#the last few times i asked my mom to take me to a doctor or instacare

[l3ominor]

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[ms-demeanor]

Due to some stuff brought up in recent posts I believe it is time to once again extol the virtues of Ms-Demeanor's Patented Where Did I Put That Fucking Paper Organizational Binder.

Hello! I am a disorganized adult! This is the system by which I manage my important shit like pink slips for my car and medical records and tax information.

You're going to need:

A 3-Ring Binder

Transparent Sheet Protectors

Notebook dividers (optional but VERY useful)

A backpack (optional)

So the way this system works is you put the sheet protectors into the binder. You can either use the dividers to divide the binder into sections or you can label some of the sheet protectors to make different sections but what you are generally going to do is make sections of the binder labeled things like "taxes" or "vet" or "doctor" and put a few sheet protectors in each section.

Then all of your papers with important information get crammed in that folder. You don't organize them, you don't sort them by date, you don't alphabetize. You put things vaguely relating to taxes into the sheet protectors in the taxes section. You put things relating to cars in the cars section. You don't even attempt to make this readable - you're not using sheet protectors so that you can read each page and keep it legible, you're using sheet protectors because it's a cheap plastic bag that will sit nicely in a binder.

You CAN put stuff into the individual sheet protectors when you get it, but let's be realistic you probably WON'T do that, so just tuck individual papers into the front of the binder until you get to a critical mass of paperwork then take an hour to sit down and sort into categories and put it in the binder once every six months to three years (depending on how frequently you get paperwork). Sometimes these sections will outgrow their original allotted space - since my spouse had a transplant surgery the medical section has had to become its own folder - and that's okay. If you end up with multiple folders just keep them together (this is why the backpack is an option, and one I strongly recommend).

Because yeah, if my organization system relies on opening up a drawer and putting something where it belongs as soon as I get the paper, I will simply not be organized. It's not going to happen. But I can handle a messy stack of paper that sits in one place and grows until it is time to shove it into a binder. I can't organize things for thirty seconds a day every day but I can organize things for an hour once every year or so (maybe two hours every five years when I sort out stuff I don't need like copies of warranties for parts on a car I don't own anymore).

When my mom died she had about fifty pounds of paper files in her office that were neatly organized in a system that didn't make any sense to my dad, my sister, and I. I ended up sorting through those files for twenty hours, tossing out copies of paid invoices from ten years ago and student handbooks from my junior high school. I reduced one filing cabinet, two desk file drawers, and a foot-high stack to a six inch binder that I gave to my dad. My mom died five years ago; two months ago my dad asked me about a medical document and I was able to tell him to go look for it in the medical section of the binder. It was there, because ALL IMPORTANT SHIT GOES IN THE BINDER.

Where is my birth certificate? In the binder. Where is my tax return from 2017? In the binder. Where is the record of my dog's last rabies shot? In the binder. Where are the records for my life insurance? In the binder.

A lot of what people consider "being organized" breaks down to whether or not you can find the specific things that you're looking for. Does my binder look nice? Is it aesthetic? Does it have color-coded tabs and papers all laid out neatly? Absolutely fucking not. But if you ask me where to find a paper I know that I can do so within about five minutes of shuffling through the pile of letter-folded sheets that I pulled out of the appropriate section of the binder.

I've discussed the Where Did I Put that Fucking Paper Binder before, but now it is time to expand that concept to the Backpack of Important Shit.

You likely have Important Shit that does not fit in a binder. Some of my Important Shit that does not fit in a binder is stuff like jewelry and the spare key for my car. Other stuff - the reason I decided to bring this up at all - includes my backup hard drive and packaging (including product key codes) for pretty much all of the software that I own. This is also where I store printed out copies of the recovery codes for most of the online accounts that I have.

There's a lot of weird fiddly shit that we have to have that we might not access all that often. This is the kind of stuff that might end up in junk drawers or under sinks or in disused laptop bags or kicking around under a bunch of papers in a desk drawer.

It doesn't matter so much when that weird fiddly shit is a set of hex keys or a utility knife or a protractor or a copy of a student handbook but it DOES matter when it's something that you might need to put your hands on in a hurry. If your computer crashes, you're not going to want to track down the software in the back of a filing cabinet and the backup drive from somewhere in the bowels of your desk. If you lock your keys in your car you are not going to want to figure out if your spare is in a junk drawer or the old purse where you keep semi-important stuff or the tin on your desk that has buttons and pins and headphone covers. Just put it in the Backpack of Important Shit and when you need it you know where to look.

So anyway, if you are a person who is a minor disaster who has trouble finding important things when you need them please don't think that you have to get your life together and have a nice organized filing cabinet or clear plastic bins full of documents or a neatly divided storage closet where everything from board games to backup drives has its own neatly labeled place. Just assign ONE LOCATION for important shit and start putting the important shit there. It doesn't matter if you have a filing cabinet where you keep old copies of homework and printouts of online orders and family history records - you do not need to keep everything that is file-able in one place and depending on what level of catastrophe you are it might be detrimental to you if you try to do that. It doesn't matter if you have a jewelry box where you keep your collection of gauges and wrist cuffs; if you are going to stress out about where grandma's ring is when you're digging through your collection of cheap earrings and silver pendants then *do not keep grandma's ring or any other Important, Vital, Cannot Be Lost jewelry in with your day-to-day wear*.

I live someplace that has fires. My binder got upgraded to my Backpack of Important Shit when the fires were getting uncomfortably close to the house I was living in and I wanted to have one bag to grab if we had to get out fast. Once I did that, I never took the binder out of the backpack and the backpack has now made three moves with me and has meant that I've had my birth certificate handy when I needed it in the middle of a move between two states, I was able to provide a history of my cholesterol panel going back six years to a visiting nurse, and I was able to give the exact names and contact info of my spouse's previous surgeon to the hospital when I had unexpectedly moved to a new state with three bags and my work computer at the beginning of the pandemic.

Get yourself a backpack of important shit and a folder of where the fuck did i put that paper. It is so much easier to search a backpack for important shit than to go through an entire house and it is so much easier to flip through a binder than it is to dig through a filing cabinet.

Anyway good luck and happy adulting.

[viennakarma]

Funny Little Girl

Lewis Hamilton x Reader (+ daughter)

Summary: When Lewis' little girl gets sick while he's away, he starts contemplating.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: female!reader, husband!Lewis, Dad!Lewis, fluff, little bit hurt/comfort, daughter is sick, Lewis is worried, hospital, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I wrote this in a spur of the moment at 2 am last night, no beta we die like men. It was genuinely supposed to be a blurb but my brain took over and ran with it. (Once again in my girl dad!Lewis agenda)

Feedback and comments are appreciated xx

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Lewis was restless.

He hadn’t spoken to you since the morning, and usually, by this time you would’ve already texted him a good morning message or even a silly lazy picture.

He knew, obviously with him being away on a race weekend, it was natural that the time difference stood between you, but this time he wasn’t too far from home, just a few hours ahead, so he found it strange that you hadn’t texted him yet. He left a couple messages for you again, but they were only delivered. He tried to call once but it rang and you never picked up.

Then an hour or so later, when he was in the middle of a meeting, he got a call from you, a FaceTime call. Worried, he immediately interrupted the meeting, asking for a ten minute break and scurried off to his room.

He picked up as soon as he closed the door behind himself. On the screen, he could see you, still in your sleeping clothes, and Ivy was on your lap. Lewis stared at his daughter and from one single look he could tell she was not looking well.

“Hi, love. Sorry I didn’t answer your texts earlier…” You said first thing.

“What happened?” Lewis frowned.

“Ivy woke up a little under the weather today. She’s a little feverish.”

He looked at his daughter on the screen again, she wasn’t paying attention to him, her eyes red rimmed like she had been crying, in her hands, tightly held was Brendon the Kraken, her favorite plush toy, and her blankie. She had a beanie on and a pacifier. She was looking at the TV, not minding him or her mom.

“How’s she doing? Are you thinking of taking her to the hospital?” He asked, his heart tightening in his chest.

“Not yet, I think the fever might go down soon. If it doesn’t then I’ll take her to see the doctor,” you explained, rubbing Ivy’s shoulder as she snuggled up to you and Lewis wished he was home with you and Ivy, taking care of his little girl who was just a little under three, “how is everything going? Ready for the race later?”

Lewis bit back a comment of how he just wanted to go home to his wife and to his baby girl. How he wanted to snuggle up with Ivy on the couch with lots of blankets to keep her warm while watching silly cartoons. But instead, he smiled a little and talked about the race for a minute. He knew that if you knew he was sad, you were gonna be sad too, so he just pretended everything was fine and his heart wasn’t broken for being away from his family.

Ivy was a toddler, and he was aware toddlers were a little under the weather all the time and it usually wasn’t that big of a deal. Hell, he had been home a couple of times when his daughter had a little cold before. But every time it happened when he was away, it ripped his heart apart just the same.

“Will you keep me updated on Ivy?” He asked, looking at your sweet face on the screen.

“Of course, and if I take too long to reply, don’t rip your hair off with worry, okay?” You said with a fond smile. You gently nudged Ivy, pulling her pacifier out, “look, baby, say hi to daddy…”

Ivy looked at the screen, and her little lips turned into a pout, her eyes watering.

“Daddy! Want daddy!” She said, starting to cry as she made grabby hands to the screen.

Lewis felt like his heart was being torn open with a jackhammer, the pleading look in Ivy’s eyes, wanting comfort from her daddy and him being a couple of countries away, unable to teleport to her side to hold her.

“Shhh, it’s okay, love, daddy is coming home soon, isn’t he?” You said, trying to comfort your daughter, but she kept crying, fat tears wetting her chubby cheeks.

“I’m going home soon, sweetheart, I promise. Daddy’s gonna be there soon,” he said through the screen, but Ivy only seemed to grow even more agitated, her cries louder. He knew the fact that she was sick was probably playing a part in making her big emotions come out. He tried more comforting words, but both Ivy was agitated and you were trying to comfort as best as you could.

Lewis watched the screen for a few more seconds, swallowing a painful lump in his throat, seeing his daughter’s urgency in having him closer, her big brown eyes wet with tears and the grabby hands towards him as if he could just go home through the screen and pick her up in his arms.

“Sorry, love,” you said, picking up Ivy and she cried against your shoulder, “I’ll hang up to calm her down, okay? I’ll keep you updated.”

“If anything, anything really happens you can call me anytime.” He said, hearing your little whimpering through the screen, “love you two.”

“We love you, Lewis,” you blew him a quick kiss and hung up.

Lewis stared at the black screen for a long time, not really looking, just remembering the look on his little girl’s face as she wanted him close. He swallowed a couple times more, and he decided to text his dad and stepmom to go check on you and Ivy if they had some free time back home.

He went back to his pre-race meeting with a pit in his stomach. He had to make an herculean effort to be present on the race weekend and not let his mind wander back to you and Ivy. He checked a few more texts, and you kept him updated every once in a while. First telling him you got Ivy to eat something, then you sent him a picture of Ivy taking a nap on your chest, and she looked a little better, but you told him she was still a little feverish, but luckily her temperature hadn’t gone up.

Before going to the race, he warned one of the team’s assistants to keep a close eye on his phone, knowing you’d still be sending him updates on your daughter.

He finished the race P4, which wasn’t a bad finishing position but as soon as he was out of the car, he was thinking of Ivy again. When he checked his phone, your last text had been before the race started, a quick selfie wishing him good luck, but after that, there was not a single text from you, and he started worrying all over again.

“If my wife calls or texts, I need you to interrupt anything I’m doing and get the phone to me, okay? No matter what,” he said to the assistant, handing his phone again before going out to the post race interviews.

He was only half-heartedly replying during the interviews, worried that the assistant had not gone to him not even one moment, which could only mean you had not called yet.

Once the interviews were done, he went back to the assistant to check on his phone and he saw three missed calls from you and two from his dad. His stomach instantly dropped.

“I said to get the phone to me if my wife called,” He looked at the assistant who looked like a deer in the headlights.

“I tried, Lewis! The PR lady didn’t even let me through the door. I told her it was your wife and an emergency, but…” The guy defended himself, pointing to the F1 PR coordinator, who looked at Lewis with wide eyes.

“You don’t ever do that again, understood? My family is my priority and you shouldn’t have interfered when he was under explicit orders to find me as soon as my wife called.” Lewis said, he was calm but his voice was firm and left no room for questioning. The woman only nodded, spurting some excuse and apology.

He barely waved her off before finding a secluded little room to check his phone. In the texts, you had warned him that Ivy got worse and you were taking her to the hospital. He immediately called your phone but it went straight to voicemail. He tried a couple more times before trying his dad, who luckily picked up.

“Dad? Where are they?” He said.

“I brought your girls to the hospital, they put Ivy in a room and the doctor is checking her up now. We’re in the waiting room now, so as soon as I have any news, I’ll let you know. Your wife’s phone died, so it’s probably best to talk to me.”

Lewis exhaled, still feeling nervous but a little more comforted that you weren’t alone with Ivy in a moment like this.

“Can you send me the address of the hospital? I’m going straight there. And please, keep me updated.”

After hanging up, Lewis immediately went to find the team to let them know his daughter was sick and he needed to get home as soon as possible, rescheduling the post-race debriefing. He didn’t even get back to the hotel, since he had his suitcase with him at the paddock, he just called his connections and got himself a helicopter back home.

He arrived at the hospital you and Ivy were in a couple of hours later, going straight inside and finding his dad in the waiting room, chatting with a nurse. He hugged his dad, who told him you were inside with Ivy, and the nurse took Lewis and Anthony there.

Lewis entered the room where you were, sitting before the hospital bed, and Ivy was lying on the bed, holding her plushie with one hand and holding her mom’s hand with the other. She looked the same as she had in the FaceTime call that morning. 

“Daddy!” Ivy squealed, and Lewis rushed inside, hugging her tightly, careful minding the IV drip in her arm. She smelled the same as always, baby shampoo and home. Lewis inhaled into her curly hair and kissed her cheek.

“Hi, baby… I’m sorry dad took too long to arrive. How is my baby girl doing?” He asked, gently putting her down on the bed, but she grasped his coat as if to stop him from leaving again. He leaned over the bed and pecked your cheek, “Hi, my love…”

You quickly explained to Lewis that that doctor had checked on Ivy and you were waiting for him to bring the results in. Lewis comforted Ivy for a moment, before walking around the bed to hug you. You looked tired, and he imagined you had spent the whole day dealing with a sick, fussy toddler.

“Have you eaten today?” He asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“In the morning,” You mutter, closing your eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle caress of his knuckles on your cheeks.

“Wanna go home to rest and eat while I stay here with Ivy?” He offered, despite already knowing your reply.

“Of course not, I’m not leaving her side,” You said, rolling your eyes and he smiled.

“Dad, will you take my lovely wife to the cafeteria and make sure she eats something?” Lewis said to his dad, who was still chatting with Ivy. He immediately accepted, and Lewis removed his own coat, putting it around you, “We’ll wait here, okay?”

You nodded and left with Anthony just as Lewis turned to Ivy.

“Are you feeling cold, baby?” He asked the little girl, who looked fussy and sleepy, rubbing her eyes as she nodded.

Ivy made grabby hands, whispering for Daddy, and Lewis got into the hospital bed with her, pulling her to lay on his chest as he adjusted the blankets around her. Her skin was still warm to the touch, and he held her close, wrapping both arms around his little girl while she spoke about her day, whining about her day and about being sick. She was always extra clingy when he came back from his trips.

Lewis gently played with her curls while she spoke, muttering his uh-hu, and yeah, and his of course, baby, until she started slurring out the words and slowly falling asleep.

He smiled, despite the worry, he was glad to be there finally, to be with his wife and daughter.

When you came back to the room, Ivy was sleeping against Lewis’ chest just like she used to do as a newborn, Lewis gently rubbing her back and getting drool in his shirt. You handed him a coffee, and he drank without moving a muscle so as to not wake up your little girl.

The doctor came a few minutes later, checking on Ivy and making sure she was fine and the fever was subsiding, he said it was just a little cold and prescribed a couple of meds.

Lewis carried your little girl to the car seat, while you hugged Anthony goodbye and thanked him profusely for keeping you company when you were going to the hospital earlier. After that, you went home driving, Lewis in the passenger seat.

Arriving home, Lewis carried Ivy to her little bed, tucking her in and touching her forehead to make sure the fever was really gone. When he returned to the bedroom, you had taken a quick shower and was dressed in soft, comfortable pajamas.

“How are you, love?” He asked as you walked lazily up to him and he wrapped his arms around your mirror, pulling you into his chest.

“Just a little tired…” You mumbled, and he pecked your lips, walking you back towards the bed.

“Thank you for taking care of her today, love. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for most of it…” He whispered affectionately into your skin.

“It’s okay, you had work… I’m glad you came straight home to us.” You muttered as he placed you in bed, tucking you in.

“I love you,” He tugged your hand and kissed your knuckles.

He let you fall asleep while he took a quick shower too, changing into PJs before going to check on Ivy again. The doctor had assured that the medicine would take her out for the night, but she’d be totally better the following morning.

When he got in bed with you again, pulling you closer, his arm around your middle, his leg between yours and your face pressed into his chest, he finally breathed. He had been tense the whole day from being away from you and Ivy, worry gnawing at him, and guilt for being away in moments like these. Not only tough moments like this, but also the happy ones. He wondered what else he’d miss of Ivy growing up, and he had missed so much already.

That was the first time he truly contemplated retirement. 

[sunny44]

September 30th

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Mom!Wife!reader

Warnings: pregnancy and mentions of birth

Summary: It’s Max’s birthday and he couldn’t ask for a better gift than his wife giving birth to their daughter.

Celebrating Max’s birthday had always been special, but this year felt different. The restaurant was filled with the warmth of familiar laughter. Seated at the table were Max, his parents, Victoria, and a few close friends, all smiling and sharing stories. Despite my prominent belly revealing how close we were to meeting our daughter, I felt light and content. We were in one of those cozy Italian restaurants Max loved, the air rich with the aroma of fresh pasta and fragrant herbs.

While Max chatted animatedly with his father, I noticed the sparkle in his eyes—he had always cherished these simple family moments. It made me smile. I knew how much these gatherings meant to him, especially now that we were on the brink of a new chapter in our lives.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked, noticing my gaze fixed on him.

“I’m fine,” I replied, gently caressing my belly. “She’s calm today… for now.”

He chuckled softly, placing his hand over mine to feel the subtle movement of our baby. “She knows it’s my birthday. She’s being kind to me.”

The evening unfolded beautifully, framed by joy and love. I felt complete. It wasn’t just being surrounded by the people we loved but knowing that soon, we’d be holding our daughter in our arms. As plates came and went, conversations flowed effortlessly. Victoria and Sophie, Max’s mom, exchanged ideas about the baby’s nursery. I chimed in occasionally, but mostly, I observed, lost in thoughts about how it would feel to see Max with our daughter, how he would step into his role as a father.

Suddenly, I felt a slight tightening in my belly. It was barely noticeable, a subtle pressure. I didn’t think much of it. I’d felt a few of these small contractions before, and the doctor assured me they were normal in the final weeks of pregnancy. Taking a deep breath, I shifted in my seat, catching Sophie’s warm smile. “You’re glowing, Y/n. You don’t even look like you’re so close to giving birth.”

“Thank you,” I laughed. “But I think that could change any moment now.”

A few minutes later, another tightening came, stronger this time. I tried to mask it, but my hands instinctively went to my belly, and this time, Max noticed.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He squeezed my hand, concern evident in his voice.

“Yes… I think so.” But deep down, I knew something was changing.

As the minutes passed, the contractions became more frequent. At a certain point, I could no longer hide my discomfort. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, but it was growing more intense and consistent.

“Y/n, you’re starting to look pale,” Victoria commented, her worried eyes on me.

I sighed, trying to stay calm. “I… I think it’s happening.”

Max froze for a second, and I saw the moment he processed my words. “You mean now?”

I nodded, biting my lip as another contraction hit, sharper this time. “Yes, now.”

The restaurant, which had been buzzing with laughter and conversation moments before, grew quiet around our table. All eyes turned to me and Max, who was now on his feet, ready to take charge.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a mix of excitement and nerves.

The drive to the hospital felt like it lasted forever and passed in the blink of an eye all at once. I sat in the car, Max by my side, gripping my hand tightly while trying to focus on the road. The contractions continued, each one stronger than the last, making the reality of becoming parents all the more tangible.

When we finally arrived, a medical team swiftly led us to a delivery room. Max stayed by my side the entire time, holding my hand and murmuring words of encouragement. By then, I could barely think clearly. The pain was intense, but all I could focus on was the thought of seeing our daughter’s face.

Time lost meaning as the process unfolded. Sometimes, it felt like hours; other times, it blurred into a series of contractions, deep breaths, and Max’s voice reassuring me that I was doing great.

During one of the most intense moments, I looked at Max. He was sweating almost as much as I was, his face concentrated, but his eyes shone with emotion. “You’re amazing, love. We’re almost there,” he said with a smile that, despite the tension, gave me strength.

And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, I heard the sound that would change our lives forever: the soft, sweet cry of our daughter.

She was born at 11:59 PM, in the last minute of Max’s birthday.

Tears streamed down my face as the doctors cleaned her up and placed her in my arms. She was perfect—tiny, delicate, and absolutely perfect. Max, beside me, gazed at her with an expression I’d never seen before—a mix of pure love, awe, and reverence. He kissed my forehead, then gently kissed our daughter’s head.

“She was born on my birthday,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “The best gift I could ever ask for.”

I smiled, exhausted but utterly happy. “I think she wanted to make sure this would be an unforgettable day for you.”

He laughed softly, his eyes still locked on her. “I’ll never forget this.”

The next moments passed like a dream. Max held our daughter in his arms with a tenderness that surprised me, considering how fierce and relentless he was on the racetrack. In that moment, he was just a dad, completely in love with his little girl.

Our family, waiting anxiously in the hospital lobby, was soon notified. They quickly joined us, their faces glowing with smiles and tears of joy. Sophie cried as she held her granddaughter, and Jos looked so proud, seeing his son step into fatherhood.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Sophie asked, her eyes sparkling as she looked at us.

Max and I exchanged a glance. We had discussed a few names but wanted to wait for the right moment. I looked at our daughter, and suddenly, it was clear. “Eva,” I said softly. “Eva Verstappen.”

Max smiled, nodding. “Perfect.”

As the night turned into early morning, the hospital grew quieter. I lay in bed, Max beside me, Eva sleeping peacefully in his arms. The silence was comfortable, filled with peace.

“I can’t believe she was born on my birthday,” Max repeated, still in awe. “It couldn’t have been more perfect.”

I chuckled softly, brushing my fingers against his cheek. “I think she wanted to make sure you’d always have this special bond.”

“I always knew this would be the best birthday ever,” he replied, kissing Eva’s tiny head with a tenderness that melted my heart.

As sleep finally overtook me, I knew without a doubt that our lives had changed forever. And I couldn’t have been happier.

Bonus scene!

Maxverstappen Instagram stories

“Today I received the best birthday gift ever, my wife gave birth to our baby girl and make these birthday the best. Both mama and baby are great”

[sirfrogsworth]

The Anger Returned

This is probably the most hurtful and infuriating paragraph I've ever read...

"As for taking care of dad. We offered many times to find a place for you and dad to live closer to us so that we could take dad to his appointments and have some skilled care available. He didn't want to leave you at the house alone, so my wife searched high and low for a place that could take both of you. Dad was open to moving closer to us and had said he would have done so on several occasions but you were unwilling to give up the house and ultimately dad said no based on your opposition to moving and that you both would remain at the house. You make it sound like you were taking on this burden to relieve the pressure off me, but in reality this was the only way to retain the house for you after dad's passing. Because if you were unable to care for Dad the current situation would be very different."

That is one of the last things my brother said to me way back in August of 2023.

I don't understand how two people can be so oblivious to what is involved in taking care of a dying person.

Taking him to his appointments was probably the easiest part. And that is what they were willing to personally contribute.

And "skilled care"? What does that mean? A nurse? House cleaning?

Within my dad's budget, we could have maybe afforded someone to come a few times per week. That would have been almost no help to me at all. Plus, they could have sent "skilled care" to this house. Why was that dependent on moving closer?

It feels like they think appointments and having someone come over for a few hours here and there is all it took to care for my father.

But accusing me of wanting to stay put so I could "retain the house."

I still don't know how to process that anger.

It repeats in my head in a loop. Sometimes I will forget about it for a few weeks. Maybe a month. And then tonight it just started looping in my head again.

First, my dad lied. He kinda screwed me. He probably didn't know he was screwing me. But he did not want to leave this house. He was surrounded by my mom's things. He thought her spirit was still here. He talked to her at night when he was trying to fall asleep. I don't think he knew I could hear him.

Oh, and he threatened to kill himself if we tried to move him out of this house. So there was that, too.

But he lied and blamed it on me so my brother would stop pressuring him to move. I get it. But it gave my brother an excuse to blame me. A way to justify away his guilt. Sure, he was only 45 minutes away. But if he were only 5 minutes away, that would have somehow solved everything.

My dad couldn't go to a nursing home because he was neglected so badly in rehab (which is a nursing home) that he had to call the police on them. He said "I'll die before I go back to one of those places."

And the fact they were even considering that just shows you how out of touch they were with the situation.

And, yes, I didn't want to move. That is true. But it had nothing to do with "retaining the house." I thought the stressful process of moving would kill my dad. And I asked the doctor what moving could do to my dad's health and he said, without hesitation, "Oh yeah, that would have killed him."

Beyond that, they had no plan. They didn't say how we were going to get our belongings out of the house. How were we supposed to handle the realtor or open houses? It took me months to configure this place to my dad's needs. Were they going to help me do that in a tiny apartment? Were they going to find my dad new doctors and a new pharmacy?

I built an entire infrastructure around this house to take care of my dad. They talk about all this work they did googling apartments but they did no research or planning on how to actually move us. Was that up to me? Was I supposed to figure all that out while giving him 24/7 care?

I was watching a new show called The Pitt and it had a woman taking care of her elderly mom. And she was so overwhelmed she abandoned her at the ER. And I started crying because that is so real. Taking care of a dying person is nonstop stress.

I had to watch my dad go to the bathroom every single time to make sure he didn't fall. Which meant I never slept through the night.

Not once.

I slept on a mattress on the floor next to the hallway so every time he got up, I would wake up. And if he fell, I would pick him up. In the final few months he could not tuck himself back into bed. So 4 times per night I had to get up, watch him pee, arrange his pillows so they supported his back, pull up the covers, and then tuck them under the pillows so they wouldn't move. He was so uncomfortable all the time and that was the only way he could fall asleep.

And those were the *easy* days.

The hard days involved cleaning up pee and poop. Sometimes blood. Sometimes mystery fluids. Before I got the special lifting device, if he fell, I had to literally drag him to his electronic reclining chair so we could use the footrest to help get him up again. I once had to drag him through two rooms and hurt my back for a week. I probably should have called EMS, but I didn't know my back would go out until it was too late.

And then there were the delirium days where he talked and didn't make any sense. How do you take care of someone you can't communicate with? He had a dead toe that needed lotion applied. Nearly made me puke every time. And then there was the time the urologist had to open up his urethra. With a metal spike. My dad screamed so loud I nearly had a panic attack. Every person in that office heard him scream.

But I think his depression was probably the hardest to deal with. He had a son that never spoke to him. Never visited. And a granddaughter he only met a few times. He cried himself to sleep so many nights. Sometimes it was so bad I had to lie with him in bed and just rub his back until he fell asleep. He was so lonely without my mom. And I tried to be good company, but I was often too tired to give him any attention beyond his care.

When things were hardest he would get suicidal. And considering his quality of life, I didn't blame him. Sometimes I regret keeping him alive as long as I did. He was ready to go as soon as he lost his wife. But we both held out hope my brother would wake the fuck up and realize there was not much time to make amends. To say goodbye. To install core memories of my dad in his daughter's mind. So she'd at least have one grandparent to remember.

It never happened and I feel guilty for letting him live so long in misery when deep down I knew that hope was foolish.

That's the kind of shit no one knows or thinks about when it comes to caregiving. The easy days are hard and the hard days are impossible and you feel awful for feeling overwhelmed because you aren't the one miserable and dying. Dialysis is nearly barbaric.

For over a year, I barely slept at night. And the only time I could get uninterrupted sleep was when he was at dialysis. So the only time I ever had to myself, I had to use sleeping so I wouldn't burn out.

Hiring a "skilled worker" does nothing to help me with that. And no nursing home is going to give him that kind of care.

Only love can give someone that kind of care.

My brother doesn't think I saved him from any burden by taking care of my dad. I just wish I could figure out a way to show him just how incorrect that is.

If I refused to take care of my dad and left it all in my brother's hands, he would have put him in a nursing home and burned through all of my dad's money in a few months. Then he'd either have to pay for his care or take him in.

Was he going to watch my dad pee 4 times a night and tuck him in?

Those who have never taken care of someone like this... have you ever thought deeply about what is involved? Does your common sense tell you it is a little more than driving to appointments and hiring a "skilled worker"?

Why does my brother (and my uncles) think so little of my efforts?

I honestly thought it was common knowledge that taking care of a dying person was super duper hard.

It was the hardest thing I will ever do. And the thing I am most proud of accomplishing. And for some reason I still want my brother to say thank you. I don't know how to find closure without that gratitude. And I'm pretty sure it will never happen.

[luveline]

hi can i request girl dad!aaron 🥺🥺 i am such a sucker for him, anything would be amazing thank you so much <3

hope this is okay!! —you have big news for your small family. 1.5k pregnant!mom!reader

When you first married his father, you weren't expecting Jack Hotchner to like you very much. Losing his mom so young, you wouldn't have blamed him for resenting you, or even hating you. You were like a stranger in his home. 

Things are different now. Jack lays in your lap with his head on your shoulder, and maybe he's a little too old for such a coddling cuddle, but who really cares? You love him and you love holding him, and if he wants some extra comfort tonight you're happy to give it. Plus, you have something you've been meaning to tell him.

“He doesn't have real headlights, did you know?” Jack asks. “They're just stickers.” 

You raise your brows at the car on screen. “No kidding.” You brush your fingers through his hair. He's blonde like his mom, though that blonde has turned brown the older he gets. 

“Race cars don't have headlights.”

“They don't need them,” you say. Jack smiles at you shyly and leans into your neck, clearly pleased. 

You're very, very glad that you ended up being someone he loved. It's a privilege to get to look after him, and to be his step mom. In the same way you're lucky to be Aaron's partner and Jane's mom, too. 

“Think dad's made dinner?” you ask. 

“No, he's probably just talking to Jane.” 

Yes, well. You can't blame him, nor would you want him to stop. He talks to Jane like she understands, and Jane, not even two years old, nearly brand new to the world, soaks him in. You can hear him if you strain, the dulcet cadence of his voice under the steady hum of the dishwasher. 

“That's okay, sweetheart, don't get upset,” he's saying, “it's okay. Come here, I've got you.” 

Jane starts to cry. You and Jack give one another the look, apprehensive in hoping it won't turn into a full blown melt down. 

“Honey?” Aaron calls. “Sorry, where did you put her other pacifier?” 

You kiss Jack's hair. “Sorry, bub. Wanna come with me?” 

Jack wants to stay and watch Cars. You wrap him in a throw blanket and make your way into the Hotchner kitchen, where Aaron rifles through the drawers and cabinets with Jane held snugly to his chest. “I know,” he says, “I know. I'll get it.” 

You nudge him aside. You only know where the spare pacifier is because you put away the wooden spoons last night and pushed it back. You fish for it, a ladybug made of glittery red plastic, and Jane's crying slows as soon as you pull it free. She grizzles while you rinse it, but she settles when you hand it over. 

“This is not the best, is it? The pacifiers?” you murmur. 

“She dropped her other one and it rolled under the oven. And no. Not ideal.” He pats her back gently. “As long as she stops before she gets her big teeth, she'll be okay.” 

“Do you think it's a comfort issue?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. You worry about stuff like this constantly, but he knows kids are more hardy, and he isn't worried. “Sorry for making you get up.” 

He hates when she cries; he may see his kids as a hardy bunch, but he takes their upset as a personal failure half the time. His concern for her overrides his concern for you, but in a few weeks that might change. You can't imagine him calling you to find something again when your stomach is round as a honeydew. 

You've been meaning to tell him about that, too. 

You're not secret-keeping immorally, he does want another baby, but you've been having a little bit of fun. He's gone on cases so often lately that he hasn't been able to keep track of you, or your doctor's appointments.

You watch him with Jane, and you think about him with Jack, and you know he's going to be happy. He's told you as much before. 

“My poor girl,” he says, covering the back of Jane's head with his hand and pulling her under his chin. He looks as fine as ever, tall, dark and handsome to a fault. Jane's lips smack as she sucks and digs her teary cheek into his chest. 

You can feel his gaze on you. “Is now a good time?” he asks. 

You shrug. “For what?” 

“To tell me what you're not telling me.” 

“Oh, busted,” you croon, aiming for his shoulder. 

You do as Jane had and press your cheek to his front, your eye forced shut. 

“What do you think it is?” you ask. 

He makes a strange noise. You can practically hear the possibilities for your secret running through his head. His birthday is vaguely soon, so that's what he'll settle on first. But Aaron likes to disregard the obvious as most people do, only circling back to it when there's no other lead to follow. 

“How big of a secret is it?” he asks, rubbing Jane's back diligently. She makes a happy sound, and for a moment he forgets his plight to kiss the top of her head. 

You speak quietly, carefully, because it is big, huge news. “The pamphlets say it’s about the size of a strawberry.” 

He puts his cheek to Jane's head softly, looking at you in confusion. A second, another, and his eyebrows start to relax, rise, a smile on his lips like it's too good to be true. “You are?” he asks in surprise.

Jack appears in the doorway with the throw blanket trailing behind him. “Y/N, when are you coming back to watch TV?” 

“Jack, lovely, come here. I have something to tell you,” you say. 

Aaron grabs your wrist. When you meet his eyes, he squeezes gently. “You're sure?” he asks. 

“The doctor seemed pretty certain, handsome.” You lower your voice as Jack comes to stand in front of you. “Are you happy?” 

“Happy about what?” 

You put your hand on your stomach cautiously, worried about Aaron and how quiet he's being, and if it's as okay to tell Jack as you'd thought, but that action is what gets him. “I love you,” he says quizzically, as though his being happy is totally dependent on the fact. “Of course I'm happy. This is the best secret you could've kept.” 

“About what?” Jack asks, patting your arm. 

You bend down just a bit to see his face properly. “It's a secret you can't tell anyone for a while, okay? The only people who can know for now are me, you, and dad.” 

“Can I tell Jane?” he asks. 

“Yeah, buddy, you can tell your sister,” Aaron says. 

You peer at him from the corner of your eye, both concerned and pleased to see the wetness ringing his waterline, and the tenderness with which he holds Jane close, his thumb rubbing little circles into her back. 

“I'm going to have another baby,” you say. 

Jack's jaw drops. “Right now?” 

“No, not right now! You still remember last time?” you ask with a laugh, taking his shoulders into your hands. 

“You were crying and shouting for dad to hold your hand.” He pokes your stomach. “So it's like Jane?” 

“Maybe one day, sweetheart. For now, it's just a tiny baby.” 

Jack wants to see your stomach. He's expecting a much bigger bump than you have to offer, but you explain that eventually it'll get bigger again, and he seems quite pleased. Aaron makes sure to give him a hug and ask him if he's okay, to which Jack says, “Yes, but can we have a brother this time?” 

You rub the soft top of your stomach. “I'll see what I can do, Jack.” 

Aaron commandeers your attention, kissing you more times than you can count. You don't think you've ever seen him this happy now the reality has truly set in, asking Jane in his murmur, “Do you want to be a big sister?” 

She gurgles around the pacifier, leaving drool in a line down his chest. 

“I know, honey. I'm excited too. Let's clean you up, mm? And make mommy a cup of hot cocoa…” He narrows his eyes at you. “Would you sit down?” 

“I'm only ten weeks, I'm fine.”

“She's keeping secrets from me, and now she won't do what I'm asking,” he says to Jane. “Can you believe it? Anyone would think mommy doesn't like me as much as she claims.” 

You kiss his cheek. “M'having your baby, Aaron, again.” 

“That is a compelling argument.” He wipes Jane's cheek. “What do you think? Should we forgive her?” Jane laughs. He smiles at you, lovesick. You're not sure who for. “I guess we're letting you get away with this one, sweetheart. But no more secrets.”

“None,” you promise. 

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 2

Summary: You end up in the hospital after a car accident Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 1.6k~ Warnings: A car accident (As you already know from the summary) and some injuries but they aren't discussed in detail. Requested by an anon 💜

As the screeching tires come speeding towards us there's only time for me to look at Jungkook one last time before the impact sends the car into a tailspin.

I'm knocked unconscious and the only thing I can hear before I black out is a ringing in my ear and the muffled voice of Jungkook screaming for me to stay awake but it's just too loud...and I'm so so tired...

~~~~~

The next thing I register is the sound of a steady beeping next to me and hushed voices from what I can make out as being my parents and Jungkook. A sharp intake of breath is what alerts them to my conscious state and my mother is the first to rush to my side, grabbing my hand and thanking whoever might be watching over us for keeping me alive.

"Mom?" I mumble, my voice strained and throat parched from not being in use for who knows how long. "I'm here, we're all here" she says, looking to my dad and Jungkook with tears in her eyes. "You scared us there for a second" my dad says and I can tell he's been crying too, the pinkish hue to his eyes being a tell tale sign.

"What happened?" I ask, trying to sit up but hiss when pain all throughout my abdomen shoots through my body making me lay back down slowly. "You were in an accident and Jungkook pulled you out" she says, her voice wobbly with emotion, she looks over at Jungkook, grabs his hand and pulls him closer since he had decided to take a step back and let my parents check on me first.

"He's a fine strong man this one" my father compliments, clapping him on the back making Jungkook stumble forward to prevent the impact from hurting my father, knowing he's all metal inside. 

"He practically pried your car door open with his bare hands" my mother say, clearly still in disbelief. "He did?" I say, my eyes widening, scared that they might know what he is now but it doesn't seem to be the case. 

"They say adrenaline can make people freakishly strong when it comes to protecting someone you love" my father points out, calming my nerves when I get the confirmation that they still don't know.  "Yeah" I say and look over at Jungkook, a soft smile on his lips.

"Why don't we give them some time to talk?" my father says, ushering my mom away from my bedside reluctantly but I smile and give them a slight nod telling them I'll be okay and so they leave to give us some privacy. 

"A hell of a way to meet my parents huh?" I joke and try to sit up again, this time a little slower but Jungkook's quick to help guide me back down. "Try not to move too much. They said you bruised your ribs in the accident" he says softly and caresses my cheek to help keep me calm, his touch bringing me comfort. 

"Thank you for saving me" I say softly and he nods, leaning down to place a kiss on my forehead. "I wouldn't be much of a robot boyfriend if I couldn't save you" he teases making me smile and pull him down for an actual kiss leaving me humming into it. 

"How long was I out?" I ask once he's settled down in a chair at my bedside a few minutes later. "About a day" he says, playing with my fingers absentmindedly. "They say it's a miracle that you managed to get out with only some bumps and bruises" he says and I stop to think about it. 

"Did you push up against the door from the inside when the car hit my side?" I ask, vaguely remembering him leaning over me before I blacked out. "Yeah I did" he says and kisses my knuckles that still managed to get a little banged up in the process. "Thank you" I say softly, both of us knowing that if anything happened to him he could just be repaired.

He nods and kisses my hand again, looking up when we both hear a knock on my door. "You're awake" the doctor says softly, walking over to the other side of my bed. "How are you feeling?" he asks, going through the motions, checking my vitals and my pain levels to make sure I'm comfortable. 

"I'm alright, just really sore" wincing after taking a few deep breaths for him. "Yeah you'll be feeling like that for quite a while but you should be okay to go home tomorrow if you'd like? You're really lucky to have been able to come out of this without any major injuries" he says and then turns to address Jungkook. 

"And you too! I wish you'd let us check up on you" he scolds, leaving Jungkook chuckling. "As long as she's fine I'll be okay" he says, looking over at me leaving me caressing his cheek in return. 

"You better marry this man soon" the doctor teases, "He hasn't left your side this whole time and has been absorbing all of information about the care we've been giving you like a sponge. He really cares about you" the doctor finishes off fondly, observing the way we interact. 

"Anyways, please let me know if you need anything or have any questions" he finishes before excusing himself leaving the both of us thanking him on the way out. 

"You're not damaged in anyway?" I ask, assessing his physical state now, trying to figure out if I'll need to send him in for repairs. "I'm fine. I did a scan on my systems and looked for any superficial cuts or tears but everything seems to be just fine. I'm indestructible you know" he states matter o factly making me smile. 

"You better be! Lord knows I paid enough for your fine ass" I say poking his cheek making him laugh. "Yeah you did didn't you?" he say, knowing exactly how much he cost. "Worth every penny though" I say, suddenly feeling a bit shy at my honesty. 

"Are you just saying that because I managed to save your life?" he pouts leaving me rolling my eyes. "No you were definetly worth it before but now I can call you my hero which is definetly an added bonus" I laugh and he smiles.

"Heroes get rewarded don't they?" he says, a darker tone woven through making my heart rate pick up which we can both clearly tell from how the beeping on the monitor isn't as slow and steady as before. 

"Maybe when my body isn't broken" I say, knowing I'm in no way shape or form ready for that yet leaving him sighing in defeat. "I guess I should let you heal before I have my way with you again" he taunts, brushing his lips along my knuckles, his warm breath giving me goosebumps. 

"Doctor's orders" I say, referring to the basic care plan they gave me. "Doctor's orders" he echoes. 

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[papriikau]

I miss us sometimes

JAMES WILSON x FEM!READER

SUMMARY You and James Wilson hadn't spoken since your divorce. You still care for him after all this time, but choose to avoid him to avoid getting hurt. But when a family emergency forces you to reconnect with your ex-husband, you struggle with your feelings for each other.

WARNINGS sex mentioned, nothing too bad.

NOTES I started this and half way realized I didn't know where I wanted to go with it so the last half is kinda rushed, but its still cute.

It had been 5 years since you had spoken to James Wilson. Once the divorce had been finalized, that was the end of it. For James, he had already gone through two divorces before you, but it had only been your first. You truly were enamored by him; he was 6 years older and he seemed like he had it all together when the two of you met, but that facade slowly faded away after only 3 years of marriage.

You avoided the hospital he worked at whenever a hospital visit was required, that was until last night. You received a phone call that your mom had a stroke and was taken to Princeton-Plainsboro hospital. Obviously your need to avoid James was a lot less important than your mom, so you drove over to the hospital.

“Dad what's happening?” you ask your father and the doctor he was talking with informs you that she's in the ER and all you can do is wait. And that’s what you do, you wait around until you hear a familiar voice call out your name.

“Good evening House,” you say tiredly.

“Here for a conjugal visit? I can call Wilson down,” 

“Please don’t, I'd rather not know I’m here,”

“Too late. Wilson! I didn’t know you ordered a stripper,” House yells out as your ex-husband walks into the room. You curl up in the chair you’re in, hiding your face in your hands. He walks over and House promptly takes his leave.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he says awkwardly, as if he isn’t sure what to say to his ex-wife he hasn’t seen in 5 years. You sit up and take a big breath in. You're not in the best state at the moment, bags under your eyes, messy bed head and pajama pants and a sweater.

“My mom had a stroke, what about you, what are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh, how's she uh- how's she doing?” James asks, ignoring the stupid question you asked.

“I don’t know, I just got here and no ones told me anything yet,” 

“Give me a moment,” he walks off, and you watch as he talks to some of the other doctors for a couple of minutes before returning to you.

“Did they say anything?”

“She's stable, they have been moving her to her own room soon, but they'd like to keep her overnight to monitor her,” he informs. You're glad he is keeping this interaction fairly professional, you don’t know how you’d act if he started trying to talk about your personal life. The two of you stay silent for a while. You intend to keep it that way, but knowing James, he's bound to start a conversation about something.

“Do you still work at the University?” he asks.

“Yeah, I was promoted to department head four years ago,” you play with your nails awkwardly.

“I have to get back to work but maybe we could catch up over lunch some time?” he offers. You look up and he has a kind but nervous smile on his face, looking down at you.

“I don’t know if this is the best time to be asking me out to lunch,” you say slowly. He winces and runs a hand down his face.

“Right, I'll see you around then,” he says, an embarrassed haze over his expression. You nod, letting him get back to whatever he was doing. Not long after your mom was moved into her own room where you could be with her. Considering it had been the middle of the night when you received the call, you were tired and ended up falling asleep. 

It wasn’t until afternoon that you saw James again. You had called in and canceled your classes for the day so you could be next to your mom. Your dad had gone home to grab a few things and your mom was asleep in the hospital bed, when you hear small knocks on the door. You turn and see James in the doorway. You wipe the sleep from your eyes and stand up.

“How's she doing?” he asks.

“Doctors said she’s gonna be fine, she should be discharged tomorrow morning,” you nod, keeping your eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at him.

“That's good, how are you doing?”

“I think I’m doing alright, just worried about mom,” James got close to your parents when you were together. They had grown fond of him and when you cut contact, they were devastated but decided to do so as well to support you.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not since last night,”

“Why don't I buy you lunch,” he offers.

"You don’t have to do that, I’ll probably get something when dad gets back, I don't want to leave mom, so,” you ramble a little bit. You blink a ew times, trying to clear your head. Talking to him again brings you back to being 24, flirting with the cute doctor at the Oncology seminar. 

“We can just go to the cafeteria and bring it back here, how about that?” He offers a kind smile. God he still had it. 

You think for a moment before hesitantly nodding, “okay.”

He takes you out to the cafeteria, suddenly self-conscious of your state, “House is working on a case right now so he won't be bothering us,” James calms your nerves a little.

“Thank god, don't get me wrong he's great, but not really,” you let out a quiet laugh.

“Tell me about it,” he rolls his eyes playfully. You walk through the cafeteria and grab some food, your appetite hasn’t quite come back yet so you only grab enough to hold you over. James, being the gentleman he is, pays for your lunch and walks you back to your moms room. She’s still sleeping, but your dad is back so you go sit next to him. James gives him a polite nod and exchanges brief pleasantries before leaving, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly before stepping out. 

James checks in again before he leaves his shift, and the next morning, your mom is discharged. Your dad helps her into the car, telling him to take her home and that you’d be over soon after. They drive away and then you go back inside of the hospital, working up some nerves, deciding at the door that maybe you don't actually want to do it, but you push through the nerves and turn back around.

Three knocks on the office door and James peeks his head out, opening it all the way when he sees it’s you. “Hey, how's your mom?”

“She just got discharged, dads are taking her home now,” You nod nervously.

“That's good, is there anything I can do?” he asks, curious as to why you're knocking on his office, very clearly searching him out.

“Are you free Saturday? Around noon?” you say, nervously playing with the hem of your sweater. “You asked me to lunch and I thought I’d take you up on that offer,” He stares for a moment, not sure what to do, but nods his head unconsciously.

“Yes, absolutely,” he clears his throat and invites you into his office. “Where uh- where do you want to go?” he asks.

“How about that lunch place we always went to, the one down the street from our old house?” you suggested, not sure if you should have suggested such a staple in your relationship.

“Okay, Saturday at noon, I'll meet you there,” he agrees and you offer him a smile before leaving the hospital.

—

James taps his foot nervously, looking at his watch. You're running 20 minutes late, and James was about to leave when the bell on the door jingles and he looks up to see you.

“I’m so sorry, I had to come into work today to mark papers,” you apologize, internally cringing at your own lateness.

“You're okay,” he says, remembering the days he came home late or missed date night because of work, he is fine excusing 20 minutes. For two hours the both of you hang out in the restaurant, just talking and catching up on the last 5 years.

For the longest time when you thought of James you thought about the reasons he pissed you off, or what got on your nerves, the reasons you got divorced, but talking to him after all this time makes you remember a lot of the reasons that you married him in the first place. It feels natural talking to him, it feels good talking to him and you hate it.

You hate that you feel good around him.

The lunch date ends and you both go your separate ways, promising to do it again sometimes. You exchange numbers and the next week try to make plans, but busy schedules get in the way and the two of you aren't able to pick a day and then it dies out quickly, and you go back to not speaking.

—

You're sitting on your couch, watching a movie when the phone rings, it's late at night so you're not sure who could be calling.

“Hello?” you say into the phone.

“Hey, can I ask a really big favor?” James says from the other end. You look at the clock to see it’s 11pm.

“What is it?”

“I don’t have my car right now, or my wallet and I missed the bus and I don’t know who else to call so-” you cut him off.

“You're at the hospital?” 

“Yes,”

“Can you wait 40 minutes?” you sigh.

“If your busy then I can ask someone for money for a cab,”

“Okay, I’ll leave now,” you hang up the phone before he can argue and get in the car, throwing on a jacket and some shoes before leaving. It starts to rain and when you pull up in front of the hospital, you flash your headlights and James runs out, covering his head with his jacket.

“I didn’t know you lived so far away, I could have-” you cut him off again.

“It’s no problem,” you yawn, not looking forward to the drive home. He thanks you and directs you to his apartment, which is 20 minutes in the opposite direction.

“Thank you,” he says and offers you a warm smile.

“No problem,” you wipe your eyes and yawn. “Maybe call me earlier than 11 next time,” you laugh tiredly.

“I’ll make sure to,” he gets out of the car, thanking you again and heading inside. You sit in the car, trying to wake yourself up before driving an hour home. You turn the car back on and as you put the car in drive, James knocks on the window, his jacket over his head, you put down the window a little, not wanting to get your car seat too wet.

“What’d you forget?” you start looking around the passenger's seat.

“I forgot you,” he laughs.

“What?” you narrow your eyes.

“You shouldn’t drive while you're that tired, stay the night,” he offers and a red haze covers your cheeks.

“I don’t know if that's the best idea,”

“Sleep on my couch, please,” You think for a minute before shutting the car off again, quickly getting out and running with him to the front door. You walk over to his apartment and he opens the door, letting you in. He shakes off his jacket and hangs it up. You stand there awkwardly, your eyes watching him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, unable to take your eyes off him.

God this was a mistake.

I'll grab you some blankets, get comfortable and make yourself at home.” That simple, and commonly used phrasing comes off very different to you, and he felt it too. He swiftly exited into his bedroom while you sat on the couch, your hands in your lap, looking around at the books littered around, coffee stains on the table, and of course a few pieces you remember as being in your shared home. You remember picking out the couch cushions with him the night he proposed.

“Here,” he says, another memory in his arms. He handed you the blanket and you couldn’t help but just look up at him. “Everything alright?” he tilts his head.

“I think so, thanks for letting me stay,” you recover quickly.

“Your welcome,” he says and sits in the arm chair, leaning back in it. “Sorry if this is weird,” he says after a moment of silence.

“It is a little,” you say, looking down at the blanket.

“Well it's not like we're strangers,” 

“We kind of are,”

“We know each other,” he says.

“We used to know each other,” you correct. He runs a hand down his face, letting it fall into his lap.

“It has been a while hasn’t it,” he sighs, looking over at you, wanting you to look up at him too. You could have him if you wanted. He invited you back into his place, he had to know there was even the smallest possibility that could happen, but you knew it would be too hard to leave if you did sleep with him. You have to remind yourself how shitty he had been close to the end of your marriage; he was negligent and never home, and when you were in a state of vulnerability and needed someone, he wasn’t there to help you.

But God the sex was good.

“I’ll let you rest,” he nods and heads to his own room. You let your head fall into your hands. How could you be so stupid, you didn’t fight for him back then, and you're still too much of a coward to do it now.

Eventually, sleep overtook you and you woke up to James sitting in his kitchen, sipping a coffee. “Morning,” you rub your head tiredly, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

“Sleep well?” he asks

“Good enough,” you get up and stretch, “mind if I have some?” You point to the coffee pot.

“I can’t drink a pot on my own,” he laughs and you laugh with him, search through a few cabinets until you find a mug pouring yourself some.

“Not sure how I’m going to explain to my boyfriend I spent the night at my ex-husband's place,”

“You have a boyfriend?” he says, the slightest bit of outrage in his voice,

“No,” you smile coyly into your mug. He rolls his eyes.

“Any luck in that department?”

“Not really, I’ve been focused on work,” you shrug. He says the same thing.” You were my first like, real relationship,” he can't say the same.

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before you break it once again.

“Being divorced sucks,” you admit, sipping on your coffee.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs. The both of you finish drinking your coffee in silence. It's not that you don't know what to say, you just have nothing else to say.

“I should be heading out, I got some things to do today,” you put the mug in his sink. 

“Thanks again for last night, if I had known you lived so far away I would have found another way,” 

“I’m glad you called me,” 

“Really?” he tilts his head.

“I miss us sometimes,” you look up at him, a bit of a shocked, awkward expression on his face.

“Only sometimes?” He takes a minute to respond.

“Only sometimes,” you repeat, silence filling the air once again. “Maybe we could get dinner tomorrow?”

“Uh- yea, I'd love that,” he stutters, his cheeks dusted with a bit of pink. You love when he gets flustered.

You smile, heading for the front door, “I’ll pick you up at 7.” “It's a date,” he takes a step forward, deciding to not get any closer.

“It’s a date,” you repeat before slipping out and into your car. It takes you a moment to recover; the butterflies in your stomach impeding your ability to think straight. Eventually you make the drive home, thinking about your date with your ex-husband.

—

“So who’s the unlucky girl,” House bursts into Wilsons office.

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” Wilson deflects.

“So there is a girl?” House concludes.

“There’s no girl,”

“Then who was this from?” House shows him a little sticky note you wrote him. Wilson furrows his brow.

“You ate my lunch?” he accuses.

“Who is it,”

“No one! I’m not seeing anyone!”

“Liar!” House accuses. That's when there's a knock on Wilson's office. House, being the one standing, opens to the door, only to find you standing there with two coffee cups.

“Am I interrupting something?” You ask and watch as House looks between you and Wilson.

“You’re dating your ex-wife?!” House says overly loudly. You wince, walk into the office and shut the door.

“Good to see you too Greg,” you say, forcing yourself to be polite before making your way over to James and sit on his desk, ignoring House.“ Thought you could use some coffee,”

“You didn’t happen to bring lunch did you?” James rolls his eyes.

“No, we could go out real quick, on me,” you offer.

“Anything to get out of here.” he stands up and gives you a kiss before leading you out of his office, his hand on your back.

“Am I invited?” House calls out after, to which you both just roll your eyes.

“Where do you want to go?” you ask, leaving the hospital.

“How about our usual lunch spot?” James suggests.

“Aren’t you tired of that spot?”

“Not one bit,” he looks over at you with loving eyes and grabs your free hand with his. You both lean in for a quick kiss, then go to lunch.

[sailorholly]

Stressed

Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

W/C: 1.4k

See my Masterlist here

“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.

“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.

“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”

You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.

At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.

You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.

If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.

You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”

You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.

“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”

He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.

“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.

“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.

“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.

“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.

You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.

Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.

This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.

He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.

You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.

He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”

You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.

His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.

“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.

He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.

“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.

“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.

He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.

Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.

Tagging some people I think would like this.

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid

[seeingivy]

weekend getaway

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

an: happy birthday to @pickuptruck01 ur one of the sweetest and most supportive readers of this silly little fic, I love you so so much pookie I hope you enjoy the little gift 💌

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

there’s a lingering feeling ruminating in the back of sukuna’s head when he wakes up. and it’s almost like he’s in a crowded room – like he knows there’s something creeping up against the wall that he has his back turned to and he refuses to look at it. 

sukuna could die today. so could you. he could get a call and realize that the last thing he said to yuuji was lackluster or you could be horribly devastated if sammy died before you got to properly reconcile things and at least be on stable ground with her. 

you could have a heart disease. the ultrasound that he went to with you, where the doctor whispered reassurance that your heart’s chambers and valves were in perfect shape, could be wrong. he could go to sleep next to you and not wake up the next morning. 

he ignores it for the time being. 

“i figured that it would be nice to spend the weekend together away from here. i planned out a few things that i thought you’d like if that sounds like something you want to do. you know, birthday boy and all.” 

it’s a nervous anticipation – this trip either being a horrible misstep or one of the best things you’ve ever done – and it surges through you as you pass the little handwritten itinerary over to him. 

the past few weeks felt like push and pull, but it seemed more stable as time went on. he would disappear to help his mom with something, but half of the time, you were convinced it was just something that he needed to do to assuage his own guilt. he’s always come back the same, just as keen for his time as you were for his. 

at times, it was hard to watch. watch him try to calm his mom, and comfort yuuji, and in the few seconds he had with you, trying to sweet talk you to ease too. you hoped the trip would at least let him pump the brakes a little bit so you could do it for him. 

and you watch as sukuna picks it up, scanning it over with his eyes, with his left hand still wrapped on the inside of your thigh, his fingers warm on your skin. 

aquarium, cherry blossoms, dinner at home <3 

“you planned a trip for me? for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 

sukuna’s purposely pulling at your leg – he’s been looking forward to this trip since yuuji told him. 

“yeah. i just thought it might be nice. to take some time away, just the two of us. in fact, you can even go without me!” 

sukuna smiles, setting the paper down, before using his ankle to pull out the stool of the kitchen island so you’re facing him properly. he can’t help but do it, nestle himself in between your legs with his hands on your hips – watching the nervous expression in your eyes as you look up at him. 

it’s a little mean, pulling your leg this way. but sukuna was just relishing in this fact – that you were still trying to do nice things for him, looking for his approval for things as small as gifts and birthdays. 

the two examples he had as a kid – his parents and your own – he was always convinced that this sort of thing, the novelty of a relationship, was just something that wore down over time. that a day would come where you would be used to what he was giving, and he would be too, and you’d both fall into a slow monotonous thing together. 

or maybe even before that, you could die on him. he could die on you. yuuji could die and you would never be the same or some cancerous rot could be manifesting in his pancreas without him knowing until it was too late. 

“i can even go by myself?” sukuna asks. 

“i know that…” 

“know what?” sukuna asks, a little to eager with tantalizing eyes. 

you sigh. 

“i know the stuff recently has been a lot. and i love you and i know that sometimes getting away is something that could be nice to help you kind of process things. and i realize that i’m a part of those things so if you want to go alone, you could also do that. i just want –” 

sukuna leans forward, hands firm on your waist, before pressing his lips against yours. you can feel him smiling, a laugh leaving his lips, as he nearly topples you off the stool, extremely eager for nine in the morning. 

“i hope you know that when i want to get away from things, i kind of want you to get away from them with me from here on out. you’re my main thing.” sukuna murmurs, leaning back the slightest and rubbing his thumb against your lower lip. 

you smile. 

“oh thank god. i’d totally let you leave on your own if you wanted to but then i’d probably cry about it a little.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“and you wouldn’t ask to come with?” 

“i mean, i don’t know! i know you like to get away to do your own thing. i don’t want to be a distraction.” 

sukuna grins, poking his tongue in his cheek. 

“i mean you’re always a distraction. just the good kind. i love what you put together. and…” 

sukuna pauses, flitting his gaze down to your hands and lifting your knuckles against his lips. 

“it makes me happy that you know me well enough to know that this is something i’d like. and that i need.” sukuna responds. 

you can feel the warmth rushing to your cheeks, come over with a weird wave of shyness at being praised so openly. 

because it was one thing for him to shower you in his constant infections, but the fact that he was able to parse out exactly what you were putting down – and appreciate you for it – left something else simmering in your chest. 

“did you pack for me already?” sukuna asks. 

you give him a nod, as he presses a wet kiss to your cheek before nestling himself into your arms. 

--

the lingering feeling becomes more apparent to him when the two of you make it into town and when your wrap your arm in his at the aquarium. the itching feeling has peeled off the wall, making a slow arching march towards him, but sukuna’s determined – he will ignore it. he is going to enjoy this day with you. 

sukuna has a newfound appreciation for the aquarium. he was never really a fan of that type of thing – sea creatures and water – just a personal preference of his, but his opinion was entirely changed after the fact. 

well, slightly. he didn’t really care for the aquarium. what he did care for was watching you walk around the room, pressing your fingers to the glass, and the quiet murmuring that you offered him. 

“that’s an opah. they also call it a moon fish.” 

“an opal?” 

“no. an opah. o-p-a-h.” you whisper. 

sukuna smiles at the almost angry insistence in your tone, matched with your wide eyes glued to the tank, and skin bathed in the almost neon blue light of the aquarium. 

you could lose your voice. something could break in you and you could never smile at him again. if you lost your memory, all the quick witted facts you would always tell him would cease all together. 

“an opah. okay baby, tell me more.” 

“they’re really rare so they’re good luck. they like to stay alone unless it’s mating season.” 

sukuna was always walking bad luck. he had a horrible track record – it wouldn’t be shocking to him if he had everything he wanted in the palm of his hand, and by some cruel twist of fate, this is when his body would give out on him. 

“so it’s my type of fish.” sukuna states. 

you roll your eyes. 

“my ass. you were getting around during mating season. and otherwise.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“i’ve changed.” sukuna defends. 

“yeah, just don’t go changing history, idiot.” you respond, linking your arm in around his wrist as you pull him to the other side of the aquarium. 

sukuna watches as you cross your hands over your biceps, eyes pressed through the glass, as he takes the second to watch you. he wonders if you would find it weird if he took a picture of you, in the weird blue light. 

that could be the last one he takes. you could bring kids into the world and die right after the fact. he could raise kids that looked just like you, being forced to recount stories through pictures, through faded memories that would soon even be lost to him. 

your shoes have bows on them – something you told him earlier were called ballet flats – and he immediately decided that they were his favorite, only because he thought they were so fitting to you. a frilly white lace skirt with a black top, matched a pair of earrings and the necklace he had gifted you. 

and naturally, a pink ribbon in your hair. he reaches forward, fingers in your hair as he tightens it against your hairband, smiling at the quiet thanks that you murmur as you look around the little tank. 

sukuna leans forward, that itching feeling creeping up into his skin, and trying to lean into your touch to avoid it instead. 

“are you looking for something specific?” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. 

“yeah. it’s a butterflyfish.” 

“what’s special about that one?” 

“it mates for life. which is kind of rare for fish.” you respond. 

sukuna smiles. 

“you know a lot about fish mating patterns. you have something you want to tell me?” 

“you know i like animals. i literally want to be a vet.” 

“speaking of, did you hear back from anywhere?” 

sukuna can feel the sudden tenseness that seems to manifest in your frame, as you nearly shrink at the question. and he curses himself for dropping the ball, the tension of the fast few weeks immediately blindsighted him to the fact that you were at the most painful part of the process – the waiting. 

“uh, sure.” you respond. 

“really? did you get in?” 

“well, not really, but it’s your birthday and…” 

sukuna immediately pulls back, his hands around your wrists, as he looks down with hazel eyes drowning in concern. 

“i’m sorry sweetheart. are you okay?” he asks. 

you frown. 

“can we not talk about this right now? it’s your birthday. your weekend! i don’t want to –” 

“my weekend. and you’re my girlfriend. if you want to –” 

sukuna watches as you shake your head, eyes pinched in something he can’t really place as you look up at him, the expression in your eyes really begging. 

“sukuna. not right now, okay?” 

“okay. later?”

you smile. 

“for sure, okay?

and sukuna watches as you look around, before giving him a smile and standing at the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips. and he snakes his hand around your neck, drinking in the sweet taste of your mango lip balm and your strawberry scented perfume, and wonders if you’ll let him kiss you forever. 

“hey.” you whisper. 

“hey you.” 

“you’re my butterflyfish.” 

sukuna smiles. and when you pull back, the sinking feelings rushed all the way and creeped into his bones. he can barely get another word out for the rest of the aquarium. 

because he could collapse in your arms. he could ruin your life if the electric signals in his brain stopped working, if his blood was rotten, and it would be his fault for tying himself to you in the first place. you could mate for life and he could leave it at any second. 

--

sukuna enjoys the cherry blossom trees. he enjoys the fact that the sun is sinking down into the horizon, that the golden rays peek through the bits of the leaves, and that your head is in his lap, and it makes it easier to focus. 

“have you ever heard of sylvia plath’s fig tree?” you ask. 

sukuna shakes his head. you gesture for him to join you at your side, as he sinks down and lies down on the blanket with you, the two of you looking up at the pink branches hanging above. 

“well, this isn’t really a fig tree, but just imagine.” you respond. 

“okay.” 

“sylvia plath talks about this green fig tree in her book.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“figs are a sex coded fruit.” 

“i beg your pardon?” you ask. 

“you know. from that hades story.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“are you an idiot? that’s pomegranate.” 

“fuck. well, i feel like in every old fucking story about like sex and the wonders of sin or whatever they’re always fucking yapping about figs. so shut up.” 

you shake your head, before looking back up at the tree. 

“the forbidden fruit is apples.” 

“no, it’s not. apples aren’t even good.

“okay, well, that’s your opinion.” 

“we’re not getting into a debate about this. talk about your fig tree.” 

you roll your eyes at him, before pressing your cheek into his shoulder. 

“sylvia plath talks about this fig tree. and how she saw her life in the tree. and each fig on the tree was a life of hers. one was a happy family and a good husband and the other was a famous poet and a professor and the list went on and on. each one was a very specific thing that she saw in her life and she found it really, really difficult to pick which one she wanted.” 

“and?” 

“and she took so long that they all wilted at her feet. she was starving but she was so indecisive that she just couldn’t pick one, so she was at the edge of the tree, and she watched as they all went to ruin at her feet.” you respond. 

sukuna pauses. his fig tree could die. someone could cut it down by driving drunk or not paying attention on the road. 

“what do you think about it?” he asks, twisting the ends of your hair in his free hand. 

you shrug. 

“just that i’m really glad that you’re the fig i ended up on. the others don’t really pale comparison in my head.” you murmur. 

“oh thank god. i was going to give you a whole the grass isn’t greener on the other side lecture just so you wouldn’t leav eme.” 

you laugh. 

“it reminds me a lot of something my mom said to me.” you state.

“and what’s that?” 

you lean over on your side, tangling your legs in with his, as he mimics your motions, his forehead pressed against yours as the sun sinks down behind you. 

“not trying to push you into talking by saying it.” you clarify. 

“well, i fully know you are and i won’t do it unless i feel like it.” 

you sigh. he knew you too well. 

“okay.” 

you reach forward, interlocking your fingers with his. 

“i asked her about grief. i know that you…you’re feeling it and it’s not something that i’ve ever felt. and i just wanted her advice on how to help you.” 

sukuna’s convinced he won’t ever find someone like you. he prays he won’t have to. 

“she was telling me that grief reminds people about how they loved wrong. that since that person is gone permanently, all people can really think about is all the ways they wished they did things differently. and i don’t think that necessarily applies for your dad, but…i don’t know. it applies for me. i want to love you the right way. and my sister. and your family and my friends and i just…have a weird sense of perspective now.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“the mere fact that you love me is enough for me. that’s quite literally the only thing i’ve ever wanted from you.” sukuna asks. 

“i know that. but i want to love you in a way that’s special. you’re like…my literal godsend. you’re so perfect and understanding and patient…and i know what it’s like to feel the complete opposite with someone and i want you to know that i appreciate that about you. that you’re loving. that you’re a good guy and you never…embarrass me and actually make me really happy to flaunt you around and stuff.” 

“flaunt me around?” 

you roll your eyes. 

“you’re hot and you know that. and you’re smart and you make money and you’re a really good brother and a son, which is like very attractive.” 

“right. keep going.” 

you scoff. 

“as if.” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“you do love me in a way that’s special. and i like to flaunt you too. like, yeah the girl i’ve been obsessed with since i was a kid actually loves me back, if you can believe it.” 

the quiet voice in sukuna’s head seems to taper a little bit. though it feels a bit like a slippery slope – just because you make him feel like he’s on top of the world doesn’t mean he actually is. 

“i do love you back. maybe even more than you.” 

“that’s a very bold statement. and one i’ll never agree with by the way.” sukuna responds. 

--

sukuna thinks that the dinner might be his favorite. only because his head is quiet for the few hours you spend with him. a special recipe that you picked out for him to make, one that you watch him intently cook with your feet dangling over the kitchen counter, and your grabby fingers trying to snack on the pieces that he was preparing. 

“stop eating the salad. it’s not even finished yet.” sukuna scolds. 

“i’m so hungry.” 

“come eat this butt. the food is almost done.” 

“don’t tempt me, whore.” you respond, pushing off the counter as you wrap yourself around his torso, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of his back. 

that was the thing that you could appreciate about sukuna. that down to his core, he really did have whore tendencies – even if he was in a committed relationship. because he really did walk around with his shirt off for no reason, that he almost did the domestic things because he knew you were turned on by them, and that he liked to push your buttons when it came to things like this. 

“i’m the whore? i’m not wearing lingerie under my shirt. the shirt you stole from me, by the way.” 

you feel your cheeks burn. 

“did you think i didn’t notice? you can’t really get these things past me.” sukuna responds. 

you scoff. 

“because you’re a common street slut. sorry i don’t have as much experience to compete with.” you respond. 

sukuna laughs, before turning to you, one of the free cucumbers that you were just picking out of the salad in his fingers. he hands it you, clearly meant to be a peace offering, that you angrily snatch out of his hands. 

“i’m not a common street slut. you packed it in my bag by accident. and i can put two and two together, you’re obviously going to wear it tonight.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“why’s that so obvious?” 

“it’s my birthday.” 

“so you think i’m going to give you a lap dance because your brain fully developed?” 

“i’d appreciate that..” 

you shove him in his side. 

“stop teasing. it’s not funny.” you respond. 

and sukuna opens up his arm, gesturing for you to take the space in between his arms, as you press your cheek against his bare chest and wrap your arms around him. he continues to cut the vegetables with his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“you’re into that type of thing.” he murmurs. 

“sue me!” you respond. 

sukuna laughs as he pulls back, setting the knife down and wiping his hands, before angling your face up and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. you can feel the nervousness come over you – the mere fact that the two of you hadn’t done…anything…since his dad died – as you reach for his hands to stop him. 

“sukuna.” 

he pulls back. 

“do you want me to stop?” 

“no. i mean, i just figured you wanted to eat first.” 

“no, i do. i just want to see how my pretty girl looked, that’s all.” 

“okay, yeah.” 

sukuna narrows his eyes at you. 

“you sure?” 

you give him a nod, as he brings his hands up again, unbuttoning the buttons of the shirt of his that you had stolen. it’s a quiet sigh that escapes his lips, accompanied by a wet kiss to your cheek, before he pulls back. 

“do you wear pink on purpose?” 

“do you walk around with your shirt off on purpose?” you ask. 

sukuna grins. 

“okay, fair point. sit there and look pretty. i’m almost done.” 

sukuna plates the food nicely and the two of you eat it from one plate. he’s always one for the dramatics – insisting that you sit on his lap and the two of you share utensils and all because it’s more intimate – and he tells you about every birthday he’s ever had. 

in europe, at home. getting a bike as a gift, sharing his wii with yuuji, seeing the eiffel tower for the first time. getting special colored flame candles on his birthday, sucking the helium out of balloons, and getting kicked out of an arcade. 

and he’s quick with it – pulling the blinds, dimming the lights – before he pulls you into his lap, hands warm on the bare skin of your waist as he pulls you in for the first time in weeks. and he can tell – that you’re a little too eager, that it’s been a little too long, and he tries to forget the fact that it could all be over in a second. 

“are you going to tell me about vet school?” he murmurs, breath warm on your lips. 

“i’m wearing this pretty outfit for you and you’re going to talk to me about vet school?” you murmur back. 

“just curious.” 

you pull back, noting the pink flush on his cheek and the panting in his chest, as you give him a nod and reach up to tuck your hair behind your ears. and you can tell that he’s immediately attentive, that he’s on the defensive and that whatever he’s about to say is about to be ten levels of supportive – even though it doesn’t feel like you deserve it. 

“i applied to ten schools. and i got rejected from nine.” 

“and the last?” 

“it’s in my inbox. i just don’t want to open it.” 

sukuna reaches forward, cupping the side of your cheek in his hand, before reaching forward to press a kiss to your forehead. it’s sweeter than the last kisses he gave you – those being fast and fervent, eager, and intoxicating. 

“is there a reason you didn’t tell me? i hope it’s not because i’m going through things, because i always want to be here for you regardless of that.” he asks. 

you shrug. 

“no, it’s not that at all. it’s just that it makes it more real.” you respond. 

“i don’t follow.” 

you sigh. 

“if i tell you, you’re going to be sweet and tell me that i’m smart and capable. that these things are really hard, that there’s lots of factors that go into it, and that there wouldn’t be any shame in trying again. that all of the work i did was still worthwhile, that i’ll still get there and all my stress won’t be for anything.” 

“that’s right.” he responds. 

“but that’s the thing. that makes it real. you having to tell me that, it…it means i failed. it means i fell down and you had to pick me up. that i’d have to acknowledge the fact that i did.” 

sukuna frowns. 

“you know i’d say all of that to you regardless?” 

“it’s different on the heels of a rejection.” you respond. 

“but you didn’t open all of them. there’s still one left.” 

“that i probably got rejected to.” you respond. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“you can’t possibly know that.” 

“i mean, given my track record…” 

sukuna pauses, before reaching over on the nightstand in hiding your phone. 

“that’s easy. set the record straight. open it.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. 

“sukuna.” 

“you’ve already made it real. i think you’re my smart and capable girlfriend, who will most definitely be a vet someday, even if you open a rejection email right now. this is all part of the journey and this setback only makes you more resilient, would only make you a better vet than you could have been prior.” 

you sigh, taking the phone from him, as he leans over, eyes peering down at the screen. and it’s the one email in your inbox that’s unopened, as you look up at him and give him a weary smile. and it’s just as quick, one touch before your entire little screen is doused in little confetti, as you read the opening paragraph. 

congrats y/n l/n! you’ve been accepted to the university of tokyo veterinary school in the class of 2028! 

you look up at him, at the bright smile on his face, as he wraps his arms around your waist, peppering warm kisses all over your skin. and you can feel your heart racing in your chest, your head nearly racing at the thoughts swimming through your head as sukuna leans forward, his voice quiet. 

“what was that  you were saying about a track record, future doctor?” 

“oh my god, shut up.” 

“i’m so proud of you, you know that?” 

you give him a smile, before pressing yourself into his embrace. 

“future doctor.” you whisper. 

“future doctor. my dad is dancing in his hell somewhere.” he responds. 

“and mine is somewhere trying to remember what my name is.” you respond. 

the two of you laugh, leaning your foreheads against each other, as you take the quiet beat, letting it sink in. 

you’re going to be a doctor. sukuna hopes he lives long enough to see it. that you live long enough to do it. 

“wanna know the crazy part?” you ask. 

“what’s that?” 

“i did all this and you’re talking to me about vet school.” you respond. 

what you expect is a giggling joke back is instead a pair of warm lips on your neck, accompanied by that horribly edging gravelly voice that sukuna uses when he murmurs. 

“sorry, sweetheart. was this what you had in mind?” 

you’re barely even to muster a response as sukuna sinks his teeth into your sweet spot, a laugh leaving him as he watches you nearly keel your head back at the feeling. 

--

three hours later, fresh and clean, you’re asleep at sukuna’s side and the thoughts are so petrifying, he considers that he might die just from how much they’re haunting him. that the reason his voice was so quiet during dinner is because now hours later, after the fact, it’s so dangerously loud that he thinks it’ll do something to him. 

a car crash. a rare and hard to diagnose disease. a mass casualty incident. the 0.01% statistic. 

sukuna thinks about the fact that he lied earlier. 

the mere fact that you love me is enough for me. that’s quite literally the only thing i’ve ever wanted from you. 

he lied because that’s not true in the slightest. 

it’s not enough for him to have you love him back. he needs every last second of it, every last second of a long life to feel it for as long as he can. he needs your heart to be in tip top shape, he needs to be as fit as he can, the two of you have to live the long life that he had in his head. 

it haunts sukuna too. what you had mentioned, about what your mom had said. 

grief is proof of all the ways you loved wrong. that if you died in his arms tomorrow, he’d sit there with thousands of regrets. that he didn’t tell you he loved you enough times. that he didn’t get to marry you. that you never got the love that you wanted, the lifelong love you dreamed about. 

sukuna pushes up off the bed, head in his hands, as he can’t stop the suffocating, warm wetness in his throat and the sounds from leaving his throat. and it’s just as fast, because in the minute that follows, he feels your warm hands on his back, rubbing circles into his skin and accompanied by your sleepy voice. 

“ryomen. what is it?” 

“you’re going to think i’m crazy and you’re going to leave me.” he responds, his voice raspy. 

you frown. 

“what are you talking about?” you murmur. 

“i’m going to ask you to do something. and you’re going to think i’m crazy and leave me.” he repeats, almost more distressed this time. 

“ask me.” you respond. 

sukuna sighs, almost angrily rubbing the heels of his palms against his eye sockets, before he looks over at you, eyes weary. 

“get dressed. we’re going to a tattoo parlor.” he responds. 

--

the walk over is quiet, his hand wrapped around yours, as he nervously eyes the small groups of people that are still lingering on the street in the dead of night. the city is noticeably quieter at four in the morning and sukuna’s got some version of his guard up as he pushes you into the closest tattoo parlor, two blocks down from the hotel. 

the entire room is bathed in a neon light from an LED sign, as sukuna walks up to the boy at the counter. 

“do you have rings?” 

he nods, pushing off the stool, as he starts rummaging through the little plastic boxes that are hanging on the shelf of the wall. 

“rings?” you whisper. 

“this is the only place open right now that would have them.” sukuna responds. 

the boy returns just as fast, opening a little plastic box of a mixed arrangement of rings, as sukuna lets go of your hand and reaches for one. it’s a plastic green, mimicking the appearance of jade, as he reaches for your hand and settles it on to your ring finger. 

“okay. we can go back now.” 

you cross your hands over your chest. 

“it’s four in the morning. you can’t just drag me here and do that with no explanation.” you murmur. 

sukuna frowns. 

“please drop it.” 

“sukuna. no, i can’t just –” 

sukuna reaches for your hands. 

“please. i’m begging you, don’t make me explain what that was because you’re –” 

“i’m not going to think you’re crazy! in fact, the only thing crazy right now is that you did this in the dead of the night. you’re scaring me and i just want to know whatever it is that’s going on your head so i can help you.” 

sukuna watches as warm tears well in your eyes, your hands cold against his cheeks, as you take your turn to beg. he feels horrible. 

“just tell me what it is.” you murmur. 

sukuna sighs, before shaking off the embarrassment. 

“grief is proof of the ways you loved wrong.” he murmurs. 

“what?” 

“my dad is dead. he’s dead and all i really think about is how you could die. and if you died, all i would think about is how you would have died before i got to give you that.” sukuna responds, pointing at the ring. 

you raise your eyebrow at him. 

“a plastic green ring?” 

sukuna sighs. 

“a wedding ring.” 

you feel your throat dry, noting the fact that there’s warm tears welling in his eyes now. 

“a wedding ring?” 

“i’m going to give you a real one. obviously, i’m going to give you a real one. i even…i even have it all planned out. i want to take you to see the waterlilies. and i want to propose to you there. but i don’t know if i’ll ever get to do that. i don’t want to die without giving you one of those. and i know it’s fucking insane but my dad died so just fucking ignore it if it freaks you out or if it’s weird and just throw it away tomorrow, okay? i’m clearly just having some type of…” 

sukuna stops as you let go of his hand, feeling his heart sink in his chest as he watches you march over to the plastic box, your eyes peering through the box. 

there goes his chance. he’s scared you off. every bit of insanity that he’s shown you has come to this moment – where he’s in a dirty tattoo parlor, talking about marrying you. being so paranoid that you’re going to die that he has to give you something, that he has to marry you even if it’s in his head. 

you march over and find another one – a plastic green ring – before you march back over to sukuna, reaching for his hand and securing it around his ring finger. and you watch as he looks down, quickly clocking what it is that you’ve done, before he looks back up at you, eyes wide. 

“what are you doing?” 

“you can’t just…give me a symbolic wedding ring and not expect me to give one back. i don’t want to die without giving you one either.” 

sukuna can feel that itching feeling that he felt in the morning, whatever it was, come to ahead right in that moment – in a dimly lit, sweaty smelling tattoo parlor – as he nearly starts sobbing, pressing his head into your neck as you lean into his touch. 

“you don’t mean that.” 

“are you serious? you can’t just stand there talking about how you’d regret that you never got to give me a wedding ring and think that i wouldn’t feel the same way after you pointed it out.” 

sukuna only hugs you harder. 

“i think a lot about what it means that i got to have you this much later in my life. i could have started dating you when i was four. or when i was in highschool. or when you came back from europe. i have a lot of regrets when it comes to you – not knowing what you were going through earlier, not reaching out to you sooner.” you respond. 

you shake your head as he pulls back, red bleary eyes staring back at you. 

“i finally have you. i won’t have any proof of all the ways i’ve loved wrong when you die. and i’ll die trying.” 

sukuna gives you a teary laugh, before cupping his hands around your cheeks. you can feel the plastic clad finger on your cheek, taking the second to admire the one secured around your own had. 

“you’ll do a whole comprehensive test with your doctor, not just your cardiologist. you look both ways before you cross the street and always keep your pepper spray with you. don’t delay showing your doctor what looks weird, and…and don’t die on me.” sukuna murmurs. 

“okay.” 

“and i won’t love you wrong either. everything conspired to get me here, with you, right now. that plastic ring will be a real one, you…you are going to stay here.” 

you can tell that he doesn’t really believe the last part. 

“yes, i am.” 

“you…you are, right? because i fucking love you. you…you can’t do that.” 

you smile. 

“the plastic ring will be a real one. and i’ll be right next to you.” 

a very teary eyed sukuna leads you out of the tattoo parlor, swirling the little plastic ring on his finger, as he reminds himself of the fact. that you’ll be right next to him. 

it’s the only solace he has. and quite possibly, the only one he needs to get him through it. 

“y/n.” he whispers. 

“yeah?” 

“i never got to ask. are you going to marry me?” 

you smile, admiring the little rings on your finger. 

“one day.” you resond. 

it fills his heart with an insurmountable amount of hope.

--

next part linked here

an: LOL

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[janeyseymour]

Scrubs

Summary: Melissa's nonna is in the hospital and you just so happen to be the nurse assigned to the woman.

WC: ~3.2k

The last thing that Melissa Schemmenti expects when she picks up the phone that day is to hear her mother crying into the phone that Nonna had a stroke and was in the hospital. 

“Ma? What do you mean Nonna had a stroke?” Melissa rushes out as she’s grading papers in her classroom.

“She- she had a stroke, I don’t know!” the older Schemmenti hisses into the phone. “The point is, she’s in the hospital, and she’s asking for you- so you better get your ass down here and be here for her!”

“I-” Melissa glances up at the clock. She still has half an hour of her prep, and if she acts fast, she can pull together sub plans, arrange for coverage, and run out. “I’ll be there as soon as I sort everything out with my kids.”

“Please,” her mother whispers into the phone, and it breaks the teacher’s heart the way she can hear her mother falling apart inside.

“I’ll be there, Ma. Just give me a bit of time.”

As soon as Melissa hangs up with her mother, she’s dialing Ava.

“Melissa, what? I’m watching The Bachelor,” the principal answers the phone, clearly pissed at being interrupted.

“And I don’t give a shit,” the redhead retorts into the phone as she pulls up a document to start making her plan for the rest of the day. “I have to go. Family emergency. My kids are at music, I’m leaving plans on my desk, and I honestly don’t care if it goes well or not. I don’t even care who my sub is.”

At the note that she doesn’t care who her sub is, Ava is intrigued. “Girl, is everything okay?”

“No. My nonna is in the hospital for the first time in her life, my mom just called me in tears, and I have to go be there,” Melissa rushes out. “Please, just get me a sub.”

The desperate tone that the tough teacher uses sparks something within the principal, and she sits up a bit straighter and close out of the hulu tab she has open on her computer. “Go. I’ll handle it.”

“Thank you.” She hangs up after that, types at rapid speeds to finish her plans for the rest of the day, not even bothering to check it for any spelling or grammar errors, prints it, and runs out of her room. 

Before she heads out, she does stop down to her work wife’s room. Barbara is in the middle of teaching though, and it makes the other veteran teacher raise a brow at her friend unexpectedly dropping by.

“Miss Schemmenti, how can I help you? I am in the middle of a lesson.”

“Just letting you know that I’m running. There’s ziti in the fridge, and it’s yours,” the redhead states. She knocks once on the doorframe before sprinting down the hall and out to her car before Barbara can get a word out.

She’s at the hospital and in the building far faster than her mother had expected.

“Melissa, dear,” the woman’s mother runs to her. “You got here fast.”

“When you call telling me to get to the hospital for Nonna, I run a few lights,” Melissa shrugs as she embraces her mother. “How is she?”

“As feisty as ever,” the teacher’s mother groans. “Claiming that she doesn’t need to be here, they’re treating her all wrong, and she’s threatening to leave while hooked up to all of their machines. I’m sure she could use seeing you right now to calm her down.”

“Where is she?”

Melissa is led back to the room, and she can hear her grandmother before she can see her.

“Dammit to hell, I am fine! Would you quit poking me?” she’s yelling at the abundance of nurses in her room and personal space.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. Then you crack a small smile “The doctor orders. I just have the pleasure of doing his dirty work.”

“Nonna,” the redhead sighs as she makes her way into the room. “The nurse is doing her job. They have to check your vitals and blood oxygen levels to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” the matriarch of the family grumbles, but she does lighten up just a little with her favorite granddaughter in the room now. Then, Melissa crosses her way over to the bed and takes her Nonna’s hand in her own. “You’re damned mother dragged me here.”

“Because you were having a stroke,” the mother exasperates. “You were having a stroke, Ma. And I wasn’t about to let you die on my watch.”

“God couldn’t take me, even if he wanted to,” Nonna states. “He ain’t taking me off this earth until I see my Melly fall in love again.”

At that little comment from the woman in the hospital bed, you have to let out a soft chuckle. This woman really was something.

“What’s so funny, Miss…” the grandmother squints to read your name off of your badge. “Y/N?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” you bite back your laughter. “You’re a fiery one, you know that, right?”

“You ain’t the first one to call me that,” the woman tells you. “Hey, you’re pretty. What do you think of my granddaughter?”

“Nonna!” Melissa reprimands.

You do look up though, temporarily pausing what you’re doing. The woman now sitting by the bed is absolutely stunning. Her hair is beautiful, her green eyes sparkle in a way that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and her body is… wow.

And when Melissa sees your face for the first time, her jaw almost drops. You’re… you’re beautiful. If she didn’t know you were a nurse, she would think you were a model- you belong on a magazine cover in her opinion. 

“Well?” the patient asks, rather impatiently.

You chuckle softly. “She’s a good granddaughter for getting here so quickly for you, Mrs. Schemmenti,” you tell her, and you do mean it.

“Yeah, yeah,” the woman waves you off, but that isn’t what she wants to hear. “What do you think of her though?”

Knowing you won’t get out of this one, you relent. “She’s very pretty.”

“You hear that, Annette?” the grandmother asks. “Y/N thinks our Melly is pretty! Melly, what do you think of Y/N?”

“Nonna, I ain’t-”

“What. Do. You. Think?” the woman grits out each of her words. “C’mon, just give me this one.”

“She’s very pretty, Nonna,” Melissa gives in to her Nonna’s pestering. “Now will you quit it?”

The grandmother just grins and shrugs. Then she winces as you begin to draw her blood.

“I know,” you say sympathetically. “But this is the last of the tests, ma’am, and then they do want to keep you for a few days to keep an eye on you.”

The grandmother sighs. “If you must. But enough of this ‘ma’am’ and ‘Mrs. Schemmenti’ shit. My name is Bea.”

“Okay, Bea,” you smile at her. “I’ll make a note of that.” If her sudden change in demeanor at the thought of staying in the hospital is odd to you, you don’t mention it. Neither do her family members- it’s abundantly clear that her being more open to the idea of staying is much easier than fighting her to stay.

“And don’t send in those other shit nurses,” she tells you. “If you’re around, I want you- the only woman here who isn’t trying to kill me, I swear.”

“Nobody is trying to kill you, Nonna,” Melissa rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “They are quite literally doing the opposite and keeping you alive.”

“I didn’t ask for that,” the grandmother huffs.

“You literally just told us that God can’t take you from this earth until I find love again!” Melissa groans. Then her eyes widen slightly at her realization. “Oh God, Ma! She’s gonna outlive us all!”

You just laugh as you quietly make your exit. 

“She’s really pretty,” Nonna tells Melissa quietly.

“I see you’re feeling well enough to meddle in my love life,” the redhead notes.

“I already told you, I don’t know why I’m here,” the grandmother retorts. “It was just a little hiccup, and your mother freaked out over it.”

Annette puts her head in her hands. “Ma, you were slurring your words all over the place, and the doc already told you you had a mini stroke.”

“Eh, what do they know?” Nonna rolls her eyes. She turns her attention back to her granddaughter. “You should ask her out. She’ll be in my room a lot, and you and I both know you’ll be here for the next few days keeping your ol’ nonna company.

“Nonna, I’m not gonna ask the nurse out,” the teacher laughs. “She’s probably in a relationship as it is- nobody that pretty is single.”

“You is,” Nonna points out.

Those green eyes glare at her grandmother. “I am not nearly as pretty as she is.”

“Don’t sell yourself short there, Melly. Youse quite the looker, if I do say so myself.” Melissa took after her grandmother in the best possible ways.

The next time you come into the room, it’s to bring Bea her lunch, and Melissa is still sitting there.

“Ah, there’s the pretty woman,” the patient chuckles from her place in bed.

“Hi Bea,” you chuckle as you set her tray up for her. “I see you’re feeling better.”

“I was feeling fine when I first got checked in,” Bea laughs. “Now, what do you say you take a load off and sit with me while I eat since my granddaughter over here doesn’t much feel like talking to her old sickly grandmother?”

That gets the redhead to look up from the papers that she’s grading. “Nonna, are you sick, or aren’t ya? Make up your mind.”

“Quiet, you,” the woman in bed guffaws loudly. “I’ll be whatever the hell I want to be. Melly’s too busy grading her kids’ papers to talk to her dear old grandmother, and Annette is out takin’ a smoke break, so what do you say?”

You glance down at your watch. Your supervisor had given you a bit of time to handle Bea, knowing she was more difficult, but with her being so complacent at her request to have you come in more than the other nurses, you have the time. “I have about fifteen minutes,” you tell her with a smile as you sit down in one of the chairs there for visitors.

“That’s more than enough time for you to get to know Melly!” Bea grins.

“Nonna, I’m grading,” the redhead sighs as she bites the marker cap between her teeth.

“What do you teach?” you ask, clearly interested. You weren’t lying when you said that Bea’s granddaughter was very pretty, and if you have the time, maybe you should get to know her.

“Second and third,” the teacher huffs out as she marks an answer wrong on one of her student’s tests. “Down at Abbott.”

“Two grades?” you ask her, surprised. You had never heard of one teacher with two different grades at the elementary level.

“Budget wasn’t big enough to hire another teacher, and I’m the best second grade teacher there, so they gave me an extra ten third graders,” Melissa sighs.

“I’m sure you do a great job,” you assure her with a soft and warm smile.

Bea finds her way into the conversation. “Melly is the best teacher there is. It’s always a blast to go in as a mystery reader and watch her do her thing. The kids love her, and they should. She ain’t nearly as tough as she plays.”

“You ain’t nearly as tough as you play either, Nonna,” the granddaughter snorts as she sets aside her papers. “Where d’you think I learned all my tricks from?”

“Your mother,” Bea narrows her eyes, but they sparkle with mischief.

You chat with the two of them for the remainder of your fifteen minute break before you sigh and stand. “I have to get back to my rounds, but it was lovely to chat with you both.” You make sure to look at both of them, but your eyes do linger on the stunning woman sitting in the stuffy and uncomfortable chair next to the bed. “Call if you need anything.”

It’s a bit later that you’re called back into the Schemmenti room. Melissa is asleep in the chair, and Annette is conveniently out for another smoke break.

“What’s goin’ on, Bea?” you ask the patient. “Trying to cause more trouble for me?”

“Not this time,” she chuckles as her eyes stay glued to the soap opera on the television. “Just wondering if it would be possible to get another blanket, dear.”

You nod, head into the hall and grab another knit blanket before heading back in. You go to drape it over the elderly woman, but she shakes her head and points to the redhead.

“For her,” Bea instructs. “She’s freezing, as much as she won’t admit it. I’ve been watching her shiver through her entire nap.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, but you do gently set the blanket overtop of the sleeping woman. 

When Melissa wakes, she’s warm. She remembers drifting off to sleep practically freezing as she pulled her Abbott Elementary sweatshirt as tightly to her body as she could.

“Good mornin’, sleepyhead,” Nonna chuckles.

“Where’d the blanket come from?” Melissa asks as she stretches just slightly, loving the way that her whole upper body cracks at the movement- it feels so good after being cramped in the chair for the day.

“I had Y/N bring it in for you,” the woman smiles. “Sweet girl. You should ask her out.”

“I ain’t lookin’ for any romance right now, Nonna,” the redhead rolls her eyes. “And ‘sides, I don’t even know if she’s gay.”

“She is,” the grandmother confirms. “We were chatting a bit earlier about her own love life when she came in to check my vitals.”

“How do you know?” Melissa raises a brow.

Nonna shrugs. “Mentioned something about an ex-girlfriend dumping her because she was always here… sounds like the perfect relationship for you- you workaholics seem to get along well, and you should know. You and Joe worked beautifully until he let himself go and wasn’t the driven man you thought you knew.”

“Don’t remind me of that time,” the granddaughter sighs.

“All I’m sayin’ is, you should ask her out,” Nonna grins and reaches a hand out. “She’s gorgeous, she’s a sweetheart, she has a good head on her shoulders… was telling me about how she works well with the little ones who come in and helps calm them down, so she’s good with kids. Everything you’re looking for.”

“I already told you, I ain’t lookin’,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

Nonna rolls her own green eyes. “You never want me to die,” she sighs dramatically.

The next few days, you spend quite a bit of time with the Schemmenti family because Bea practically refuses all of the other nurses on the clock. In that time, Melissa is almost always there. You find yourself looking forward to seeing her each day.

The day that Bea Schemmenti is discharged from the hospital, she pinches your cheeks and thanks you for your kindness and help over the last couple days- as much as she didn’t need it.

“Of course, Bea,” you chuckle as you shake her hand gently. “It’s been a pleasure getting to know you and your family.”

Melissa is holding onto the wheelchair to push her grandmother out of the facility when the older woman turns around and smacks the redhead’s arm. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Don’t you got something you want to ask Y/N?” Been prompts.

The teacher sighs. “Do you want a free grandma?”

“That was not the question, and you know it- you pain in my ass!” Nonna smacks her granddaughter’s arm playfully as she’s wheeled out.

“Thanks for taking care of crazy lady,” Melissa calls over her shoulder.

Once Melissa gets her grandmother settled at home, Nonna sighs dramatically. “I thought you said you were going to ask her out!”

“I said I would think about it, Nonna.”

“And that to me, means that you were! Come on now Melly!”

“Well, you’re out of the hospital, so there’s no reason for me to go back there again,” the redhead tells her grandmother.

“I could have another stroke,” the older woman suggests with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

“That would be dramatic, even for you,” Melissa rolls her eyes.

Nonna shrugs. “Your reason to go back there could simply be to ask her out.”

“Will that really make you happy?” the redhead finally begins to crack. She grabs her keys and circles them around her finger a few times.

“I’ve been trying to get you to ask her out for the past three days!” Bea nods frantically. “C’mon now. Don’t make me wait any longer for grandkids!”

“Nobody said anything about grandkids, Nonna!” Melissa tells her grandmother as she makes her way out the door.

You’re just about to take your twenty minute break when you see familiar red hair standing at the desk.

“Hi, Melissa,” you smile at her warmly. “What’re you doin’ back here?”

The woman runs a hand through her gently curled hair. “Makin’ my nonna happy.”

“How so?”

Melissa runs a hand over her face. “God, I can’t believe I’m letting my grandmother pressure me into this, but… do you wanna go out with me for dinner one night? Or I can cook?”

Your eyes widen at her question. “What?”

“My nonna took a liking to you and has been trying to get me to ask you out for the last three days… I thought about it, and here I am. What do you say?”

“I have…” you look down at your watch. “seventeen minutes left of my break?”

Those green eyes sparkle. She takes your hand gently and leads you outside.

Those seventeen minutes are the best that you’ve had in quite some time. The timer on your phone goes off all too quickly, and you let out a disappointed huff as you stand from the curb just outside the hospital doors.  You dust yourself off before extending a hand out to help her up from the low stoop. She takes it with a smile.

“I don’t know about you,” Melissa tells you as she squeezes your hand. “But I would love to see you again… the next time you have a night off.”

“I have off tomorrow if that’s not too soon,” you laugh softly. You pull your phone out of your scrubs before handing it over.

“I’ll pick you up at six,” the redhead winks as she starts to make her way back to her car.

You watch her go before heading back into the hallway with the bright lights and smell of disinfectant. 

When Melissa comes home, Nonna looks at her knowingly. “So?”

“Shut it,” the redhead laughs as she makes her way into the kitchen to start on the next meal.

TAGS, and let me know if you want to be added: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (17/17)

Part Summary: “I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 7.600+ | Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut Author's note: Wow! Those five months went by so fast. Thank you so much for being with me on this journey. It's been my honor and pleasure sharing with you this story :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV I Part XV | Part XVI

-

“Tell me that your love is a sure thing” - Golden Vessel, Emerson Leif (“Hesitate”)

“Do you think I should ask Y/N to come with me?” Leigh asks, idly twisting a gold bauble between her fingers. She stares at it a beat too long, like she might find the answer in the curve of its shiny surface. 

It's three days before Christmas, and true to Shaw family tradition, they're just now getting around to setting up the decorations. It wouldn't have happened at all if Amy hadn't taken the initiative to remind them. She was supposed to help, but she's vanished again to meet another “friend.” Leigh and Jules are suspicious, thinking their mom might be seeing someone in secret.

Jules, teetering slightly on the ladder, twists around to give Leigh a raised eyebrow. “To the Harrison’s bash for New Year’s? Hell yeah, why not? She’s a blast. Could shake things up a bit.”

“No, not that,” Leigh exhales, now regretting even bringing it up. “I mean the comic book tour for Matt.”

Jules steps down, one rung at a time, until she’s down to Leigh’s level. “Oh. That’s…quite a step. But, why not? Sounds like an adventure for you both,” she says.

Logan zips by, a sheeny red bauble in his mouth, set on a mission to place it next to his bowl in the kitchen. He keeps fetching or chasing after the scattered Christmas balls, sending them rolling all over the house. Leigh and Jules have been running around, picking them up and putting them back on the tree.

“It’s not just that,” Leigh says, glancing out the window where the first hints of evening are brushing the sky. “Asking her to come means asking her to leave everything here behind. Her life, her responsibilities. It’s different for her—she has a real career.”

“Hold up—what we do is a real career too. We’re improving lives with healthy habits, remember?”

Leigh laughs sardonically. “Come on, Jules, we're kinda just floating, working for Mom. Y/N is a doctor, owns her clinic, has staff. That’s...”

“That’s a big deal,” Jules agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s a huge ask, for sure.”

Silence hangs for a beat, the only sounds being Logan’s light panting as he settles down, ornament forgotten. 

“Do you think she'd actually say no?” Jules suddenly pipes up, climbing back up the ladder to resume her decorating. Leigh spots a stray ornament a few feet away, points at it, and calls out, “Fetch!” 

Logan springs into action, scampering to retrieve it. As he returns, triumphant, Leigh gives him a pat on the head and passes the ornament up to Jules.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. She’d jump at the chance,” she tells Jules.

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“She might regret it later,” Leigh says quietly. “And that could mean losing her.”

Jules frowns, understanding the bind her sister is in. She stretches out a hand, and Leigh takes it, their palms pressing cold and warm together. “I’m sorry.”

“And if I leave her here, I might lose her anyway,” Leigh adds, the heaviness of two futures making her shoulders sag. 

Jules gives her hand a firm squeeze. “But what if you both end up regretting not taking the chance? It’s only a few months. Maybe Y/N can sort something out with her clinic?”

“It’s still too risky for her business. She’s poured everything into that place, Jules. Asking her to step away, even briefly—it’s…it’s selfish.”

“Life’s full of risky asks, Leigh. Sometimes, you gotta bet on what’s scary. Risk a little heartbreak on the chance it’ll bring you both something remarkable. Maybe this is one of those times?”

Leigh releases her hand and moves to another bare section of the tree. “Is that the kind of thinking that made you decide to look for your biological parents in Vietnam?”

Jules snaps the tinsel down, her response coming quick and a bit sharp. “Yes.”

Leigh winces slightly, realizing her question might have prodded an unintended sore spot. “I didn’t mean—”

“I get it,” Jules interjects, sighing as she tries to bring the conversation to a close. They’re both dealing with their own issues, and as much as she loves Leigh, she knows she’s not in the right headspace to offer solid advice—especially advice she’s not even sure works.

Leigh clamps her mouth shut. She doesn’t want this to turn into an argument either.

“Maybe just talk to her? See what she thinks? Who knows, maybe the biggest leaps make the most sense when you’re doing them for the right reasons... for the right person,” Jules says after some time. 

“You really think so?” Leigh asks, her voice threaded with hope.

“I do,” Jules nods, her hands busy rewrapping the tinsel Logan has graciously returned. “Just talk to her. It’s either a ‘what if’ or a ‘what now.’ Better to find out which.”

-

Leigh comes with her mouth open, but no sound escapes. Her body trembles as she experiences what she knows is the best orgasm she's ever had—though she remembers saying the same thing about this morning’s quickie in your bathroom. It just seems to keep getting better each time.

You slowly climb up from her pussy, trailing soft kisses along her stomach. As you move upward, you let your tongue lightly trace a stripe across one of her nipples, eliciting a shiver from Leigh. She’s still catching her breath, but when you finally reach her lips, she pulls you in for a deep, consuming kiss. The way her tongue wrestles with yours tells you she’s already eager for more, her hands tangling in your hair as she holds you close.

You break the kiss, smiling down at her. “Hi,” you murmur, almost shyly.

Leigh, still a little dazed, brushes the strands of hair off your forehead and gently traces your lower lip with her thumb. “You know something?” she asks, her eyes wandering over the marks and lines on your face.

“Hm?” 

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “You're kind of amazing,” she says softly.

“That good, huh?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand, which has been cupping your face, slides down your neck before she pulls it back to herself, biting at her index fingernail.

“I’m sure you can tell,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. To emphasize her point, she arches her hips, the slickness between her thighs evident against your skin.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” you sigh, letting your head fall to her sweaty chest. “You’ve completely worn me out.”

Leigh laughs, a soft, melodic sound. “Really? Getting tired already? What happened to your stamina?”

You don’t bother to retort, content just to lie there listening to the rhythm of her heart. “It’s hard work keeping you satisfied,” you say after some time, your voice muffled against her skin.

She tightens her hold around you, the gentle stroke of her fingers in your hair making every thought slow down. The security of her embrace makes everything seem right in the world, and it emboldens you to voice a thought that's been on your mind more and more lately.

“You know,” you start, lifting your head to catch her eyes, “I was thinking… maybe you should move in with me.”

Leigh stiffens just a bit, her eyes darting away for a moment, and you instantly regret how fast you’ve blurted it out. You sit up, trying to backpedal, “Only if you want to, I mean... it was just a thought. You're here most nights anyway, and your toothbrush is already—”

Before you can ramble on, Leigh leans in and silences you with a gentle kiss. “Slow down,” she whispers against your lips, her smile reassuring.

You chuckle, giving her a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Right, right,” you agree, settling back down beside her. 

Leigh shifts to lie on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes, still dark with want, sweep over your body—flushed, soft, and still quivering slightly from your efforts to pleasure her. She catches herself, though, and with a more composed motion, she pulls the blanket up to cover you, tucking it around your chest.

You look up at her, your expression ironically innocent, waiting for her to say what's on her mind.

“I’d love to,” Leigh finally says. “But do you really think it’s the right move?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve just started exploring what this is, what we could be, and I’m already planning to leave. It feels like I’m setting us up for...” Leigh doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Matt's book tour looms over both of you, an ever-present shadow no matter how tightly you try to cling to each other. It's as if you believe that by melding into one with Leigh, you could somehow will her impending departure into nonexistence.

Though before you can say anything, your phone rings from the coffee table beside you. You reach over and grab it, your mom's name flashing urgently on the screen. A quick glance at the time sends a jolt through you—you were to pick her up at the airport but completely lost track of time.

Leigh sits up too, clutching the sheet to her naked torso. “What is it?”

You wince, the irony of the situation not lost on you. “It's my mom,” you explain hurriedly. “I should have left, like, half an hour ago to pick her up at the airport. She’s staying with me for a few days until right before New Year’s.” 

A moment ago, you were discussing moving in together, and now you find yourself needing to ask her to leave. 

Leigh raises an eyebrow, smiling coyly as she realizes the implications of your mother’s arrival. “And let me guess, she's staying here? In your one-bedroom palace?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrambling to get dressed. “Which means I need to air out the place, change the sheets... make it look like I live like a monk.” You stop for a second, looking at Leigh with an apologetic frown on your face. “And I kind of need to ask you to leave now. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Leigh laughs as she swings her legs out of bed and starts gathering her clothes. Once she's collected them all, she steps closer, gives you a quick kiss, and murmurs right next to your ear, “I’m furious.”

You kiss her hair gently before stepping in front of the mirror to check your appearance, making sure you don't look as disheveled as you feel.

“Gives us both some time to think about everything. The tour, us moving in, all of it,” Leigh says, slipping into her jeans.

“Absolutely,” you agree, watching her.

“Change those sheets well, huh?” she teases, zipping up her bag. “You know how moms can be.”

You grimace jokingly at her comment. “Please, don't ever use 'sheets' and 'mom' in the same sentence ever again.”

Leigh laughs again, clearly enjoying you squirm. She slings her bag over her shoulder, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

As you cap your lip gloss, an idea suddenly strikes you. Seeing Leigh's expectant look reflected in the mirror, you ask, “Hey, how about you join me to pick her up at the airport?”

Meeting your mom seems like another huge step in your relationship, but she doesn't hesitate.

“Is it okay with your mom?” she asks, a bit wary.

You shrug, taking her hand confidently. “Why wouldn't it be?”

-

Apparently, you’re the spitting image of your mother.

At least, that’s how Leigh sees it as she watches you both hug it out in the arrival section of LAX. As a fitness pundit, Leigh immediately notices your mom's excellent posture, despite her petite frame. It's the first thing she observes in anyone, and your mom is no exception. Beyond that, you both share the same quick smile and the way your eyes light up in laughter—deep brown, the color of rich coffee, which Leigh finds particularly striking. Even the gestures are mirrored; the way you both tuck hair behind your ear when nervous, or the confidence in your strides.

What distinctly sets her apart from you, though, is how intimidating your mom appears to be.

As you walk to the parking lot, holding your mom’s hand in one of yours and Leigh’s in the other, your mom chats animatedly about a hot spring resort she discovered near your hometown. Leigh keeps half a step behind, doing her best to stay engaged while keeping up with your pace.

“So, how was your flight?” Leigh asks, finding a moment to wedge herself into the conversation.

Your mom barely glances back, responding briefly before turning her attention back to you. “Long, but it’s always nice to spend Christmas with my daughter,” she says, squeezing your hand affectionately.

Leigh tries again. “It's pretty nice weather here, isn't it? I bet it's a lot colder on the East Coast right now.”

“Oh, it’s freezing out there, Leigh,” you chime in, completely oblivious to the awkward interaction between your mom and your girlfriend. 

Your mom nods but doesn't elaborate, her focus still on you. “We should stop by that bakery you always gush about,” she says, eyes bright with excitement.

Leigh's grip on your hand tightens slightly, and she lags further behind. “Oh, that store closes at five. It’s seven already,” you say. 

Desperate to connect, Leigh tries for the final time. “There are special light installations in the park for the holidays. Would you like to go see them?”

Your mom finally looks back, but her smile is thin. “I’m not much into these ‘light installations’. Too much walking.” She quickly shifts back to you. “How’s work been?”

“Work’s been busy, but manageable,” you say, glancing back at Leigh, who offers a small, strained smile.

The three of you continue to the parking lot, the conversation feeling increasingly one-sided. As you reach the car, you open the trunk and help with the bags, all the while trying to think of a way to include Leigh more naturally.

“Leigh and I were thinking of checking out that new restaurant downtown,” you say, making an effort to draw your mom's attention to her.

“Sounds nice,” your mom replies. “But actually, I'm not hungry—just a bit tired.”

Leigh’s expression falls just a bit, but she quickly masks it, helping with the last of the luggage. She figures that’s her cue to leave. 

You can’t hide your frustration. Your plan was to have a nice dinner, a proper introduction. “Are you sure, Mom? It doesn’t have to be a long meal,” you push back gently.

“Let’s just get your mom home, she’s had a long day,” Leigh tells you softly.

You glance at your mom, silently pleading for her to reconsider, but she only smiles. “Maybe another time, dear.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

-

You lead your mom into the living room, urging her to make herself comfortable while you hurry to get the bedroom ready. The sheets need changing, the windows thrown open to freshen the air, and the whole space needs a bit of tidying. 

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, disappearing into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, you work quickly, stripping the used sheets and flinging the windows wide. You hustle, smoothing on fresh sheets, fluffing pillows, and straightening up—getting rid of all the evidence of what you and Leigh had been doing all week. 

Meanwhile, your mom isn't one to just sit around. She takes in the scattered magazines, the couch cushions askew, and the dishes piled up in the kitchen. With a small sigh, she gets up and starts putting things in order. She straightens up the living room and moves on to tackle the kitchen. Before long, the sound of running water and clinking dishes fills your tiny apartment.

When she’s done setting things in order, she starts rummaging through your fridge and pantry. With only a few ingredients at hand, she decides to make do with what you have. Soon, she's boiling spaghetti and slicing hotdogs to toss into the mix. This dish was a childhood favorite of yours and remains a go-to comfort food. As soon as the familiar aroma wafts through the air, you find yourself irresistibly drawn toward the kitchen.

“Is that...?” you start, a delighted smile spreading across your face at the sight of the generous layer of shredded cheese melting over the thick red sauce.

“Sit down and eat while it's hot,” your mom commands with a warm smile.

You don’t need to be told twice.  Fork in hand, you dive into the spaghetti as though you haven't eaten in days. Considering your usual diet of takeout and quick fixes, that's not too far from the truth. You chat about small, inconsequential things—the new coffee shop you tried last week, the remarkable cases you’ve encountered in the clinic this month, the shows you’ve been watching on Netflix. 

Finishing your meal, you lean back with a satisfied sigh, feeling truly content for the first time in a long while.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“So... what do you think of Leigh?”

“So that’s Leigh, huh?” Your mom pauses, setting down her cup of tea with deliberate care. “The widow of the guy you unknowingly dated for a while, not realizing he was married?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirm, nodding slowly as your nerves start to build. The last time you brought up Leigh to your mom, you were almost ready to throw in the towel until she urged you to give it another shot. Now, more than anything, you're hoping she'll give her approval.

She nods thoughtfully, then with a sly grin, says, “Well, she's definitely out of your league.”

“Mom!” you exclaim, embarrassed.

She chuckles, clearly pleased with her little joke.

“Come on, be serious,” you plead.

Your mom clasps her hands on the table, and gives you that look—the one that means business. You can't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, clearly aimed at getting a rise out of you.

“Leigh seems lovely,” she says. You can tell she’s sincere and that makes you sigh in relief. “And I really appreciate how she tried to engage with me earlier.”

You relax slightly, but then, as you replay the earlier interactions in your mind, you realize Leigh seemed frustrated and your mom wasn’t as welcoming as she usually is. Your face scrunches up as this sinks in.

“Wait, you were really standoffish to Leigh earlier!”

She holds up her hands in a half-shrug, her smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to come off that way at all,” she says. “I guess I was just being overprotective. You know, considering how everything started between you two.”

You appreciate her motherly instincts but wish she'd given Leigh a fairer chance from the start. “I get it, Mom. But Leigh is really important to me now. It would mean a lot if you could try to get to know her better. For me?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she says. “What do you need?”

“Well, for starters…” you start, pausing as you try to find the right way to explain. You're about to share that you'll be spending Christmas dinner with the Shaws this year. It's always been just the two of you for the holidays, so you're not sure how she'll take the news of including others she hardly knows. “You’ll have an opportunity to bond with her the day after tomorrow.”

“What’s on Tuesday?”

“Christmas Eve dinner,” you reply. “At the Shaws.”

“Dinner at your girlfriend’s?” she clarifies.

You nod, your lip catching between your teeth. It still feels a little surreal—exciting, actually—being able to call Leigh your girlfriend. “Yeah, Mom. I thought it’d be nice for us to join them this year.”

Instead of giving an outright yes, she asks, “What should I bring? I want to make a good impression.”

You stand up and walk around the table to give her a hug. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” you mutter into her shoulder. “Maybe bring your blueberry pie? Everyone loves that.”

“You love it,” she says cheerily. “Consider it done.”

Slipping back into old habits, you start clearing the dinner dishes, just like you used to when you lived with her. As you stack dishes and run water in the sink, your mom begins unpacking her bags in your bedroom. As you scrub the dishes, thoughts of following Leigh and leaving everything here behind start to overwhelm you. Once the kitchen is spotless and the last dish is put away, you realize you can't keep these feelings bottled up any longer. 

You call out to your mother as you dry your hands on a kitchen towel. A few seconds later, she reappears in the living room, her face expectant.

“Hey, uhm,” you say, not knowing how to start. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Go on,” she urges gently.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Matt’s comic book is getting published posthumously. The publishing company wants Leigh to join a tour to promote the book, and I'm… I’m thinking of joining her.”

Your mom's expression becomes inscrutable as she processes the information. She walks to the couch and takes a seat. After a long pause, she asks, “What will happen to your clinic here?” 

You look down, fidgeting with the towel in your hands, and then meet her gaze. “I’ve thought about that,” you say. “I’d need to find someone to cover for me. It wouldn’t be easy, but... I feel like I need to be there for Leigh. This is important to her, and… she’s everything to me.”

You try to read her reaction, but every line on her face remains perfectly still and composed. “Is it because you want to be there for her,” she says slowly, “or because you're afraid that if she leaves, you might lose her?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and that's answer enough for your mother.

“Come here,” she says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to her. Wordlessly, you oblige.

“It's okay to be scared,” she whispers. “Loving someone means taking risks. Just remember, you need to be true to yourself as well. Leigh is important, but so are you.”

“I just don’t want to regret not giving my all to see this through with her,” you say.

“You love her,” she states, not as a question, but as a fact.

“I really do,” you say quietly.

“I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

-

Your mom's words stay with you throughout the night. As you lie in bed, you can hear her soft breathing, her back turned to you.

You’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.

Your phone vibrates gently beneath your pillow, and you smile when you see a message from Leigh.

Leigh [10:45 PM]: Can’t sleep. I miss you.

You [10:45 PM]: Miss you too.

She doesn't reply, but she fills your head well into the night. The future is uncertain, but one thing feels right: going with Leigh on her tour is the decision that brings you peace.

-

Christmas Eve dinner arrives sooner than you expected.

Pulling up to the Shaws' house, you're amazed by the decorations that the siblings have tirelessly worked on for the past two days. The house is transformed into a festive wonderland, with twinkling lights draped over every surface, garlands of holly framing the windows, and a towering Christmas tree visible through the living room window, adorned with shimmering ornaments and tinsel.

You watch your mom's reaction as you both step out of the car, seeing the lights reflected in her awe-filled eyes. You beam at her, proud of your girlfriend's decorating skills and holiday spirit.

You and your mom walk up to the doorstep. She clutches her much-loved blueberry pie, which you’re looking forward to having a hearty slice of tonight, while you carefully hold Leigh's gift—a Lego typewriter modeled after a vintage 1950s design. You feel a twinge of nervousness about how she’ll receive your gift.

Moments later, the door swings open to reveal Leigh, all dressed up, and for a moment, you're speechless. Leigh has always been beautiful. No matter what she wears—be it casual joggers, sleek dresses, or even just her underwear—she never fails to leave an impression. Tonight is no different; she takes your breath away all over again.

“Merry Christmas!” Leigh greets brightly. “Almost, anyway,” she adds with a nervous laugh.

“Your decorations are incredible,” your mom says, smiling at her.

“Oh, thank you!” Leigh replies, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected compliment. 

“Where should I put this?” your mom asks, holding up her pie.

“You didn’t have to, but wow, that looks amazing! Come on in, I'll show you,” Leigh says, stepping aside to let you both in. She leads you to the kitchen, where the smells of holiday cooking are even stronger. “You can set it right here,” she points to a spot on the counter already laden with various dishes and desserts.

Just as your mom sets the pie on the counter, Amy walks in. Leigh introduces her mom, and the two women share friendly greetings before Amy’s attention quickly turns to the blueberry pie. They dive into a lively discussion about cooking, swapping recipes as if they’ve known each other for years.

Leigh turns to you, her eyes shining. “I'm so glad you’re here now,” she says softly, her fingers lightly brushing against yours. Craving more contact, you gently grasp her hand and guide her to the backyard where Logan is nonchalantly marking a geranium. With no one around now, you draw Leigh close and kiss her deeply. Leigh responds just as fervently, her hand coming to rest on your waist and then squeezing, making you moan into her mouth. She takes advantage of the moment, slipping her tongue in. Her other hand finds its way to your neck, pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Leigh's eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen, tempting you to lean in once more. Just as you're about to, she finally takes notice of the enormous box under your arm.

“Is that for me?”

“Yes,” you say, handing it to her. “I hope you like it.”

Leigh's eyes widen as she takes her gift, her excitement further lighting up her soulful green eyes.

“I've got something for you too,” she says, giving the box a little shake. “It's upstairs in my bedroom. Want to get it now?”

You shake your head, matching her giddy smile. “Maybe later. If you take me to your bedroom now, I can't promise we'll be back in time for dinner,” you say.

Leigh chuckles. Honestly, she feels the same way. “Well then, can I open this now?” she asks.

“Absolutely! Go ahead. I really hope you like it.”

Leigh quickly starts unwrapping your gift, her fingers deftly tearing through the wrapping paper. As the paper falls away, her eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the Lego typewriter.

“Oh my gosh, it's perfect! Thank you so much!” She carefully places it on the ground before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You're welcome,” you whisper, circling your arms around her waist and pulling her close.

When she pulls back, her eyes are brimming with happiness and something deeper—pure, unfiltered love. She stares at you, her gaze soft and intense, as if she's seeing you for the first time.

“I can't believe you remembered,” she says, referring to a conversation you had weeks prior. “This means so much to me.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

Something in your words strikes a chord within her. Without thinking, she blurts out, “Come with me to Matt's comic book tour.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said. But she doesn't take it back; instead, she buries her face in your neck, breathing in your scent. With each breath, she finds the idea of being apart from you increasingly unbearable.

“I want you to be there with me,” she continues with more conviction. “I can't imagine doing this without you.”

She pulls back slightly, needing to see your reaction. In your eyes, she finds the same depth of love she feels for you, mirrored back at her.

“As you wish,” you whisper, leaning in to seal your promise with a kiss.

-

Dinner is a success, largely due to Amy's and your mom's excellent cooking skills. The pasta prepared by Leigh and Jules wasn't a total disaster, but it had its mishaps. After the first batch turned too soggy—practically mush—Jules had to dash out in the middle of dinner to buy another pack of pasta.

Leigh’s father made a brief appearance with his new family, stirring a bit of awkwardness between the exes. Luckily, your mother defused the tension by suggesting a family game. It wasn’t long before laughter filled the room, with Jules energetically shouting clues at those struggling to guess the words on their foreheads.

In the middle of the game, Leigh volunteers to do the dishes. You offer to help, but Jules quickly drags you out of your seat to be the next one to guess the word. While you’re preoccupied, your mom quietly slips out of the living room and follows Leigh into the kitchen.

Leigh is surprised to see your mom. “I've got this,” she assures her with a polite smile. Despite your mom having considerably warmed up to her, Leigh still feels a bit anxious in her presence.

Your mom simply picks up some dinnerware that has already been washed and starts wiping them dry with a towel. “Do you know why Y/N became a veterinarian?” she asks casually.

Leigh smiles, recalling your story about Max, the first animal you ever helped. “Yes, she told me about rescuing a pup. It was really touching,” she says, her eyes softening at the memory.

Your mom observes Leigh, who has already returned to busily washing the dishes. “That’s right. But there’s more to it,” she says.

Leigh stops what she’s doing and tilts her head. “What do you mean by that?” she asks.

“Y/N did get into veterinary school,” your mom begins, placing a dry plate on the stack. “But she dropped out after the first semester. She had this deep-seated dream of traveling the world.”

Leigh listens attentively, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Her father and older brother are both veterinarians, running a small clinic in our town. Naturally, they encouraged her to follow the same path,” your mom continues, “and while she loved animals, she also wanted to explore every corner of the world ever since she was a kid.”

Leigh's hands pause in the sudsy water as she absorbs every word.

“Her father gave her his blessing, and off she went. She traveled the world for two years.”

“What brought her back?” Leigh asks.

Your mom takes a deep breath, her knuckles whitening as she grips the towel more tightly. “H-Her father and brother were killed in a car accident,” she says, each word seeming to be painfully forced out of her.

Leigh's hand flies to her mouth in horror. “Oh no, I... I didn’t know,” she stammers, feeling a rush of guilt and confusion. Why hadn’t this crucial detail come up before?

“It was a terrible time,” your mom says quietly, “but it brought her back home.”

Leigh is silent, guilt gnawing at her for not knowing such a significant detail of your life. She’s been so caught up in sharing her own thoughts and plans, and you’ve always been the listener, never pressing her to ask about your past. She realizes now how little she’s asked about your family.

Leigh abandons her chore altogether. “W-What happened then?”

“After the accident, without their expertise, we couldn't keep the clinic running,” your mom replies, her voice steadier now but still tinged with sadness. “We had to put it up for sale. It was devastating to lose what they had worked so hard for.

“For a long time, Y/N was depressed. She blamed herself for not being there in the last two years, for putting her own interests first. And with the clinic gone, she felt like she had failed to preserve their legacy.”

Leigh is at a loss for words, her eyes growing bleary. “I’m—” 

“Being a housewife all those years, I suddenly found myself needing to help put food on the table so Y/N could go back to school,” your mom explains. “For a year, she was just a shell of herself, hardly the vibrant person you know now.”

Needing a moment to process all these revelations, Leigh moves to the dining table and sits down. Her legs feel weak at the thought of you being so heartbroken. She knows grief all too well. Losing one person she loved nearly destroyed her; she can't imagine losing two at once.

“Y/N is the most… beautiful, wonderful and well-adjusted person I know,” Leigh says after a while. “I wouldn't have guessed she went through all that.”

“My daughter is a miracle,” your mom states with a soft smile.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” Leigh says sincerely.  “It means a lot to understand what she’s been through.”

Your mom nods and says, “I'm not telling you this just because you're her girlfriend. I'm telling you because I know she’s planning to follow you and leave her practice here in LA behind.”

Leigh's breath hitches as she takes it all in. Learning about your father and brother, she realizes she nearly forgot what she asked of you just hours ago. It's not just a job or a business you're leaving behind—it's a dream that keeps their memory alive, a part of you where they still live on.

“Please, don't ask her to leave everything behind,” your mom says, her voice almost pleading. “Just promise her that you'll come back for her.”

It’s not an easy promise to make—or keep. The mere uncertainty of what lies ahead holds her back. She can't stand the idea of breaking a promise to you or betraying your trust in any way.

Leigh's silence stretches on, and your mom speaks again. “If you can't promise to come back for her, just end it. Don't let it drag on. She's tougher than she knows. It'll hurt, but she won't be alone—I'll be there, and so will her friends and coworkers.”

Leigh balks at her. “I don't want to rush into a decision.”

But your mom isn't listening. Her concern cuts through her caution, compelling her to share more. “After we lost half our family, she was never the same. She’d sacrifice everything for someone she loves, always skeptical of a second chance. She loves like there's no tomorrow.”

It’s the one thing your mother said tonight that rings truest about you. You do love as if it's the last thing you'll ever do.

Before Leigh can respond, Amy walks in, sensing the tension immediately. “Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes darting between Leigh and your mom.

Leigh suddenly realizes she's been crying, and so has your mom. Your mother excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Amy looking concerned and bewildered.

“What was that about?” Amy asks.

Leigh, shaken and overwhelmed, struggles to speak. “I-I need to get the gifts for everyone. They're upstairs,” she stammers, then quickly heads to the bedroom, needing to escape and collect herself.

Amy watches Leigh leave, then reaches for the blueberry pie, trying not to read too much into the haunted look in her daughter’s eyes.

-

It’s a cold January evening when Leigh finally gathers the courage to talk to you. Your mother flew back to Maine three days after Boxing Day, and the rest of the holidays passed by in pure bliss. The two of you are curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, the remnants of dinner still on the coffee table. She’s been avoiding this conversation, clinging to the hope that something might change. But the more she thinks about the family you lost when you were younger, the more convinced she becomes that your mother was right.

“Can we talk?” Leigh’s voice is soft, almost drowned out by the movie playing in the background.

You mute the TV and turn to her, a look of concern immediately crossing your face. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future,” Leigh says slowly.

It doesn’t immediately ring any alarm bells in your head, but your heart starts to race. “Okay…” you murmur. You can't help but notice her hands twisting nervously in her lap. You reach out to steady them, and as she looks up, her resolve breaks.

“I love you. You mean the world to me, but…I don’t know if it’s right for you to come with me.”

You frown, eyebrows stitched together in confusion and denial. “Leigh, what are you talking about?”

She looks away, her hands slipping from your grasp as she inches further into her corner of the couch. “I can’t be the reason you give up everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she says.

“I’m not,” you reassure her, trying to keep calm. “It’s just for a little while, right? Less than six months on tour. And it's not like we'll be non-stop; the schedule allows breaks. We can come back home in between. We’ve discussed this, remember? We have a plan in place.”

Leigh grows quiet, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. She takes a long breath through her nose, as if preparing herself for something even harder to say. “That's the thing,” she whispers. “I might not come back.”

Everything around you stills.

“What do you mean, you might not come back?”

Leigh’s eyes remained glued to the floor. “For the longest time, I’ve thought about leaving. Now that Jules is embarking on her own trip to Vietnam, and Mom is planning a long vacation in Europe, it feels like the best time to explore what's out there.”

“Leigh, we've been planning this together. It's just a tour. We'll be back,” you reiterate in frustration, starting to grasp at straws.

She merely shakes her head. “Everything about this place reminds me of Matt—both the good and the bad memories. Maybe I—”

“Great. The Matt card again,” you snap.

Leigh bristles at your comment. She stands abruptly and begins to pace. Seething. “Card?” she retorts sharply. “This is my life, my pain—”

“And you’ve just been running away from it all!” you counter, standing up too. “Running away from me!”

“Didn't you?” she fires back, her voice breaking. 

“What—”

“Didn't you do the same thing when you lost your—” Leigh can't finish the sentence. It hurts too much to even say it.

You take a step back, shocked. “How did you—”

“Your mom told me.”

The room certainly feels like it's closing in. Unable to stand any longer, your legs give out, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in your hands and massaging your temples. Leigh watches you for a moment, then sits beside you. She reaches out tentatively but pulls back, unsure of what to say or do.

Your hands fall away from your face, and you turn to her, your eyes filled with pain and betrayal. “You learned about me losing my dad and my brother, and your response is to... leave me as well?”

Leigh's eyes fill with tears again, and she looks away, unable to hold your gaze. “It’s not like that,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“What if I promise that the clinic will be okay? Foreman can manage things while I’m away, I trust him,” you suggest, your voice wavering as the reality of the situation starts to consume you.

Leigh shakes her head, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can't,” she murmurs. “I can’t feel good about myself knowing I'm pulling you away from something important to you.”

“But you're what's important to me, Leigh,” you argue weakly.

“That’s not how it works, Y/N,” Leigh says, trying to fight more tears threatening to spill over. “It’s too imbalanced. We don’t need a relationship where one of us is sacrificing too much. That’s not healthy for either of us.”

You sit in stunned silence, her words sinking in. You've always been willing to sacrifice for the people you love, but now you see how it could be a burden for Leigh. 

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, the words sticking in your throat. “And you think the best for us is to be apart?”

She nods reluctantly. “I think the best for you is to not have to choose between your love and your life's work. I can't ask you to put anything on hold, not for me.”

“But I choose you, Leigh,” you say, tears now streaming down your face. “Doesn't that count for something?”

Leigh can’t help herself any longer. She moves closer, needing to comfort you despite being the source of your pain.

“It does,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears with her thumb. “It counts for everything. But I need to know that you're not losing yourself to be with me. I can't live with that.”

With that, she pulls you close. You hold each other tightly, falling asleep on the narrow sofa, clinging to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything.

But by the time the sun has risen high in the sky, Leigh is already gone.

-

There are days when you feel bitter about Leigh deciding to break up with you, especially with weeks still left before the tour begins. You oscillate between anger at her decision and a reluctant acceptance that it might have been the right choice for both of you. More often than not, the anger prevails, leading you to drink yourself to sleep, only to wake up the next day to discover that nothing has changed.

Leigh is still leaving.

-

To your surprise, Amy willingly provides you with Leigh's flight itinerary out of Los Angeles. In the days leading up to her departure, you find yourself constantly formulating and discarding plans. Will you show up at the airport and whisk her away? Convince her to change her mind? Perhaps even show up with your own suitcase, ready to join her if you can persuade her at the last minute that she’s making a huge mistake?

Ultimately, none of your scenarios play out. However, you do find yourself at the airport, arriving ten minutes before her boarding gate closes. There, you spot Leigh standing in the lobby with a small suitcase. In that instant, you feel like you’ve accepted—for real this time—her decision to do this on her own.

You watch from the shadows as her gaze darts around as if searching for someone. Your heart swells with a mix of hope and sorrow, realizing she might be looking for you. You stay hidden, watching as she pulls out her phone and dials a number. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. With your eyes still on her, you answer it.

“Hey, it's me,” Leigh starts awkwardly, as if implying that you might not remember how she sounds. You haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.

“I know it's you,” you reply softly.

“I'm about to board,” she says, and you can hear the reluctance in her voice.

“I see,” you say, struggling to contain the emotions that might slip through the cracks of your nonchalance. “Did you pack some food for the flight?”

She laughs, a tearful sound that squeezes your heart. “Yes, I picked up some donuts.”

“Sounds unhealthy, Ms. Shaw. Try to order some broccoli in-flight,” you tease her lightly.

“I hate broccoli,” she deadpans, her voice layered with a stubbornness you know well.

Then, she asks the harder questions, “Where are you? What are you doing?”

You mull it over, caught between honesty and the need to protect her decision. “I'm just hanging out in the clinic,” you lie, unwilling to reveal that you are there, watching her last moments before departure. “Will you call me when you land?”

She sounds like she wants to protest, but you cut in, “I need to know you're safe. It would really help me to know you're okay out there.”

After a few seconds, she agrees softly, “Okay, I'll call.”

“I’ll wait,” you say. “However long it takes,” you add, leaving the meaning of those words open for her to interpret.

They announce final boarding.

“Listen, I—I have to go,” Leigh says quickly. “Please, take care. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Leigh,” you manage to say, your voice catching as you watch her walk away.

You end the call and pocket your phone. Watching her wipe away a tear and head towards her gate is almost too much to bear. You allow yourself a moment, a small smile playing on your lips, proud of her courage and saddened by her departure. You’ll be waiting for her call, but if it never comes, you'll understand. These moments don't erase the past several months you've spent getting to know Leigh.

And you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

-

At exactly ten in the evening, Leigh calls you from Boston.

[nadvs]

i’m ugh i love your take on angst. but twins are usually born early, so when you’re in labor rafes on an away game and you’re going through most of it by yourself

aaa thank you!! omg exactly what i was picturing 🤭

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe’s stomach sinks when he gets the phone call.

he’s boarding his team’s jet after an away game. it was the last away game he told management he could do until the birth of his twins, refusing to be out of town when they arrive.

especially because he was traded at the start of the season, moving them even farther away from their hometown. she doesn’t have anyone else close by to help her if she goes into labor.

she’s seven months and three weeks along. the doctors told them multiple births tend to come early. he agreed to do this one last away game, confident he’d make it.

but now, he’s an hour flight away when he gets the call from his girlfriend that she’s having contractions and on her way to the hospital in an ambulance.

he feels like an idiot for taking this risk. for assuming it’d be fine. because now he’s completely and utterly powerless, having to sit on a plane and wait and hope he makes it there before his babies do.

he calls her the second they land, but she doesn’t answer. the call goes straight to voicemail. in the cab, he calls her a few more times. nothing. her phone must have died.

when he runs up to the hospital desk asking where she is, he realizes he’s nearly heaving while the woman at the front desk searches through the system.

finally, he gets a floor and a room number, and he runs up the stairs and through the hallways until he gets to the door he’s been dreaming about coming through for the last two hours.

she looks up when she hears the door creak open. rafe drops the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder and rushes to her. it hasn’t happened yet.

“i’m not too late?” he says, panting.

“no,” she says, looking utterly miserable. she winces as another contraction hits her, squeezing her eyes shut.

“is it hurting?” he grips her hand, her fingers digging into the back of his hand.

she can’t even speak through the pain, trying to breathe through it.

rafe has never felt worse in his life. she’s been here, without him, in pain, all because he made a bad call.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “squeeze my hand as hard as you need to. i deserve it.”

she climbs over the harshest spike of pain, then starts to breathe more evenly as the contraction fades away.

“they keep checking, but i’m not dilated enough,” she tells him. “it’s like my body won’t cooperate.”

“can i get you anything?” he asks anxiously.

“i’m just so glad you made it,” he says.

“i’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been alone.” rafe dips his forehead against her fist closed around his hand.

she bites her lip, her head resting on her pillow. it’s been a nightmare, dealing with the agony and anxiety that she’d be surrounded by strangers during the scariest thing she thinks she’s ever gone through.

her obgyn isn’t on shift, so somebody she doesn’t know will be delivering the babies. she was terrified she’d have to do this without rafe. she looks over at her boyfriend as he kisses her knuckles over and over.

“is this dad?” the nurse says as she comes in.

“yes,” she breathes.

“amazing,” she says cheerfully. “mom is doing great. she’s tough.”

rafe nods, glancing over at his girl, wondering if there’s anything he can do to make up for not being here.

“i’m going to have the doctor on call come in to check up on you again in a few minutes. you still okay without the epidural?”

“yes,” she says.

“just give us a ring if you need us, okay?”

rafe kisses the back of her hand again as the nurse scurries out of the room.

“you seeing how long you can go without it?” he asks, remembering her telling him she was going to only go for the epidural when she was desperate.

“yeah, but i don’t know how much…” she says. “distract me. how was the game?”

“106-88,” he tells her. “easy. they were weak.”

“then why’d you let them get 88 points?” she teases with a small smile.

he stares at her, his gaze heartbroken.

“i’m so sorry i wasn’t here,” he tells her.

“the nurses and doctors have been great,” she says. “they gave me food and water and all the ice chips i could ask for. i’m okay. i was just so scared you wouldn’t make it.”

“i bribed the cab driver to speed,” he admits.

she laughs for the first time in hours.

when the doctor comes to check on her, he tells her she’s still not dilated enough but her blood pressure is getting high, but they’ll keep monitoring.

fifteen minutes later, the doctor checks again and tells her they have no choice but to do a c-section.

it’s all a blur, being rushed to the operating room, prepped for surgery, administered the epidural, feeling the twins kicking her.

once rafe can hold her hand again, he doesn’t let go of her. strangers in scrubs surround her, speaking their jargon, while her strokes her hand with his thumb, whispering to her how much he loves her and how he’ll never leave her side.

their son is born first. they clean him up while delivering their daughter, and when she feels her children resting on her bare chest, she cries in pure disbelief.

rafe kisses her forehead, calling her perfect, their babies perfect, promising that he’ll never leave their side. he can’t believe how close he was to missing this. he’d never forgive himself if he did.

they move to a recovery room. rafe feels helpless watching the hospital staff move through the motions, but once she can rest, the twins swaddled next to each other in a bassinet, he feels like he can breathe again.

in that small moment of quiet, he stands by the bed, seeing the love of his life’s eyelids slowly fluttering after living through such a hard process, seeing the two most perfect babies in the world sleeping next to each other, and tears of awe and happiness well in his eyes.

this is wealth. whatever he thought made him feel fortunate and rich before doesn’t compare to this. the three beautiful beings he’s gazing at right now are all that will ever truly matter to him.

[duachai]

MR. CORAZÓN - TAEMIN | SHINEE

M/n, a BPM trainee gets handpicked personally by his idol to be his backup dancer for an upcoming tour. As the two get closer, M/n learns the importance of taking care of his body, and so does Taemin.

I need you to hold it 'til you can't, I'll reward you

♱ PAIRING : LEE TAEMIN X MALE READER ♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes. ♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : Last chapter was a text chapter, if you want to read it you have to read it on wattpad since the format doesn't translate. But you can do without it, but for some more context.

LINKS : Wattpad

Training under BPM Entertainment wasn’t the easiest career M/n could have chosen. There were so many other options for him. His parents wanted him to be a doctor or lawyer, his school friends were working at restaurants and fast food chains around the city, and others his age aimed for content creators or influencers. But M/n wanted to dance.

Dancing was his calling. His life’s purpose, he would say.

For him, dancing was his stress reliever, something that would make him happy no matter what. That’s why when he found out his biggest inspiration and honestly, his celebrity crush, Lee Taemin, would be signing with his company, he nearly fell out.

“Dude, you know Taemin is coming in today? He’s going to lead our dance class, and oh my God, do you think it’s lame if I ask him to make a TikTok with me?”

M/n chuckled, “You’re so easily impressed, Chanwoo. He’s not even here yet.”

Today, was Taemin’s first day he had free with the new company, and he chose to specifically work with the trainees. And on top of that, it was a rumor some trainees would get promoted to work with him for his re-debut EP.

M/n leaned against the mirror after putting his dance bag off to the side. Nest to him, Chanwoo stretched his arms to prepare himself for class. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, M/n. We could get closer to our favs even faster than it would take for us to debut!”

“It’s just the fast route if you ask me. And it’s probably not permanent,” M/n whined, but even though his words came out nonchalant, he still had a bit of hope in the back of his mind. Maybe this was his break, a chance to get his face out there.

The next hour, the normal dance teacher began proper stretch instruction. For the next half an hour, the talk of Taemin coming dwindled as the end of the class came near. 

“I can’t believe he didn’t come. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that choreo.” Chanwoo whined, stomping his feet and he dragged his body in defeat.

M/n followed behind dragging his feet as he rolled his neck and worked the kinks out of his neck. He wasn’t as nearly disappointed as his friend, but a part of him wished that maybe Taemin would come and check him out, as selfish as it sounded.

“Anyways, where should we go eat today? My mom brought some kimchi this morning, but I’m sick of it.”

“You should be thankful you have a mom to bring you kimchi, Woo.” M/n sulked, head still draped down as he kicked his feet.

“Uh, you might want to pause those lunch plans,” A voice said. M/n looked up and another trainee awkwardly tugged at his hair, “M/n, you’re being summoned.”

Being summoned was one of the nerve-racking things any trainee went through. It only meant a few things. Best case scenario, you were being picked to debut early. Worst was… you were going home.

M/n was in limbo about the reason for his summon as he stood in the elevator alone. Everything he did over the last few weeks was analyzed in his mind. Did he mess up a choreo? Does his body need to be more fit? Was he lagging behind?

His whole head spun and he started to get dizzy. How was he supposed to go back to his parents and explain he got dropped from what they called, “A silly dream.” At the sound of the elevator’s ding, it was time to face his worst fear. Or so he thought.

The hallway to the director’s office seemed longer than any other hallway in the building. M/n rubbed his moist hands on his sweatpants, adjusting his hoodie to seem more neat.

As he stepped to the director’s door, he could see in the glass panel door there were multiple people inside. Then he realized, this wasn’t a demotion party, this was a meeting of some sort.

“M/n?” His name was called out by a familiar voice. His dance teacher.

“Oh, uh, hi,” M/n bowed respectfully, still so very confused.

“What are you doing standing out here, go in!” The teacher rushed a smile on his lips. Either this was a super encouraging way to tell someone they were getting sent home or something bigger was around the corner for M/n.

M/n pushed the door to the room open, now he could see a clear view of the people inside. The director of course at the head of the table, then his wife who was his co-director, a few managers M/n had never met, the dance teacher taking a seat closest to the door, the trainee advisor, and well… Taemin.

M/n froze up, are all these people here to see him? This meeting seemed way too elite for him to even step foot inside.

“Shin M/n, right? Go ahead and sit down,” the director pointed at a seat down the front of the table. A seat right across from the star legend.

M/n spent a few minutes staring at the wooden glossed-over table, a few papers passing down his way. A couple of times he looked up, locked eyes with Taemin then looked away like a startled puppy.

“Okay, so before we get started, how about I let our trainee introduce himself. M/n, go ahead and stand so everyone can see you.”

M/n reluctantly stood up, feeling so small in a room where everyone was looking intently. “Um, Hi, my name is Shin M/n. I’m from the US. And I’ve been a train for about a year and a half now.”

“Ok and, tell us why you want to be a K-pop idol, M/n.”

Hearing this question M/n drew in a sharp breath. He’d answered this question about a hundred times, but now it was all something cringe and mush in his head in a room full of people where it mattered.

But then he realized, he mattered too.

—

“Okay! Run the song back, M/n.”

Hustling toward the Bluetooth speaker to restart the song the fifth time that night, M/n quickly reset the song and then ran back to his starting point. The song started, Taemin’s voice coming in smooth and sultry as the sensual and iconic beat, “Move” filled M/n and his partner’s ears.

They had been practicing the duo choreography for hours now, but the more they attempted the more frustrated his partner, Misun, got at him.

“Fuck it!” Misun let go of M/n and stomped towards the practice room door with his bag, “I don’t care if you don’t get it right, I’ll switch partners. You won’t embarrass me in front of the whole world.”

M/n took in a deep breath, as he pulled his hair. He was frustrated too. Misun had quit on him a thousand times during their time together. But now, their deadline was coming in close and the tour was not far away. The whole thing was just stressful.

Just as he was about to pack up, he heard a knock at the door. Taemin popped his head around the door frame with a smile, “Knock knock.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t know you were here!” M/n said, startled and embarrassed.

Taemin stepped closer to the dancer, “I saw Misun storm out while I was passing by, and wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” M/n lied, thinking that knew that one of his dancers was lacking this skill and was dancing with two left feet after being picked solely for his dancing, he would be upset.

“No, no, you’re lying.” Taemin said with a pout, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

M/n sighed as he took a seat on the floor next to his bags against the mirror, Taemin sitting right next to him.

“Misun and I… just don’t seem like good partners. I know we’re meant to get what we get and don’t throw a fit like the director said, but working with her is like working with an untrained house cat. One day she’s encouraging, the next she’s clawing at me and everything I do.”

Taemin chuckled, “It’s like that. Working with others can be a lottery. But it’s nothing a little resilience can’t handle,” Taemin reached over and covered his hand with M/n’s resting on his knee, “You're a great performer, you hold yourself up better than most. You just have to believe in yourself. Because I already know I do.”

—

Taemin’s words rang in M/n’s head every second. It made him smile maniacally in the middle of conversations. After their talk, Taemin started monitoring M/n and Misun’s practices, making notes, and helping fix some mistakes. After Misun would leave, Taemin and M/n would go out and get food or drinks.

Their relationship grew closer and closer to the point where M/n had to ask himself, was he falling in love with his idol?

The deadline was due. It was the day everyone learned if they were going on tour with Taemin or being left behind. It was yet another nerve-racking day at the studio where everyone gathered to hear the results.

But when the director came in, everyone’s heart was crushed into tiny little pieces.

“Unfortunately, the tour has been canceled,” He announced, everyone’s shoulders slumping as questions started to form in everyone’s mouths. “I know, I know. But it’s impossible to continue on. Taemin was in an accident that sprained his ankle, so he’ll be taking a rest for a few weeks. He might even need a month to get back to his healthy self.”

As everyone whined about the loss of their gig, M/n’s lips pursed at the thought of Taemin being in an accident to cause him this much pain. The whole rest of the day M/n was anxious about Taemin, thinking of ways he could make sure he was alright.

But as he was sulking outside, a manager approached him. “M/n, M/n! Hey, I’ve got a super emergency, but I need to get this food and meds to Taemin. Could you possibly take it to someone else to give it to him?”

It was more like a request because before M/n could respond the bags were in his hand and the manger was off to his car. M/n stood there stumped for a second before smiling, this was his opportunity to go see Taemin.

It took about an hour to convince a staff to let him go see Taemin personally, he made up some bullshit about him being asked specifically to do this task, and if they didn’t help they’d have to answer to the director. It was stupid, but it worked.

M/n’s legs felt like complete jelly as he walked to Taemin’s apartment door. Traveling in Korea was nothing like the US, and even though he spent so much time there already it never felt to humble him as he got winded every time.

While catching his breath he might have accidentally walked into the door because a few moments later, Taemin opened the door slightly to see a hunched-over M/n clutching his chest.

“M/n? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” M/n said instantly lifting and straightening himself up, “What, oh yeah, I’m totally fine! H-Here… medicine.” M/n exclaimed, awkwardly handing Taeming the bags of convenience store foods and painkillers.

Confused, but concerned about M/n, Taemin opened the door more and stepped to the side, “Come in, you look like you could use some AC and water.”

Resting on the couch together, M/n watched as Taemin devoured his meal as if he hadn’t eaten for days. M/n giggled at the food filling in Taemin’s mouth, stuffing his cheeks like a tiny squirrel.

“You’ve got something there,” M/n chuckled, extending his arm over to Taemin’s face as a bit of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. M/n’s thumb swiped over Taemin’s lips to catch the rice. Stunned, Taemin froze as M/n lifted his hand to his own mouth, parted his lips, and sucked the flavor off it.

There was something so sensual about that movement, in Taemin’s mind everything was in slo-mo, M/n eyes gazing right into his almost like a seductive taunt. An invite.

Tempted, Taemin’s arm snaked up to M/n’s wrist and he pushed himself atop of M/n, hands now above him, “Is this what you want?” A shiver ran down M/n’s spine, his question burning his skin up. Is cozying up close with your idol really the move? But at this point, Taemin was more than just a celebrity. He was a muse, a sexy muse. But was this a mistake?

“I want to, I do. I just-”

“Thinking about if people will find out?” Taemin said, cutting out M/n’s concerns for display like he was inside his brain. But Taemin reassured M/n with a kiss on the forehead and a sentence that would change their relationship forever.

“Follow your body, it knows you want my touch.”

It didn’t take long for the two to be stumbling into the bedroom in each other’s arms, sloppy kisses and clothes parting with skin onto the floor.

As Taemin sat M/n down on the bed, his tongue worked around in his mouth as one of his hands lightly tilted the dancer’s chin up, the other wrapped around his neck gently squeezing.

“Look at me, baby,” Taemin sang pulling back away from M/n who whined slightly at the loss of the heat on his lips.

“I got you tonight.”

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 7 The Past

Summary: Memories of the past suspended in time. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 6k Warnings: *THIS CONTAINS SERIES SPOILERS* Pre-Outbreak AU, mentions of past trauma, mentions of loss and grief, mild violence, language, mentions of alcohol, yearning, angst A/N: Dare I say, this is my favorite chapter yet. If you haven't connected the pieces by now, then this will answer every question you've had. There were so many signs along the way, and I encourage you to go back and find each and every one. I know this doesn't soothe the heartbreak of the cliffhanger but please know this chapter is IMPORTANT. And we can all agree that Joel is the STANDARD. * I want to thank @loonmartell for helping me navigate this idea and creating a beautiful story that is slowly coming to fruition. You are truly a mastermind, and I give you all my thanks and love*

Masterlist | Ko-fi

~Three and a half years ago~

Joel paced the waiting room, consumed with guilt and anger. He shouldn’t have let you leave that night. Bennett had called you asking to meet for dinner under the guise of wanting to give back the things he still had been holding onto. Joel should have gone with you, should have told you to stay, should have broken Bennett’s jaw. Joel couldn’t have forced you to stay; he knew you needed closure. After the downfall of your relationship with Bennett, you deserved answers.

Whatever happened between leaving his house and the accident would remain a mystery, and Joel was ready to track Bennett down to find out the truth, but right now, all that mattered was you. 

Your mom rounded the corner, followed by the doctor, both of their faces grim. Joel’s knees threatened to buckle under him, the worst possible scenarios running through his head. 

“How is she? Is she alright?” He asked, the words jumbled together and confused.

The doctor raised a hand to slow Joel’s frenzy, and your mom’s eyes stared at the floor.

“She’s awake,” the doctor started. “But there were some… complications. We just finished taking her for some tests, and we’ve determined she’s sustained a form of retrograde amnesia.”

“She can’t remember the crash?” Joel questioned. He swiped his sweaty palms over the denim of his jeans, anxiety bubbling in his chest.

“After analyzing her CT scans and running some cognitive tests, it looks like she’s lost a large chunk of her memory,” the doctor explained.

“How large are we talkin’, doc? A few months?”

Your mom stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. 

“She asked for Bennett when she woke up,” she whispered. 

“What the hell does that mean?” Joel snapped. 

“She has no recollection of the last two years,” the doctor said.

Joel staggered back, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening.

“You’re tellin’ me she has no memory of me?” Joel shouted. 

“Joel, calm down,” your mom hushed, her eyes darting around the crowded waiting room. 

“Calm down?” He echoed. “Jesus, she doesn’t fuckin’ remember me! I need to see her. I need to—I need to tell her.”

The doctor stepped forward, a frown creasing his face.

“It’s imperative that we don’t disrupt her current condition. Any interference with her memory may cause more complications with the amnesia. If we force these forgotten memories on her, it’ll cause too much stress on her brain and ultimately lead to permanent damage. If we want her to regain her memory, we need to wait.”

“How long?” Joel pleaded. “How long do I need to wait?”

“We don’t know,” the doctor sighed. “With amnesia this serious, it could take weeks or even years. There’s no way to determine the timeline right now.”

Joel’s anger flared up, and he slammed his fist into the wall beside him. The pain radiating up his knuckles and hand was nothing in comparison to the pain splintering inside his chest. He was losing you, and you didn’t even realize it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Miller,” the doctor said. “I know this isn’t easy, but it’s what’s best for her and her recovery right now.”

“But she doesn’t—.” Joel couldn’t get the words out. 

He crumpled to the ground with his head in his hands—two years' worth of memories together gone in a matter of seconds. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t know Joel loved you; you didn’t remember that you loved him. 

“Joel, sweetie,” your mom cautioned, crouching beside Joel. “You said she was with Bennett before the crash, right?”

Joel lifted his head and glared at your mom through teary eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded that Bennett had returned; he didn’t want to fathom the idea of him being in your life again.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously thinkin’ about tellin’ him all this,” Joel said. “Y’know what he’s like with her. I can’t let her go and watch her be with him.”

“We need to contact him at least and tell him. If she thinks they’re still together…we must maintain that memory. We have to try. If it’s something Bennett wants and is willing to do, then we have to. I know you want to tell her everything, but her brain is so fragile right now. It’ll scare her, and I can’t risk losing my daughter entirely. Joel, I need you to understand what's best for her.”

“And y’all seriously think Bennett is what’s best for her?” Joel laughed bitterly.

“Of course we don’t, honey. The thought of Bennett comin’ back around kills me, but what if there’s a chance her memory will return sooner than we think? She won’t have to keep him in her life forever, but only until everything comes back to her.”

“And what if it doesn’t? Y’expect me to watch the woman of my dreams love another man? What if one day they get married? Or have kids? I’m supposed to pretend like none of this ever happened?” 

Christ, the thought of that made Joel sick. He didn’t want to see you continue the rest of your life with a man who didn’t treat you right. He couldn’t do this… He couldn’t stomach this plan. 

“Joel, listen to me,” your mom hissed, grabbing him by the collar. “We need to play the long game, okay? I’m not giving up hope on my daughter, and I know you won’t either. You love her, don’t you?”

Joel nodded helplessly, mouthing the word ‘yes.’

“Then wait for her. It won’t be easy for any of us, but we all need to want this. I’ll talk to my husband and the girls about this, and we’ll work through all the details. Lying isn’t easy, but it might be what ends up saving her memory.”

That night, Bennett showed up at the hospital. 

Joel wasn’t in his right mind when Bennett walked into the waiting room. The moment he saw his smug grin and floppy blonde hair, Joel lost it. 

“Motherfucker!” Joel yelled, sending his fist straight into Bennett’s jaw. 

Bennett reeled over, staggering back into a waiting room chair, while your dad pulled Joel away. A murmur of voices among the other bystanders dragged Joel from his vengeful haze, and he stared at Bennett unamused. He wanted to see him suffer the way he had been suffering. 

Bennett worked his jaw back and forth, glaring at Joel as he sat beside your mom. 

“This is the thanks I get for agreeing to meet with you guys?” Bennett huffed. 

“It’s your fault she’s in that fuckin’ bed,” Joel snapped. 

His body still thrummed with unbridled rage, his hands shaking at his sides. Stella, Beth, and your parents were all gathered around the waiting room, taking their respective spots in one of the chairs. Joel couldn’t sit. He didn’t want to be any part of this. 

“Joel,” your dad snapped. “Cool it.”

Joel folded his arms over his chest, staring daggers at Bennett as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Your mom leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. 

“Bennett, we need to know what happened before the accident,” she pleaded. “Joel said she was with you, so what happened?”

Bennett shrugged, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. 

“I asked her to come back,” he said plainly, as if it were that simple. Joel seethed, his body twitching as he tried not to hit Bennett again. 

“Why?” Beth interjected. “You don’t even fucking like my sister. Why would you do that?”

“I do like your sister,” Bennett argued. “I told her I had made a mistake and that I wanted to try to make things work.”

Beth rolled her eyes, a scowl forming on her face. 

“You waited almost two years to make that discovery?” She cackled. “What actually happened?”

Bennett lifted a hand to his jaw, massaging the reddening skin as he quirked a brow at Joel. He was playing with fire; Joel just needed one more reason, and he’d kill Bennett on the spot.

“I told her to meet me for dinner to talk,” Bennett explained. “I still had a few of her stupid books she left behind, so I figured it was a good opportunity to meet with her. I tried to explain my side of things and why I wanted to give us another shot. She just laughed at me. She took her little books and left the restaurant without hearing any more of what I had to say.”

Joel felt a strange sense of pride knowing you had laughed in Bennett’s face, but given the circumstances, it quickly faded. A bitterness flooded his tongue at the thought of you returning to the life you had with Bennett, especially when he spoke of you with such disdain. 

“Why does any of that even matter?” Bennett questioned, looking between your parents.

Your mom cleared her throat and spoke up.

“The accident she was in caused some damage to her brain,” she began. “The doctors determined she has a form of amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything from the last two years.”

Bennett’s eyes grew wide, and he slid Joel a knowing look. 

“She thinks she’s still with me,” Bennett concluded. 

Your mom gave a solemn nod, running a hand through her hair. Joel could see the stress written all over her face, and he could see the pain in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen. 

“The doctors think it’s best not to overwhelm her with the memories she’s lost. We don’t want to do this, but it may be best if she resumes the life she thinks is still intact, which means introducing you back into her life. Is that something you’re open to, Bennett?”

Bennett didn’t say a word for several minutes. All he did was stare at his hands in silent contemplation. Beth and Stella sat unmoving, and Joel caught Stella sneaking glances ever so often. Finally, Bennett turned to Joel and studied him before speaking.

“And you’re in agreement with this?” He asked.

Joel gave a single nod, though he was reluctant to do so.

“I’m willin’ to wait for her. She needs time to regain those memories, and I don’t wanna cause any stress on her if she thinks she’s still with you. Trust me, I ain’t happy ‘bout it, but I love her.”

“And if she doesn’t get those memories back?” Bennett pressed.

“Then you better make her the happiest girl in the world and never fuck things up again,” Joel frowned. “I swear I’ll hunt you down if y’ever hurt her. I love her with my whole fuckin’ heart, and I’d do anythin’ to make sure she’s happy.”

“I love her, too, you know.”

Joel had a hard time believing Bennett, but there was a seriousness in Bennett’s eyes that made Joel’s heart ache. He was giving up the one good thing in his life to someone who didn’t deserve your love. Joel was a patient man, but that didn’t stop his heart from breaking. Who knew if you’d ever remember him again? He would have to live his life knowing you may never come back and that he’d have to carry that pain with him every single day. Hope was a fickle thing, one he would rather forego if he could just tell you the truth, but this was his only option. Joel would have to give you up. And he would do it because he loved you beyond all measure. 

Your parents took Bennett to meet with the doctors to discuss your current condition and the future it would entail. Joel stayed behind with Beth and Stella, the three of them blanketed by an insurmountable pain that couldn’t be healed. 

“What if we never see you again?” Stella asked, her eyes full of tears. 

Joel sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and letting her head rest on his shoulder. She was only fifteen, but Joel knew she was aware of the gravity of the situation. Even though she was older than Sarah, he always viewed Stella like another daughter; he had watched her grow up the last two years, and Joel adored her just as much as he did for his daughter. 

“Y’gotta stay strong for me, Stell,” Joel sighed, squeezing her shoulder. “She's gonna get those memories back one day, and I’ll be right there when she does. None of y’all will ever lose me. I swear that to you.”

Stella sniffled back tears, curling into Joel’s embrace. He glanced at Beth beside him, giving her a sad smile.

“I’m trustin’ you to look out for her, okay?” He said. “She needs you more than anyone. I know you ain’t happy ‘bout all of this, and I sure as hell ain’t either, but it’s gonna be okay.”

“I don’t agree with any of this,” she grumbled. “I hate him, Joel. I hate all of this.”

“I hate it, too, Beth,” Joel said. “But I love her more, and I’m willin’ to wait for her.”

Beth exhaled, slumping back into the chair. Joel could tell she wanted to say more, but she held her tongue. Joel knew Beth’s anger ran deep for Bennett, and he hoped she’d learn to give you grace through all this. It wasn’t your fault this decision was being made. It was what they all thought was best. 

Your mom returned an hour later to gather the girls and usher them home for the rest of the night. Joel’s head was throbbing from all of the stress, and he was on edge, knowing his time with you was running out. 

“Is she asleep?” Joel asked.

“The doctors gave her a heavy sedative to help her get through the night,” your mom explained. “In the morning, they’ll run a few more tests and figure out when it’ll be okay to discharge her.”

“Can I see her?” He pleaded. “Just so I can say goodbye?” 

The words tasted like ash on his tongue. Goodbye was a word he never wanted to associate with you. He wanted the good nights and good mornings but never a goodbye.

“Of course, sweetie,” your mom said, tears slipping down her face. 

Joel realized he wasn’t just saying goodbye to you but to your family as well. A family that had welcomed him in so quickly, a family he had spent holidays with and visited in the summer, he was losing an entire group of people he loved so dearly. 

Joel thought he was strong enough to see you, but as he opened the hospital door, he realized how wrong he was. Your face was littered with cuts and bruises, your right eye swollen shut, and your hair matted down with dried blood. It took every ounce of his energy not to collapse at the sight of you lying there, and he moved on unsteady legs to your bedside. 

He barely managed to say your name as the syllables broke out in a choked sob. He took your hand, his thumb smoothing lines over your balmy skin. Tears fell onto your fingers as he lifted your hand to his mouth, crying softly as he pressed a kiss against it.

“Oh, baby,” he cried. “I love you so fuckin’ much. I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so—.”

Joel wept over your body for what felt like an eternity. He let his head hit the bed, your hand pressed against his wet cheek, inhaling the lingering scent of your perfume. Every memory with you flooded his mind: mornings spent together drinking coffee, lazy afternoons laying on the couch while you read your favorite books, weekends at the soccer fields with Sarah. 

Joel’s life had flipped upside down in the span of just a few hours, and you’d never know the decision he had to make for the sake of your health. He wasn’t the praying type, but if there were a God up there, he’d spend every night on his knees begging for you to come home to him. 

“I love you, baby,” Joel whispered. “Even if you never remember it, I’ll carry you with me forever.”

Joel leaned up to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering a second too long. He never wanted to leave this room because everything would be gone once he did. All he’d have left were the memories and an undying hope you’d wake up one day remembering his face. 

Joel spent the next two days gathering your things from his house. He piled your books into a box, along with the miscellaneous items you had littered his home with. He clung to your shirts and held them to his chest, wishing it was you in his arms. Scattered on the fridge were Polaroid pictures you had taken of Joel throughout the two years, and he slipped them away for when he was ready to relive the memories—not yet, but one day. 

Sarah came home from school and saw the boxes next to the front door, giving Joel a weary look.

“What’s happening?” She asked.

Joel crouched in front of her, taking her head in his hands. He managed to say your name without faltering and explained everything to his daughter in the simplest way he could.

“She doesn’t remember me?” Sarah murmured, her eyes welling with tears. 

Joel hadn’t realized the heartbreak Sarah would be facing, too.

“No, sweetheart,” Joel shook his head. “But one day she will, I promise. You’ll be my tough girl and help Daddy through this, alright? We’re gonna wait for her ‘cause she’s gonna come back. I promise she’ll be back one day, and she’ll be right there on the sidelines again cheerin’ you on.”

“I’m gonna miss her,” Sarah cried, crashing into Joel’s chest and wrapping him into a hug.

“I’m gonna miss her too, sweetheart.”

~ Two years ago ~

Joel’s phone rang well past midnight. Through tired eyes, he searched for it on his nightstand and prayed it was you, but an unknown number lit up the screen, and Joel’s heart stopped.

“Hello?” He answered, his voice roughened from sleep.

“I can’t do it.”

It was Bennett’s voice, frantic and shaky. Joel shot up in bed, his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What do y’mean you ‘can’t do it’?” Joel questioned.

“I—I can’t do it, man. We’re supposed to get married tomorrow, and I can’t fucking do it. She’s making me crazy. You know she says your name in her sleep? She still can’t remember shit, yet all she does is say your name when she’s sleeping. I’m losing my mind.” He was rambling through words so quickly Joel could barely keep up.

“Y’can’t just leave her like this,” Joel said. “Do y’know how much you’re gonna hurt her? You waited ‘til now to decide you didn’t wanna go through with the weddin’? Y’know how fuckin’ stupid you are?”

Bennett exhaled loudly through the receiver, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I’m never going to make her happy, and she won’t make me happy. I’m not doing this.”

Joel scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling fan, turning above the bed.

“Alright, listen,” Joel started. “You get your shit together, and you leave. Find some job in another state and never come back. She doesn’t deserve this, and she definitely doesn’t deserve the heartbreak you’re ‘bout to give her. So, you take your ass and get the fuck out of town. And I swear, if you ever come back or even try to contact her again, I will kill you. Do y’understand me? I will fuckin’ kill you.”

“You’re threatening a future lawyer?” Bennett laughed. 

“I don’t give a damn what you are, Bennett. I’ll take a gun to your head the next time I see you and not even think twice ‘bout pullin’ the trigger,” Joel threatened, speaking through clenched teeth.

“She’ll never forgive you for it,” Bennett countered. “And don’t even think about coming back into her life, either. She’s better off without either one of us. God help the next guy who tries to get with her. She’s a fucking wreck.”

Joel seethed, the room going red. How dare Bennett talk about you like this? Joel should have never left you. He should have fought harder. He should have killed Bennett before he could have ever had the chance to come back. 

“I suggest you pack your shit quick, or I’ll find you ‘fore the night is over,” Joel growled. “Get the fuck out of town, you fuckin’ piece of shit.”

Joel slammed his phone shut and slumped against the headboard. Bennett would be out of your life, but at what cost? He knew this would destroy you. God, he couldn’t even fathom the heartbreak you’d face in the morning when you arrived for the wedding. Joel didn’t even let himself imagine what you’d look like, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown. Bennett didn’t deserve you; he never did. But Joel didn’t deserve you either. You were too good for either of them. 

~ Three months ago ~ 

“Dad, I need to tell you something,” Sarah announced, walking through the front door.

She had just finished her first day of school, and Joel had gotten off work early to be home in time to hear all about it. 

The last two years had been a blur of endless work days and long nights spent drinking in the dark. He was drowning himself away in bottles of whiskey, trying to forget you and the pain that still lingered. He had considered going to you so many times to spill the truth and beg you to come back into his life. But he knew better than that. He knew you deserved a normal life without the reminder of the past. 

Joel looked up from the stove where he was cooking dinner. Sarah's face was etched with concern, and her lips trembled as she tried to speak.

“Sweetheart, what is it?” Joel panicked. 

He dropped the spatula on the counter and rushed to Sarah’s side, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“My—my teacher,” she muttered. “It’s her.”

Joel felt the world tilt on its axle, his body swaying at Sarah’s words. 

“Tell me y’didn’t say anythin’ to her,” Joel begged. 

“No, I—I didn’t. I swear. I don’t even know what I would say,” Sarah rambled. 

“Okay, alright. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Joel exhaled. He needed to sit down. 

Pulling out one of the dining chairs, Joel collapsed entirely, burying his head in his hands. Sarah rubbed a hand over his back, gently attempting to soothe him.

“Maybe this is your chance, Dad,” Sarah suggested. “It’s been enough time now. Maybe she’ll be able to handle the truth about everything.”

Joel loved Sarah’s optimism and her bright outlook on everything. Whenever Joel was ready to give up hope, Sarah was right there to guide him back. She was right, it was an opportunity to start over again, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He wouldn’t lose you twice. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it, okay?” Joel sighed. “Let me finish cookin’ dinner, and y’can tell me all ‘bout your day.”

Joel sat across from Sarah, his food untouched the entire time she talked. He had no appetite. All he wanted to do was ask her about you: what you looked like, what your voice sounded like, what books you would teach the class. He knew poetry was your favorite. You would stay up late reading together in bed. You would always chime in with little factoids or comments about the book, and Joel would always sit there listening to every word. Shakespeare was your favorite, and Joel loved watching your face scrunch with concentration as you tried to explain the meaning behind each play. When he packed up your things three and a half years ago, he secretly kept your copy of Romeo and Juliet. Sometimes, when he was drunk enough, Joel would flip through the pages just to trace over your scribbled words and annotations, just to relive a moment kept in secret between the two of you. 

Now, his daughter would experience your passion for teaching firsthand. He was a proud son of a bitch, knowing you were following your dreams. 

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice cut through Joel’s wandering thoughts.

He glanced up from his full plate and shook his head.

“Sorry, sweetheart. What did you say?”

“I was saying there’s a father-daughter dance in a couple of weeks,” she repeated. “Maybe she’ll be there. You could see her again.”

“Yeah, maybe. I gotta see if I can get ‘round work to be there.”

Joel was all too familiar with Sarah's look of disappointment; he had seen it far too often these last couple of years. His role as a father had been lacking for a while now; he was lost in the haze of losing you, so much so that he was losing himself. Unfortunately, Sarah had been the one suffering the most because of it. 

“I’ll make it work, sweetheart,” Joel decided. “I promise.”

After Sarah went to bed, Joel sat on the couch, nursing a short glass of whiskey. He stared at the liquid as he swirled it around, the amber color shimmering under the dim light of the lamp beside him. His phone lay open on his thigh, Beth’s number sitting there waiting to be dialed. Joel had barely spoken to your sister since he last saw her at the hospital, but he knew she would be his first call. 

Dialing her number, Joel took a long sip of his drink and waited.

“Joel?” Beth exhaled, her voice groggy from sleep.

“Hey, yeah.” Joel cleared his throat. “It’s me. I, um, I have some news.”

“Did she…” Beth’s voice trailed off.

“No, no. Not yet, at least. Um, Sarah’s first day of school was today, and I found out she’s her teacher. Funny how that happens, right?” 

“Wait, my sister? Actually?” Beth sounded shocked.

“Yup,” Joel sighed. “Sarah thinks I should try and talk to her, Whatdaya think?”

Beth remained silent, and Joel cleared the contents of his glass as he waited.

“I don’t know if telling her everything right away is smart,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t talked to her a lot in the past couple of years, so maybe I’m wrong.”

“Y’all haven’t talked?” Joel questioned.

“She and I haven’t spoken since the whole wedding ordeal,” she confessed. 

“Wait, why?”

Joel sat up, one hand clutching the phone, the other smoothing over the curls sticking up on the crown of his head. He never thought you and Beth would ever be on bad terms.

“I warned her about Bennett. I tried to talk her into leaving so many times, but she was so stubborn. I don’t know what he said or did to her to make her stay, but she was always at his defense. I hated seeing her with him, Joel. It should have always been you.”

“I know, Beth. I know.”

“Have you considered maybe completely starting over?” Beth asked.

“Like in what way? Datin’?”

“Yeah. Maybe introduce yourself and see where things go. She might not regain her memory, but you’d have new memories together. She deserves to be loved the right way, and you’re the one who can give her that. Take things slow and test the water. You never know.”

Joel considered the idea for a moment. It could work, but what if it didn’t? What if he completely fucked up his second chance with you? He would have to live the rest of his life knowing he lost you twice.

“You’re suggestin’ I lie to her?” Joel scoffed.

“No,” Beth argued, her voice stern. “I’m suggesting you work your charm like you did the first time and see where it goes. She loved you once before, Joel. I think she could love you again.”

Beth’s words were enough of a push for Joel actually to consider that this might work. He knew you. He knew what you liked and didn’t like; he knew every tiny piece of you so that it wouldn’t be hard to sweep you off your feet again. The only problem he had with the plan was lying. If you ever found out the truth, it would crush you. And that terrified him. He didn’t want to break your heart; Bennett had done a good enough job of it, and Joel would never be like him. He would be better. He would prove himself. 

“Do y’think your family would agree to this?” Joel asked.

“None of us ever gave up hope, Joel,” Beth sighed. “This could be a chance for all of us to get her back—to get the old version of her back. We miss her a lot.”

“I miss her, too.”

“Go get your girl, Joel. She’s waiting for you.”

Joel spent that night wide awake in bed. The idea he could have you back in his life again set his body alight with a mixture of anxiety and fear. Beth could be right; you could love him again. There was that hope that maybe he could rewrite the past and start anew, but there was also that terrible fear you could slip away from him…permanently. You never regained your memories, and there was a good chance you never would, but not taking this risk would condemn Joel to a life full of grief. He knew grief well; he had walked side by side with it for the last three and a half years. If he could just hold you for one moment and hear you say his name one more time, that would be enough.

When Joel awoke the following day, he had made up his mind; he would keep fighting for you. 

He called Maria before school began and explained it all to her. Joel knew Maria had taken the news of your accident the hardest; you and her had always been close. She was like a mother to you here in Austin. Learning how to navigate around your memory loss had been tricky for her, but Joel knew she had done right by you. 

It was no surprise when Maria squealed with excitement over the phone, meticulously creating a master plan to bring you both together again. She promised to talk you into chaperoning the father-daughter dance and vowed to continue pushing you his way. Joel had to remind Maria that he was the one in control here; he needed to be the one to make everything work. Knowing everyone was on his side and willing to help ease his mind. 

He was going to get you back. 

~ Two Months Ago ~

Joel was running late. He had forgotten entirely about the father-daughter dance, and now he was speeding through yellow lights to make it home. He promised Sarah he’d go, but if he was being honest, the thought of seeing you again made him overwhelmingly nervous. What would he say to you? What would you think of him? What if he ruined his second chance?

Bolting through the garage, Joel called out for Sarah in a rush. She came barreling down the stairs in a blur of lavender and Joel had to stop his racing thoughts to admire his daughter.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiled. “Y’look beautiful.”

“You’re late,” she frowned. “We need to go now.”

She tugged his hand back toward the garage and into the truck. While Joel grappled with the reality that he was going to see you again, Sarah was buzzing with excitement. She saw you every day at school, but this was different. She wasn’t just seeing you… she was going to see you and Joel together in the same room since before the accident. Sarah never got to say a proper goodbye when everything happened, and Joel knew it was hard for Sarah to maintain a semblance of composure every time she sat at her school desk. The memories of you two together were embedded so deep it was hard for Sarah to ignore. Before the school year, Sarah would try to talk about you with Joel from time to time, trying to cling to the nostalgia of the past. Joel knew the suffering wasn’t just his alone; Sarah lost you that day, too. 

Joel’s hands were shaking as he put the truck in park, his eyes unsteady as he tried to focus on the school's entrance. You were somewhere inside that gymnasium; he could feel it. It was like a silent call, a tug on an invisible string, an asteroid coming into orbit. You were the pull on his gravity, just beckoning him closer. 

“Dad, c’mon!” Sarah begged, unlocking the door.

She was already skipping down the parking lot before Joel could put his keys in his back pocket. He urged her to return so they could walk inside together—maybe because he needed the moral support. He had everyone on his side for this plan, but if he fucked it up, it wouldn’t just be his loss. It would be everyone’s. 

The gymnasium was covered in twinkling lights, and the basketball court transformed into a dance floor for the evening. Joel’s eyes bounced around the room, searching for you within the crowd. Through the crowd of moving bodies, he couldn’t find you. Maybe you weren’t here; maybe it was too late. 

Joel refused to be defeated this quickly and decided to remain focused on Sarah. At the end of the day, this dance was for her. He watched as she mingled with her friends, fawning over each other's dresses and gossiping about the latest drama. Joel remained on the outer edge of the dance floor, his palms damp from sweat and his pulse racing. 

The music shifted to a slow song, and Sarah quickly found Joel and pulled him onto the dancefloor. Seeing her excitement alleviated the bundle of anxiety pulsating inside his chest. He watched as her dress floated around her with every turn, the dimples on her face appearing as he continued twirling her around. The music was slowly drifting to a close, and Joel ushered Sarah in for one last spin. He couldn’t contain the smile on his face as he watched her happiness radiate into the space around him. He maneuvered himself around her twirling body and glanced up toward the side of the gym.

Everything around him ceased to exist at that moment. Amidst the blurring bodies and the chaos of voices, the world stood still. There you were, standing quietly in the shadows, your body bathed in flickering lights, like a lighthouse in the distance of a stormy sea. Joel silently pleaded for you to look at him, even for a second.

As if you heard his thoughts, your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, and it’s as if you saw him. The room melted away, and it was just you and him for the briefest moment in time. Joel swore you looked at him as if you remembered…as if you had searched the room just to find him. The erratic beating of his heart slowed, his body recognizing the strange comfort of your presence even at a distance. Every cell, every atom, every piece of himself cried out to you. 

You saw him.

And he smiled.

[meazalykov]

injury on two continents

lena oberdorf x reader (requested)

warnings: injury

If someone were to tell you a few years ago that you’d be happy with your own girlfriend, you’d think that they’re lying. 

Throughout your career, you questioned if you’d ever have time for relationships. However, Lena came into your life unexpectedly when you joined Bayern Munich in 2021. 

She was your opponent during a game between your club and Wolfsburg. The German woman kept hitting on you and eventually, you fell for her. You guys have been happy together ever since. 

Now, it's June 2024, and as the international break begins, Lena is scheduled to play against Poland, while you prepare to face the Korea Republic. This break is particularly crucial for you, who is a key midfielder expected to be on the roster for the upcoming Olympic Games with the United States.

It's also the last game before you get a month-long break from soccer, so you’re eagerly looking forward to some downtime with your girlfriend on an upcoming Ibiza trip.

Due to the time difference between you two, you’re having breakfast with your closest teammates Sophia, Mallory, Trinity, and Tierna at a cozy coffee spot near your hotel– while Lena is playing a late-afternoon game against Poland. 

The atmosphere in the cafe you’re in is light and filled with laughter, but you look over to see Tierna's expression as you’re sipping on your iced latte. 

Your eyebrows knit together as you look at the Gotham player on her phone. Concerned, you ask what's wrong.

"Tierna, are you okay?" Y/N asks, raising an eyebrow.

Tierna looks up from the video on her phone, her eyes wide with worry as she notices that you asked her the question. "Y/N, you need to check your phone. Like, right now."

Puzzled, you pull out your phone and see numerous missed calls and messages. The other girls check their phones too out of curiosity. They didn’t see much which confuses them, but your heart races as you read a message from Lena’s mom: 

Lena's hurt. It's her leg. Call me whenever you have time.

"Oh my god," you whisper, your voice trembling. Injuries happen but the range could go from a simple blow to a full ACL injury. Maybe you’d know what was going on if you watched the game, but you promised your national teammates that you would spend time catching up with them. 

You tried calling Lena’s mom after seeing her message from 43 minutes ago, but it goes straight to voicemail. 

All of the girls at the cafe look ahead at you with worry. Your fingers go to dial Lea's number next. She is the second closest person to Lena after you, so that was your best option. 

After a couple of rings, Lea picks up.

"Lea, hey! What happened? Is Obi okay?" Y/N asks, her voice a mix of fear and urgency.

Lea's voice is calm but serious. "Hey, Y/N. She took a bad hit during the game. The doctors don’t think it's anything serious since she's walking on crutches now. But she told us to tell you not to worry, but I know that's impossible."

"Is she okay?" Y/N's voice cracks.

"She is honey. She really wants to talk to you, but her phone died."

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself knowing that Lena’s injury wasn’t as serious as it could’ve been.

"Okay, thanks– wait is she around? Can you put her on FaceTime for a minute?"

Lea nods and you hear footsteps on the other end of the phone. The scenery changes as Lena's face appears on the screen, looking tired but smiling anyways. "Hey baby!" Lena says softly.

"Lena! Are you okay?" Y/N's eyes are filled with worry.

"I'll be fine, Y/N. It hurts when I run, but the doctors are looking over me. You focus on your game later, alright?" Lena tries to reassure her.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Y/N admits.

"We will see each other in a few days, Meine Liebe. Just promise me you'll play your best and stay safe," Lena says, her voice gentle but firm.

"I promise," Y/N says. 

Later that day, during the intense match against South Korea, you dribbled the ball around a midfielder before passing to Alex Morgan. As the ball left your foot and you ran into open space, a Korean defender pushed you hard and you fell to the ground, spraining your ankle in the process.

To the observant people watching on TV, they can see your foot go in an awkward angle as your body hits the grass. The scene mirrors Lena's injury from hours before, except no player fell on top of your body afterwards. 

You had to be helped off the field, causing great concern among your teammates and fans. Your team needed you for the olympics, Emma Hayes knew she needed you for the olympics. 

Back in the hotel room in Poland, it's late at night. Lena and your fellow Bayern teammates, who are watching the game on TV, are worried and anxious when they see your body hit the ground as you clench onto your ankle afterwards.

"No, no, no," Lena mutters, her eyes glued to the screen. She stands up in concern as the other girls continue to sit on the couch with looks of worry. Some of her teammates, like Laura and Lea, try to comfort Lena as they watch the medics attend to you. Their TV was a few minutes behind so you were already off of the field by that point. 

“She will be okay.” Lea rubbed Lena’s shoulders as Laura patted on her back, looking at the medics holding Y/n while she walked off of the pitch. 

Laura, trying to lighten the mood, then says, "Looks like she got an injury on the same leg on the same day as you, Lena. Maybe you guys are soulmates?" 

Despite everything, Lena chuckles. "Maybe we are," she says softly, her worried eyes still fixed on the TV.

Back in America, the medics cared for you and did some x-rays. You had a grade 2 sprain which isn’t the worst or best sprain– but you could make it on the olympic roster if your recovery process goes smoothly.

An hour after the game, you call Lena back to update her, after seeing that she tried to call you three times within the hour. 

Despite the pain, you reassure Lena that it's likely a grade 2 sprain, meaning you should be able to recover in time for the Olympics.

"Lena, I might have a grade 2 sprain. The doctors said I should be good before July," Y/N says, her voice filled with both relief and exhaustion.

"Oh, thank god. I was so worried," Lena sighs, feeling a bit of the weight lift off her shoulders.

"Same here. We really need to stop getting hurt at the same time," Y/N jokes weakly. This was the first time where they’ve gotten injured at one time, but y/n felt the need to say that. 

"Right," Lena replies, smiling through the screen. "I can't wait to see you and hug you once we’re back in Germany."

"Me too. We have to move your stuff into my apartment too so take care of yourself, okay? I love you," Y/N says, her voice softening. The couple were excited throughout the last few months, Lena is transferring to Bayern Munich and will live with y/n finally. 

"I love you too, Y/N. Rest up," Lena responds.

<3