#office emergency cleaning services

[business4u]

Carpet Cleaning Services in Saratoga

Refresh and extend the life of your carpets with our expert Carpet Cleaning Services in Saratoga CA. Our team utilizes cutting-edge cleaning technology and techniques to thoroughly remove dirt, stains, and allergens from your carpets. We offer various services including steam cleaning, stain removal, and deodorizing to ensure your carpets are not only clean but also look and feel like new. Our commitment to using eco-friendly cleaning solutions ensures that your carpets are cleaned safely and effectively, enhancing the comfort and appearance of your home.

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[missionimpossiblegfs]

This post could focus on the emergency cleaning services available for businesses in Perth, such as after a flood or fire, and highlight some of the top providers of these services.

[reikoknshii]

🩸 scarlet..milk? 🥛

Doppelganger Francis Mosses (Milkman) x Reader

500+ words

Requested by; @FoxxyyThePirateFox in wattpad

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You're a newly Hired Doorman for a Apartment thats owned by D.D.D. It'll be fine, well thats what the D.D.D. operators said to you before you get started.

You opened the list of residents thats supposed to arrive.

' Angus Ciprianni '

' Nacha Mikaelys '

' Izaack Gauss '

' Arnold Schmicht '

'I can do this...i think?' You said to yourself as you breathed in and out before opening the metal door.

First thing to arrive shocked you, Its those twin models whom you saw in the magazine.Except...they only had a Giant Razor teeth on their face.

You didn't spend a minute to check their Documents as their appearance already proved they're not the real ones. You immediately click the emergency button and called the D.D.D. cleaning services.

"Does that mean ill...have to face more of those?" You asked to yourself as this job surely need intense observation, you don't want to let one in and let it kill the innocent lives of the apartment residents.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You've seen... 4 doppelgangers that look horrifying, except for one, The Peach guy seem abit scary but they only said peach and nothing more.

You checked the list and hoped the one's you let in are the actual resident, you don't want to die just yet by your stupid decisions and weak observation.

You slump to your seat and groaned on the files you're holding. "Almost time, just a few more guest and ill close the entrance" you reassured yourself as you composed a brave and determined look.

"Mm...hello"

A voice said as you look up from the files and almost dropped it. "JESUS- WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?-"

you questioned the milkman who stayed silent for abit before answering. "I seem to have covered myself with scarlet milk..mm.."

You dart your eyes on his ID and Entry request, as he stared intensely at you through the protected glass window.

"I...never heard of it" you said nervously about the 'Scarlet milk'.

"I assure you...its a better version of the milk we had" he said creepily as he showed a jug of a red substance labeled as 'Milk'. He smiled in an eerie way as you shivered in fear , getting goosebumps from his behavior.

"I seriously dont think thats milk-"

Your eyes went wide as he opens the jug of scarlet 'milk' and drinks it in front of you. The substance dripped from his mouth to his neck , he pulled the jug away and smiled widely through the protected glass window. The so called milk staining more of his milkman uniform as he slammed his fist on the window.

"L̸̖̽̌͂ẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍.."

You shrieked in fear as you slammed the emergency button from his creepy behavior, you were sure thats not the real Francis Mosses. The metal cover shut in front of him as he repeatedly bang his fist on the covers.

"Ỵ̛̖͋͢/ṇ̤͛̒̍...l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍, l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕t̲̂̓ͩ̑ ḿ̬̏ͤͅẹ̿͋̒̕ ỉ͔͖̜͌ṇ̤͛̒̍...L̸̖̽̌͂Ḛͭ̉̇͟T̨͈͗̌ͥ M͉̅ͮ͒ͤḚͭ̉̇͟ I̍̅̀̎̊N̺̻̔̆ͅ" said the doppelganger as you called the D.D.D. cleaning Services immediately out of fear.

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

You were shaken by the current occurrences, your eyes darting everywhere from the window as your hour of  work shift ends. You closed the metal cover and got out of the office you're in, on the entrance window you see the blood covered jug on the floor and a small note...

"I'm watching you...."

[westvaughandental]

Smiling is a crucial part of society, and our teeth help us smile beautifully. To have a lovely smile, appropriate dental care is also required. Cosmetic dentistry may appear to have a minor role, yet it has major benefits for your oral and overall health. These additional inducements are part of the reason why beautifying dental procedures such as teeth whitening therapy have become so popular among people of all ages. To know more visit https://westvaughandental.ca/ or call us at (905)-893-3368.

[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 😂👍

[ericsprincess]

wanna take a look inside you

nc-17, stalker!Jaemin, Jaemin/female reader, cunnilingus, crack

~~~

Your stalker really cares about you.

~~~

Why the fuck is it snowing again? Just why? you groan, as soon as you open your eyes and see all the fluffy snowflakes falling behind your window. 

You reluctantly roll out of your warm bed and start getting ready for the day. You should be rushing through your morning routine, since you have to get to work, but you’re almost deliberately slow. You’re just trying to delay the inevitable, which is having to shovel half a meter of snow out of your driveway and your car, and scrape off the ice from your car windows. You’re seriously considering calling in sick, just to not have to deal with standing outside in snow and fighting your flimsy plastic shovel and tiny ice scraper. 

You’re pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you stop at the sudden glimpse out of your kitchen window. What the hell. 

Your driveway is already nicely and precisely shoveled, with all the snow neatly piled up on one side. Not only that, your car is completely cleaned, covered with only a small layer of freshly fallen snow, indicating that whoever took mercy on you did it only a while ago. 

You sit down behind the table and absentmindedly scratch behind your dog's ears while chewing on toast. 

Maybe one of the neighbors did it? Or maybe there is some kind of a community service? Which is weird. You just moved into this area and by the looks of it you would expect to get your car stolen rather than cleaned. 

Hmm, you think. Maybe the neighborhood here isn’t that bad. 

(Narrator voice: It is actually that bad.)

~~~

Ironically, a few days later you do end up calling in sick. The cold winter weather got to you and after an evening of feeling like shit you woke up with fever, sore throat, and no will to live. 

You blindly feel around your bed to search for your phone, eventually finding it under your dog (Oof, move, you fat fuck), and call Jaemin from HR, in your office also known as Hot Jaemin from HR, to inform him that you’re taking a sick day. 

He picks up immediately after the first ring and with his completely pleasant, friendly, and only slightly creepy deep voice, he takes your note and wishes you to get well soon. He even asks if there are some work related heads up to pass to your coworkers, just like the nice and considerate guy he always is. If only every coworker was like Jaemin (nice, competent and hot), work would be much more bearable, you sigh. Sometimes he even sits down with you for lunch in the breakroom and offers you some home baked pastry while he talks about his cats. Really, just an overall nice guy. 

You finally hang up and burrow yourself back under the covers, when you notice the time on your phone. 6:58. Huh? I must be delirious, you think hazily, already drifting back to sleep. He’s not even supposed to be at work yet.  

~~~

When you finally emerge from your supposed delirium (also known as common flu) two days later, both of which you spent almost entirely just sleeping, you take a gloriously good hot shower and head to the kitchen, wondering what you will be able to scavenge from the fridge. 

Thankfully, it seems well stocked. So you quickly make a sandwich with some fresh ham and vegetables, scarf it down like a madwoman, after barely eating for two days and put the plate into the sink.

The dishes are also done. 

The house is actually pretty spotless, you squint as you look around. Even more than usual - no socks anywhere, no cups with forgotten tea. Dog looks fed and happy. 

The laundry machine beeps to announce that it’s finished. 

Wow, it must have been really bad, because I don’t remember doing any of that. Good job, sick me, you mentally pat yourself on your shoulder. 

~~~

You open the door to get out of your house for a nice walk and you stop dead in your tracks.

What the actual everloving fuck. 

Right in front of your doorstep there is a line of six mice, nicely ordered and completely dead, and you barely manage to prevent your dog from taking a good sniff. 

You retreat back to your house, pulling the dog with you and you lock all the locks on the door. 

You don’t even own a cat? 

~~~

You would swear the oil change light in your car was blinking for the past two months. Like, it had been mocking you and your procrastination. You felt bad about it, but ignored it, because who would want to deal with it unless you really have to? 

Well, it’s not blinking today. 

Which must mean only one thing - the light is broken now too. Which might also mean some electronic failure.

You frown. Karma for being lazy found you and there goes your free Saturday. 

And then it finds you again 2 hours later for being an idiot, when it turns out the oil does not need to be changed and the whole electronic system in your car is working alright. You made the mechanic check twice because you could swear you’re not making it all up, just to end up looking like a dumbass in front of the whole shop. 

You go home in shame and then you dig out the car manual you once threw into a cupboard and never read. 

~~~

Ugh, this guy again. You fight the urge to run, but he has already noticed you and you don’t want to look weak. Or afraid. But you are, a little. 

Walking on the same street, your creepy neighbor is approaching you from the opposite direction and you’re already bracing yourself. 

He never lets you go just with “Hello,” he always tries to flirt creepily and invite you for coffee, last time he even tried to grab your hand. You shudder at the memory. You hate these kinds of slimebags and their audacity. But you’re afraid he might snap if you really tell him off. 

So, you’re not sure what to do, you’re always just distantly polite and doing your best to not give him any signal that he might interpret as his attention being welcome. 

But you did start bringing pepper spray with you and going everywhere with your dog. Not like this fat fuck could ever protect your from anything, but still. For mental support. (But seriously, why is it getting so fat? You make a mental note to take him on longer walks, despite the shitty neighborhood.)

He’s getting closer and you’re already feeling the anxiety, when he swiftly crosses the road to get to the opposite side of the street. He walks faster. It’s like he’s avoiding you. Not only that, but he’s limping and his nose is bandaged as if it were broken. 

What could have happened to him? you wonder. Maybe he bothered the wrong girl and her boyfriend went to teach him to leave women alone, you chuckle. Who knows. 

~~~

You suddenly startle out of your sleep to the sound of breaking glass. It's a deep night but you are barely gathering your wits from being so crudely woken up, but you can hear a strange commotion from downstairs. 

Burglars, is your first thought. You’re shaking hard but you slowly and silently tiptoe to your closet to get a broom, the only weapon you can think of right now. A broom in one hand and your phone in the other, with the police dialed up, just waiting to press a call, you pad down the stairs to your living room where the sound came from. 

The lights are already on. And in there there is-

“Jaemin??? What are you doing here?” you scream. 

Right in the middle of your living room is Hot Jaemin from HR, disheveled and slightly out of breath, and just about to finish hog-tying a masked man. He pulls the rope tightly and kicks the man into the ribs for good measure. He stands up and turns to you with a bright and wide smile. 

“Y/N! Go to sleep, I got it!” he says happily and throws you a thumbs up. He ignores the question.

“B-But-” you take a step forward but Jaemin stops you. 

“Be careful, Y/N, there is glass. I threw a vase at him, that fucker really thought he can mess with me like that,” he snorts. “Just go back to sleep, I’ll clean it up and deal with this bag of dicks.” he urges you gently. 

“H-How are you going to deal with him?” you’re confused. Jaemin’s smile gets even wider. 

“I’ll deal with him, I have tools in my car. Don’t worry about it.” he brushes you off. 

“You know what, I’ll just call the police,” you wave your phone, barely out of shock from what just happened. 

“Okay,” Jaemin sighs with dramatic exasperation. “But it will take forever while you could have just left it to me and gone to sleep.”

You squint at him suspiciously and press the dial. 

~~~

“So, that would be all, Mrs. Y/L/N. We will contact you about the further proceedings,” the police officer clicks his pen off and gathers his papers. Your kitchen is still flashing red and blue from police cars parked outside. 

“Thank you, officer, I really appreciate it,” you beep back at him. This police thing turned out to be a lot more serious and lengthy than you expected.

“Don’t thank me, miss, you should thank your..uhhh…” he looks up at Jaemin, who is standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“Husband,” Jaemin offers, with his signature bright smile and you fight the urge to step on his foot. 

“Yeah, that. Anyways, if you have any questions, call us. Good night!” he salutes you with two fingers and brusquely walks out of your house. The cars leave one by one and then you’re alone. With Jaemin. 

You turn back to him. 

“I am not sure what to think about all of this, but thank you, I guess. But I have a lot of questions and I want answers to all of them,” you stick a finger right in the middle of his chest. 

“Okay, of course. Whatever you want, Y/N,” Jaemin offers. It’s the first time you see him look anything else but bright and cheerful. He looks almost unsure. 

“I’m now going to sleep and if I find out you’re still in this house, I’ll call the police again. On you.” you threaten. “You have 2 minutes to leave,” you add and pointedly look at the clock on your kitchen wall. 

“Oh, okay, let me just…” he gathers his rope that the cops left behind and his jacket and hurriedly slips on his shoes. He’s in the door in thirty seconds, waving at you. 

“See you at work!” he squeezes your hand briefly and runs out of your house. 

Why do I always attract these weirdos, you sigh and drag yourself upstairs to your bedroom. You fling yourself on the bed and you suddenly really feel how tired and exhausted you are from all the adrenaline. It would be really for the best to just sleep, you decide and crawl under the covers. 

But the sleep is not coming, you’re just thinking about everything that happened. You keep tossing and turning, ending up staring out into your bedroom window. 

Suddenly, a phone display lights up in the crown of a nearby tree. You decide to pointedly ignore it and you flip to the other side, turning your back to the window. You grab your dog, who’s been snoozing peacefully throughout the whole night and snuggle into his white fluffy fur to sleep. 

~~~

The next day at work you don’t waste any time. After throwing your bag at your desk you change direction right into the HR office. 

You don’t knock, just let yourself in, meeting Jaemin who is currently sitting behind his desk, unpacking his things for a day. He looks up at you, smiling. 

You cross your arms and point at the nametag on his desk that says “Na Jaemin, Head of HR” with your chin. 

“Ironic, huh?” 

“What’s ironic?” he straightens up, smile unwavering. 

“I can’t even report you, you asshole.” you frown. “And I don’t really want to go to the police because you did save my life.”

“Well that’s bad.“ he nods solemnly.

“It really is. So… Care to explain what you were doing at my house?” 

“Guarding you?” he answers like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wh-guarding?? From what?” you ask incredulously. Oh. “Okay don’t answer.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “You know that as a head of HR I have access to aaaaaaaaaalllll of your records, right?” he spins his pen between his fingers. “So I really couldn’t help but notice you moved into a really shitty location, Y/N. Really, there? I know how much you make, you don’t need to live there at all.”

“I’m saving money for my own house, okay?” you answer defensively. You couldn’t have possibly known it would be that bad. You thought that everyone was just exaggerating. “Why were you even keeping tabs on my address?” you ask him accusingly. 

Jaemin just keeps looking at you, smiling. It’s unnerving. Like a shark about to eat you, but with joy.

“...so you’re not gonna answer?” you frown. Of course. 

“I mean, isn’t that obvious?” he drawls, tilting his head as if he were mocking you. And you think it should be obvious, but at the same time, you never know what’s going on in Jaemin’s head. 

You sigh. “You know, next time JUST ASK ME OUT YOU MORON!” 

“Oh, yeah, I could have done that…” he startles with realization. “I guess I was too preoccupied.”

“With what? Figuring out my daily patterns? Putting a GPS tracker on my car?”

“How did you find that?” he asks surprisingly, pulling up his phone to check. 

You close your eyes and breathe deeply. Come on, you have dealt with worse. And he’s really hot *and* whipped, even though he has a particular way about it. And he saved your life. You could have a use for him. 

“Drive me home.”

“Sure,” he gets up immediately, picking up his jacket. 

“You’re not even gonna question me wanting to leave work just like that?” 

“Who do you think is processing your attendance records?” he winks at you and leads you out of his office to the parking lot with a hand on your waist 

~~~

“By the way, you didn’t answer.” you say while fighting with the seatbelt while Jaemin starts the car. “What were you doing at my house?”

“Uh. Is this now the time to tell you I’ve been sleeping in front of your bedroom door for the past few weeks?”

You can literally taste the headache coming. 

“I don’t think there is ever a good time for that.”

~~~

You open the door to your house and let both you and Jaemin in. Your dog comes running to welcome you and you’re not even surprised that it actually ignores you in favor of running into Jaemin,  who doesn’t wait to start playing with him, laughing and telling him what a good boy he is. 

More like a traitor. You frown at Jaemin pulling out a treat out of his jeans pocket and your dog chasing it hungrily as Jaemin teases him. Sold me for a piece of snack. 

“Let’s go upstairs before I change my mind.”

“Sure,” smiles Jaemin and stands up, suddenly taking a hold of you and picking you up over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. 

“Hey! Put me down!” you yell at him, grabbing his ass and squeezing it. “I will fucking bite you!”

“Leave that for later…” he drawls in his creepy flirty voice as he walks up the stairs. He takes you to your bedroom and gently lowers you down on your bed. 

You really like the view from under him. He leans down to kiss your neck.

“Hey Jaemin..” you begin. 

“Hmmm?” he mumbles, continuing to kiss and lick your neck while his hands are working on taking your clothes off. 

“While you were sleeping outside my bedroom…Heards anything weird?” you ask. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Pretty sure I heard my name at least once,” he bites into your collarbone. He takes off your shirt and pinches off the hooks of your bra in a second and you help take it off you. 

“And you still didn’t think of asking me out?” you ask disbelievingly. He pulls back a little and you get distracted by his shoulders. You start unbuttoning his shirt, just to reveal his beautiful full chest and muscular arms. Nice.

“You said Doyoung’s name once too.” he shrugs. He doesn't really meet your eyes.

“Oh yeah, Doyoungie from accounting…Haven’t seen him in a while, I wonder how he's doing…”

“He asked for a transfer. Doesn’t matter. Let’s not talk about him,” says Jaemin once again back to his bright smile and leans down to you, now fully committed to undressing you as soon as possible. He pulls off your pants together with your panties and lets his shirt slide off his body as well. 

“What are you gonna do?” you ask, while he shifts down your body. You instinctively spread your legs.

“Apologize,” he says while looking into your eyes and straight up dives into your pussy. 

You can tell he’s really sorry. He’s putting all the enthusiasm into eating you out, trying really hard to figure out what makes you tick and then applying it tenfold. You can feel him smile the moment you start making sounds.

You can feel yourself being close to coming and you try to tell him by pulling his hair, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He knows it already and he continues to flick his tongue over your clit even as you come, holding you by your thighs firmly so you don’t move too much to slip out of his hold. Once your orgasm starts to fade, he eases up a little, switching to slower, gentle licks with flat tongue, while you catch your breath, but in a minute, he’s back at it, relentlessly stimulating you as if you didn’t even have a choice about whether you want another round or not. 

You can only applaud his skill and stamina and let him make you come, with absolutely no guidance, for the second time, barely a couple minutes after the first one. 

While you’re coming down from your orgasm, feeling all liquid and brainless, Jaemin disentangles himself from your legs and crawls up the bed to drag you into his arms.

You turn to kiss him when you realize he hasn’t even taken off his jeans yet. You slide your hand to rub over his hard cock a little and he sighs and nuzzles into your neck. “Do you want…” you start.

“No. I haven’t deserved it yet,” he breathes out. “I’m already close though…” He looks like he’s fighting himself on that.

“Oh really?” you grin, and rise up to look better at his flushed face. “Well then get back to work?” you pull him by his (insanely attractive) sex hair. He whines, you don’t know if it's from pain or arousal, but it doesn’t matter.

“I’m going to sit on your face now, okay?” you whisper to him. 

“Uhhhh uhhh,” he closes his eyes. 

“Great. If you come, this one doesn’t count,” you laugh, and swing one leg over his leg to kneel over him.

~~~

You’re lying in your bed, sweaty and tired and almost falling asleep in Jaemin arms, when you suddenly remember. 

“Hey, actually...what about the mice?” 

He turns and smiles at you with a full Cheshire cat smile. Way too many teeth.

"Well..."

[pucksandpower]

can you do some Carlos sainz in honour of home gp?! first meeting or a surfer girl type reader?! 🥹🙏

Spice Up Your Life | CS55

Summary: Carlos Sainz is called “Chilli” for a reason and it’s not the one you might expect

Warnings: minor medical intervention but this is fluff galore

The lingering scent of antiseptic fills the air as you recline in the worn leather chair surrounded by stacks of patient files in your brightly lit office. The soothing hum of the air conditioner is interrupted by the creaking sound of the door as it swings open. Your eyes widen in surprise as you see a familiar face in the doorway — none other than Carlos Sainz. He stands there, blinking rapidly as a pained expression clouds his teary eyes.

You quickly compose yourself and greet him warmly. “Now this is a surprise though I’m sure you would rather be anywhere else. How can I assist you today?”

Carlos winces with his hand covering one eye. "I managed to get myself into a bit of a spicy situation here. A chili pepper decided to show me who’s boss during a team cooking challenge and now it’s really stinging.”

You chuckle softly, finding the irony quite amusing. “It seems you've taken the concept of spicing up your life a little too literally. But fear not, I happen to be the resident expert in pepper related emergencies.”

As Carlos takes a seat on the examination table, you approach him with a gentle smile and reach for your medical equipment. “Just close your eyes and trust me. I am about to put on a magical show of doctorly power to recover your vision.”

He smirks, playing along with your theatrics. “I always knew being a race car driver required a little blind faith but I never imagined it would extend to a physician’s office.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning indignation. “Oh please. I may not be behind the wheel of a Ferrari but I assure you that my skills are just as impressive in their own way.”

With utmost care, you grasp a sterilized cotton swab and gently dab the corner of Carlos’ eye. He winces slightly but keeps his eyes closed, following your instructions.

“And now for the most crucial part of this operation,” you declare dramatically. “I’m going to need you to hold still, Carlos. This may sting a little.”

Carlos laughs softly. “I’ve driven through crazy hairpin turns at breakneck speeds, I think I can handle a little sting.”

You dip a cotton pad into a soothing saline solution and gently bring it closer to his eye. With a deft touch, you carefully clean away the remnants of chili pepper oil.

Carlos slowly opens his eyes as you finish, blinking a few times to adjust to the newfound clarity and lack of pain. A smile of relief spreads across his face as he continues joking. “You’ve truly worked your magic. My vision is back and the monstrous chili pepper has been slain.”

You bow with a flourish of your hand. “It was merely a touch of medical wizardry combined with a dash of charm. You’re not the only one who knows how to handle the heat.”

Carlos chuckles, gratitude shining in his still reddened eyes. “I must say that this is the most entertaining doctor’s visit I have ever had. Thank you for the exceptional service and the delightful company. And for making sure I don’t have to race in an eyepatch.”

You smirk at him playfully. “Well it’s not every day I have a Formula 1 star as my patient. Consider it an occupational perk.”

With a spring in his step, Carlos stands up from the examination table, ready to conquer the track once more. “If you ever need a driver, you know where to find me.”

You wave him off, laughter bubbling from your throat. “Thank you, Carlos but I think I’ll stick to my stethoscope as my trusty sidekick. If you ever need a prescription for an extra spicy dish, you know who to call.”

He manages to wink the best he can through tender eyes. “How about I take you up on that over dinner at my place? Can’t let the chili peppers think they’ve scared me off.”

“And that, kids, is how your father actually got his nickname.”

[renmorris]

Kim, the mender

I’ve been thinking so much about Kim navigating his own deep loneliness and touch starved-ness through caring for others, and what I feel are implicit statements made by the game that he studied emergency medical first response as his mandatory RCM civil service role

(his year working in body processing, him knowing how to keep Harry alive and able to walk after the tribunal, the morale healing pats on the back, even offering his jacket to Acele etc)

It’s unselfish and not something he has to justify to himself as an indulgence, it’s practical. It’s being a good coworker. Kim mentions repeatedly that gets seen officers in worst states than Harry and I don’t think Kim is unaware that Harry absolutely thrives on his reassurances and praise.

@1tbls has some Kim posts I mull over a lot (one of them is just the sentence 'Kim's horny little need to take care of Harry' because I really feel like that hits the nail on the head. another is the one about how Kim does seem to have self analyzed himself but in a kind of shallow way.) I really agree with that, it does feel like we're meeting Kim after he’s done some internal processing of his own. in the fashion police conversation he mentions that he used to be very uptight before he started wearing plainclothes etc

This is all to say that I know fandom is understandably wary of writing Kim as Harry’s caregiver and that’s good 👍 it’s very good to be aware of racist fandom trends and push against those. But for Kim there is textually, I think, the fact that he does thrive on caring for other people. It gives him a kind of authoritative position, and stability.

(It even ties into his tailoring hobby, he’s a mender of clothes and people, a mechanic, and wants to be that for the city so badly.)

There’s a lot of reasons why Kim wants to take care of Harry, why he believes that he can come back from all of this. Obviously one is that if Harry who is white, who works in this legendary precinct with his heroes, who puts in these impossible hours and burns himself alive for the RCM, who is ranked Double Yefreitor can be so easily left to die by the RCM…it means Kim never stood a chance. That his dwindling faith in the system means nothing and he has thrown his life away in this job.

(Likewise Kim also means this for Harry- If Kim is seen as disposable then there was never any point in being diligent and clean. Both paths are thankless and have left them to rot)

But the other I think is that this is how Kim copes, by taking care of others. He is so very careful about indulging himself in ways that he feels are extraneous. But this is a kind of closeness he is allowed to have, it does good for other people.

And over time this is and will be where Harry sneaks in past his defenses and takes care of him back. Get loved, idiot! Be cared for, bino! ❤️

[astroismypassion]

✨PART OF FORTUNE IN SIGNS AND HOUSES SERIES: 6TH HOUSE✨

Credit goes to astrology blog @astroismypassion

ARIES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aries and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via fitness training, personal training, firefighting, law enforcement, emergency healthcare services, competitive sports, trading, stockbroking, automotive repair, mechanics, tech startups. You feel abundant when you come up with new, fresh ideas.

TAURUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Taurus and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via offering a service connected with pet sitting, tutoring or helping people to organise their kitchen, fridge, storage. You may also clean offices or make work environment more beautiful (for example putting on pictures, cleaning the computer). You feel the most abundant when you are stable on a daily basis and know what to expect from your daily schedule and when your work ethic, work relations are stable and grounded.

GEMINI PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Gemini and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via freelance journalism, you can write for newspapers, magazines, online publications. You can have abundance via starting a podcast or YouTube channel. You may offer translation, interpretation or language teaching services if you are multilingual. You feel abundant when you organise a networking event or a conference even. You could also blog about your profession or teach people about what is it that your job entails.

CANCER PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Cancer and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via blogging about topics related to home, family and well-being. You may start a blog or write for publications that focus on these areas. You would be an excellent planner! Planning and organising family-oriented events, such as weddings, birthday parties or even community gatherings in your local town. You could also offer pet sitting, dog walking or even start a pet grooming service.

LEO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Leo and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via voice acting or doing voice-over work for commercials, animations or audiobooks. You will find fulfilment, joy, success and wealth in activities that promote mental and physical wellness. You might make organic make up or creams. You feel the most abundant when you incorporate hobbies, interests and passion into your daily life. You could also be a health advocate.

VIRGO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via starting your own online store selling products related to your interests connected to books, tech gadgets or dietetics/nutrition. You can set up a shop on Shopify or Etsy. You experience wealth by providing consulting services in your area of expertise. You may be a travel blogger or write travel articles, but more so on a local level, maybe also connected with short-distance travel.

LIBRA PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Libra and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via providing recipes for lunches for working people, like easy DIY ideas. You may also create meal plans for school children. You can create wealth by selling prints, stock photos or offering photography services.

SCORPIO PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Scorpio and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via working in alternative medicine or wellness, becoming a financial advisor or running your own cleaning business or provide services for neighbours or in your local town. You can offer cleaning or yard work services to neighbours or in your local community.

SAGITTARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Sagittarius and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via working in non-profits, via wellness coaching, physical therapy, working in educational institutions, hospitality industry, tour guiding, working for airlines, travel blogging, working in media, especially related to educational content, travel, running a small business that involves sharing knowledge or providing specialized services.

CAPRICORN PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Capricorn and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via farming, gardening, manual labor and agriculture, management, administration, working with your hands, project management, quality control and research. You definitely need to ask for a promotion.

AQUARIUS PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Aquarius and Virgo Sun people in your life. You could make money via information technology, software development, working with cutting-edge technologies, via astronomy or astrology, via social enterprise, digital marketing, advocacy work, activism and community organizing, via renewable energy, sustainable development or green technologies.

PISCES PART OF FORTUNE IN THE 6TH HOUSE

You feel the most abundant when you have Pisces and Virgo Sun people in your life. You make money via tarot, healing, holistic medicine, work with elderly people or at a hotel. You could find success in making jewellery, specializing in anklets. You feel acquire wealth through counselling, psychotherapy, psychology, nursing, holistic therapies (like reiki or acupuncture), teaching meditation, drama/music therapy or dance/movement therapy, caregiving, hospice work, starting a creative arts studio, a holistic wellness center or socially conscious business.

Credit goes to astrology blog @astroismypassion

[harridansibyl]

Personal associations/interpretations of the dark/mystical houses (4th, 6th, 8th, 12th)

4th house

twisted tree roots, cultural practices, heirlooms, photo albums, inherited features, traditions, the mother, past lives, generational trauma, picture books, garden beds, childhood homes, ancestor altars, hand written recipe books, hearth, squeaky wooden floorboards, genealogy archives, caves, oak trees, baby wrap carriers, emotional security, cultural heritage, building foundations, photo albums, genetics, laundry lines, swing sets, property, mines, crops, sanctuaries, the chest and heart, home steads, fields, farms, root cellars, harvests, pots on stoves, brooms, backyards, agriculture, vines on trellises, handmade blankets, grandparents house, laundry baskets, attachment styles, singing lullabies, history, deep emotions, instincts, the unconscious, summer, waxing moon, vase of flowers, bath time, picking berries, celebrating holidays, chicken coops, older sisters, family gatherings, stone paths, forest walks, ancient structures/buildings, ancestral languages, cupboards, staying in

6th house

vitamins and supplements, morning routines, pharmacies, tasks and lists, doctors offices, health food stores, stomach medicine, hygiene practices, journals and planners, schedules, herbal teas, personal rituals, emergency kits, dog walks, lymphatic drainage, caregiving, donating blood, examinations and checkups, meditation, colour coordination, sticky notes, gastrointestinal problems, folded laundry, labels on everything, retirement homes, hand washing, braided hair, herb gardens, filing cabinets, face masks, kombucha, detailed diagrams, volunteer work, medicine cabinets, cleaning supplies, shelves, acts of service, skin care, organic linen, gauze and stitches, stress-induced illnesses, essential oil/herb baths, house plants, instructions, repetition, holistic medicine, giving advice, yoga studios, "gut feeling," bone broth

8th house

altars, divination, near death experiences, candle wax, feeling crushed by a heavy weight, grave dirt, red/dim lighting, funerals, double income, control, the underworld, cheques, insurance, heirlooms, ghost sightings, power imbalances, crime documentaries, ouroboros, bank accounts, grief and loss, shadow work, the womb, manipulation, scrying mirrors, Russian nesting dolls, keys, mortuaries, tests from the universe, pendulums, crime scene tape, the phoenix, projections, credit scores, animal bones on a forest floor, blood stained sheets, metaphysical shops, spiritual attacks, deep emotions, snakes, dead flowers, late autumn, wedding veils, envelopes, full moon, muddy boots, shadows at the corners of your vision, scarab beetles, inner processing, experiencing crisis, inherited possessions, natural disasters, sexual trauma, psychological studies, ancestral connections, cracked dolls, veil between realms, mental illnesses, deep connections, intimacy, reincarnation, torture devices, keys, whirlpools, the sound of sirens, unconscious fears, intense first impressions, pushing limits, feeling bound, scratches on walls, ten of swords

12th house

abandoned places, liminal spaces, long winters, shadowy figures, reoccurring dreams, repeated patterns, fog-filled forests, self analysation, inner worlds, cave systems, unfinished basements, hallucinations, solitary confinement, empty parking garages, spiral staircases, substance abuse, trapped in purgatory, hidden beneath the surface, maladaptive daydreaming, hospital hallways, confines of society, waning moon, moths, wandering aimlessly, disconnection from the world, psych wards, healing others, tired eyes or dark circles, chronic mental illness, suppression, addictions, hiding places, overnight shifts, unexplainable experiences, past life karma, exhaustion, cobwebs, others projections, catacombs, bird cages, premonitions in dreams, prescription bottles, self destructive patterns, late night walks, misty lakes, the feeling of walking out of the movie theater at night, identity crises, blurred faces, empty public transport, astral projection, comas, diary entries, dissociative episodes, shape shifting, generational trauma, observing people, mirrors, padded rooms, the afterlife, chain link fences, paradoxes, feeling misunderstood, repression or memory loss, hikikomori, the freeze response, disappearance, waiting rooms

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [6]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, but with like immediate follow up comfort, medical trauma? if you’ve ever been blown off by a doctor in the office and that frustrated you then be forewarned

Word Count: 5,119

Summary: When  you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a   Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child.   However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous  night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left.  Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned  out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you  fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears  its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #06: TRIKAR’LA, BUIR!    

Chapter Summary: Grogu goes to the doctor, and the Marshal decides he might need to murder said doctor. You get comforted by your boys.

 "Watch carefully,

 the magic that occurs,

 when you give a person,

 just enough comfort,

 to be themselves."

 - a t t i c u s

Nevarro didn’t have a large hospital. It had an emergency center and a clinic for routine appointments. Anything that couldn’t be healed or cared for within a day got transported to a nearby settlement on a neighboring world. Luckily, the transport time wasn’t very long, and Nima told you that the travel there wasn’t intense. The High Magistrate had worked out a deal to keep it that way.

Coming from a Level One Trauma Center on Coruscant, the office was shockingly puny. A simple two story building with emergency services on the first floor and routine medical care on the second. You had learned ages ago that the size of a medical center didn’t correlate to the kind of care a patient could receive. Some of the best physicians you’ve worked with came from smaller hospitals. You had no criticism there. The only thing that made you nervous was not having the kind of resources a Level One hospital would have. Coruscant had spoiled you in that sense.

For what had to be the hundredth time since leaving the station, you glanced over at Mando who walked right beside you. He held Grogu in his arms casually chatting with the boy. Grogu responded in a mix of Mando’a, Basic, and gibberish. It was painfully cute watching the Mandalorian interact with his son. Every inch of him screamed danger and intimidation, but the tender voice leaving his helmet’s modulator was nothing but soft and loving.

“Is something wrong?”

It took you a second to realize Mando was talking to you. “Hmm?”

“You keep looking over at me.”

You were getting pretty decent at reading Mando’s body language, and weirdly you could tell the difference between his head tilts. All of that, yet you still had a bad gauge on how far he could see out of his peripherals while wearing the helmet.

“Oh, er,” You scrambled for a response, “No. Nothing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just checking on you.”

You opened your mouth but stopped yourself when you realized you were about to apologize for apologizing. Instead, you tried to steer the conversation away from your staring. “Do you know how many doctors work in Nevarro?”

“Not enough.” Mando replied. “Three rotate on the schedule right now, I think. Karga is still trying to recruit more, but until Nevarro really makes a name for itself it’s a hard sell.”

“It’s pretty impressive so far.” You motioned around to the clean and cheerful street surrounding you. “And growing fast.”

Mando nodded and your lips curled up in a smile as you watched him allow Grogu to crawl onto his shoulder and cling to his helmet. He kept one hand up just in case the child slipped. “Yes, but as always, it comes down to credits. Karga spent a lot to get this place built up. Doctors are expensive.”

“True, but if you’re gonna spend credits anywhere healthcare is a good bet.” You shrugged. “There are doctors out there who’ll take less pay to work somewhere rural. I⏤” You stopped yourself and at the sudden halt Mando glanced your way. You had nearly told him you once considered working in a rural setting. It hadn’t crossed your mind in ages, since before the incident, but you didn't think twice before nearly blurting it out. You cleared your throat. “I knew someone. From the clinic I worked in. They were specifically looking for a job somewhere rural.”

Mando nodded. “Maybe you should send their frequency number to Karga.” You forced out an awkward chuckle. “For now though, we have Bacta and cautery. You could probably find e-bacta if you asked the right people.”

“Spoken like a true bounty hunter.” You teased.

Mando let out a laugh and began to wrestle Grogu from the makeshift jungle gym of his shoulders and helmet. The clinic had come into view and you felt a ball of nervous energy begin to form in your chest. This wouldn’t be your first time in a medical facility since that night, but it would be your first time going willingly. All this morning, you hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t think this would bother you at all, but staring at the building now your mouth was becoming dry and your palms clammy.

The weight of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and your head snapped to the side to see Mando facing you. Nothing about his helmet looked concerning, but you could feel the worry radiating from him. “I’ve been calling your name. You didn’t answer.” Grogu hummed in his arms and tilted his head. “Are you sure everything is okay, cyar’ika?”

“Yes. Just...zoned out.” You tried to find an excuse, but nothing was coming to mind. So, you went for the next best thing. Topic change. “What does that word mean?”

“What?”

“The word you called me. Uh, ‘shar ekah’?” You repeated it best you could, but the word was always spoken so swift and softly that it was hard to remember the exact pronunciation. Saying ‘buir’ had been much easier.

Mando’s hand fell from your shoulder and his entire body went tense. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction. He let out a soft cough, and now it seemed like he was the one searching for something to say. Your distraction had been successful. However, now you were very curious as to what he was calling you. Mando didn’t seem like the type to secretly be calling you ‘dumbass’ all the time.

“It’s nearly 2.” He blurted. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Right!” You nodded. As curious as you were, you’d happily accept any advancement of this moment. Anything to avoid him asking you what was wrong again. He passed you to enter the building and you took in one last shaky breath before following.

The clinic’s waiting room was filled with children. This office saw patients of all ages, but with school starting up next week it seemed most families were doing exactly as Din was⏤ getting his child ready for day one. The schedule was running late so despite it being nearly half an hour past the appointment time, Din sat in the waiting room right beside you. Grogu had wiggled out of his lap to run around the room with other kids around his age. It made him nervous at first. He wanted his son to have friends to have fun to not ever feel left out, but the anxiety of him not fitting in was painful. You had reassured him that everything was fine, and you had been right. Grogu squealed and laughed as he played with three other kids.

Din was leaning back in his seat, hands clasped over his abdomen and ankles crossed, in an attempt to look as casual as he possibly could. The truth was the opposite. Din couldn’t stop peering out of the corner of his eyes at you. Luckily, the helmet made it a lot easier for him to hide his actions unlike you. Din was still worried about you. It was obvious something was making you uncomfortable, and he had been determined to get to the bottom of it. Until, of course, you innocently asked what ‘cyar’ika’ meant. That had thrown him.

The first time he called you ‘cyar’ika’ it had been entirely accidental. You had been hesitant about asking him questions about himself, and he didn’t want you to feel that way. In his reassurance the word had just slipped out. Since then, it fell out a lot more. Often by choice. Din liked the way it sounded when he was referring to you with it. He liked that every time it left his lips, you’d turn to give him attention with your pretty smile.

Technically, the answer shouldn’t be embarrassing to him. The best translation of ‘cyar’ika’ was ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, but that didn’t necessarily mean it had to be used in a romantic setting alone. It was a generalized term of endearment. He could’ve said that. Din’s problem was that he knew, deep down, he didn’t feel just a ‘generalized endearment’ for you. Din was much too attracted to you to pretend it was said with any other connotation.

His panic hadn’t helped his situation. Din spent his entire life being trained for a fight. He was taught from a young age that panic led to mistakes and mistakes led to death or worse. It had been ingrained into every single cell of his body to the point where staying calm was a muscle memory for him. It didn’t take a conscious decision. It was his default, and that default was half the reason he was so successful as a bounty hunter. Despite all of that, all it took was one innocent look from you⏤ one simple question⏤ and he melted into a pathetic puddle.

Din glanced your way again. You sat ramrod straight in your seat, shoulders tense, and your fingers were tangled together in a vice grip. He wasn’t sure how you weren’t hurting yourself holding your hands together like that. Whereas his entire body sat casual, though a farce, yours screamed stress. His own hands came unclasped as the urge to touch you in reassurance overcame him. Din managed to resist and instead crossed his arms in hopes that this position would better control his instinct.

“I haven’t been to a doctors office in a while.” You blurted. The sound of your voice had his head snap to look at you in a nearly comical speed. You were watching Grogu play while you spoke in a whisper. “I guess I’m just nervous. It’s stupid.”

“How you feel is never stupid.” Din replied. He shifted so he sat up rather than leaned back. “You didn’t have to come with us. If I had known—”

You chuckled, “I know. You wouldn’t have made me. I think you might be a little too understanding for a boss.” Din swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. That was true. Kriff, if you knew any of the thoughts he had you’d consider him the worst boss in this world— maybe in the entire Outer Rim. “I wanted to be here. For Grogu and— and you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Din disagreed. You were acting against an active fear you had for him and his son. That meant a lot to him. He knew the kind of strength it took to press onward into a setting of discomfort.

“Can I ask why?” Din asked. “Why haven’t you been to a clinic in a while?”

You shrugged and your gaze drifted down to your hands which you began to wring together. Din stayed silent. He was content with giving you all the time in the world to respond. Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze. You smiled and your words came out jokingly, “Nobody likes doctors.”

“Still important to go now and then.”

“Uh huh.” You tilted your head at him, smile growing impish. “And when’s the last time you saw a doctor? Mr. Big Bad Bounty Hunter?”

Din’s lips curled up in amusement. He loved that you were comfortable enough to joke with and tease him. He shook his head. “I have bacta and a cautery at home. Those don’t require me to sit in a waiting room for 45 minutes.”

“Fair point.” You chuckled. “Bacta and cautery do have their own faults, you know.”

“Like?” Din asked. He didn’t really care about the faults of either, but if this distracted you from your nerves he’d play along. Plus, the sound of your voice was like music to his ears. He’d sit and listen to you read the instruction manual for a caf machine without complaint.

“Well,” You began, your shoulders beginning to relax, “Bacta is incredible. No doubt. Society called it a medical miracle and they weren’t wrong. It’s only as good as the person using it though. If the wound isn’t cleaned right or debris is left inside when the Bacta is applied then everything gets trapped inside as your tissue heals. Plus, if it’s already an internal issue Bacta can’t target that. It does nothing for fever control or symptom management.” Din could tell you were getting into the conversation because you twisted in your seat to face him. “If you use Bacta on a fracture, but you don’t set it right then it heals wrong. If you mess up the measurements in a Bacta tank or the settings are wrong it can ‘overheal’ a person which just means a person’s tissues and cells rejuvenate and are reborn so fast that it floods the body. Those excess cells wreck havoc and turn to tumors wherever they land.” Din let his eyes shamelessly trace your features. This was the first topic, other than Grogu, that he had seen you get so excited about. You pointed at him with a mocking grin, “And don’t get me started on a cautery gun.”

Din chuckled, “And what exactly is wrong with my cautery gun?”

“You’re essentially creating a wound to fix a different wound.” You scoffed. “It’s great for stemming blood loss and destroying infected tissue, but between infections and scarring⏤”

Din leaned toward you, a confident tilt to his head, “I’ve never had a cautery induced infection.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

You twisted your lips, amused, and he shifted so he was as close to you as he could manage in the separate chairs. You shook your head. “Fine. You, Marshal Mando, are the one exception of the system. Congratulations.”

Din let out a breathy laugh, and he wondered what it would sound like to hear his name spoken in your voice. The beeping of his communicator made you alter your position in the chair so you were back to where you had started. Din did the same and resisted muttering the curse words bouncing around in his head. Looking at the screen he saw it was Cara. Dank farrik. She’d only call if it were actually important.

He accepted the call and Cara started talking without preamble.

“Mando, we got pirates. Mayfeld and I are on our way to the tarmac where a group of them are causing trouble, but Karga said a few were spotted by the school.”

This time he didn’t hold back the curse that came to mind. Din turned to look at you and you gave him a reassuring nod. “Go.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Din stood.

“We’ll probably still be in here.” You motioned to the waiting room.

Din reached out to squeeze your shoulder and on his way out told Grogu to behave.

Kriffing pirates.

Mando had been an excellent distraction. You had never been a fan of pirates at baseline, they were always the worst to deal with when they stumbled into the hospital in Coruscant, but now you really hated them. You tried to focus on Grogu who was still playing with a different set of kids as the ones he had been with before got called back to be seen. Before they left, you had actually exchanged a few frequency numbers to set up play dates at some point.

“Grogu?” A nurse poked her head out of a door.

He dropped the blocks he was holding to perk up at the sound of his name. Still in a playful and active mood, Grogu wanted to walk on his own rather than be held so you walked by his side as you both followed behind the nurse.

She went about taking vitals and getting some more information before leading you back to a simple room. You sat down in one of the two chairs in the corner, by the exam table, and let Grogu bounce around the room to burn off his excess energy.

“You are gonna sleep so good tonight.” You chuckled.

“No sleep. No.” Grogu chirped. “No, no.”

That was quickly becoming one of the kid’s favorite Basic words to use. You glanced up at the clock on the wall to see it was about an hour after your appointment time. Understaffed clinics got backed up, it happened, and you understood that better than most. You felt bad for the poor physician running around the office today. You were actually hoping you’d have to wait a bit longer though.

Mando wanted to be here for this, to be here for his son, and you hated that the damned pirates got in the way of that. If you could swap roles with him and handle the pirates so he could stay here with his son you would’ve. Unfortunately, that would’ve been messy for every single person involved. You didn’t have an extensive history doing well in a fight, and the only kind of blade you knew how to use was a scalpel. You’d never even held a blaster before.

“Skraan!” Grogu called out.

You shook your head. “We just ate lunch, buddy. I think we have some snacks left.” You dug around the baby bag you had packed for the day and found the container of star shaped cereal puffs you had put together this morning. “Here we go.”

Grogu bounced over to you happily and held his hands up to you. You dropped a few stars into his palms and watched him eat them one by one. He’d explored the room while eating the stars and would only return back to you for more stars. That became the routine for the next ten minutes and by then you were out of star shaped snacks.

A knock at the door startled you. “Come in!” You placed the container into the bag and motioned for Grogu to come sit on your lap. “Hi. I’m⏤”

“This is Grogu?” The man interrupted your introduction. He was older, you’d guess in his late sixties or early seventies, and was human. Thick gray hair covered his head and it matched the thick mustache above his lips.

“Yes. We’re here for⏤”

“Let’s see, school registration check up.” He read off the holopad in his hand. You shifted in your seat, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, and bit back a snarky reply. “We’ll get some blood for lab work, give the usual booster shots, and get you on your way, yeah?”

You held Grogu’s hands, skeptical, “I was actually hoping⏤”

“There’s no need for⏤”

“Please stop interrupting me.” You snapped. There was nothing you hated more than not being able to get a thought out. Maybe you’d have more patience for it if you hadn’t spent all your training being looked down at for being a young woman. You couldn’t count the number of bloated attendings you worked under who were just like the man in front of you. The doctor stayed silent but you could see annoyance on his features. “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you came in, you never introduced yourself.” You said but paused before saying more. This wasn’t a hospital you had any sort of credentialing in. That meant if you wanted anything done, you were gonna have to stroke an ego. You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Sorry, I’m sure it slipped your mind with how busy you are today. I bet they have you running all over the place.”

The man chuckled. “You aren’t wrong. My name is Dr. Daelar. I am sorry about the wait time. I was caught in a different procedure room for the last hour doing a cryoablation of some skin lesions.” You resisted the urge to scoff. Doing cryoablation correctly took five minutes tops. Doing it insanely, incorrectly could maybe stretch it out to ten. You didn’t appreciate the excuse because you knew it was a lie. “As I was saying, we’ll draw some blood and get those booster shots going.”

“Thank you. We’re actually going to be forgoing the blood tests, and I was hoping you’d take a listen to his lungs.” You replied. Over lunch, Mando had explained that he wasn’t comfortable with anybody drawing blood from Grogu. He hadn’t explained the exact reasoning, but you gathered it was something from their tricky past. Even with your back to him, you could tell the topic made him mildly uncomfortable. “He’s had this night time cough I’ve noticed⏤”

Daelar shook his head. “That’s not wise. I strongly recommend the blood tests.”

“Okay.” You drew the word out. “Thank you, and I appreciate your thoughts on the matter⏤”

“These aren’t my thoughts, these are the facts.” Daelar interrupted again. “Blood work should be checked routinely for chronic illnesses. He needs this done.”

You didn’t know if Grogu could tell that you were in a bad mood, but he began to squirm and whine in your lap. He turned around and pushed up on his tip toes so he could bury his face into the crook of your neck. You scooped him up to hold him closer making the action easier.

“I understand the benefits of routine lab work, and I understand the risks of refusing.” You said as calmly as you could. If this was about legal issues then you’d say the magic words that he could type in his chart and waive all liability off himself. “That being said, we’re still refusing a blood draw today.”

Daelar scoffed and shook his head. “You’re being unreasonable. As a first time mom it’s understandable to be nervous and jittery, but it’s no reason to put your son at risk.”

Oh, you really didn’t like this man. Karga had somehow managed to hire a physician that represented everything wrong with healthcare. Nice. Between the bullying and assumptions, that would be enough to piss you off alone. Add the stress of being in a clinic after so long? You really had no chance of getting out of this without losing your cool.

“You’re not drawing labs on Grogu.” You snapped.

Daelar shook his head and shrugged. “Then I don’t know if I can clear him to start school.”

“Blood work isn’t necessary for school registration. Just the boosters.” Your voice began to raise.

“Ma’am⏤” He began once more but a solid knock at the door interrupted the interaction. A nurse poked her head in one second later and Daelar snapped at her. “We’re busy in here.”

“Sorry, sir. The child’s father is here.”

Daelar smirked at you. “Good. Perhaps, this will settle the matter at hand.”

The nurse slid out of the room and was replaced by Mando. You took in the sight of him, unharmed and unmarred, and a wave of relief washed over you. If dealing with the pirates had led to a fire fight then Mando came away with no obvious injuries. Mando’s helmet tilted just a bit and you could feel his eyes on you in the same way you had looked over him. His shoulders stiffened marginally, his stance still intimidating, and you wondered if your anger was notable. You rubbed Grogu’s back soothingly.

“Oh. Marshal!” Daelar greeted. “I had no idea this was your son. I⏤”

“What’s wrong?” Mando walked over to stand beside you, ignoring Daelar entirely. He rubbed Grogu’s head and let his hand trail from his son’s head to rest on your upper back. The way he stood beside your seat nearly blocked Daelar from your view.

You lifted your chin to stare up at the T-shaped visor. “Dr. Daelar has been adamant about a blood draw despite my very clear refusal.”

Mando turned around and his hands drifted to his hips. Daelar shifted awkwardly from across the room and he let out a cough. The doctor held his hands up with a smile, “No, I think this is simply a misunderstanding.” Your eyes widened, jaw falling open. “The little Mrs," Again with the assumptions, “She misunderstood me is all. I was simply offering my recommendation, but obviously the decision falls to your hands at the end of the day. We can just work on the boosters and finish the paperwork for registration.”

A disbelieving guffaw left your throat at the audacity of this man. Mando glanced over his shoulder down at you, and you took a sharp breath through your nose. Whatever. As long as Grogu got the care he needed. Mando looked back to Daelar.

“Have you listened to my son’s lungs?”

Daelar’s eyes widened. “Hmm? Why?”

“I know Soran would have brought it up. She’s attentive. Was there a misunderstanding about Grogu’s cough?”

“No. Not at all. Sorry.” Daelar sighed. “Bring the little guy over to the exam table.”

Without speaking, Mando held his arms out to take Grogu, and you tried to hand him over. Grogu clung to your shirt, his claws digging into the material, and he buried his face further into your neck. He grumbled, “No.” You shot Mando a look, and he reached out to help detangle Grogu from you. The little boy didn’t give in.

“Grogu.” Mando said firmly. He set a hand on his back. “Come to me, ad’ika.”

“No, no!” Grogu finally lifted his head to look at his father’s visor. He shook his head and you had to lean back to keep his ears from hitting you. Grogu whined, “Trikar’la, buir!”

Despite all the tension, despite the fact that you still only knew very, very basic Mando’a, you gasped with a swell of pride. Unable to bite back the smile you wore, you cooed. “Grogu, that was so good.” You had no idea what he said beyond referring to his father, but his words sounded like it could’ve been a full sentence. Plus, he had said it in front of Daelar, a virtual stranger. “Good job, sweetie.”

You lifted your eyes to Mando, expecting a similar reaction, but his entire frame was tense. Again, his helmet gave no signs of anger, but a seething energy radiated from him. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Grogu went back to hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hugging you, and Mando shifted his hands so one rested on your back and arm.

“Let me help you up.” Mando whispered in a kind tone. “You can sit on the exam table with him.”

“Alright.” You mumbled.

You didn’t need any help standing, but Mando kept his hands on you while you rose and all the way to the exam table. Once you sat down on the sanitation paper, Mando settled beside you. He kept his arm behind you, his hand leaning on the table by your opposite thigh. You turned to look at Mando, and because of his positioning you found yourself dangerously close to his chest. If you leaned forward you could bury your face in the crook of his neck the same way Grogu was doing to you.

His head began to turn to look at you and you quickly focused your gaze forward. Daelar came over with his stethoscope and began to listen to Grogu’s lungs. He did this for a few minutes before pulling back with a nod. Daelar cleared his throat. “I’m hearing a little wheezing. Very mild. I can prescribe a nebulizer treatment at home before he goes to bed. Hold the mask over his face and just let him breathe in the medicine.”

“Thank you.” Mando said, but his tone was more intimidating than grateful.

“I’ll send a nurse in with the boosters and the medicine.” Daelar said before rushing out of the room.

You scoffed, still in disbelief on how that had gone, but when the door closed Mando shifted so he stood directly in front of you. Now he had a hand resting on the table on either side of your thighs. You blinked in surprise at the sudden motion.

“Are you alright?” Mando asked.

You forced a chuckle. “Yeah. I mean, that guy was a total ass, but he wasn’t the first jerk I’ve dealt with. Won’t be the last.” You continued rubbing Grogu’s back, not knowing what else to do with your own hands. “Granted, I could’ve done without the gaslighting, but…” It occurred to you then that Mando hadn’t hesitated to take your side. “Thanks. For having my back, I mean.”

“Always.” Mando replied with ease. He let out a soft sigh. “I’m talking to Karga about this.”

You laughed. “You’re gonna get a doctor fired because he was rude to me?” Mando didn’t reply, but his shrug was highly unconvincing. “It’s fine.”

“He upset you. That’s not fine. Grogu said⏤”

You gasped, “Yeah! What did Grogu say?”

Mando paused before leaning back. “He said you were sad.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you glanced down to gently pull Grogu away from your chest to look at him. He stared up at you with concern in his large eyes, and you gave him a smile. “I’m okay.” You gave his head a light scratch and let your fingers trail to give his ear a light, loving tongue. “Thanks for looking out for me, little guy.”

Grogu lifted his hands toward your face so you brought it down toward him. He lightly patted your cheeks and did the same thing he did this morning⏤ pressed his forehead as close to yours as you could get it. Everyone in Nevarro showed different forms of affection to Grogu, he was too cute to not pay attention to, but the most important sign of affection was the way Mando lightly set his forehead to his. You had to assume that in Grogu’s mind, that was an important thing. The fact that he was sharing that bit of love with you was overwhelming. You tried not to linger on the thought too long this morning⏤ not wanting to fall apart⏤ but Mando being here sticking up for you without hesitation only added to the situation.

You felt yourself begin to get choked up and quickly cleared your throat.

“Here. Why don’t you go to your dad?” You held out Grogu, and Mando must have sensed your distress because he took the child with no question. You gave him a broad smile. “I⏤I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

You hopped off the exam table and as you pulled the door open Mando called out. “Are you sure you’re alright, cyar’ika?”

You let a wide smile fill your features, every bit of real, and nodded sincerely, “I am. I promise. I’m⏤ This…” Considering how grateful you felt right now, you owed him as much truth as you could give. You nodded. “This is the best I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Mando nodded once, silent. Grogu lifted a hand and gave you a small wave. You rushed out of the room and made a beeline straight for the bathroom you had passed on the way into the procedure room. Finally away from prying eyes, you leaned against the locked bathroom door and began to trace the scar along your collarbone. Even with your fingers ghosting over the ugly patch of skin, you felt happy⏤ cared for. Maker, you didn’t think you’d actually feel that way ever again.

mando’a translations:

cyar’ika: darling, sweetheart

trikar’la: sad

buir: father

[lightsaber-dorphin]

Jedi Order Bureaucratic Structure

I’ve been working for a while on worldbuilding the inner workings of the Jedi Order. Below is a flowchart of the administrative bodies, their duties, and any other admin bodies they oversee. More details on each below the cut.

These are different groups involved in running the Jedi Order. For different roles within the Jedi, see my Jedi Order Corps and Subdivisions.

High Council: (Finance, bylaws, PR, major trials)

Determines the budget(s)

Relations with the Senate

Only body that can expel members

Librarian's Assembly: (Ensures knowledge is available to Jedi)

Fund academic researchers (many Jedi researchers work directly for the assembly)

Archives: (Run the Archives & research)

Host academic conferences

Protect important artifacts

Run basically directly by the Librarian's Assembly

Department of Classes: (Adult education)

Organize all classes that aren't geneds

Set criteria for certifications/ degrees

Help members get degrees from external organizations

Council of Reassignment: (Oversees transfers & is Jedi CPS)

New Initiate paperwork

Transfers between corps and/or branches

Helps members leave the Order

Checks the CoFK when necessary

Padawanship paperwork filed here (crèchemasters sign off, padawan signs off, check master for red flags/ not allowed to take apprentice, sometimes mind healer signs off)

Council of Justice: (Attourneys & internal justice system)

Try & punish cases committed by Jedi & internal to the Jedi Order

Mediate interpersonal disputes

Lawyers for the Order

Cannot expel members

Council of Outreach: (Manages outposts & patrols)

Assigns Jedi to satellite locations or watchfolk posts

Hires other outpost staff

Ships supplies to & from outposts

Tracks the locations of missions & sends Vanguards to areas that haven't been visited recently

Council of Temple Maintenance: (Oversees internal services and temple upkeep)

In charge of the cleaning droids

Coordinates trash & recycling with Coruscant government

Has the occasional member who can do specialized maintenance (ex. plumber, electrician)

Volunteers sign up to fix things

Hires outside contractors when there isn't a Jedi with the necessary skills

Assigns Jedi to living quarters

Interior decor

Delegates chores such as taking out the trash, mopping, dusting, etc.

Padawans and initiates are often assigned these chores as punishments

Kitchenmasters: (Mess halls)

Make & serve food in the mess halls

Label the food with which species can eat it

Order food supplies

Supervise initiate clans helping in the kitchens

Quartermasters: (Distribute supplies & manage finances)

Bulk-order supplies for the Order

Provide mission allotments

Desk operators help members pick up supplies

Accounting

Transport Office: (Run the hangar bay & speeder pool)

Responsible for the Order's vehicles

Mechanics

Vehicles are checked in & out like a library for cars & ships

Hire external staff when there aren't enough Jedi

Temple Guard: (Security & emergency response)

Guard against exterior threats to the temple

Security during criminal situations

Really good at sensing danger to temple inhabitants

First responders (fire & police-- MedCorp handles EMS)

Change lightbulbs and smoke detector batteries

Odd jobs on behalf of the CoTM

Uses the lore by Adsecula in "Nameless"

Council of Reconciliation: (Central hub of Jedi outreach & diplomacy)

All aid requests go through them

Sets mission objectives

Approve or deny aid/ mission requests

Reviews behavior of Jedi on missions when there are issues

Mission Consignment: (Assign Jedi to approved missions)

Desk jockeys

Not officially divided by type of mission/ Jedi role needed, but missions will be passed to people who are more familiar with the experts required

Organizes specifics for missions such as transportation and housing

Council of First Knowledge: (Runs Initiate & Padawan dorms, clans, & childhood education)

Initiate clans members live together with their crèchemasters rotating out night shifts

Padawans & Senior Initiates live in individual rooms in designated halls with some crèchemasters living in each hall

Department of Seekers: (Regulates conduct of Seekers)

Create regulates for what Seekers can & cannot do & how they should act

Investigate reported misconduct by Seekers

Crèche: (Organizes care for Initiates)

Sort Initiates into clans

Run events/ field trips/ etc.

Set educational standards

see my post about Living Quarters in the Jedi Temple

Department of Primary Classes: (Classroom education for younglings)

Standard elementary school operation stuff

Provides the general education classes all Jedi take as younglings

Circle of Healers: (Sets certification requirements)

Certified to train medical professionals for a variety of degrees

Determines when Jedi have fulfilled requirements for medical certifications

Sets the qualifications for Force-specific medical degrees

Halls of Healing: (Healthcare within the Order & internal outreach)

Like a local hospital but also has general practitioners

IRB: (Reviews research for ethical concerns)

Institutional Review Board

"Under FDA regulations, an Institutional Review Board is group that has been formally designated to review and monitor biomedical research involving human subjects. In accordance with FDA regulations, an IRB has the authority to approve, require modifications in (to secure approval), or disapprove research. This group review serves an important role in the protection of the rights and welfare of human research subjects."

IRB for the entire Order, not just the MedCorps

[idrawfunkythings]

DCAtober Day 24: Error

Words: 1,700+ Summary: Moon attacked a man today

Sorry for the late publish. The rushed ending is on purpose though! It's meant to convey how Moon is desperate to get the reader out

Okay, so you were having a hell of a day.

First, your alarm hadn’t gone off, and you’d woken up to several notifications on your phone from Vanessa, asking if you were coming in tonight. In a whirlwind of chaos and swearing, you’d gotten dressed, shoveled toast into your mouth and texted Vanessa back saying yes, you would be there, and please god would she cover if management asked where you were.

Of course, she said yes, responding with a picture of her and Freddy both giving you a thumbs up.

You’d sprinted to your car, jammed the keys in the ignition, and then almost burst into tears at the realisation that you’d left your stupid watch in your apartment. Whatever. You were running so late that you’d be lucky to not be fired by the time you got there. It was just one night.

When you arrive at the Pizzaplex, your heart is beating out of your chest with panic. Vanessa is in the security office when you get there to clock in, bent over one of the cameras intently. She looks up when you come in, smiling.

“I was worried something had happened to you!” she exclaims, taking stock of your flushed face. “You okay?”

“Overslept,” you get out. She nods sympathetically as you toss your bag onto the peg and grab your lanyard. Luckily, you have the night routine memorised, and know exactly where you’re meant to be at this moment. “I gotta get to the Daycare, but I’ll see you later.”

Vanessa makes a face, and you hesitate, giving her a questioning look. “Uh… look, be careful in there, okay?”

“What? Why?” Vanessa loved the daycare attendant - Sun always let her in when she had a question, and Moon didn’t bother anyone but you. “Is Moon in a mood again?”

She rubs the back of her neck, suddenly looking like a deer in headlights. “Something like that. Um… did you see the security alert?”

You glance at your empty wrist, feeling very uneasy. “No, why?”

“There was an unauthorised adult in the daycare today,” she starts, and you know exactly what she’s getting at, but you don’t know why she’s so uncomfortable discussing Moon dealing with a potential kidnapper. “Moon got a bit… overwhelmed. They called a handler.”

You can feel your eyes almost pop out of your head. “They what?” The daycare attendant didn’t have a handler (other than you, you supposed, but you were more of an assistant than a handler). That meant they’d called in one of the Glamrock detainers. “What happened?”

“He grabbed the guy’s arm. From what I heard, he almost snapped it clean in half.” Vanessa catches sight of your shocked expression. “Don’t worry! He’s fine.”

You weren’t worried about if some scumbag who had tried to kidnap a child was okay. It wasn’t like Moon to resort to violence, even less to need external forces to calm him from a rage. You pick up your ring of keys and nod. “Okay. I’ll go, uh, check on Moon. See if he’s okay.”

She lets you get halfway out the door before adding “They threatened to take them to Parts n Service.”

Your shoulders hunch at her words, and you don’t respond, instead making a beeline for the daycare doors. A yawn threatens to make an appearance, but you stifle it. Sleep is the least of your problems right now.

You find Moon scrunched up in a tube, his faceplate pressed to his knees and his fingers clicking together anxiously.

“Hey bud,” you say, flicking off your torch once you’ve ascertained his location. “You two had an eventful day?”

Moon growls and swipes a hand in your general direction. “Go away. Brat.”

“Don’t you have patrols?” if there was one thing the animatronic liked other than sleep, it was his security patrols. Most nights you’d find him up in the arcade with the DJ, if he wasn’t following you around first. Sun’s coding strictly prohibited him from leaving the daycare, with emergencies being the exception, but Moon could roam around as he pleased. You knew the freedom meant more to him than he would ever admit.

“Not tonight. Staffbots.”

So, clearly whatever had happened had been worse than you anticipated, if Moon wasn’t allowed out tonight. You clear your throat and plop down next to him, leaning on a pillow from naptime that hadn’t been cleared away. “You wanna talk about it?”

Moon turns away from you, lying on his side so you can’t see his face. “No.”

You hum, staring up at the daycare ceiling and the plastic stars that hang from the beams. “Does Sun?”

“Not his business.”

In your mind, you can picture Sun screaming, his rays spinning back and forth faster and faster with each rotation. You can’t imagine how he was feeling when the man came in.

“Which kid did he try and take?” you try and keep your voice light, like this is the same as any other conversation you two have had.

“Hudson.”

Moon had a fondness for the kid. He had a lazy eye, so he had to wear an eyepatch to strengthen it, and his depth perception was a bit off because of it. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go home at the end of the day with bruised knees and stubbed toes.

“Good thing you were here then, huh?”

He doesn’t reply.

“You know you just did what the protocols said.”

Moon growls. “Hurt him in front of the kids. Not a good example.”

“Yeah, but I’m assuming Sun came out and calmed them all down anyway, so no harm done.” Moon shifts awkwardly, his ribbons jingling. “Moon?”

“Called a handler on us,” he hisses, and you can see his fingers flexing angrily. “Said they would have our body taken apart.”

If you could do anything, with no repercussions, it would be strangle each and every human in this place who believed the animatronics were below them. It was people like that who caused Sun’s fear of Parts n Service, people who believed that they could dissect their insides like some kind of science project just because they wanted to.

“Which handler?”

“Monty’s. Black hair. Tattoos.”

“Charlie?” something about his words make your stomach churn, but you can’t place why. “He’s nice, right?”

He huffs, and you can picture him rolling his eyes. “Nice as a handler can be.”

“So, did Sun calm down the kids?”

Moon finally turns to look at you, the first time he has the whole time you’ve been here, and in typical Moon fashion it’s to give you a glare that conveys his opinion (that you are the dumbest person he’s ever met). “They called a handler.”

“Oh.” His words sink in. When handers are called for animatronics, they spend the rest of the day in their green rooms - for the daycare attendant, you assume they’ve been in the loft all afternoon. “Who watched the kids?”

“Charlie. They went home early.”

“Has Sun been out at all since then?”

Moon’s head twitches to the side. “No.” A ray pokes out, but slides back in with a screech.

“What happened?”

In the time it takes for you to blink, Moon’s wire has dropped down to your head, and he clambers out and hooks on before ascending to the roof. “Not telling.”

“Too bad.” You stand up, kicking the pillow to the side in order to follow his voice through the daycare. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to read the incident report tomorrow.”

The wire screams as he drops down, right beside your face. “You do that anyway.”

“I wanna know your side.”

Moon mimics zipping his lips and throwing away the key. You make a grab at him, but he rises out of reach. “Go patrol.”

“I still have-”

Moon stops above you, his faceplate tilted down so that his eyes are directly staring into your own. “Don’t care. Go.”

“Why?”

“Your watch is missing.” He gestures to your wrist, and you follow his direction to the empty space. “Could hurt you. You couldn’t call for help.”

“Bullshit,” you counter, and he presses a finger to your mouth. “Why would you hurt me?”

Moon’s head twitches again. “Don’t know. Maybe an error.”

Your eyebrows knit together as understanding dawns on you. “Moon. Did you mean to grab that man?”

His face freezes, and he zips away into the rafters, perching above you. “We meant to stop him.”

“Moon-”

“Go patrol.” He’s standing on the balcony with his arms shaking by his sides. “We will see you tomorrow.”

You try to protest, but he disappears into his room, and you have no way to open it from the door without your watch. Kicking one of the stacks of tubes over in frustration, you switch on your torch and stomp out of the daycare. “You know, friends talk to each other about their feelings!”

“We don’t have feelings,” a voice calls, sounding more like Sun than Moon. “We’re robots.”

“Ugh!” you gesture wildly with your hands, the torch beam dancing around the room as you stand in the daycare waiting space. “Robots can still talk about what happened!”

Silence. Your voice bounces back at you off the padded walls. You roll your eyes and slam the red doors shut behind you in protest.

It’s only later, when you’re trying not to acknowledge the obvious lack of your favourite annoyance during your patrols, that you realise why Moon’s words had made you so uneasy before.

He hadn’t remembered Charlie’s name.

The animatronics were linked to a database with the names of anyone who ever stepped foot within the pizzplex contained within it. How, then, had he forgotten the name of the man he had seen not even twelve hours ago?

The hair on the back of your neck pricks up. Something was very wrong.

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Imagine Javier when he finds out you went out alone against his orders.

***

The perpetually stressed man marched through the corridor, looking inside each office as he passed. Each room he looked in, he was left with a more and more unsettling feeling inside.

Where the hell are you?

When he reached the end of the corridor he paused. Trademark hands on hips stance, deep in thought.

Walking back to his own office he had a mind to ask Messina where you'd gone. Settling on grilling Steve first, he entered the office and made a beeline for the blond nose deep in a file.

"Murphy, where is she?"

"That's a can of worms I'm not getting into." He barely looked up from the file.

"Murphy." Pulling a chair next to his desk and sitting down, still staring at his colleague with disdain.

"Hm?"

"Tell me."

"She told me not to, kind of made me promise. Want me to start breaking promises now do you?"

"If she's doing something stupid, it'll be on you when she gets hurt and none of us were there to help her."

"Ahh, fuck- fine. She got approval to go investigate a tip we got."

"Where?"

"Over in Tequebusa, the got word of a disused school being used by a few of Escobars guys."

"Fuck. " Javier shot up, making Steve jump a little and stormed out of the room.

Following him, Steve was pulling on his jacket, "you can't go after her. She left fourty minutes ago and its an hour drive. By the time you get there she'll probably be on the way back"

"Do we have any way of contacting them?"

"No, they told us they would get into contact once they knew what was going on." Javier paused, stopping in the hallway to face Steve.

"Who the fuck agreed to that?!"

"You know who."

Javier thought for a moment. Weighing up his options.

"Fuck it, I'm going." He decided, taking off again.

Steve let out a sigh, "shit, I'll come too."

The pair rushed down to Javier's car, exiting the compound as fast as they could.

Speeding most, if not all of the way Javier found he couldn't stop worrying. Fuming at the same time that she was allowed to go with such a small team. Stetner knew they were still researching the scale of the activity going on there. That it was far too soon to move in on the lead they had been given.

Making up almost twenty minutes of time. They arrived, and as expected it was already done. The scene looking like a total disaster. Emergency services all over.

Stopping the car, Javier was out in an instant. Lighting a cigarette out of habit, and stress.

"Fucking hell, this is a shit show." Steve huffed, looking around it was hard trying to recognise anyone in the evening light.

"What the fuck happened". Steve asked one of the armed guards, who was covered in blood.

"It was a shitshow from start to finish. They knew we were coming and were waiting for us. First car got blown up as soon as it crossed the perimeter line. We managed to get a few of them. But it wasn't easy. Y/Ns in that ambulance there." He motioned to one of the ambulances.

Javier didn't need another invitation, he stormed over to it. Fearing the worst.

There you were, laid up on the bed, wincing as you were dealt with by the EMT. One of your arms bound in a sling, the EMT was trying to clean the wound on your leg

"Y/N. What happened. Why the fuck didn't you tell any of us?" Javi scolded as he stepped into the ambulance.

You winced as the paramedic pressed a bit too hard on your leg, "I got a classified letter with all the details on it. I was told you guys weren't needed as there was already a team here. Get here and we get fucking ambushed."

"So they're baiting the mail now. Fuckers."

"I rang Stetner, he told me the info was legit, when I suggested joining the team here, he was all for it." You explained. "I'm going to give that fucker a piece of my mind when I get back there."

"That's if there's anything left for you to shout at after Javi's done with him," Steve snickered, Javi shot him a sour look.

"All cleaned up. Ma'am I don't think that shoulders broken, but you should get it seen to by a doctor in the morning. It may just be a sprain, but better to be safe than sorry. You also need to rest that leg. It's only a minor burn, but you need to clean it and redress it twice a day."

"Thanks, uhh, can I have some painkillers?"

"Of course," the EMT reached into one of the ambulance compartments and pulled out a box, reading the contents before handing it to you, "two a day maximum, and there's 10 in there."

"Fantastic."

You slowly pulled your legs over the side of the gurney and stood up, trying to lean on your uninjured leg as much as possible. Javier watched as you limped to the steps, Steve already there to help you down.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," Javier joined your other side, hovering in case your leg gave out, "have you got food at home?"

"You think I'm taking medical leave? Javi, I've got paperwork to do and a boss to murder."

Steve gave Javi a perplexed look, "Y/N you can't just go back to work. Messina will send you home as soon as you sit down at your desk. You need to rest."

"I'm not going to win this argument am I?" You asked the pair of them.

"Nope." They both said at the same time.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Minato thanks whatever lucky stars he has left for Mitsuru. 

She’s evidently the reason Officer Kurosawa is here: she’d had the foresight to arrange for him to be contacted in the event that emergency services received a call from any of their phone numbers. She had also briefed Kurosawa about the night’s events, taking point without hesitation while Minato continued to stand there uselessly. She’d slipped into a calm and collected demeanor like armor, as though she wasn’t covered in the blood of someone she cared about. 

Kurosawa, who Minato has also been thanking those overtaxed stars for, had offered them all a ride to the hospital, split between the two squad cars. They never would have gotten here so quickly if it wasn’t for him. He had even escorted them into the hospital to explain the situation, and now a nurse leads them to a waiting room. Unfortunately, Koromaru wasn’t allowed inside, so Kurosawa offered to take him home. They really owe him for this. 

Aragaki and Amada are nowhere in sight, but Sanada is there. He sits on one of the padded benches, elbows resting on his knees and fingers threaded together tightly, watching a nearby set of double doors with intense focus. His hands and arms have been scrubbed clean of Aragaki’s blood, but his clothes are still soaked in it. It’s started to dry now, turning the fabric rust brown and stiff. Sanada doesn’t seem to notice it. He doesn’t even seem to notice their arrival.

He sits so incredibly still. The cold, muted light in the room has scoured all the color from his skin, leaving him as pallid as stone. The only real assurance that he hasn’t been replaced with a marble statue is the minute tremor in his clasped hands. 

“Akihiko?” Mitsuru sits by his side, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. Sanada turns and regards her for a moment, expression unchanging, before looking back to the doors.

“Shinji’s in there,” he says dully. “They– they needed to perform emergency surgery. There’s no guarantee he’ll survive it. That’s what I was told.” 

No one has the heart to speak after that. No one knows what to say at all. 

Once again, Mitsuru comes through. “How is Amada?” She presses gently. 

Sanada bites his lip. “They took him to check if his eardrum ruptured. If it did, there’s a chance he might not be able to hear out of that side anymore. But they’ll do what they can.” 

God, this really is the worst. At least Amada’s injury isn’t life threatening, but the fact that it happened at all makes Minato’s skin crawl. He didn’t need to have been standing in that alley to know that Takaya hadn’t been firing a warning shot, nor had it been his aim only to render Amada half-deaf.

What had Takaya been trying to do? Had he simply been planning to take out the next members of S.E.E.S. that happened to cross his path, or had he sought Aragaki and Amada out specifically? And if he’d targeted them in particular, then why? Without Chidori, how had he even found them? 

Minato has a feeling he won’t ever get the answers to these questions. 

An hour passes. The only break in the terrible silence comes when Aigis offers to keep watch so everyone else can get some rest. It’s a sweet gesture, but no one takes her up on it. Despite his exhaustion and the fact that it’s a little past two in the morning at this point, Minato knows there’s no way he’ll be able to sleep. It’s clear that all of them feel the same. 

Not long after Aigis makes her offer, the double doors open and a doctor in scrubs comes into the waiting room. Sanada immediately sits ramrod straight. Mitsuru squeezes his shoulder and stands while he remains seated, still at rigid attention. It seems they have a wordless agreement: she’ll do the talking. 

There’s no way Aragaki is out of surgery already…right? Minato tries desperately to glean some sort of information from the doctor’s face, some indication of whether she’s brought relief or grief with her. There are deep lines etched under her eyes, and a pink furrow across the bridge of her nose from a surgical mask she must have recently been wearing, but her actual expression is as unreadable as Aigis’.

Minato swallows, nerves absolutely frayed at the seams. He doesn’t know if he can handle more bad news at this point. The space between his ears feels numb.

“How are they?” Mitsuru asks, getting straight to the point.

“We’ve done what we can for Amada-kun,” the doctor replies. “Fortunately, his eardrum is intact. It should heal up nicely and regain full hearing function, though it will take some time. At least a week. We’d like to keep him overnight to monitor him, but there should be no complications with his recovery. I can give you more details once we discharge him, if you’d prefer.”

Some of the tension in the room softens. “Yes, that would be fine,” Mitsuru says. At least there’s some good news, though the fact that she’s leading with that makes Minato worry about Aragaki even more. Did he make it…? 

“As for Aragaki-kun, the operation is a fairly delicate procedure, given the extent of his injuries and the advanced state of his condition. But currently it’s progressing as well as can be expected,” the doctor continues. A little more of the tightness in Minato’s shoulders relaxes. He’s still alive. At least for the moment he’s still alive.

From the corner of his eye Minato sees Junpei, Yukari, and Fuuka all glance at each other in confused alarm at the mention of ‘the advanced state of his condition’, but neither Sanada nor Mitsuru look at all surprised. He wonders when and how they found out, given how tight-lipped Aragaki had been about it, and whether they may even know more than he does. 

“We will need to perform a blood transfusion, but unfortunately our stocks are somewhat thin at the moment. Apathy Syndrome has led to an uptick in need for transfusions and a significant slowdown in donations. We wanted to ask first if you would be willing to–” 

Sanada immediately stands up. “I’ll do it,” he says.

The doctor frowns. She looks deeply regretful. “Unfortunately, Sanada-kun, according to your charts from when you were here earlier this year, you aren’t a viable donor for Aragaki-kun.” 

“What?” Sanada looks nearly as stricken as if she had told him that Aragaki didn’t make it. “But– we’re both type A, I know we are!”

“That’s correct, but your blood type is A-positive, and Aragaki-kun’s is A-negative– your red blood cells contain a protein called Rh factor while his do not. Attempting to introduce your blood into his body will cause his immune system to react to the donated red cells as though they were pathogens and attack them. Even for an individual in perfect health, this reaction can be fatal.”

Sanada goes from pale to grey over the course of her explanation. He sits back down heavily, as though his knees have simply given out.

“I see.” His voice is strangled and so, so small.

“I’m very sorry, Sanada-kun,” the doctor says, and she really does seem to mean it. She turns to Mitsuru. “Kirijo-san, given your blood type is O-negative–”

“Yes of course,” Mitsuru answers without hesitation. “Whatever he needs.”

“Excellent. Now the number of units we need exceeds what we can safely take from one person, but it does look like there’s another member of your group who would be a compatible donor. Minato Arisato?” Her gaze flickers between Minato and Junpei questioningly.

It takes several seconds and Junpei’s elbow digging into his ribs for recognition to finally click into place.

Minato Arisato. That’s right. That’s him.

He stands and nods, and comes to stand beside Mitsuru. He doesn’t trust himself to speak.

“Thank you, Arisato-kun. If you’ll both come with me, please.”

They follow the doctor wordlessly. From behind him, Minato hears a long, jagged exhale and Fuuka’s quiet voice asking if Sanada is alright. He does not let himself look back.