a seasoned fanfic writer's first fic about jay <3 please let me know what you think of this !! also it was originally written in 3rd pov so if you see anything wrong, no you didn't ---- You followed Adam down the alley, weapons drawn. "Chicago PD! Stop!"

You felt your lungs burn as you raced down the alley, nodding when you saw Adam silently gesture to enter through the front door, and he would take the back.

Noticing the door was already open, you walked in, eyes alert for any sign of a victim or offender.

Hearing Adam call out a "clear!" you opened your mouth to do the same, but didn't make it that far as you heard three shots ring out, feeling two sharp pains tear through your body.

Adam, having seen the offender shoot you, quickly fired a round of his own weapon, pressing a button on his radio. "5021 Ida, shots fired by offender and police! We need an ambo to our location, plain-clothed officers at the scene, one in need of urgent medical care!"

Near the end of the block that you and Adam were on, Jay's head shot up to meet Hailey's, hearing their coworker's distraught call into the radio.

The two sprinted out of their location, and down to the abandoned house, hearing the sirens grow louder.

"Ruz! Where are you guys?!" Jay called, stomping through the house.

He felt his heart plummet when he saw his wife on the floor, bullet hole in your shoulder and belly, Adam holding his jacket over the wounds.

"Y/N!" He fell to his knees next to you, letting out a breath when you looked at him.

"J-Jay, I didn't see him coming." You mumbled, breaths shaky.

"Shh, it's okay, hon. You're going to be alright." Jay reassured you, his hands trembling as he reached out to stroke her the back from your face. He shot a panicked look at Adam, who was still pressing down on the bullet wounds.

"Ambo's en route, Jay," Adam said, his voice tight with worry. "She's strong, she's gonna pull through this."

Jay didn't answer, his attention solely focused on his wife. He held onto your hand, willing his strength into you. "Hang in there, baby."

"I'm trying," you answered weakly.

Just then Voight and Kevin Atwater stormed into the room. The sight of you on the floor left them momentarily stunned before they sprung into action. Voight acknowledged Ruzek with a curt nod and Atwater immediately moved to Jay's side, helping apply pressure to your wounds.

The sirens outside grew louder as the ambulance neared their location. It wasn't long before the paramedics came rushing in with a stretcher, immediately getting to work on stabilizing you for transport to Med.

As they carried you out of the house, Jay followed closely behind, fear etched on his face but determination in his eyes. He watched as they loaded yoiu into the ambulance before climbing in right after them.

The team was left in the eerily quiet house -- a stark contrast to the chaos moments ago. Voight looked around at his team, each one wearing an expression of concern and fear for their colleague.

"Everyone alright?" he asked gruffly, though there was a hint of concern in his tone.

Ruzek and Atwater both nodded, and soon the team made their way to Chicago Med, making home in the waiting room, wanting to be there for both you and Jay.

Jay, having hopped out of the ambulance as you were unloaded and ushered into a trauma room, a few nurses stopping him from going in. "Jay, Jay stop!"

The detective pulled a hand through his hair, looking at his older brother, Will. "Will, you gotta help her, man."

Shaking his head, he nodded to where his coworkers Dr. Marcel and Dr. Choi were working on you, who had since lost consciousness. "I can't, bro. She's family, against hospital policy."

Jay hit the wall, tears coming to his eyes. "I can't lose her, man. We just got married, this can't be the end."

Will clapped his brother on the back, jaw tense. "They got her, Jay. She'll be good, she's a strong one."

The two brothers watched as you were rushed into emergency surgery, being told to wait in the waiting room for any updates.

------

Jay stared at the clock on the wall across from him, watching the hands move as time passed. It had been two hours since you were taken to the O.R., and as much as Will tried, he wasn't able to get any more information out of his coworkers.

"Hey, man." Adam walked over to Jay, handing him a coffee.

"Thanks." Jay spoke, voice raw. "You saved her life, Ruz."

Adam shook his head, sitting next to Jay. "It was my idea to split up. If we stuck together, maybe she wouldn't have gotten hit."

Jay looked at his friend. "Don't blame yourself, Ruz."

The two detectives sat in silence, only perking up when Will and Dr. Marcel walked out into the waiting room.

"Is she-" Jay cut himself off, unable to finish the question.

"She's alive. We got both the bullets out, there was some damage to her shoulder, but we were able to repair it all."

Jay let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, grateful smile on his face. "Can I see her?"

Dr. Marcel shook his head. "Not right now. She's being moved to a recovery room in the I.C.U., a nurse will come out to bring you to her when she's settled."

"Will she still be able to be a cop?" Adam asked, the question plaguing him ever since he saw you hit the ground.

"With physical therapy and rest, Y/N should get full function and mobility of her shoulder. It won't be fast, she'll need lots of rest."

Jay thanked the surgeon, shaking his hand before he walked away.

------

Once the team had all heard that you made it through surgery, they headed back to the district to close up the case, the offender in CPD's morgue.

Jay sat up when a nurse walked over to him, smile on her face. Maggie, he recalled, from when Will introduced them a while ago. "She’s awake, she's asking for you."

Rising from the uncomfortable seat, Jay groaned as his back cracked, following Maggie down the halls to the I.C.U.

He smiled when he finally laid eyes on you, blinking blearily as the door opened and you saw your husband.

"Jay," you sighed in relief, her voice barely a whisper.

His breath hitched in his throat as he approached the bed. Your face was paler than he remembered, hair fanned out on the white hospital pillow. The sight of seeing you awake, those sparkling eyes looking at him despite being clouded by painkillers and fatigue, was enough to bring tears prickling in his eyes.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, carefully taking your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "How are you feeling?"

You gave a small wry smile. "Like I’ve been shot twice."

He chuckled weakly, stroking your hand with his thumb. "They said you did great in surgery."

You shrugged slightly, wincing after. "I don't remember much."

"They also said you’ll need a lot of rest and physical therapy for your shoulder."

You nodded slowly. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”

Jay looked at you, admiration clear in his eyes. Despite having just woken up from surgery and being shot twice, you were still trying to put up a brave face.

"There's my soldier," he said softly, brushing a loose strand of your hair from her your-drenched forehead.

Just then there was a soft knock on the door and Will walked in followed Dr. Marcel.

Dr. Marcel greeted you two with a warm smile as he approached your bed. He checked on your vitals before turning to Will and Jay.

"She's doing well considering the circumstances," Dr. Marcel reported.

Will nodded, sending you a comforting smile. "Should be able to get discharged in a few day’s time."

You nodded, looking at the sling your arm was in. "How long do I need to wear this?"

Dr. Marcel smirked, Will had warned him that his sister-in-law wasn't one to sit around and do nothing. "At least a month, but it depends on how your physical therapy goes. But, for a couple weeks, you can't move your arm. We had to repair some muscles in your shoulder, so it'll be sore."

You nodded, thanking the doctor as he left, Will following.

Jay looked at you, sad smile on his face. "Ruz is blaming himself."

You frowned, trying to sit up, wincing as your abdomen throbbed.

"Hey, hey, take it easy." Jay helped you sit up, making sure you were comfortable.

"Can I see the team? At least Adam, I want him to know it wasn't his fault." You looked at your husband, who nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead, heading down to grab the team.

------

After a few days, you were finally able to leave the hospital. You had signed the discharge paperwork, and Jay walked back into the room after pulling the car around, soft smile on his face when he saw you struggling to get her coat on, one arm still in the sling.

"Here, let me help," he offered, walking over to you. He helped you put on the coat, paying extra attention to not disturb your injured shoulder.

You met his eyes and offered him a soft smile. "Thanks, babe."

Jay just nodded, his throat choked with emotion. He was relieved that you were okay but knew you had a long way to go for your complete recovery. He gently took your hand, gave it a squeeze, and lead out of the room.

As they walked through the silent corridors, you leaned into him slightly. It was subtle but Jay noticed it immediately. He wrapped his arm around you, offering her comfort and support. The worry lines on his face seemed to deepen as they moved towards the exit of the hospital.

Outside, the city was bustling as usual. The harsh city lights reflected off Jay's face as he helped you into their car before moving around to sit in the driver's seat.

The ride home was quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the occasional honk from nearby traffic. You were staring out of the window, mind lost in thoughts while Jay focused on driving, occasionally glancing over at his wife.

“Hey, Jay?” You looked over at him, voice quiet.

Jay hummed, glancing at you while he pressed on the gas petal when the light turned green.

“Just,” you paused, feeling a teenager in love again. “I love you.” ---- a/n: did u like it? also please don't expect good titles ever titles always make me wanna punch a brick wall

[amethystwrytes]

Safe.

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Me not knowing a single thing about medicine and relying on Google to give me accurate-ish information and the hope that I'm kind of explaining it correctly but knowing I'm probably not, so apologies to any reader who may work in medicine and is rolling their eyes at me lol. 18+ Only.

Chapter WC: 6k

AN: I have never ever in my life written a mafia fic, at least nothing I’ve ever posted or kept so…good luck. Additionally, this fic was originally all one doc which ended up being too much to handle, like Tumblr would not even try to meet me halfway. So I decided to break her up into chapters which I will post routinely until she's over. No idea how many chapters bc I’m still deciding on how to separate some of the later parts of the story…so hang tight with me. 

-PART ONE-

It’s the blare of a phone ringing that wakes you in the middle of the night. You pull yourself to the edge of the bed and look at the two phones that lay on your bedside table. One is personal, in a shiny black case that in truth, hardly ever rings or blips anymore. The other is a silver phone, caseless, a little worse for the wear and the screen is illuminated with an unsaved telephone number. This particular detail doesn’t really matter, there’s only a few people who would be calling it, and they cycle through burner phones so often there’s no point in saving anything. 

“Hello?” your voice is scratchy from sleep. 

“We’re ten minutes out,” Changbin says urgently, skipping greetings entirely. You sit up and throw your feet over the edge of the bed. 

“Who is it and how bad?” you ask, flitting around your bedroom switching lights on and grabbing a hair tie. 

“It’s Hyunjin, and I don’t think he’s going to die but I can’t stop the bleeding,” Changbin grunts. 

“Gun shot?” you assume, already downstairs and clearing the dining table, wondering what kind of trauma you need to prepare for. 

“Stabbed.” 

“Fuck,” you stop. Possibilities like artery and organ punctures start spinning around your head. You pray it’s not abdominal, but you know these men too well so you don’t ask, because you’re sure you already know the answer. 

“We can’t take him to an ER, ___, his face is on every list in the city. You know they always keep informants in the emergency departments, we can’t take him there,” Changbin urges and it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. 

He’s correct. When Lee Minho, crime lord and your current employer first found you, you were working the night shift at the emergency department. You knew that because of the high crime rate in the city, many of the staff who sat at the check in and triage stations were also paid police informants, ready to dial up the officers to run any names or faces that looked sketchy, had a shady story, or came in with GSWs, or similar combative injuries. 

“Okay. Okay, keep direct pressure on the wound and I mean a lot of pressure Changbin, it’s going to feel like you’re hurting him but trust me, lots of pressure. I’ll prep the dining room,” you tell him. 

You take a deep breath and think. You start a pot of boiling water and lay out some clean towels on the counter. Then fly around the room opening drawers: Gloves, scissors, gauze, bandages, wound packing strips, disinfectant, antibiotics, stitch kit, and the silent prayer that no arteries, or internal organs have been compromised because you are not a surgeon and you will have to send them out to a hospital, which is more time wasted and gives Hyunjin a significantly lower survival chance. 

You weigh a clean sheet down over the table just as you hear tires squeal into the driveway outside. You run to the door and unlock it, propping it open so they can carry him in. 

“It’s bad ___, he’s out cold,” Felix grunts breathlessly as he and Changbin carry an unconscious Hyunjin into the room. All three are covered in blood and you don’t bother asking if it’s Hyunjins, theirs, or someone else's. The two of them are walking, conscious and breathing, so it doesn’t matter at the moment. 

“Okay, it’ll be okay,” you blather in a much higher tone than you mean to. 

You don the gloves and grab the scissors, cutting up the seams of Hyunjins black satin shirt, soaked with blood. Changbin keeps his hand pressed to Hyunjins left side, a balled up tee shirt gripped in his shaking fist. 

“Bin,” you say softly, “I need to cut the shirt away, okay? When I say three I want you to pull your hand off,” you explain and he nods, “Felix, I need you to bring the pot of water and those clean towels from the kitchen in here for me,” you instruct. 

You look at Hyunjins sweet face, ghastly pale, and lips several shades lighter than what they ought to be. He’s clearly lost a lot of blood and you briefly think of a transfusion, but have no way of performing one - most of these men have no idea what blood type they are anyway but even if they did you don’t have the means to do it. 

“Okay,” you breathe deeply once the shirt is mostly gone, the scent of iron and copper floods your nose, “One…two…three.” 

Changbin pulls the balled up, blood soaked cloth from the wound and you watch as the thick, red substance trickles out while you finish off the shirt. You hear Changbin gasp and curse under his breath. 

“It’s okay,” you say, “That’s a fairly good sign, see how it’s a slow trickle and not a burst or spurt? That’s a good sign,” you repeat for him, grabbing a handful of gauze to press into the wound.

Changbin nods and backs away. 

“No, no,” you stop him, “Go wash your hands, put some gloves on and come back here, Felix, you do the same. Quickly.” 

The two men disperse to do as they’re told and you hold the gauze in place with one hand, wetting a towel to clean off the area with the other so you can see what you’re working on better. It’s on his left side, above his hip in the small of his waist. That significantly decreases the number of organs possibly punctured. Left kidney, lung, and/or possible intestinal damage - none of which are good news, but that will make it easier to look for tell tale signs, which as of right now you don’t see. 

Changbin and Felix return, gloved up and ready to assist as you work diligently to stop the bleeding by packing the wound. 

“How long was the blade?” you ask as you work. You stick your fingertip into the open flesh to feel it out. This seems to perk your patient up, Hyunjin jerks up on the table, screaming in agony and cursing the room. The good news is the wound isn’t as deep as you feared.

“Hold him down!” you yell and both men scramble to steady him. “Changbin? The knife?”

“Um,” Changbin shakes his head, “Small, smooth, no more than ten centimeters I’d say.” 

Hyunjin gasps and goes eerily still on the table. 

“___?” Felix cries, you can hear the fear in his voice. 

“It’s okay, he’s responding to pain and that’s good, but he’s going to slip in and out of consciousness because of the blood loss,” you explain but you still see the fear on Felixes face, “Why don’t you tell me what happened Felix?” 

He looks at you, eyes wide with fear and you give him a shaky but reassuring smile and a nod of encouragement, “We were ambushed. It was just supposed to be a collection run, so only the three of us went. As soon as we walked into their storehouse bullets were flying. Hyunjin knocked the gun out of the guys hand and he pulled a blade out of his boot as a backup,” Felix adds, “He stabbed Hyunjin but he got in one last punch that knocked the bastard out cold,” he smiles proudly. 

“Was Hyunjin significantly taller than the man?” you wonder. 

“Definitely,” Changbin nods, “Why does it matter?” 

“Because it appears that the man stabbed into his side at a difficult upward angle, which prevented it from going in deep. That’s good, because that means it probably bypassed any of his organs. Felix, bring my stethoscope and the blood pressure cuff please, over on the end table.” 

Felix runs over and you cautiously release the gauze. To your relief the bleeding seems to have at least slowed to a manageable rate. 

You stuff the stethoscope in your ears and try to ascertain some vitals now that he seems stable(ish). His heart rate is lower than normal, but his lungs sound clear. Pupils are responding to light slowly but normally, and his blood pressure is low but stable. You grab his hand and press on his fingernails, O2 seems fine. 

“What now?” Felix asks. 

“I’ll need you two to lift him up a bit, I’ve got the wound packed but I’ll need to wrap a bandage around his torso to keep the packing in place, then, in an hour or so, if we’re lucky the bleeding will have stopped completely and I can clean him up and stitch it,” you say shakily. 

The boys do as they’re told and you carefully wrap the bandage around him, making sure the wound is secured. 

A knock pounds at the door as you lay him back down on the table, the three of you exchange glances and Changbin pulls the 9mm from his strap and makes his way toward the door with Felix tiptoeing behind as backup. 

“It’s me,” a voice hollers from the other side and your little trio breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Lee Minho, obviously coming to check on one of his best. 

Changbin opens the door and sweeps the front yard with his eyes for good measure before closing up again. 

“How is he?” Minho stands over Hyunjins still body as you discard your gloves in a nearby bin. 

“He’s lost quite a lot of blood, if we were at the hospital I’d imagine they’d call for a transfusion, which is impossible here - but if I can get him stable, he might pull through the blood loss thing. The wound wasn’t as deep as I thought it would be, but it’s quite a bleeder, so right now my primary focus is to make sure it’s completely stopped before sewing him up,” you explain. 

Minho nods, and you watch as he quietly assesses the situation, considering his next move. You don’t know Hyunjin as well as some of the others. You do know he’s careful, cautious and very good at his job. The fact he was nearly bested this evening has you surprised, so you can only imagine the shock of the man standing in front of you. Minho taps his finger gently against his lips, then drags his hand across his mouth in frustration. 

“I want retaliation for this,” he says quietly, darkly. 

“Absolutely,” Changbin nods, “The motherfucker who did this has numbered days.” 

“Find him,” Minho commands, “Find everyone who was there, I don’t care if you have to go to their homes where their god damned kids sleep, you find them, I want intel on them all, and we’ll go over it together. We’ll figure out who we can use for information, and who we’re going to,” he stops himself then and looks at you gently, “Well, who won’t be of any value to us.” 

You appreciate the attempt at guarded candor, but you already know he means to murder them all. Knowing Minho, and how he probably feels he’s been screwed over tonight, he’s going to kill the valuable ones too - once he knows what he needs to know. 

“I’m going to go wash up,” you say softly, “He should be alright for now. I’ll check him after I’m done. If anything happens just yell.” 

When you’re safely closed off in the bathroom, you take the first calm breath since the phone rang, waking you from a dreamless sleep. You stare at yourself in the mirror and realize in addition to being covered in blood, you also still wear the black silk nightgown you wore to bed. You scoff, looking down at yourself, the lace hem falls across the top of your thighs, sticking to the skin with blood, and one thin strap hangs off your shoulder. You look like a dumpster fire. Your hair is in shambles as well. You start to take it down and decide to toss the nightie in the trash when the door to your bathroom opens. Minho. 

“I sent Felix and Bin off, I need them to cool down a bit, they’re pretty keyed up,” he says, playing with the bottles and boxes on your bathroom vanity. “I’ve sent for Seungmin to stay with you and Hyunjin for a while as protection, I’ll stick around until he arrives of course.” 

You clear your throat, “Thank you.” 

“It’s nothing,” he whispers. He moves to stand behind you and you stare at each other in the reflection of the mirror. He takes two fingers and caresses your arm, hooking the rogue strap of your nightie and pulling it back into place on your shoulder. His other hand roams your figure, over your breast, down your ribs and waist, and stops on your hip as he gives it a gentle squeeze - never once taking his eyes off yours in the mirror. You say nothing, you don’t move. 

“You look like a scared animal,” he chuckles, using his free hand to pull your hair off your neck, exposing it. His lips move in, his breath on the delicate skin, and he looks at your reflection once more, “Hm?” 

You realize he’s asking for permission and you nod. His lips land right under your ear, his fingers spreading across your throat to gently pull you into him. You don’t stop the soft breath that escapes your lips and your hand flies to cover his as he continues to rub and squeeze your hip. 

You’ve almost lost yourself in him, when you open your eyes and realize he’s spreading the blood on your arm around. 

“Wait,” you gasp and jump away. 

“What?” he frowns, and you see the flicker of rejection flash in his dark eyes, but he decides  to suppress any reaction to it.

“You’re getting blood all over you,” you point to his hand, “I really do need to wash up and check on Hyunjin. I’ll need to monitor him constantly tonight to make sure there’s no change,” you say politely. 

“Are you that scared of me, Kitten?” he asks, leaning over your sink to rinse Hyunjins blood away. 

“I’m not scared of you Minho,” you tell him, and it’s mostly true, kind of. “You’ve been in my bed enough times that I think you know I’m not scared of you.” 

“Yet you always send me away after,” he sighs, shaking the excess water from his hands. “It makes me wonder if maybe you only let me into your bed because you think you don’t have a choice, you know, due to our arrangement,” he motions broadly at the room. 

You can easily see how he’d come to that conclusion. When you accepted his offer you went very swiftly from working your ass to the bone, on no sleep, in a shoebox of an apartment, with debt up to your eyeballs straight to having everything paid off, a credit card with essentially no limit, a huge, beautiful house on the edge of the city bought and paid for, and anything your heart desired. All of it was taken care of by him. So, yes, you could see how one might think you allow him to do whatever he wants just to keep things copacetic for him. 

“Do you want honesty?” you ask, reaching into the shower to adjust the water. 

“From my employees? I demand it, yes,” he nods. Well, there it is, you think. He looks at you as an employee, and you also look at him as your employer. The situation is so beyond wildly fucked that you’ve truly got no idea what you’re doing or why. 

“I let you into my bed because I’m lonely, and you make me feel…not alone,” you tell him. “It has nothing to do with our arrangement. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t.” 

“Good,” he nods, “but why are you lonely? You’re not my prisoner, you are free to come and go as you please, with the caveat of you being available when I need you, and for you to keep what you know and have seen to yourself.” 

“I know that,” you allow your nightgown to fall to the floor, “What I don’t know yet is how to compartmentalize my normal life with this life, how to live them separately. How to be normal out there, and business here. So until I do, well, you don’t seem to mind my using you for human connection.” 

“That’s understandable and I don’t mind at all,” he licks his lips as you slide your panties down and off your legs, “I know this was a big change for you, and I understand that what I ask of you is taxing, that what you see and hear is sometimes unfathomable.” 

You cross over to him, naked, skin streaked with another persons blood, “Thank you for understanding,” you say, and kiss him, pulling him into you by his collar. His fingers slide down your stomach and slide between your slick. You whimper into his mouth as he pulls away.

 He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them with a grin, “Wash up Kitten, but next time you don’t have one of my men bleeding on your dining room table, you’re mine.” 

You wait for him to close the door before you step into the water. You watch the white floor of the shower turn into red swirls being pulled down the drain. You scrub and scrub your skin until it feels raw, wash your hair in case any blood made its way up there to dry out in the strands. You dry off, moisturize and put on comfortable clothes - a pair of old scrub pants and a tee shirt you don’t care about. You pull your wet hair tight out of your face and then pick up your ruined night dress, tossing it into the bathroom trash on your way out the door. 

When you return downstairs you see Seungmin sitting in a recliner in the living room, scrolling his phone. Hyunjin continues to lay still on the dining table, and you walk over to check his vitals again, catching Seungmins attention. 

“Good evening,” he nods stiffly and you give him a wry smile. 

“Where did Min- Where did Mr. Lee go?” you ask him as you wrap the BP cuff around Hyunjins arm. 

“He left. You don’t need to know where,” he answers you with an uninterested cadence, not looking up from his phone. 

“Right,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Of course.” 

Hyunjins blood pressure is back to normal, albeit a tad low, but well in the realm of being acceptable. Resting heart rate has returned to the low 70’s, which is also a good sign. You finger the bandage at his side and it’s a relief to find that so far, no blood has seeped through the packing. That is indeed very good progress. 

As you fix his bandage back a hand flies up, landing over yours and you jump, looking up just in time to see his eyes flutter open. 

“Hey there,” you say softly, “How do you feel?” 

“Like I got stabbed in a back alley,” he chuckles and lifts his head but immediately winces at the pain and collapses back onto the table with a painful sounding thud. 

“Be very still,” you place your palm against his stomach softly. “You did get stabbed in a back alley and you’re far from ready to move around.” 

“Changbin and Felix?” he rasps. 

“They’re fine,” you answer, “They brought you here but Mr. Lee sent them home for the night, they were both very worried about you.” 

“But they’re fine?” he looks at you seriously and you nod. 

“Totally fine Hyunjin.” 

He shakes his head, “Those motherfuckers have to be the dumbest in the entire country. We weren’t even there for any rifts, we just needed to collect the monthly gun sales. I knew when we walked in something was off, everyone felt so nervous, I should’ve turned tail and gotten Bin and Felix out as soon as I felt it.” 

“She doesn’t need to know any of this, you ought to keep your mouth shut,” Seungmin calls from the living room. 

Hyunjin smirks, “Why’d they send the mean, strict grandpa? I almost died, I at least deserve Jeongin or Jisung.” 

You say nothing, but suppress a laugh and shrug your shoulders. 

Hyunjin wiggles around feeling his pants pockets and produces a square brass cigarette case. 

“Got a light Doll?” he places one between his lips and you walk to the kitchen for a lighter. 

“As your primary care professional, I don’t really recommend this right now,” you say dryly, but light it for him and allow it. 

“I’ve been a good patient though,” he sticks out his lower lip and you roll your eyes. 

“I suppose,” you say. 

“So when can I get out of here?” he asks between puffs. 

You scoff, “Well. If we were in a hospital and I could send you for bloodwork and images and definitively rule out any organ damage, I could send you home a lot sooner. As it is,” you think for a moment, trying to be both medically practical but also realistic to what Minho will expect. “As it is, I need to watch you for at least three days. I’ll need to monitor your wound, obviously, but also any sign of infection like swelling or fever. If that happens it could be because the blade nicked something it shouldn’t have, like your intestines for example, or that the wound itself is trying to go septic.” 

“Ew,” he grimaces.

“Exactly.” 

“And will I have to bunk on this very nice, but extremely uncomfortable table during that time? Not gonna lie Doll, I’m getting pretty stiff, and not in the fun way,” he jokes. 

“No,” you laugh, “Seungmin and I will help you to the guest room in a bit. First I’d like to unpack your wound, make sure the major bleeding stopped, and stitch you. Then I’ll clean you up and put a new bandage on, after that you can go to a real bed.” 

“Stitches huh?” he blows out a big puff of smoke. “Is that, uh…you know, going to hurt?” 

You grin, “Well, it won’t feel amazing, but it probably doesn’t hurt any worse than getting stabbed, and now we know you can handle that.” 

“Right,” he chuckles. 

“I’ll try and see if I have any more topical anesthetic in my supplies,” you pat his leg sympathetically. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Fuck! It hurts…” Hyunjin grumbles, you pause your needle as he flinches and bites down hard on his bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry, I’m almost done,” you tell him, going back to it, “aside from me sewing you up, how do you feel?” 

“I’m fine,” he says shakily, you can see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip and forehead, see his fingers shaking between weak grips on the edge of the table. 

“Cute, acting tough like that,” you click your teeth, “Now, how about you tell me the truth? I can’t treat you properly if you’re not honest about your symptoms.” 

He looks down at you, despite his current state, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile. 

“I feel like shit, there, you happy now?” he pouts. 

From the corner of the room Seungmin sighs, “She needs you to be specific, idiot.” 

“Why are you speaking?” Hyunjin snaps at him and you see Seungmin stiffen, face defiant, but you notice he sinks lower into the recliner and goes back to his phone. 

“He’s right,” you say quietly, finishing up the stitches, “I need to know if anything’s hurting, burning or itching from head to toe,” you stand up and help him lie back down on the table, carefully holding his head in your hands. This brings your faces closer together, closer than you’d ever been to Hyunjin, and you can’t help but notice the sweetness of his face, the wild innocence of his dark eyes. He meets your gaze with the same intensity and you have to look away. 

“So how about it?” you clear your throat, “How are you really feeling?” 

“My head is pounding, I feel like I could drink ten gallons of water, my side is burning where you just sewed my guts back in, and I feel like I couldn’t lift a feather without passing out. That good enough for you sweetheart?” he half laughs, then winces. 

“Yes, actually,” you quip, “The headache and weakness are both from the blood loss, I’ll get you some pain meds, and you can slowly start to drink some ice water for the dry mouth, I also want you on antibiotics, and Seungmin can help me get you to bed so you can rest.” 

You gesture to Seungmin, “I went ahead and pulled the covers down, I just need you to help me get him on the bed,” you instruct. 

Seungmin saunters over and Hyunjin reluctantly puts his arm around Seungmins neck, “Ouch! Fuck!” he cries and you look up from where you’re putting his feet on the floor. 

“Maybe support the side he doesn’t have a stab wound on boys?” you point to Hyunjins right side. 

“Right,” Seungmin grumbles.  

Getting Hyunjin from the dining room just down the hall to the bedroom proves to be quite difficult, despite the trip only being maybe twenty, twenty-five steps. The journey takes every bit of his energy and when he hits the mattress with a painful sounding thud he’s out again. 

“Is he going to make it?” Seungmin stands back and somehow looks both concerned and unbothered by Hyunjins pitiful state. 

“Yes,” you nod, “He needs to rehydrate, and rest. When he wakes up I’ll get him some pain medication, start some antibiotics, and get some fluids in him. Will you run down to the store and get a case of some kind of sports drink? He’ll need the sodium.” 

“No.” 

“Pardon?” you turn to Seungmin. 

“My orders aren’t to do your shopping, my orders are to stay here and protect the safe house,” he answers seriously. 

“For fucks sake Seungmin,” you sigh, “loosen up. I’ll grab my keys and be right back,” you tell him, “but if he wakes up and needs something urgent you’re on your own and whatever happens will be on you.” 

“Then I’ll deal with it. Just because you fuck the boss doesn’t make you the matriarch of the organization,” he says flatly. 

You freeze, your mouth setting into a tight, defensive line. You fight the urge to slap him, you know that he’ll hit you back and his fist most definitely packs a bigger punch. 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Hyunjin says weakly from the bed, Seungmin nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“It’s the truth,” Seungmin challenges softly. 

“That’s not how you talk to someone who does so much for us, and besides I’d hate for that nasty remark to get back to Minho, you won’t be doing protection details for a while, I guarantee you that,” Hyunjin threatens. 

Seungmin huffs and starts to stalk out of the room. 

“You’re forgetting something,” Hyunjin says, weakly lifting a finger and pointing at you. “Apologize.”

Seungmins eyes narrow with rage, “I apologize,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“It’s fine,” you sigh, knowing he doesn’t really mean it and also knowing that you don’t really give a shit if he does or not. “I’m going to get some things for Hyunjin, you boys play nice.” 

You don’t give either of them the opportunity to respond, you just head for the door. You wait until you’re in the privacy of your own car, well, Minho’s car, before you cry. 

Seungmins words cut deep, both embarrassing and insulting. You hadn’t really thought about anyone noticing that sometimes Minho slips away upstairs to your bedroom and because of that oversight you’d never really thought about how it would feel for others to know, and to comment on it. It feels lousy, turns out. It makes you feel cheap, and it makes you feel wrong. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

It’s almost daylight before Hyunjin wakes again. He slept through almost every vital check, and at the most would only stir in his sleep when you put the cuff around his arm or the cold stethoscope against his chest. 

“What are you reading?” his voice pulls your attention from the page and you wiggle around in your seat, joints and muscles stiff from hours of sitting. 

“It’s just a silly romance novel, nothing life changing,” you tell him, setting the book down. “Here, you need to drink,” you hand him a cup of blue Gatorade, a bit watery from the melted ice. 

Hyunjin attempts to sit up but winces, “Never really thought about how much I use these muscles,” his smile is twisted with pain, but you’re impressed with his positivity. 

“Here,” you stand up and reach around to fluff his pillows up so he’s propped. “How does that feel?” 

“God you smell good,” he says softly, his nose centimeters away from your sternum, right between your breasts. 

“Thanks,” you sit back down quickly. 

Hyunjin watches silently, sipping the blue beverage as you make a ruckus on the side table shaking pills out of bottles. 

“What’s all that?” he asks. 

“Your meds, since you’re up and lucid I want you to go ahead and take some,” you tell him, handing him two pills to take. 

“Can I at least know what I’m taking?” he chuckles, rolling them around his palm. 

“The smaller white one is an Oxycodone, for the pain, and the big one is Cephalexin, an antibiotic just in case,” you explain. 

He tosses the Oxy back onto the table and pops the antibiotic into his mouth. Off of your stare he shrugs, “I don’t take pain killers, used to have a bad problem with pills.” 

“Oh, well, it’s mainly just Acetaminophen, I think this one is 800mg and only 200mg of oxy. I think wherever your boss gets my drugs - they keep the hard stuff. I’d like you to take something, for your head and for the wound, but if you don’t want to I can’t make you obviously,” you say, standing up. 

“I’m fine sweetheart,” he lays his head back down on the pillows, and puts the empty cup on the table. “I like a little pain,” he winks. 

“Suit yourself,” you grab your book and start out of the room. 

“Hey, where are you going?” he calls. 

“Just giving you some privacy to rest,” you shrug. 

“Read to me,” he gestures towards your chair. 

“You’re kidding?” you snort. 

“I’ve slept all night, and I’m bored,” he pouts, “Please?” 

You huff and plant your ass back into the chair, deciding not to point out that he may have slept all night but you haven’t. 

“You really want to sit here and listen to my silly romance?” 

“Absolutely.” 

You sigh and open your book to the page you dogeared a few moments ago. To be frank you can’t remember what was happening, you’d zoned out and the words weren’t exactly sticking. You scan the page to find anything familiar. 

You freeze. Oh good Lord. 

“Why are you blushing?” he laughs. 

“I just…it’s…it’s sort of at a spicy part,” you squirm. 

“Nice, lay it on me,” he grins. 

“Jesus…” you shake your head and clear your throat. 

“...Scooping her into my arms, I lavish kisses on her mouth and neck. We strip each other bare, our love making frenzied. I make sure she orgasms before me, holding back until her body achieves its release. Right before I come I whisper “I love you” between each breath before my mind goes blank with pleasure. As we lie across my-,” 

“That’s it??” Hyunjin scoffs. 

“What’s it?” you look up at him. 

“That’s supposed to be spicy? That’s barely salted!” he chuckles. 

“Well, I suppose it’s meant to not be super detailed, leave a bit to the imagination,” you answer. 

“That’s lazy,” he shakes his head. 

“Well what would you have written then?” you challenge, closing the book and crossing your legs. 

“I don’t know, I’m no writer,” he falters, “but I would’ve written something about how she feels, how it feels to push into her - tight and wet and warm. What she tastes like - from her lipstick, to her skin, to her cunt.” 

You shift in your seat, squeezing your thighs together. 

“They could’ve at least described her noises, how playing with her in different ways makes her sound different, what her tits look like when I’m fucking her, bouncing fast or slow. I don’t know, something with a little actual spice,” he shrugs. 

“Well write a book then,” you say before he can go into any more detail. 

“I’m just saying, they could’ve painted a better picture, fucking is supposed to be fun, that sounded boring as hell,” he scoffs, “Who ever actually whispers “I love you” when they’re fucking?” 

“I don’t know, I guess people who love each other,” you grumble. 

“Yeah? Is that what Boss man says to you?” he teases. It’s not the same menacing tone that Seungmin had taken with you concerning Minho, and you can tell by the lightness of Hyunjins eyes he doesn’t mean anything by it, but God, these men. They all need to be lined up and slapped across the face. You’re sick of it. Sick of the power struggle. In every situation, in every conversation they have to feel like they’re holding the power. You let Seungmins comments roll off your back and ignored them like a coward earlier, but Hyunjin will likely be here a few days and you need to establish that you won’t back down again, you can fight fire with fire. 

So you straighten up and look him dead in the eyes, “No. When Minho fucks me he pulls my hair and slaps my ass and calls me his gorgeous little slut while his cum drips out of my mouth.” 

Hyunjins mouth turns into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen and his eyes go wide as he points to you, “Now that is a goddamn page turner.” 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes as you stand up and straighten yourself out, “Okay, storytime is over, I’m going to get a little sleep. Try to rest. I’ll make you some breakfast in a bit.” 

“Okay,” he nods and settles back into the mattress, as you go to switch the lights he looks at you, his head cocking to the side a bit, “Do you like that though? The rough and ragged and dirty stuff?” 

You shrug, “Sometimes, I guess. Sometimes though…I don’t know… I think I’d like someone to whisper how much they love me, it sounds nice.”

He nods, then looks back up at you, “I’m sorry, I won’t comment on you and Lee anymore.”

“See you later Hyunjin.”

Too tired to even attempt walking up the stairs you drag yourself over to the sofa and collapse.

Seungmin sits in his recliner nearby and blinks at you.

You point to the blanket folded over the back of his chair, “Will you hand-,”

He balls up the blanket and throws it, pegging your face with a smirk. You shoot him a death glare before covering yourself up and sinking into the cushions. You try not to think about his earlier comments regarding Minho. You try not to think about Minho. You especially try not to think about dirty talk with Hyunjin, or how it stirred something within you that you absolutely must not allow to grow.

Endnotes:

1. Tentatively tagging my Minho lovers - @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @simpforleeknaur @moni-logues - because Minho will be centric to the story. However, if you do not want to be tagged for any reason just DM me and I’ll remove you, no worries at all 💙🥰 Alternatively, if you’re seeing this and want to be added to the tag list just let me know somehow!

2. As usual, here’s your virtual smooch for making it this far. Mafia is soooo far out of my wheelhouse and honestly even though this chapter is super unbeta’d - I may have future chapters looked at bc I’m not really sure I’m hitting the mark. Any feedback on it would be swell, just be gentle with me 😂👍

[bad268]

heyyyyy can i request kimi antonelli and a reader who is sick and has to go to the doctor/hospital? idk if this is too specific or too much to add but could im rlly scared of needles and i feel like he'd be rlly cute and comforting so could reader be scared of needles?

Please Don't Make Me (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Sick! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (as someone who just had to stay in the hospital for 5 days, I relate. Anyway, ily <3)

Warnings: food poisoning (vomiting, weakness, fever), needles

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1486

Summary: Kimi's s/o has been sick recently, so Kimi decided the urgent care is the place to go.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

“Do I have to go?” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you leaned away from the car window that you had been resting against for the entire drive as Kimi pulled up toward the entrance to the urgent care. After the first week straight of your fever, painful stomach cramps, and not being able to keep food down, Kimi was already concerned, but then you passed out. He knew at that point you needed to see someone, so partially against your will, he drove you to the urgent care. You were already out of it and usually, you two would go for drives at night, so you didn’t think anything of it when he helped you into the car. Then, he pulled up to the urgent care, and you were willing to do anything besides going in there.

Kimi didn’t answer straight away as he pulled into a parking spot, turned off the car, and leaned over to press his hand against your forehead. You leaned into his head when he moved it down from your forehead to hold your cheek. “You still have a fever, you passed out just before we left, and you have not stopped vomiting in a week. This isn’t normal, amour (love). I just want to make sure you’re okay. Please? I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“You know I hate hospitals and doctors,” You whined, but cut yourself short with a groan as your stomach started hurting again. You doubled over as much as you could in the car, and Kimi climbed out, ran around to your side of the vehicle, and opened the door to help you out. “No, I’m fine, Kimi. Can we please go home?”

“We can go home after you see someone here,” Kimi negotiated, grabbing your arms and pulling you out of the seat. You stood in front of him weakly as your knees buckled, and Kimi had to hold all of your weight. “I’ll get you anything you want on the way home. Just please, let me take you to see someone. You should be able to stand, and it hurts me to see you so sick.”

“Fine, but I want gelato and the special pizza. Both or no deal,” You countered with a pout as you leaned into his body more, craving the heat. He just sighed before moving to close your door and lock the car. Then, he started helping you walk to the front of the building, but you only made it a couple of steps as your feet kept dragging. It wasn’t because you were dragging them; it was because your limbs felt too heavy for you to lift them, so Kimi lifted you to carry you the rest of the way.

He set you down in one of the waiting room chairs while he filled out some paperwork on your behalf. He wrapped up quickly before walking and taking a seat next to you. It didn’t take long for you to go back, again with Kimi carrying you into the room. He set you carefully on the bed as one of the nurses immediately began taking your blood pressure.

“Based on the initial answers, we’re also going to set you up with an IV,” she explained as she pulled out a needle to get the line in.

Your scared gaze immediately shifted to Kimi, who had taken a seat off to the side, out of the way. He met your eyes before moving to sit on the edge of your bed and grab your free hand. He ran his fingers through your hair as he whispered in your ear.

“They’re just trying to get you hydrated,” He comforted. “Squeeze my hand as much as you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I don’t want to even have a needle in my arm,” You tried to object, attempting to pull your arm away from the nurse. You could feel your heart rate speed up as tears filled your eyes and your breathing became unsteady. “I don’t want it. Please don’t make me, Kimi, please.”

“Is there any way we can hold off for a little?” Kimi asked the nurse. It broke him that you were hurting and he couldn't make it better. Plus, he knows the IV would make you feel better since you haven't been able to keep anything down and you have been so dehydrated. He also knows he needs to pick his battles. There was no use in trying to argue right now. He just got you to agree to come in the first place. He needed to take the small win before convincing you about the IV. “Maybe do some tests first?”

“We can do that,” The nurse agreed as she set the needles down, causing you to let out a huge breath as your breathing and heart rate returned to semi-normal. “Can you explain the symptoms you have been having?”

“I’ve had a fever, been throwing up everything, stomach cramps, and I’ve just been really tired,” You explained before dragging out as you couldn’t remember anything else.

“You’ve also been pretty weak recently. Like you couldn’t stand on your own outside. It’s been going on for a little over a week and a half now that we know of,” Kimi assisted. “I also feel like your brain has been foggy for the same amount of time.”

“That could be a side effect of the lack of nutrition,” The nurse comforted. “Was there anything you did differently before this all started?”

“I feel like we went out to dinner with the team,” You guessed, looking to Kimi for confirmation. “We were in Brackley for some testing, and I think we went out to a seafood place.”

“Did you have raw seafood or was it cooked?”

“I think you had sushi and I had teriyaki chicken,” Kimi answered.

“Yeah, I had a couple of sushi rolls,” You replied excitedly since this was a rare moment of clarity. “I remember you said you’d rather eat your protein cooked, and I thought it was funny.”

“Well, I think I know what this is then” The nurse chuckled along with you, causing you both to look at her expectedly. “Raw seafood makes for a higher chance of food poisoning. All of your symptoms alight and the timeline fits. The only thing we can recommend is liquids to keep you hydrated and when you feel up to it, eat some bland foods. I’d suggest bananas, rice, applesauce, or toast when you get to that point. Seeing how dehydrated you are now, I’d like to put you on an IV line and maybe give you two bags of fluid before sending you home.”

Your eyes snapped to Kimi as he was nodding at the nurse before he looked down at you, and moved his hand to hold your face to stay looking at him. His hand rested on your cheek as his fingers gently caressed against your cheekbones. This also served as a block, so no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t see the nurse or the needle.

“So no more raw sushi, right?” Kimi teased you as he tried to take your mind away from the needle.

“No more raw sushi,” You replied sadly. 

“Don’t tell Lando anything,” Kimi joked as he briefly glanced at the nurse who was getting ready to put the needle in. “He’ll say ‘I told you so’ or something.”

“Lando is a big baby,” You chuckled lightly. “Food poisoning isn’t going to stop me from eating sushi forever. Just a few months or something.”

“Is that so?” Kimi gasped as you went on.

“Sushi is life, Kimi,” You deadpanned. “A little food poisoning isn’t going to stop my love.”

“And look at that! You didn’t even flinch!” The nurse cheered as she took off her gloves and that’s when you looked over. The needle was already in and the IV was already dripping. You had already started to feel a little bit of the effects kicking in. Were you really that dehydrated? “I’ll come back in a couple of hours to make sure you are getting hydrated, but feel free to get comfortable and call me if you need anything.”

“There’s no way I missed that,” Your jaw was dropped as you stared at the needle embedded in your arm. “I didn’t even feel it, but I do now.”

“That’s because you’re staring at it,” Kimi chuckled lightly. He stood up, going to grab a cloth and wet it with cold water before bringing it back and laying it across the back of your neck. You sighed in relief as you practically melted into the bed. “That should help you feel less hot. Try to take a nap if you can. I’ll be here when you wake up, amour (love).”

He placed one last kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

~~~~~

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