#you know shits real when the Doctor is scared

[fritzmonorail]

The Mind Robber is a pretty fun serial with a stunning first episode. It’s genuinely creepy and bizarre and so visually interesting. I was mesmerized the whole time.

The idea of being nowhere. A place the doctor doesn’t even know anything about. A place he’s so visibly frightened of that he won’t even open the TARDIS door. There shouldn’t even be anything out there, but there is. Some sinister unknown that wants you to come out there too.

Look at how the episode ends. can you imagine seeing this and then having to wait a week to find out what happens next?

[sw33t-oubliette]

love (hate) when im Thinking about my childhhod and im like "yeah it was pretty normal and good ithink" and then i fuckingg Rember

[illogicalghost]

.

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about how adaptive Logan is and how he can quite physically tell the difference between people even if they look identical by chemical scent alone.

With being around Wade so much, do you ever think he just gets a whiff of a stranger and turns to Wade like "Hey.. I think... they have cancer."

For a second, he thinks he's mocking him, but the look of seriousness on his face makes him frown and is like, "Holy shit.. Wait, you can smell cancer?? What are you like a cancer dog?"

"Shut up, im serious."

"Wait for real? Are you sure it's just not old lady perfume?"

"I-i think so...?? ....Should.... should I tell her? Oh man.. how do I tell a stranger that they have a horrible disease?"

Wades is about to make a joke but decides not to, remembering how life ruining it was to sit there and stare at vanessa as the doctor sounded like charlie browns parents.

"... where is it?"

"I don't know. I just.. I think maybe in the top bit? What would I even say? Hey, im a super smelling mutant, and I think you have breast cancer."

".. yes."

"Really?"

"You have to tell her... She'll get scared if I tell her."

So he does. Awkwardly comes up to this woman and explains some bullshit how he was 'born with super smells' and how he believes she might have some form of cancer. That- if she acts early enough- they might be able to beat it.

For some reason, the woman cries and tells him how this would make sense because shes felt sick the last couple of weeks and had no clue why. That she'll make an appointment as soon as possible. "Thank you."

Logan is left with a warm feeling in his chest, and smiles lopsided as she goes about her day.

Wade is left feeling both envious and proud at the same time. No, there wasn't a wolverine to warn him of his sickness, but this doesn't mean they can't help others.

So from then on, sniffing becomes an automatic reflex, sniffing all the kids at the mansion, class by class, every teacher, anyone he possibly can. It breaks his heart when he finds one. Everyone holds their breath, hoping he doesn't, but sometimes he does. He always cries afterward.

You know those drug/ weapon dog searches that schools sometimes have? Yeah that's bassically what happens except he pops a head in, says a quick "clear" and goes to the next room. Its real terrifying when he actually comes into the room and starts walking around.

This being said. If you're sneaking drugs into the school? You better be tight with Mr. Howlett, or he's turning you in to Mrs. Munroe.

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[wizzard890]

So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings. 

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is. 

Like, let’s go down the list here. 

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals? 

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene? 

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated! 

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible. 

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon’s heart was hammering in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Was this real? Was he dreaming?

He’d just gotten home, just a bit before he knew you’d be home yourself- when he found something on the table that had his entire world shift on its axis.

In his trembling hands, he held a picture of an ultrasound. He honestly didn’t think much of it at first, until he saw your name printed in bold white letters at the bottom of the photo. The photo which was just taken this morning.

Simon truly didn’t know what to think. So many emotions were swirling around in his head. Confusion, excitement, anxiousness.. he couldn’t firmly grasp any of them. Did he deserve to be a dad? Would he even be a good one?

He’d had such a shit childhood, his own father causing so much of Simon’s turmoil, that he truly never believed he could have a family of his own. Was this something that you truly wanted with him?

“Simon, baby I’m home.” You called, making your way into the house. Your voice brought Simon out of his thoughts, but his eyes remained glued to the photo in his hand.

“Y/N?” Simon asked, his voice came out barely above a whisper. He held the picture out to you, his hands still shaking as his eyes looked up at you.

Your stomach churned when your eyes landed on the ultrasound picture in Simon’s hands. You had planned to tell him, you truly did. You were trying to think of the best way to broach the subject, as having a child was not something that the two of you had ever discussed. “Simon, I can explain.”

“How long have you known?” Simon’s eyes bore into yours as he spoke, and you could see tears beginning to form in them.

“I just found out the other day. It was a routine visit at the doctors, I honestly had no idea. I was planning on telling you Si, I really was. I just… I didn’t know how.” Your bottom lip trembled as you forced the words out, your eyes drifting to your hands, not able to look your boyfriend in the eye. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Hate you?” Simon asked incredulously. He set the picture down gently on the table, before making his way to you. His hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him once more. “I could never, ever hate you. Not ever, do you understand me?”

You nodded, as tears began to pour from your eyes. “I’m scared, Simon. This isn’t something we’ve ever talked about. I didn’t know how you’d feel and I… I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, and will never be a burden. I chose this life with you, and all that comes with it.” He said, his fingers wiping away the tears that fell down your cheeks. “We are in this together, kid. You and me. That was the deal the second I put that ring on your finger.”

“You want this? You want a kid with me?” You asked, your heart stilling slightly as you waited for his response.

Simon engulfed you in a tight hug, his chest heaving with silent sobs. “You have no fucking idea how much I want this. I never thought I’d ever have a family, but I am so goddamned grateful that you’ve given me one.”

He held you like that for some time, before getting down on both knees in front of you, his face at the same height as your belly.

“I promise you.” He started, his eyes leaving yours to look at your growing tummy. “Both of you. That I will try to be the father I never had. I want to give you the family, the life that you so deserve.”

Your heart melted at his words, hot tears streaming down your face as you cradled his cheek in your hand. “Simon, you already have. You’re going to be the best damn father there is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That night, Simon laid in bed with his head laying softly on your belly. Your quiet deep breaths soothed his racing thoughts, drawing a smile to Simon’s lips.

His mind filled with thoughts of your future- your belly growing with HIS child, the little one learning their first word, chasing them around the house once they learned to walk, all the family trips he’d take you guys on- the ones he never got to go on as a kid….

He knew you’d make the best damned parent, and he swore to the stars above he’d be the dad he’d always wanted as a kid. He’d be a good man, a family man. He’d finally have the family he never knew he wanted.

Yeah…Simon Riley couldn’t fucking wait to be a father.

[thebearer]

baby blues |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: two blue lines change all your plans, and carmen doesn't take it well. or how you tell carmen you're pregnant.

read the entire dad!carmen berzatto masterlist here!

contains: language, pregnancy, angst, carmen's an asshole, alludes to past parent trauma, hurt/comfort.

"Shit."

The hiss of your tone bounced off the green tiles of your bathroom, an eerie echo that rang dully through your mind. A reminder that this was all too real, happening right now in front of you- to you.

After weeks of what you thought was a stomach bug- retching at almost anything, exhaustion, aches- you had come to realize it might not just be a virus when you looked at the unopened box of tampons under the sink.

You were late.

A frantic trip to Walgreens, an hour of avoidance out of pure fear, three glasses of water, and two tests later; you were here. Looking at the two mocking blue lines on both tests. You were pregnant.

You called your best friend, Alicia, unsure of who else to confide in. Scared, emotional, overwhelmed, you sobbed into the phone, hand holding your head on the edge of the bed. "Carmen is gonna lose his shit."

"Carmen is not gonna lose his shit." Alicia soothed over your heaving gasps. "He will be fine. You both will be fine. You're married. What's the issue?"

You shook your head, swiping your thumb under your eyes. "You don't... Carmen and I haven't, like, ever really talked about kids." You muttered. It was mostly true. You hadn't really, other than euphoric pillow talk ramblings where you both were just bubbly with love, spilling shared wishes under sheets.

"I thought you said you wanted kids?"

"Yeah, but not now." You sobbed into the phone. "I don't... I don't think I'm ready to be a mom. I'm not gonna be good at that. I don't-I don't know anything about kids! And-And I can barely cook, and- Alicia, I couldn't keep our cactus alive! I killed our fucking cactus, and you think I'm ready for a kid?"

Alicia laughed lightly on the other end. "Ok, true, but you won't kill your kid. You'll be much more attached to it than the cactus." She countered easily, calmly. "And you'll be a good mom, babe. I know you'll be. And Carmen knows too. You know he does. Call your OBGYN and get an appointment. Make sure this is legit and get your vitamins and let me know what you need from me."

Two days later, you were laid on the cool paper at the doctor's office, eyes wide watching her drag the wand over your tummy. Seven weeks. The ultrasound clutched in your hand had an arrow where the baby was, it was still so small. A blip, a splotch right on your plans.

You decided to tell Carmen that night. He knew something was off with you, starting to get more and more suspicious. It was only a matter of time.

"Hey, baby." You grinned as excited as you could when he came home.

"Hey," Carmen chirped, grinning back at you when you kissed him sweetly, a little longer than usual, not that he minded. "How are you doin', baby? Good day?"

"Yeah, it was." You quipped, throat tightening, desperately trying to keep your voice from cracking. "I, uh, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Carmen's brows lifted, dropping his bag by the door. "What kinda surprise, huh? Somethin' under this?" He teased, hand sliding up your shorts, palming at your ass and making you squirm.

You couldn't help the fleeting thought that he wouldn't be able to do that for long. Not when a baby was in the house. Your throat burned with tears at the thought.

"No." You shook your head. "Just... Here, sit right here for me and I'll be right back." You kissed his cheek sweetly, running to the spare bedroom for the ultrasound. You wondered if this would be the baby's nursery. Or maybe upstairs in the makeshift workout room Carmen used. It felt odd planning this type of thing, thinking about this.

Your hands were sweaty, trying not to wrinkle the printed photo. It was your first after all. The first picture of many. Ones you secretly hoped would line the walls of your house. Pictures of the baby, with you and Carmen.

You hoped Carmen would be in them.

That horrid thought always made it's way back into your mind, rattling you to your core.

"Close your eyes." You tried to sing-song, playful and light like you usually would. The kind of tone that was silly, left Carmen grinning and doing what you said. Instead, it sounded tired.

Carmen still covered his eyes anyways. You took a soft breath, placing the photo in front of him. "Ok, y-you can open." You whispered.

Carmen's brow lifted, looking at you carefully before down at the table. He stilled, face unmoving, body halted, eyes zoned in on the ultrasound.

"Wh-What-What is this?" Carmen's tone was hushed, tight, like his chest felt. He was sure this wasn't what he thought it was. It couldn't be.

"I, um, you know I-I've been feeling not great." You started, wringing your hands in front of him. "And I... I haven't had my period in a while, so I went to the store and... and I got a test, and it was..." You motioned down to the ultrasound. "I'm pregnant, Carmen."

The house was still. That same eerie stillness creeping back in, looming over both of you in such a sickening way, it had your stomach twisting.

Carmen blinked, shaky hands picking up the ultrasound, refusing to look at you. "Oh."

"Oh?" You repeated. "Carmen, I-I said I'm pregnant."

"No, no, I, uh, yeah, I-I heard you." Carmen nodded, leg bouncing under the table. "I just... I thought you were on birth control."

"Carmen, what?" You snapped. "I am."

"Then-Then how the fuck-"

"-Oh, don't you fuckin' dare, Berzatto." You hissed, rolling your eyes at him, snatching the ultrasound off the table.

"I'm not fuckin' blaming you, but-but how?" Carmen could feel his heart rate rising, ears ringing and head spinning with that old, familiar feeling of a panic attack coming on.

"How?" You gawked at him. "Carmen, it's not, like, a one-hundred percent guarantee, and-and... Come on, Carmen, we've been fucking a lot lately."

"I don't..." Carmen stopped himself, his hand rubbing over his eyes. Your heart skipped, chest aching with fear when you looked at him. Carmen pushed his chair out, standing and pacing around the kitchen, hands on his hips, lips in a thin line. "I-I need to think. Fuck, I need to think, just-just..."

You tracked him, your own heart hammering loud in your ears. Carmen snatched his cigarettes, hands shaking when he turned them over in his hands slowly. You could practically hear his thoughts, when the baby is here, he can't smoke anymore.

"I need a fuckin' second, ok? I need to fuckin' think!" Carmen boomed, voice thundering off the walls, making you jump. Carmen snatched his lighter and Spirits, stomping out the front door, the slam of the door the last thing you heard before the house settled and stilled again. Your worst possible scenario played out in front of you, becoming a reality too.

You were alone.

"Cousin, can I ask you, what the fuck your fuckin' problem is?" Richie grit, sliding beside Carmen. "The fuck are you being such a jagoff about, right now?"

"I'm being a jagoff?" Carmen snapped, slamming the knife down. His eyes were wild, hair even wilder. Curls matted and sticking out like they did when Carmen was stressed, when he'd ran his hands through them too much.

"Yeah, you're bein' a fuckin' jagoff." Richie countered, voice raising over Carmen's. "You look like shit, you smell like shit, and you're treatin' everyone here like fuckin' shit. So what's the fuckin' issue?"

"Fuck you, Richie, alright? Fuck you. Get the fuck outta my fuckin' face!" Carmen roared, the vein in his neck protruding when he did, sending the few chefs still in the kitchen retreating before they were screamed at next.

"Y'know why don't you just fuckin' calm down? Makin' everyone here fuckin' miserable with your bad attitude. No wonder-" Richie stopped, eyes flicking down to Carmen. His shoulders dropped, sighing heavy at his own revelation. "What'd you do?"

"What? What did I... Fuck off, I'm not in the-"

"-Nah, Cousin. What did you do?" Richie shook his head. "Why's she not here today, huh?"

"I'm right here." Natalie muttered, turning the corner, balancing two cups and a large work bag. "I had to take Chelle to Pete's office so he can take her to dance, and traffic was..." Natalie laughed cynically, shaking her head.

Carmen felt his stomach twist, jaw tightening. That would be you two before you knew it. All over the place, late to shit because of the kid. Just like Sugar and fucking Pete. That made him Pete.

"Not you, but I'm glad to see you. How are you?" Richie muttered, pressing a chaste kiss to Sugar's cheek. "Carmen fucked up."

"I did not-"

"-You fucked up? On what, bear?" Natalie blinked, frowning lightly. "Oh, before I forget, where's my favorite sister in law? I have her-" Richie gave her a pointed look. Sugar stopped, face falling in realization. "Oh, that's... Carm, what did you do?"

"Can you two just fuck off? Fuck!" Carmen roared, kicking a pot under the table.

"Wow, anger issues much?" Sugar rolled her eyes at his dramatics. "Is this what you did? Is that why she isn't here?"

"No, Natalie, you're pissin' me the fuck off-"

"Alright!" Richie clapped his hands, cutting them both off. "Family meeting. Ok? Meeting time. Right now."

"I don't have time-" Carmen started, Richie just clapping his hands on his shoulders, shoving him away from the table.

"Natalie, family meeting." Richie waved her in.

"Family meeting?" Fak turned the corner, eyes lit up hopefully.

"Not with you, you fuckin'..." Richie huffed, shaking his head. "Me, Nat, and Carm are having a meeting. Do your jobs, ok? Don't bother us, just... handle it, alright? Thank you. Every second counts and all that bullshit." Richie nodded towards the staff, shutting Carmen's office door behind him.

"Carm, you... Are you ok?" Natalie winced, looking at her younger brother.

Carmen ran his hands over his eyes, slumped in his desk chair, knees bouncing nervously. His breaths labored and ragged in his hands. Richie's eyes cut to Natalie's.

"Cousin," Richie's voice was softer this time. "What is goin' on?"

Carmen took a shaky breath in, Richie stilling at the sound of his emotions. "You... You were right. I fucked up." Carmen muttered. "I fucked up. I fucked up so bad." Carmen's voice was tight, thick with tears he was trying to choke back.

Natalie stepped forward slowly. "Carmen, what did you do?" She said as calmly as she could. "Just-Just tell us, and we'll... we'll try and help you."

"Did you cheat on her?" Richie asked, brows furrowed in disgust.

"No, what? Why the... No, no, no, I-I..." Carmen leaned back in the chair, hands knotted in his hair. "She's pregnant."

Richie and Natalie paused, both sighing slightly in relief. "Oh my God, that's great!"

"Yeah, I mean, Cousin, I thought you... I'm glad you didn't, but that's great!"

"Aw, is that why she's been sick? Poor thing. I knew it! You know Pete said that, and I-" Natalie started, Carmen's sudden jerk of his body, sitting in the chair with frantic eyes stopped her.

"I don't know!" Carmen blurted, shaking his head, refusing to look at them. At their furrowed brows of concern. He couldn't face them. Tell them what he'd done.

"You don't know?" Sugar frowned in confusion. "You don't know if she's pregnant?"

"I-I..." Carmen felt his chest tightening, burning with that familiar ache. He tried to breathe in, slow and long, counting back from ten like his therapist told him, but his chest still ached. "I left."

The room filled with that same eerie silence, the one that seemed to be following him around lately. The one that crept into the room when you showed him the ultrasound, the same one that followed him into the restaurant last night.

"You left?"

"You fuckin' what?"

Natalie and Richie gawked, eyes wide and frantic, looking down at Carmen.

"Cousin... What the fuck? You don't... Holy shit." Richie muttered, shaking his head.

"Carmen, have you lost your mind?" Natalie snapped. She was angry- no, furious. "You left your wife? You left your pregnant wife?"

"Yes, fuck, yes, I just... I needed to fuckin' think!" Carmen threw his hands out. "I can't think! She just... We weren't planning it and-and then... I just needed to think!"

"Then think at home! Or-Or with the person you're having a baby with, Carmen, Jesus!" Natalie roared back.

"Cousin, you... you fucked up." Richie said solemnly, nodding in agreement. "I mean, I've done a lot of shit. A lot, ok? Just ask Tiff. But I...I never fuckin' left."

"No, she just fuckin' left you, right? Tiff couldn't take you bein' an-"

"Hey, woah, take it fuckin' easy, Cousin. Watch it. This ain't about me." Richie snarled, finger jabbing in Carmen's direction. "I didn't fuck this up, ok? You did. This is your shit. We're just tryin' to fuckin' help you, so why don't you do all that de-escelatin' bullshit and take a fuckin' breath and relax."

Carmen's teeth ground tight, eyes flickering over to Natalie. "I'm with Richie on this." She snapped. "You did fuck up. Huge."

Carmen could feel the burn, rising in his throat. Was it fear? Vomit? Tears? Regret? All of the above?

"I know, I know, fuck, I know." Carmen muttered, falling back into the chair. "I just... I know, and-and now I don't know..." Carmen could feel his heart rate, waves of guilt and realization crashing over him, leaving him feeling sick.

Carmen stood quickly, hands tangled in his hair, pacing in the small area of the office. "Holy shit, she's gonna leave me. She-She's gonna leave me, and-and... Fuck! Why do I always do this? I always fuck up! Always! Like... What the fuck? Why-Why-"

"-Carmen." Sugar said slowly, hands on his shoulders, stopping him. "Hey, breathe. Breathe. Just... Just relax, ok?"

"No, no, no, I-I can't fuckin' relax. I-I got to-" Carmen rambled, his chest squeezing, burning.

"Carm, look, just... Just do the breathing thing. Listen to Natalie." Richie nodded towards Sugar. "And we'll get it handled, alright? We can't fix this until you calm the fuck down."

"Richie," Natalie hissed, rolling her eyes in irritation. "Carmen, breath in through your nose, out through your mouth. Innnnn and Out." She mimicked for him, slow pulls of air and soft exhales.

Carmen could hear you. Hear you in his head telling him to calm down, feel your hands on his cheeks, your soft praises and coos. His heart ached but it tricked his mind enough to listen, shaky rasps of air falling in and out until he was on sitting in the chair, knee bouncing with adrenaline.

Natalie shook her head lightly, looking over at Richie, then Carmen. "You need to go talk to her."

"I know. I know, Nat, but I got a dinner rush-"

"Carmen." Natalie sneered, in that tone. The tone she used usually with her own kids. A tone of finality.

"I got it covered, Cousin, alright? I got it." Richie nodded, patting Carmen on his back. "Just... Go figure your shit out."

"Yeah." Natalie huffed, eyes narrowed at her younger brother. "You better bring that poor girl some flowers or something. Better make it up to her, Carmen, that is so gross of you."

Carmen nodded softly, grabbing his back pack, shedding his apron. "I-I'll have my phone on me-"

"-Go!" Richie and Natalie yelled in unison.

"I got it, Cousin." Richie shook his head.

"Yeah, and you have other things to worry about." Natalie snapped. "More important things, like your marriage, and your kid."

Carmen's heart skipped at that. It sounded weird, unnatural. His kid. Mind racing back to images of you with his niece and nephew. How Chelle took to you so naturally when you first met her, cradling her in your arms while Natalie scampered off for a shower. Carmen's heart swelled at the thought, how he had watched you, how good you were at it.

He knew you'd be a good mom. Had no doubt about that. That wasn't the issue. No, the problem was him.

Carmen Berzatto, who's family was the epitome of chaos, and who's genes this baby would have. Would the baby have your eyes and his crippling anxiety? His curls and his coping skills? Your nose and smile, and his family's addiction gene?

You would be the perfect mom. You were already so perfect in every way to Carmen. Too kind and forgiving and funny and sweet to him, he couldn't understand why you loved him sometimes. You would be good no matter what.

You'd be better without him.

His mind screamed it over and over. He couldn't shake the thought last night, sitting on the steps of your home, chain smoking through half a pack while his mind raced, horrible voices mocking and sneering at him, telling him he wasn't good enough; that he wouldn't be good enough. That you would be better off alone.

Then he was walking. Walking as fast as he could away from your home, back to the restaurant, where he could distract himself. Where he could trick his mind to focus on anything else other than you.

It didn't work, of course. It never did.

His mind still raced, all the way back to your home- his home. The home he shared with you. The place you bought for the future; your future together. A future that now, looked like it would be a little fuller.

You gripped the porcelain of the toilet seat, stomach lurching again, spilling the contents of- you didn't even know what. How there was anything left, you weren't sure.

Your nose burned with tears, head drumming with a dull ache, throat burning with the acidity flare of bile. And worst of all, the only person you wanted was Carmen.

You were furious, hurt, just... confused with him, but your body still ached for him. For him to come in, rub your back and coo at you. Settle you and calm you, like he always did.

The front door closed softly, the thud of the latch echoing through the all too still house. Anchovy chirped and trilled, Carmen's soft, raspy greeting back to him making your body jolt.

You stayed still, waiting and quiet with each muffled footstep of Carmen's, his sneakers falling closer and closer until the door opened gently. Your gaze on his, watching him with wide, red rimmed eyes from the bathroom floor. His own reflecting down on you, hand still gripping the door knob.

"You... You're still sick?" Carmen asked, awkward and unsure. He didn't know what to say, where to even begin.

"Yeah." You sneered, hand slapping on the knob, flushing the toilet. "Guess that'll be happening for a while."

Carmen flinched at your tone. You were angry. No, you were hurt. The revelation made him feel like he needed to throw up next, the ache in his stomach rivaling the one in his chest.

You pushed up off the tub, Carmen's hands reaching to help you. You slapped them away with a menacing scoff. "Don't touch me." You snapped. "I've got it."

Carmen nodded, backing out slowly, giving you space to brush your teeth. He didn't miss the tremor in your hands when you held the toothbrush, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"I..." Carmen's voice shook, a squeak of a word that had wobbled when he spoke. "I, uh, I-I'm sorry."

Your eyes flashed to his furiously, lips pursing. "I know that's... fuck, that's not..." Carmen sighed heavily, a grounding breath to soothe his nerves, get the shake out of his voice. "I don't know what-what else to say other than... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" You sneered, turning to him, your tone unnervingly calm. "You're fucking sorry?"

"Yeah, I-"

"-You left me!" You roared, chest heaving with fury. Your fears and sadness had turned into rage, pure rage.

"I go outside to check on you, and you're gone! Who the fuck does that, Carmen? What the fuck is wrong with you?" You screamed.

"I-I don't know, I just..." Carmen's chest tightened, strangling his words. The pounding in his chest had returned, as had the queasiness in his stomach.

"You just? Just what, Carmen? Just don't want to be with me anymore?" Your voice cracked, tears brimming your waterline.

The silence was back. Uncomfortably loud and suffocating. Neither one of you moved, just stared at each other through heaving chests.

"I-I..." Carmen swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "How could you... You think I-I don't want to be with you?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think, Carmen?" You scoffed, throwing your hands out in exasperation. "You left!"

Carmen winced at the harshness of your tone. "I didn't... I just needed to think-"

"-Think?" You scoffed. "Think about what exactly, Carmen? Huh? Whether you were going to stay-"

"-No! Fuck, no!" Carmen barked, mind racing and overwhelmed. Hands trembling, heart pounding, he stared at you. "About... About how it would be. About how I would be."

"How you would be?"

"Yeah, how I would be." Carmen snaps, a little too defensive even for his own liking. It was habit, even after years of trying to be better, it still crept out at times.

Carmen took a breath, turning to you. "I'm... I don't think I'm going to be a good dad."

Your own heart sunk, a dull ache in your chest, heavy with the weight of his words. The fall of his face, lips curling downward. "Carmen," You said softly. "Why-Why would you... We've talked about having kids before."

"Yeah, but not... I thought I had time." Carmen admitted, hands shaking when he crossed his arms over his chest to still them. "I-I thought I would have some time to-to get my shit together."

You paused, watching his face crumble. The deep breath he took to keep himself from crying- from breaking. "I don't- I don't wanna be a bad dad. I don't wanna fuck this kid up." Carmen whispered, eyes darting everywhere but your own. He couldn't look at you when he said it, sure when he saw the sorrow in your own eyes he would crumble at your feet.

"Carmen," You said softly, taking a step towards him. He took one back, distancing himself. He knew what you were going to do. Reach out and comfort him, make him feel better- he didn't deserve that.

"Carm, please," You begged lightly. "You... You know you're gonna be a good dad-"

"-No, no, I don't know that." Carmen scoffed, shaking his head. "I mean, my fuckin' dad was a piece of shit, so was his dad, so-so will I. And-And I don't wanna do that to this kid. I don't wanna do that to you."

"Stop." You snapped, lips pressed together, sniffling to keep your own tears at bay. "Just...Just stop. Ok? Stop. You're... Do you really think I would have married you if I thought that bad of you? Do you think I would have ever even entertained the thought of having a baby with you, starting a family, if I thought you'd be shitty?"

Carmen's own eyes shone with unshed tears. You blinked, wiping the hot tears that ran down your cheeks away. "I'm scared, too. I-I called Alicia over you because I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how you would react." You admitted.

Carmen nodded, you could see the hurt in his eyes. "So you knew I would react like this? You didn't tell me because you knew I'd be a bad-"

"-No, I didn't tell you because I know you don't like surprises." You snapped. "I know you don't like to be fuckin' blindsided and-and shocked. I don't either. I knew it would shock you. I knew it wasn't apart of our plan right now." You held his gaze, eyes hard when you met his.

"But I never thought you'd be a bad dad." Your tone was firm. It made Carmen's heart swell. "I still don't think you'd be a bad dad, for the record. I think you're an asshole, and I'm furious with you." You said pointedly.

Carmen nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I... I don't blame you f'that." He muttered, looking down at his hands, wedding band shining almost mockingly back up at him. "Sugar's pissed at me. Richie, too." He paused, eyes lifting to yours. "I'm mad at me too."

"Yeah? Me too." You sigh, looking at him. "You can't just leave-"

"-I know." Carmen nodded. "I-I know. I don't... I'm sorry." Carmen looked at you, shoulders falling slightly. "I'm so sorry."

You nodded gently, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. "This is not how I thought this would go, honestly." You admitted with a small, wet laugh.

"Which part?" Carmen hummed, hesitantly reaching out to wipe your tear stained cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"All of it." You sighed. "But telling you. I-I always thought I'd do one of those cute, little Pinteresty things and surprise you."

"Yeah? 'm sorry." Carmen muttered, his heart fluttering with guilt again. "Maybe next time?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. Damn him, making you smile when you were supposed to be mad at him- you were still mad at him. But you were tired even more. Exhausted emotionally, physically- you just wanted to crawl into bed.

Carmen pulled you closer to him, his hand running down your spine. "Maybe you can do that cutesy shit to tell everyone else." He suggested. "I mean... Fuck, well, I-I told Richie and-and Sugar, but... Tina? Or all them?"

You bit back a smile, the curl of your lips betraying you. "Yeah." You hum, your body betraying you as you sunk into Carmen's chest.

"Here," Carmen muttered, pulling you close to him. "I'll get you in bed, and I'll go on the couch-"

"-No," You sighed, shuffled steps down the hall. "I don't... Just sleep in the bed with me."

Carmen hesitated. "No, I-I can stay on the couch. I know you don't-"

"-I can't sleep without you, Carm." You pleaded. "I didn't sleep at all last night, and-and... I just want to sleep."

Carmen nodded, following you into the shared bedroom. Stripping out of his jeans, trading them for sweatpants, before climbing in the bed with you. You stayed on your side, Carmen on his own. There was still tension, still lingering feelings of that familiar eeriness, but there was also comfortability.

Carmen would make it up to you. He'd be at every appointment, paint the nursery- be everything you knew he would be. Later. In the coming weeks as you two welcomed, embraced the baby coming. You'd get to tell everyone in your cutesy way like you'd dreamed. Tina's reaction would make you cry, and the baby shower would make you sob. You'd mull over baby names for hours with Carmen, going back and forth, testing each name tentatively until you found the perfect one.

For now, you were happy just to know Carmen was here with you. You were happy just to sleep. There was still so much ahead of you- of both of you.

[vin-taege]

Could you do headcannons for both sfw and nsfw showering with Chishiya? :3

The Water's Just Right

Summary: Showering headcanons for our favorite snarky boy

Genre: fluff, smut, gn! reader

Note: Oh yeah, I'm back again! I've been gone for so long because of college, but I'm here again to revive the aib fandom >:3 also my first time writing headcannons. :DDD I think I got carried away sjjsjs

☄. *. ⋆ sfw

ok let's start with headcannons for the real world

as a doctor, he mainly takes quick showers

contrary to popular belief, i feel like he enjoys hot showers over cold ones. like he's already going to be stressed because of work, so might as well have at least one part of his day be a little relaxing

the only time you can take joint showers with him is during his off-days or if you stay up long enough to catch him coming home

he doesn't like it when you do the latter option because he firmly believes you should take care of yourself and sleep early

even though he runs on 3 hours of sleep maximum every day

he lets you wash his hair after initially (and weakly) refusing

you definitely use scented shampoo on him (strawberry because he thinks floral scents are too strong)

he prefers subtle scents because the hospital is already filled with strong odors.

he'll never admit he likes it when you wash his hair, especially when you massage his scalp

"did you purr a little?"

"I think you need your hearing checked."

loves it when you run your hands up and down his back

you mainly use showering as an excuse to dote on him

likes kissing your neck while you attempt to lather soap on him

random but he installed a non-slip mat on the floor because he doesn't want the two of you to get into any accidents

likes playing with your hair by gathering soap bubbles and dumping them on you

you don't point this out because you're scared he'll withdraw from letting himself be a kid for once

sometimes when it's been a rough day, he lets you hold him in the shower for a moment

just letting the warm water wash away his stress while he melts into your arms

he used to skip lotion until you started putting it on him

he got used to it after that and subconsciously started integrating it into his routine

honestly before you came along, had the worst skincare routine ever

"That's... that's not how you put on facial wash. You need to wash your face with it for at least a minute."

"I'm not a dermatologist, y/n."

"You don't need to be to know that???"

In the borderlands, it's basically the same but without the luxury of proper skin products.

always ALWAYS showers after games

he hates the ick from going outside and keeps himself sane by maintaining cleanliness

surprisingly, he's more forward with asking you to join him

in the real world, you're the one who always asks for permission, but now he always looks for your presence

especially since he knows you could be gone any day

"Do you want to join me?"

"Didn't the heater system break down?"

"I fixed ours. The water's just right."

☄. *. ⋆ nsfw

remember that non-slip mat?

oh yeah, that was definitely for this occasion

he doesn't like lifting you up because again, safety first

prefers standing positions where he can press you up against the wall.

LOVES LOVES LOVES FOGGING UP THE GLASS

he doesn't pull your hair because he knows it'll be prone to breakage

he's such a nerd about bodily care except for when it comes to himself.

holds your neck instead and uses it as leverage to pound into you

either that or he digs his fingers into your hips so he can grind his cock inside you.

makes it his goal to make you squirt at least once

OK THIS IS MY PERSONAL HEADCANNON

it may be because of the tight space, or the bathroom acoustics, or the added privacy

but this man is definitely louder in the shower

you love sucking him off because of this

deep moaning, swearing, whimpering when you're being a little shit and you overstimulate him

plays with your chest a lot because he likes how slippery the soap makes it

LISTEN

also installed a detachable showerhead ;)))

[ethelcained]

rosemary (matt sturniolo) ⛧°｡🦇

they’re both twitch streamers.. planning on writing an actual fic soon so requests are deeply appreciated!! thank you so much for all of the love in my last post <333 it means the world ⭐️⭐️ let me know if you’d like me to turn this into a series (;

777.starlem

liked by mothercain and 1,987,456 others

777.starlem 🕯️🦇⋰ ⋱✮ streaming @ 6 pst!!

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matthew.sturniolo

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matthew.sturniolo Streaming now 🍎🩹

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777.starlem

liked by pinkpantheress and 1,806,983 others

777.starlem texted my doctor n i was liek “haiiii :3 how much for 3 prozacs >////<” no reply back )))),:

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radvxz literally so babygirl

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777.starlem on some real shit

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streamerupdates

liked by hamzahthefantastic and 896,583 others

streamerupdates Famous twitch streamers @777.starlem & @matthemunch are currently streaming together via twitch with other streamers!

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lesbian4salem INSAAAAAAAANE

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aeriteenagedirtbag @salemluvaeri Honestly prob cause like sum fishy going on and it’s not ur pussy

scenebitch222 @aeriteenagedirtbag BRO??????

matthew.sturniolo

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matthew.sturniolo One year with my vamp 🦇🩹

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777.starlem the sackboy to my domo 🧛🏻🫀🧛🏻‍♀️

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mayawinky @dijondress_ pass

[bunny584]

JUJUTSU KAISEN’S ANATOMY

Part II of this cute lil ask right here

A/N: Shit. You just graduated med school. And today…people expect you to…doctor? Mom come pick us up, we’re SCARED (real thought on my first day of residency).

S/N: Meet your first year surgical residency class. Undifferentiated little stem cells. The bottom of the surgical food chain. First shift last 36 hours and you work every second night until you drop. 

All you know is that you like to cut. Where/what/how that cutting comes will be decided later. Everyone has an idea of their subspecialty but…shit happens, preferences change and sometimes the spleen just bleeds for no fucking reason at 4 am when you’ve gotten 30 minutes of sleep in the last 3 days and you have to—what? Sorry. Forgive me. 

Let’s get into it.

For the love of God, interns — pick up your pagers. 

SURGICAL INTERNS ON CALL

Dr. Yuji Itadori 

Specialty Interest: ORTHOPEDIC SURGERY 

Don’t tell Dr. Sukuna about this but who here is shocked. This sack of muscles THROWS SUVS AT HIS MORTAL ENEMIES ON A RANDOM TUESDAY NIGHT??? Please???? He also does shit like watch Wormo-Man parts I-V and this is peak orthopod behavior. Yuji definitely has contests with his patients on rounds who can crush the cranberry juice or protein shakes the fastest. Spoiler, he always lets the patient win.

Everyone thinks he’s just joking around but it’s his way of getting post op patients to get their nutrition in. He’s a very thoughtful doctor, even though people assume he’s no thoughts just vibes between his eyes. 

Dr. Megumi Fushiguro

Specialty Interest: HAND SURGERY (can be achieved via Ortho or plastics)

Hand surgeons are a different BREED. Do me a favor and google “hand anatomy.” Not only will you find like 400 bones, there are 7,000 tiny tendons, lumbricals, digital arteries, veins and nerves all packed into the little mitts we take for granted. And to add insult to injury — all of the muscles and tendons are in latin. Like whoever decided that please take your seat on this one way train to hell :)

Nevertheless, Dr. Geto spotted Dr. Fushiguro on day ONE of intern year. How meticulous and neat he is. How intelligent he is in the O.R. As an intern, Megumi broke the record for the fastest carpal tunnel release for residents (4 minutes, 35 seconds — not faster than mine though, 3 mins, 52 seconds over here big dawg). Suguru is Megumi’s mentor within the first week. Two peas in one moody brunette, pod. 

Dr. Nobara Kugisaki

Specialty Interest: TRAUMA SURGERY 

Nobara is 100% resistant to the Satoru Gojo, MD charm. Unlike the rest of the residents, she isn’t squeezing into Dr. Gojo’s trauma ORs just to graze his gloved hand with theirs. Or make eyes over the surgical masks. No, Nobara did her first cricothyrotomy and became HOOKED. The day she had to climb on the gurney to tie off a patient’s external jugulars because after coding and ROSC (return of spontaneous circulation) they were SPURTING out of the large pipes in their neck — she was sold. Trauma surgery through and through.

Real story btw. It was insane. Whirlwind of a day from the trauma bay to the OR to the ice cream we all scarfed down after because we won that day. And you don’t win every day. So the days you get to tell the Angel of Death to fuck off, you savor them. 

Dr. Maki Zenin 

Specialty Interest: VASCULAR SURGERY 

Little known fact about vascular surgeons is that they are gangster as fuck. Hear me out. They like the blood PAPER thin, right? Small, rusty pipes need to get fluid through, so thin the fluid out as much as possible. Meaning patients are on aspirin, lovenox, heparin, and every other anticoagulant known to man.

Everyone else with a working amygdala is scared to DEATH of these patients bleeding because you look at them sideways and suddenly hemorrhage everywhere. Not vascular surgeons and not Maki Zenin. “Aorta ruptured..? No prob, just sew it up with a couple stitches. What—like it’s hard?” - Every Vascular Surgeon ever. Maki just gives unhinged-unbothered-let-them-bleed energy to me. Plus vascular surgeons do all of the amputations. Maki is doing that with her cursed tools and scrubbing in with hand sanitizer only. Period.

Dr. Yuta Okkotsu

Specialty Interest: TRANSPLANT SURGERY 

The OG lover boy is NO different in this AU. He is sentimental. He cries with patients. Dr. Nanami met him during the first month of his residency and immediately took him under his wing. Yuta is always the last to leave the anatomy lab, making sure to stitch the donors completely closed — even though no one will see. When asked why he spends hours post call doing it, he says: “Because they deserve respect until the very end.” Nanami And Yuta are a perfect match. After Yuta’s first liver transplant, Nanami takes him to the same hill he lays on by the airport. They both say goodbye to the donor together. 

Dr. Toge Inumaki

Specialty Interest: ….he switched to PSYCHIATRY, still tight with the surgical interns though.

Hello, please this is also obvious. Inumaki is the only one in the group who can listen intently for hours without interruptions lmao. He saw that aggressive surgery shit and said absolutely not I’ll take my talents ELSEWHERE 😂

And you know, funnily enough, a good majority of surgeons ALSO were torn between picking surg vs psychiatry. My mentor told me that its because its as invasive, just without the scalpel. The rest of us meatheads just like the scalpel a little too much to put it down. 

Panda:

Specialty Interest: N/A

He is the hospital emotional support animal. 

E/N: Alright interns. Do your best not to kill anyone. And if your chief resident (me) is sleeping, don’t page me. And if you do page me the patient better be knocking on heaven’s gates. And if they are knocking on heaven’s gates, they better not have crossed into the bright light before I get there. 

Real E/N: Kidding. I am so full of shit lol. I am the senior that brings my juniors cafecitos and treats and takes their pager to let them get some well deserved rest. 

Don’t be late to your OR cases, Shoo!

[steddieas-shegoes]

congrats on 3000!!! 🎉🍾🎊💖

For the sentence prompt: "I'm just gonna go freak out for a minute first."

Thank you!!!! ♥️

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Steve was holding his hand while the doctor checked his stitches. It wasn’t really that weird for him to be holding his hand, not since he woke up half-dead in the hospital.

It was a little weird that he was rubbing his thumb against the side of his thumb, though.

And probably a little weird that his other hand was resting on his head, a weight that was comforting and confusing all at once.

“Looks great, Eddie. I’d say by the next visit, we’ll be able to get them out and let these finish healing naturally,” the doctor smiled at him as he pulled his shirt back down.

Steve’s hand squeezed his, and he couldn’t help looking over at the sunshine in the seat next to him.

It had to be pretty obvious how he felt about Steve. He’s lucky none of the kids have caught on and started teasing him yet.

Robin has, but at least she knows to do it privately.

“I’ll have the front desk schedule you for two weeks out. You can grab an appointment card on the way out. Keep them all clean and don’t do any heavy lifting or physical activity quite yet,” the doctor reminded as she pulled off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “You boys have a nice day.”

As she left the room, Steve helped Eddie sit up slowly. He didn’t really need the help anymore, but he’d be an idiot to admit it with how much Steve touched him.

“Two more weeks, Eds! That’s better than what they thought last time,” Steve was so excited for him. His smile was lighting up the room and he looked five seconds away from bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah, it’s great.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Steve’s smile dropped at Eddie’s tone.

“Yeah! Yeah, it’ll be great to have less limits. Might be able to get the guys together for a jam session,” Eddie gave a small smile.

“But…?”

Eddie sighed. “But then you won’t be around anymore, right? Like, other than when we all hang out on movie nights. You only stuck around because no one else could really help me every day. Everyone had work or families that wouldn’t let them out of their sight.”

Steve looked heartbroken, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why.

“Eddie, I’m not gonna leave you just because you don’t technically need me anymore,” Steve shook his head. “We’re- we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course! I mean, I thought so. But I know it could just be that you feel bad and I wouldn’t expect you to stick around because of that.”

Steve grabbed his other hand, his grip tightening on Eddie’s skin almost painfully.

“I wanna stick around for a lot of reasons, Eds.”

Eddie was caught in his gaze, his wide, pleading eyes almost too much.

“Like what?”

“Like because you’re fun to be around. You’re funny and talented and smart. You taught me about Hobbits! Love those guys,” Steve stepped closer. “You’re brave and you care about all of us. You-“ Steve swallowed. “You see me. The real me.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie’s heart was racing as he looked between Steve’s eyes, down to his lips where his tongue had poked out momentarily to wet them.

“You’ve seen me when my parents have come home and made me feel like shit and you just distracted me with singing whatever pop songs are on the radio and helping me cook dinner. You’ve been there when I had a two day long migraine and couldn’t even stand up to go to the bathroom. You made grocery shopping fun! I fucking hate grocery shopping, but you just keep being silly and making me laugh and I had fun.” Steve leaned in so his forehead was touching Eddie’s. “You laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t that funny. You listen to me when no one else pays attention. You see who I am and you let me be who I am and I don’t feel scared that you’ll run.”

“I’m not running.”

“I know. I love that you aren’t, that you won’t.” Steve closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were watery. “I love you.”

Eddie was certain he was dead. Maybe the last month had all been some coma-induced dream and they finally pulled the plug. Maybe he actually died in the Upside Down and the last month was his final goodbye to everyone in his own head.

He stood up slowly, trying not to push Steve away, but having to guide him away from the table he’d been laying on.

“Where are you going? You’re not leaving, right?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna go freak out for a minute first.”

“Um.”

Eddie smiled, leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, and pulled away.

“Give me a minute. This is either the most realistic dream I’ve ever had or the best day of my life.”

Steve snorted, but let him walk to the door and stand outside of it for a moment.

When Eddie came back in, his cheeks were red, but he looked determined.

He pulled Steve into him by his hips, crushed their lips together, and smiled so hard their teeth clacked against each other. It was a little messy for a first kiss, but they could get better.

“You love me? Really?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Steve laughed as they pulled apart.

“I thought I was obvious!”

“Not really. I was convinced I was imaging things! Robin had to explain to me what the hanky code was before I even believed you liked guys!”

They both laughed so hard they cried, forgetting entirely that they were still in the doctor’s examination room.

Someone knocked on the door and they broke apart quickly, trying to stop the laughter for a moment to deal with whoever was at the door.

A nurse poked her head in. “Sorry, don’t wanna rush you, but just wanted to make sure everything was okay? Did you need to see the doctor again?”

“No, no. Sorry. We’re heading out. He just needed a minute,” Steve said quickly, smiling back at her.

She nodded and left, leaving the door open as a silent reminder that they needed to disinfect the room for the next patient.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

“You don’t have to say it just-“

“I’m not. I’m saying it because I love you. I see you, remember? There’s a lot there to love.”

Steve turned a bright red, and Eddie decided then he would do just about anything to see that shade on Steve’s cheeks and neck as often as possible.

“Let’s go home,” Steve finally said when he recovered. “Wanna kiss you more.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

[augustinewrites]

“your nose is running again.”

you shoot a glare at alhaitham’s reflection in your vanity, swiping at your nose and clearing your throat a few times before croaking, “it is not.”

“tch.” he has the audacity to look unimpressed with your lie, fiddling with the collar of the nice shirt you’d practically wrestled him into for tonight. “this happens every year, i don’t know why you keep trying to deny it.”

“there’s nothing to deny, because i’m a doctor and we don’t—” you pause, face scrunching when you feel a sneeze trying to fight its way out of your system. “— get sick.” 

so what if your throat was scratchy and your entire face felt hot with sinus pressure? one could claim it was allergies, not sickness. 

taking a seat to pull on his shoes, alhaitham only scoffs disbelievingly at you. he’s acting so smug, and maybe that’s because last week you’d ignored his warning about how cold nighttime in the desert got. or maybe because you refused to take the vitamin c tablets he put beside your coffee each morning because their texture was like that of chalk. 

before he can open his mouth and say these things, the sneeze you’d been fighting takes you by surprise. you immediately turn away and lift your elbow, sneezing into it not once, not twice, but five times in quick succession.

(okay, so maybe you were feeling a little under the weather.)

you turn away from the dresser with a sharp look in your eye, just daring him to let slip the i told you so that always seemed to be sitting on the tip of his tongue.

instead, you feel his fingers tugging at the laces of your dress and his lips pressing softly against your forehead. (too warm, you swear he murmurs.)

“we don’t have to go if you aren’t feeling well. nilou will understand. do you really want to be fighting a cold while you’re surrounded by a group of your friends—”

“our friends,” you correct with a sniffle.

he ignores you. “who are going to make you—”

“make us.” 

“—endure cake and small talk?”

you roll your eyes. for someone so fearsome, your husband really could be quite dramatic, brought to his knees by something as simple as cake and small talk. 

“we missed her performance last month because we were stuck with work, so we’re not missing her birthday.” you turn around to shove lightly at his shoulder. “and don’t think you can use my cold as an excuse to get out of this party.”

alhaitham pulls back to look down at you with an irritating combination of a scoff and a smirk on his lips. “ah, so you finally admit that you have a cold? maybe if you’d taken the vitamin c for your immunity like someone suggested...”

“those supplements taste like shit, haitham,” you cough, expression pinching as you recall the disgusting tablets that you’ve called ‘not as good as the real thing.’ “the only vitamin c i like is in those mondstadt imported sunsettias...”

“you’re like a child,” he scolds. “now get undressed and back in bed before—”

“undressed?” you question, swatting his hands away from your dress. “i’m going to the party.”

“no, you’re not.”

“what if i—”

“no.”

“but darling—”

“sorry, love, but you’re not going anywhere tonight,” he decides, ignoring your quiet grumbles of protest. “i know you don’t get sick often, but when you do it hits you pretty hard.”

he leaves the room briefly at that, returning with something sitting in his palm. 

you shake your head, holding your hands out to keep him back. “no. no! that stuff is worse than the vitamin c.”

“huh, if you’d taken that, then maybe you could have avoided this.” he hums, unscrewing the lid and letting that disgustingly sweet, syrupy scent flood the room. it was so potent that even you clogged sinuses could pick it up. “perhaps, doctor, one of these years you’ll learn to take your own advice. or perhaps listen to your husband’s…”

you lean backwards when he reaches for your chin. “haitham, if you make me drink that i will call the general mahamatra on you.”

“go ahead, he doesn’t scare me.”

he tries again, only for you to side-step his hand. “take your damn medicine!” 

“you’re not supposed to yell at a sick person!” 

“i’m not yelling. i’m simply insisting because you are being childish.”

maybe you were being childish, but that medicine was just so damn gross. “can i at least go down and say hi to everyone?” you try. “it’s been so long since i’ve seen them all.”

“fine, but only for ten minutes. and you have to take your medicine first.”

“but it always makes me sleepy,” you argue. “then you’ll be there enduring cake and small talk all by yourself.”

“it’s a birthday party, not a war. i think i’ll survive.”

you scowl at him, snatching the bottle and taking a gulp of the bitter liquid. “yeah, yeah. just wait until a drunk kaveh gets his hands on you and i’m not there to save you.”

the medicine starts taking effect almost instantly. you make it eleven minutes on your own feet before you’re clinging to alhaitham’s arm and leaning heavily into his side, nose still leaking and throat still tickling.

by then, all it takes is a single, ‘you don’t look too well’ from tighnari to convince alhaitham to drag you up into nilou’s spare room and into bed. 

too disoriented and drowsy to argue anymore, you thank him dazedly and reach out to pat his cheek before letting your eyes drift shut.

__________

you’re not too sure how long it’s been when you wakes, but when you pry your tired eyes open, there’s a tray of steaming food on your bedside table. the room is glowing and warm, the source being the flickering candle that alhaithm is reading his book under

he glances up when you shift in bed, closing his book. “feeling better?” 

“‘m not leaking anymore,” you shrugs, rubbing at the tip of your nose. “how long was i out for?”

“a little over two hours,” he answers, taking a seat at your bedside and pressing a hand to your forehead. “you’re not as warm as before. the medicine must be working.”

“yeah, well i still feel gross,” you mutter, not wanting to give that disgusting concoction too much credit.

“you look it, too.”

“the akademiya scribe,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “charming as ever.” 

he scoffs at that, scooping up the tray of food in one hand and offering you his other. “charming enough that the amurta darshan’s sage took my last name.”

“well, don’t let it get to your head,” you huff, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. his thumb strokes your wedding band as he guides you to sit on a fur rug positioned in front of the fire. “pretty hard to say no to a guy that practically begs you to marry him.” 

“it was not begging—”

“haitham, dearest, that’s exactly what it was.”

you burst into a fit of giggles when he tells you to save it, his cheeks turning pink at the memory. your laughter quickly dissolves into a series of coughs, to which alhaitham pounds you on the back a little harder than necessary. 

“alright, you had your fun,” he murmurs, picking up a bowl of soup. “you need to eat something. i made your favourite,” he dips the spoon into the bowl. “i already picked out the cabbage,” he adds when you open your mouth to complain. 

unable to deny the slight rumble of your stomach, you reach for the spoon in his hand, pouting when he pulls it away. “i can feed myself,” you protest, voice hoarse from your coughing fit.

“the last time i let you feed yourself when you were sick, you sneezed and ended up throwing a spoonful of soup in my face,” he reminds you, the grim look on his face making it seem as if you’d stabbed him with the spoon instead. “open up.”

you narrow your eyes at the spoonful of soup. “it’s red,” you state. the original colour of recipe was a warm, almost translucent gold. 

“good to know your eyes are still working.”

“haitham,” you groan. “you know i don’t handle spice as well as you.”

“it’ll help clear up your sinuses,” he reasons, though there’s something teasing twitching at the corner of his lips. 

your body is wracked by another series of sneezes, each one stronger than the last, making him laugh.

“are you sure you’re done?” he teases, handing you a tissue.

“a good husband would just say, bless you,” you pout, blowing your nose and weakly tossing the soiled tissue at him. 

defeated by a clogged nose and a smug husband, you reluctantly open your mouth and let him spoon-feed you the eye-wateringly spicy soup. it slides down your throat like fire, and it…kind of does help with your sinuses and throat. 

you’d never admit that, though. it’s a new low you’ve discovered, a doctor taking medical advice from a semiotics major. 

the universe always finds ways to keep us humble.

when the bowl is half-empty and alhaitham is convinced you’ve eaten enough, he sets the bowl aside and wraps a blanket around your shoulders before he goes. your eyes are drooping again, the result of a warm blanket enveloping you and a satisfied stomach. 

he returns with a glass of water and a cool washcloth, gently pressing it to your forehead before situating himself behind you. “need anything else?”

letting yourself relax against his chest, you shake your head. his arms are warm around you, the steady sound of his heart and the soothing light of the candle slowly lulling you to sleep once more. 

“shouldn’t you get back to the party?” you murmur sleepily. but you’re already snuggling against him, hands curling greedily into the soft material of his shirt to keep him close.

“not particularly. i’ve already greeted nilou and done my share of…small talk,” he explains quietly. his small sigh is heavy, his posture deflating slightly. it wasn’t that he disliked your shared friends or their company, it was just that his social battery ran out faster than others, and without you there to keep him afloat? two hours was more than enough for him. 

“besides, i can’t exactly relax if i know that you’re up here positively suffering.” 

“you’re teasing me, but fine, i’ll let you stay.” 

no medicine or soup could do to you what a warm blanket and your annoying, teasing husband could for you, anyway.

[kooksbunnnn]

Lost cause? 4: Can my happiness ever last?

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook× Female!Reader

Genre: Established relationship/ marriage, angst, heartbreak, makeout and kissing mentions, INFIDELITY. Panic attacks (TRIGGER WARNING). Pregnancy (do not read if this content triggers you) also, 18+, This is purely a work of FICTION please take it as FICTION only. Therapy and psychological conversations. Tears, guilt, regret and hope maybe?

Word counts: 10.1k approx

Summary: You always wondered, how would your life turn out to be if you and Jungkook had a baby? So, when you finally conceive and decide to tell your husband that you are pregnant, you didn't expect him to drop this bomb on you. You never would've thought that the surprise you planned would end up in agonized tears because of the shock your husband brings you. 

Authors note: Hello, my lovely readers, or should I call you all my bunnnnys? It sounds cute to me hehe, its a cute little name for my kooksbunnnn family, the readers who wait for me, love me, and read the stories I write. Thank you for waiting so patiently, ily guys. Here's chapter 4, I got a little carried away with words, hence the 10k 👉👈 sorry for the long wait once again, enjoy the chapter now. Bye-bye!

Previous chapter

___________________________________________

Seriously breathe louder Ross

You giggle watching an Instagram reel of a scene from friends where a pregnant Rachel snaps at Ross, who was just standing as you put another grape into your mouth from the container Jungkook packed for you with washed grapes.

As you scroll through the comments on the mentioned reel, you can't help but read some of the comments,

Comment: Rachel has such pretty hair.

True. You always wanted to try her hairstyles.

Comment: people should appreciate how the writers gave every female character a different kind of motherhood and different experiences, and it’s beautiful how they portrayed every feeling. Also, I can't imagine how one of them had a miscarriage in real.

Miscarriage. This word itself makes your body shiver with fear, and you immediately feel your throat get heavy. You shake your head at this and scroll further, not wanting to cry for the 6th time on the same day.

Comment: Being pregnant is a magical experience, sure, but it's a whole ass rollercoaster of emotions, and you won't be ready for the amount of mood swings that come with it.

Yea, No shit.

Comment: I love how Rachel had a character development nobody ever expected.

Mhm. True.

Comment: Can’t believe how they ended up together even after Ross cheated on her.

That got personal, guess it was time to delete Instagram.

Month 6 and a half, day 188 since that night and you’re surprisingly alive. The night your heart got broken and you didn't think you would make it through 2 months of life.

More like, you didn't think you could make it alone, without Jungkook. Technically? Yes, you couldn't live without seeing him or hearing him for the start of your pregnancy and now he is always around you.

Always around. Helping you sit, eat, drink, lie, puke, pee, and all this while being at his respectable distance from you.

“Cut yourself some slack, you're growing someone inside you. It's okay to be dependent while you're going through so much..” that's what your mom said when you asked her about your future and if it was a mistake going through with this.

Looking back to her advice from weeks ago you feel like you are being a little hard on yourself. Therapy. Sonograms. Lamaze classes, doctor appointments, morning-afternoon-evening sickness, hormones, mood swings, and whatnot. You feel excited for your baby to come into the world but would it be wrong if you said you were scared?

When you asked these questions to the people around you these were the answers:

Mom: “Yes honey, of course, it’s okay to be scared. Your life will change, and sometimes you feel like you won't know what you’re doing, but trust me having kids is a tiring but very beautiful experience.”

Dad: “Sweetie, it's completely normal. Your mom used to freak out a lot as well when she had you. We’re here for you, it's all gonna be okay.

Namjoon’s wife, Binna: “I have seen my sister go through it and I am gonna be honest, it is difficult and the delivery is gonna be tough but the results make it all worth it. I am so excited to start my family one day, too!”

Jin’s wife: “It's a little nerve-wracking, to be honest, but it's the best thing Y/N, trust me I have never cried harder than when I saw that my test results were not accurate, I was heartbroken. Trust me, this is the best thing that would happen to you.”

Namjoon, Jin, and Jimin in different words but similar contexts: “I don't know much about how you're feeling right now so I can't say I understand but trust me, I’ll be by your side and our dumb little brother’s side always. We’re a family, Y/N.”

Hobi and Taehyung came together while you and Jungkook were having dinner: We have seen our sisters and relatives go through pregnancy, and it honestly looks so overwhelming. We respect women more every day. We’re here always, just one call away.” They had said with smiles on their faces.

Yoongi: “I am not good with words or comforting people, Y/N, but I just wanna assure you that I am always here. All of us will be there for you both. It's not gonna be easy for you, mentally or body-wise, but never feel alone. You’re our family and always will be, no matter what.” He said, patting you like you were a kid while Jungkook sniffled sitting by your side in your sitting area.

The most common advice everyone gave was: Be easy with yourself, mentally, emotionally, and physically. You’re going through a lot.

And it was true. You and Jungkook have been working on your relationship’s progress ever since your first session, and somehow it was going pretty well. You had dinner together and he made sure he attended the sonography sessions and therapy sessions with you.

You had regular sessions together and Ms. Shin recommended you both try talking about the future ahead. No definite planning, just talking about the options.

Wall paints, cradles, toys, shopping, diaper brands, baby food, everything you could see in the future around your baby. Since the biggest reason for fixing your relationship was because of your baby, you needed to familiarize yourself sitting around talking about the little person gluing you both together.

So you both decided to have dinner together daily and decided to make a pre-baby diary while eating. Yes, it was Jungkook’s idea. It's been 8 days since the last therapy session and you have already listed the paint options for the baby’s room, went maternity clothes shopping with your husband and browsed some cradle options.

All was well, right?

On the outside, yes. In your ovaries? No.

The lingering attraction you so badly tried to avoid for the past week is still lingering in the air around you. You roll your eyes as you feel embarrassment creep up your neck at how dumb you have been behaving around your husband.

You feel emotional, horny and everything at once. Absolutely mental.

♡♡♡

“I don't think I am normal anymore.”

The therapist watches you utter the sentence with a manic like chuckle. She must be thinking you're insane. You notice how her hand freezes for a mini second and then continues to pass you the glass filled with water.

“My question, however, Mrs Jeon, was how did your weekend shopping go, but you can still go on. Why would you think such a thought?” Your therapist calmly asks you after waiting for your response to her earlier question for a good minute.

You finally take the glass of water in her hand stretched towards you after muttering a low ‘thankyou’.

After what happened with you and Jungkook and his damn damp hair, you were freaking out. One moment you were feeling like you could cry out of embarrassment but the next moment you wanted to make out with him in the kitchen while he wore his white dress shirt and those grey joggers you always loved.

Okay. You know this is weird, hence the embarrassment. Duh?! Earlier you weren't able to control the urges you felt, the mood swings, the craving, and now?! This fucking arousal.

You made an appointment with your doctor as soon as you woke up the following morning, hoping she would prescribe some pills or any kind of medications to reduce the arousal you felt but it didn’t help you much because there was no way of completely avoiding that.

The doctor didn’t suggest you take the pills that might’ve helped you because you already had a lot of mood swings and anxiety episodes, those pills could’ve worsened them. She makes sense, a lot of sense but only when you thought about it with a cool head.

But at that moment, while she was telling you all that? It's just safe to say you can grit your anger in between your teeth.

Now you were sitting in front of your therapist hoping she would help you reverse the psychology or something which would help you not feel horny for your husband.

‘Your husband who betrayed you and was now trying to make up for what he did which you were okay with and hoping for everything to be better one fucking day ago but now you feel like you wanna kiss him so badly it makes you dizzy’

It was like a mantra, hecheatedhecheatedhecheated, so that you don't pull him in to kiss the shit out of his cute little face.

When you say the same things you thought, your therapist nodded her head noting something down in her notepad. Maybe she thought you were mental.

“Mrs Jeon, I would suggest you control your sexual urges towards your husband by trying to remove yourself from the room he’s in. Considering he doesn’t sleep with you, but if he does-“ but you cut her sentence in the middle by whispering quickly in his defense.

“No-no he doesn't, he sleeps outside in the lobby.” You shake your head not making eye contact, feeling somehow guilty of your husband's daily discomfort.

“And it's completely okay, Mrs. Jeon, to have your space and have some distance. It doesn't make you a bad person.”

Damn, she is good. You need to give her great ratings. You look up at her and watch as she nods her head with a small smile making you feel at ease.

“Did you talk about this issue with Mr. Jeon?” She asks you, and you shake your head slightly. Why do you feel guilty, and what do you feel guilty of most importantly? Nodding to your reaction, she says, “Would you like to discuss why?”

“Would that even change anything?” You say with a huff a second after she finishes her sentence, frustration evident on your face.

Shrugging she says, “It might make things clearer..” her eyes slowly crinkled due to her hair falling in her eyes. Flicking it away she looks at you slightly tilting her head. “Isn't this what you chose, Mrs Jeon? Being honest is what your relationship needs at this point, isn’t it?

Sighing you realize how you might be running away from things, after all, you chose this journey. You both did and somehow you feel you might be turning into an obstacle towards a better family life, yourself.

Turning your head towards the plant in the room’s corner, you speak with a distant voice, “I don't know, All that I have gathered from the problems I have had in my life is that I could win any kind of battle if it were against my mind but if it's my heart I am fighting against? It's a fucking lost cause.”

“What do you think is the reason you would be fighting your heart, Mrs jeon?”

You scoff whipping your head towards her, eyes glistening. Digging your nails before saying what you feel just on the tip of your tongue,

“I love him.”

There's a pause, followed by your therapist humming.

“I love him so much I wanna forgive him and try to make things better but..”

“But..?”

Another pause. A suffocating one.

“I can't seem to do that to myself or my kid. What kind of an example would I be if I give in to something that's not right?!” After you notice how your expressions change into a frustrated scowl in the tiny mirror behind your therapist's head you feel your tears start to fall off.

“I am sorry.” You say sniffling and somehow embarrassed of your feelings taking over you.

“It's okay, Mrs. Jeon, here..” she offered you the tissue kept on her desk, and you wiped your tears chuckling at your situation.

How did your life get to where it was? You have no absolute fucking clue.

♡♡♡

You wince minutely when you reminisce how your last session went with Ms. Shin.

One moment you were crying because you can't forget the night he told you that he cheated on you and one moment you cried because you wanna hug him and then cry into his chest about how your hormones wanted you to kiss him but you can't because then you would cry about how you shouldn't be feeling like this about someone who betrayed you, then again you cry because you can't forget how he betrayed you.

It's like a frustrating cycle. A cycle you wanna throw off of a freaking dam to let it drown and maybe rust when the water starts to break the metal. Maybe that would help break it because there was no way in hell you could succeed in breaking it.

Not to mention how you have to pee every minute of the day and then crave pickles with some honey on them while sitting on the toilet seat.

Sounds tasty, right? Yeah, you shake your head in a quick no too as soon as you step outside and think how pickles would rather taste better with peanut butter on it.

As you deal with your tears and the spasmodic hand stomping on the pillow or table around you to let go of the kissy-kissy thoughts in your head, your husband stays clueless.

Not clueless about the hormones, na-ah.

Just the fact that you stare at him before you slap your hand on the table, or thump down the cup on the table too harshly for anyone to not notice. He tried to ask you if you felt okay. But ended up getting yelled at for not leaving you alone.

You once yelled at him for leaving the windows open which you asked to be left open, saying he should’ve known better when to close them.

This looks cute in shows and movies of how cute the mother-to-be looks yelling at a clueless husband but you on the other hand feel bad for making him feel actually at fault when he has been trying his best to make you feel comfortable.

What does he do after getting yelled at? He apologizes, does what you asked or yelled at him to do, and leaves. He still comes back and eats the dinner your mother made with you and your dad helping her out.

You feel terrible for how you are behaving around him, the worst part being that he takes everything you do and say to him without even reacting ever so slightly. You tried living life with him normally but you can’t forget the thought that lingers in the back of your head; that the favorite part of living your life with him was the affection, the touches.

It's frustrating to say the least that you haven't even hugged him in the last few months, you know that there is a reason behind the distance but since your mind tells you to create boundaries and try things again, your heart doesn’t understand how someone could try to make things better from a distance. Especially you and Jungkook.

He did everything according to how you needed without you telling him. Your childhood therapist once told you no matter how perfect a person tried to be there are certain situations where you can’t control the things the universe decides for you. She said that when you were having trouble accepting that you were the reason one of your ex-best friends changed schools, stating that you made her feel insecure. You had no idea.

So you accepted your fate, then and now as well. Doing things as they go in the flow. You had a discussion with your parents about how you are supposed to be having dinner with Jungkook as advised by your therapist so your mom and dad eat their dinner by 7 o’clock as advised by their doctors while you accompany them by having your soup or tea.

They thought it was a good idea so you agreed to do it.

By 9 o’clock or quarter to 9 Jungkook enters and you have your dinner and the discussion you are supposed to have about the baby.

It has been 15 minutes since your mom and dad went to their room after insisting on sitting with you while you wait for Jungkook to be back. You have your phone in your hand which starts to buzz with Jungkook’s name on the screen with the bunny emoji.

Picking up with a smile you answer to his voice.

God, you missed him.

Yep, you said it.

Picking up he seems like he is on the way and is trying to get his phone back from someone. “Hyung give me my phone back, hold his hands Yoongi hyung, hey-!” yes he was snatching his phone back.

You can hear a bunch of yelling noises in the background and you recognize the screaming voice immediately, Jimin. You shake your head at the chaos and smile putting a grape in your mouth.

“Hey, Y/N I am sorry I am a little late, I just wanted to ask if it's okay with me to bring Jimin and Yoongi Hyung over to your parent's house we have a bit of a situation on our hands.”

“Yeah, of course, kook, it's okay. Is everything okay though?”

Silence.

“Hello?”

“What did you call me?”

Your eyes widen at how you didn't even realize how normal this felt to you. You haven't called him Kook ever since you cried in his car after your first therapy session, always walking on eggshells.

“Y/N?”

Courage. Squeezing your fist and eyes shut you say,

“I called you k-kook. Is that not okay?”

Your leg starts to shake not knowing what to say next.

“No! Fuck, I mean it's more than okay. You know what? Let's not talk about it I don't wanna jinx it.” You can hear him smile and you can't help but widen your smile. It has been so long since you smiled this wide and you somehow feel better.

You repeat the words in your head, Don't feel guilty Y/N, go with it. Go with the flow. Cut yourself some slack. You’re going through a lot, be easy on yourself.

You smile and hear him chuckle before-

“Oh, no hyung not in my car ugh, we’ll be there in 5 minutes Y/N, I’ll reheat the food when I get there don't worry. Yoongi Hyung push his head out the window please-” And he hangs up.

Smiling at the chaotic phone call, you get up to check on your mom and dad if they are still up, wanting to tell them about the guests coming over. But since they were soundly asleep with the nightlights on, you switch them off, regulate the fan's speed, and take the phone from your sleeping-snoring mom’s hand plugging it to the charger and checking if they had water around them.

After checking up on your parents you close the door to their room and walk towards the kitchen to drink some water. Even the small activities could make a pregnant lady tired and the jug in your room was empty so you walked slowly towards the fridge. The pain getting better but still evident in your lower back which makes you put a hand on your back while you open the refrigerator.

Suddenly you spot a Harley bike model Jungkook gifted your father when he came home to meet your parents for the first time. Your father was really happy seeing the model, him being a Harley fan. If age didn't play a role in life your father would've still been traveling with your mom like those couples you saw in uni.

You remember how you and Jungkook loved to travel on his bike, you holding onto him as if your life depended on it, hair flowing from under the helmet and him accelerating the bike through the streets, hills, and empty roads leading to the cabin the whole group planned to visit during his and Namjoon’s collective birthday celebration.

Damn, you were so in love. Still are, and will probably always be.

The group has always been there for you, they're like the family you never knew you needed until they came into your life. The chaos was a part of your life, the screams, the teasing, the weekend game nights, the celebrations, movie nights which turned into everybody and their girlfriends crashing in the lobby on the mattresses Jungkook bought for the night stays.

You remember what the situation was when you met him for the first time six years ago.

♡♡♡

“Damnit Tae, jump outta here.” You argue with Taehyung as the three of you look out the window of your room.

“Fuck no. Are you mental? I’ll die if I jump out of here.” Taehyung says whisper yelling at your roommate, Aera, who rolls her eyes at her dramatic “friend” panicking with wide eyes.

“No, you won't, don’t be dramatic.” You scoff as you push him slightly in the windows direction.

“It's a whole ass floor Y/N, the fuck is wrong with you?” He scowls at you as he regains balance panicking.

“Maybe we should call Jungkook.”

“Jungkook? Jeon Jungkook with that loud-ass bike? Nice. Sneaking a boy out of our room with the help of another boy. Fan-fucking-tastic, Taehyung.” You clap two times with a straight face.

“Guys,” your friend giggles as she tries to focus on the main topic in the room, while Taehyung goes back to sit on your roommate’s bed.

“I think he is right, Y/N, we could at least get help from JK.”

“Mhm, help in getting kicked out.” You mumble not so quietly earning yourself a middle finger from Taehyung and an eyeroll from Aera.

“Fine, do whatever you want.” You say rolling your eyes.

The thing was you were only partly nervous because of your forced eviction but also because you had never met Jungkook, the campus crush. More like the crush of every girl who saw him on his bike. You were not one of them, at least you wouldn't admit that but you wouldn't deny that he was a pretty face to look at and a very hot piece of ass to stare at. The proportions of that man were totally insane.

Tiny waist, big- biteable chest, broad shoulders, thick thighs, luscious hair locks, biceps people could hang on, the all-black outfit, and the very contrasting facial features. If he wore a helmet people wouldn't imagine how the guy had big doe boba eyes and a cute mole under his lips, skin better than half of the girls who spent so much on products. He always had that glint in his eyes making him seem so innocent, innocent but with a physique that can crush people.

You never talked to him so you don't know how he sounds or if he is a rude person. You just know he is Taehyung’s friend whom he hangs out with around the campus.

While you thought about how Jungkook might or might not be your crush, Taehyung called him and you all got up to sneak him out of the house.

“Wait you don't need to come if you don't want to Y/N,” Aera said after looking around the hallways and telling Taehyung to tiptoe downstairs since her aunt’s room was on the same floor as yours.

“H-Huh? N-no I wanna go as well. So that if she wakes up I can tell her we both went out to get some fresh air while the guys ran away y-you know? “

You said. Terrible at lying. You wanted to see the man coming to save his friend.

Your friend was in a hurry sneaking her fuck buddy out so she didn't pay attention to what you said and how you said it. A total stuttering mess.

Walking out of the house you never imagined him to be so..so..so tasty. Thats the only words that come to your mind. He parked his bike at a safe distance because of how much noise it made and approached you guys.

The image in your hand was like the 480p version of how beautiful and ethereal he was but in reality, he had tattoos. Tattoos! Not even a small one, a whole arm that stretched inside his white sleeveless tee.

You thanked the cloth gods for making this particular article of clothing because you needed to see how hot men you would want to eat up looked in it.

“Told you, you would need my help.” He smirks as Taehyung walks past him only turning around to come back and give Aera a quick kiss and then running away again, making her blush.

“Run dumbass, their landlord would skewer us on her cane,” Taehyung says and you chuckle at how exaggerated he made Aera’s aunt sound. At your chuckle, Jungkook looks at you and you pause mid-laugh when you notice him looking at you.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He extends his hand towards you and you blush not knowing how to respond to his raspy voice.

“Yeah, I know you.” You say staring at him with heat on your cheeks and immediately kick yourself mentally.

You sound like a fucking creep. I know you? seriously?

He smiles, “..and you are..?

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to be rude I’m Y/N, Hi heh.” You extend your hand to shake his and he whispers your name under his breath eyes still looking into yours.

“Hi Y/N, you’re very pretty.” While he rubs his thumb on your already heating skin making it burst into flames as he rubs it again.

“Kook!” Taehyung yells and you break the eye contact, taking your hand back.

“It's okay don't be sorry, I didn't find you rude rather, I found you cute.” He says as you look at him again. You think it was an imagination of your beauty-struck head or maybe it was due to dark but..did he just check you out?

You give him a confused look at what he said, making him chuckle. He sounds so deliciously hot and raspy. God.

“That you know who I am, considering how you’re always in the art studio. I found it cute.” He says with a smile leaning slightly towards your face and you lean back at the same time he leans in. He stays towering over you and maybe notices your expressions. You just hope he didn't notice how red your cheeks might be.

Does he know about the art studio? Only people close to you knew about it.

Seeing your wide eyes, he straightens up to his original height and chuckles. He sounds so good, it reaches inside you and you knew that you were fucked.

“Kook?” You didn't even notice when Taehyung came back to drag his friend back. Slapping his shoulder and then sprinting towards the bike again.

“Kook, let's go. She switched on some kind of light in her room oh god. She’ll beat your and my asses collectively.” Taehyung yells waving his friends over.

“Hey we’re gonna be in the beat party as well, Y/N lets go,” Aera speaks from the driveway of her aunt's house, slowly retrieving her steps.

But you were stuck. Stuck on how his bunny teeth played with the piercing on his lips. Not being able to bear eye contact with him, you flicked your eyes away.

When Taehyung yelled again from a distance, Jungkook responded with a ‘yea yea coming’ while stepping backward with his white sleeveless tee sticking to his body.

Generally, you didn't like summers but you were so glad it was hot enough that he decided to wear a sleeveless outfit, for you to ogle his tattoos.

Taehyung and Aera were already away from the both of you, Taehyung at a safer distance from the house and Aera still waiting for you at the house hoping her aunt just woke up for her nightly washroom trips and didn't see you guys with these beautiful men.

With a smile on his face, he stepped back facing you. Clicking his tongue twice to get your attention, you looked at him to immediately regret locking eyes with him. He winked at you and said, “See you around, sweetheart.”

You swear you saw his eyes flitting to your lips and then to your skirt that was flowing with the slight wind in the surroundings before he turned around and ran towards his panicking friend.

You knew he was casually flirting and was out of your league. And since you didn't believe your luck would suddenly turn out to be on your side you didn't think of his wink as something more than something casual.

But goddamnit, the crush you never admitted to, was finally admitted in your heart.

♡♡♡

You smile as you pick the model in your hand at the fond memories of how you tried so hard to remain just friends with the guy even though he hung out with you daily, accompanied you in your art studio confirming he knew about you before meeting you. You never knew your friendship could be more than what it was but maybe growing up and getting jobs made you want to prioritize yourself and your wants, so you decided to tell him how you felt but he beat you to it three days before you planned on confessing.

“Sorry sweetheart, wanted to kiss you as my girlfriend on Valentine's Day without the fear of rejection in the back of my brain.” That's what he said before he kissed the living daylights out of you on the gazebo at your favorite park.

You smile remembering how he took you to the park saying the cherry blossoms were blooming early that year, you believed him nodding with excitement and you went along with him running and holding hands. Reaching there you were sad that no blossoms were blooming but then he gave you the promise ring he ordered from the vintage store you loved so much. You knew it cost him a lot but when you asked him about it he just chuckled deeply avoiding that question and before you could pick that topic again he kneeled on one knee and asked you to be his girlfriend officially.

You smile at the memories and keep the bike model back on the shelf, the flashback coming to a halt as you come back to the living room when your phone buzzes with your husband's name on it.

He didn't ring the doorbell nowadays to be cautious in case your parents were asleep. So you went to the door and opened it already expecting Jimin leaning on Jungkook’s shoulders while Yoongi just snickered at his younger brother, seeming unconscious but Jimin was very much awake, also very very drunk as he clung to Yoongi telling him everything was going to be okay. Jungkook held three bags as he gave you a sheepish smile at his Hyungs’ behavior.

“Yes, Yes, Jimin. It's gonna be okay.” Yoongi held Jimin very firmly while giving you a small smile before asking where to put him so that he could blubber nonsense somewhere your neighbors wouldn't hear.

Jungkook chuckles and leads them to the guest room while muttering a ‘hi’, looking at you from head to toe as if checking if you had any injuries.

“Hi,” you whisper, enough for him to catch your voice.

“How was your day?” You ask trying to take the bags from his hand but he tilts his body giving you a look that says ‘Really?’.

Sighing with a smile, you close the door and follow him inside.

“It was good- Oh shit the guest room door is locked. Wait hyung let me get the key” he put the bags on the counter while a grunting Yoongi held a wobbly Jimin in his hands.

“Wow realized it so soon,” Yoongi says sarcastically l as Jimin looks at you with a smile on his face. Gasping dramatically, he removes himself from his brother's shoulders and comes towards you, slightly tilted, but he somehow reaches you.

“I can see your baby.” Your eyes widen at what he said and you scoff a laugh as Jimin kneels down in front of your belly.

“He means you’re showing, and he is noticing that now, only, he sounds creepy as fuck.” Yoongi walks back to the sofa and sits down with a long sigh.

“May I please?” He says as hovers his hands over your belly with big puppy eyes and you chuckle at how patiently he wants you to answer.

“Yes, Jimin you may.” You say with a laugh and he whispers to your tummy hovering his hand above it like it's a crystal ball.

“Hi tiny person, I am Jimin, your godfather..” he giggles at the end of his sentence while you hear Yoongi chuckle from the couch.

“The fuck? When did we decide that hyung?” Jungkook stands next to you with keys hanging from his fingers, narrowed gaze focused on his elder brother.

“Shhhhhh” Jimin shushes Jungkook loudly almost spitting on your belly. You laugh as he looks pointedly at Jungkook.

“You don’t get to decide that. Dumbass.” Jimin slurs out and tries to get up grabbing the trousers Jungkook wore, almost making him fall over with his weight.

“Hyung, fuck you’re heavy when drunk.”

“I fucking know right? I don’t know how that happens..” Yoongi mumbles typing something on his phone, stretching his neck sideways to pop the strained muscle.

Jungkook stumbles while you also try to help him balance Jimin by bending slightly to keep a hand on his shoulders, but then you remove it as Jungkook whispers ‘I got him I got him’ assuringly not wanting you to take any strain.

Smiling to yourself you walk over to the couch adjacent to where Yoongi was sitting, asking if he needed water or anything like that.

“Nah I’m good. Thanks.” He waves his hand as he keeps his phone aside watching how Jungkook manages to drag Jimin back.

“...You’ll look good in a tutu as well..” Jimin says to Jungkook poking a finger to his sides continuously. “You know a white one with stars on it, I’ll gift it to the baby so that you can match your outfits then” Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance as Jimin’s voice fades into the guest room Jungkook opens for him to sleep in.

“Let me go check up on him yeah?” Yoongi says softly getting up from the couch, picking up a banana on the way to the guest room. Raising one of his brows and the fruit in the air as if asking for permission to eat it. You tilt your head with narrowed eyes passing on the message, ‘You have to ask?’

He smiles slightly shrugging and heads towards the guest room while pealing the banana.

“Jungkook, is he under control now or still wobbly- oh, fuck no-“ Yoongi asks from outside of the room but then pauses in his tracks as you hear Jungkook whine slightly out of disgust and you immediately get up feeling a slight ache in your lower back due to the hurry.

“Is everything okay?” You ask concern evident in your eyes.

Yoongi chuckles and moves away from the door, shaking his head. “Not gonna eat this now, sorry, Y/N.” He says, still laughing.

“Oh no did he-“Before you could say something Jungkook stomps his way out of the guest room and you immediately feel nausea entering you seeing your husband's sleeve covered in vomit.

“Hyung could you please help me heat the food? I’m gonna go take a shower, sorry hyungie just please-“ he continues walking towards the common bathroom at the end of the hall.

“Sure” Yoongi chuckles moving towards the fridge.

“I’ll help you..” you take a step towards the crockery cupboard.

“No, I’m fine. I’ll do it, you sit.” He says pausing you midway.

“No Yoongi lemme help..” you say but he just points the small spoon towards the island chair.

“It's okay Y/N I’ll do it.” He says nodding while opening the Tupperware filled with the various side dishes and the tofu-miso stew.

“I just don't wanna trouble you Yoongi, thanks though.” You say giving up on offering help as he heats the food one by one in the microwave.

“Oh it's not for free, I am taking the godfather’s title in exchange for this.” He smirks glancing at the room Jimin slept in.

“Yeah okay, try beating Jimin for the title. You chuckle looking in the same direction for a second and then at the man heating up the food. While he just gives you a small laugh while warming up the rice in the cooker, mumbling, “We’ll see who wins.”

You smile and pat your feet on the ground in a rhythm as Yoongi places the food on the kitchen island. You feel guilty for making him do this but he has already rejected your help three times so there was no point in arguing over it.

“Y/N?” Yoongi whispers looking at a plate in his hand.

“Yea?”

“I know it's none of my business and I should not even say something about this but can I just say it's really nice that you’re trying again?” He says lifting his head to look at your reaction to what he said.

You feel yourself freeze, this is the first time you had a conversation about your situation with Jungkook, the cheating, and the decision to try again. You sure talked about the pregnancy and yes there was always that lingering awkwardness in the air but this was new.

“Yea..” you sigh looking at your lap for a second and then lifting your head to give him a soft smile.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to get a chance to revive their relationship.” He says still looking at the plate while tracing the pattern on it with his index finger.

You know that his relationship ended badly, you knew how much he loved his girlfriend, you know he acts like it's okay but his dark circles tell another story, you know he looks thin and exhausted all the time but acts like it's nothing.

You know it's not nothing.

“Yoongi, I am sorry about-“But before you could finish your sentence he laughs almost in pain.

“It's okay Y/N, it's done, she is gone. She is happy without me and I can't change that.” He says and you feel your heart break at how small he sounds.

“It sucks but it's true.” He says softly, half to you half to himself, still trying to process his grief over the relationship he lost. After an uncomfortable pause, he continues.

“I saw him Y/N,” he points his chin in the direction of the washroom Jungkook was taking a shower in when you look at him confused at the change of topic.

“..and don't think I am taking his side 'cause he is like a brother to me but I say this honestly, he was devastated while he was away from you.” You just stare at him with eyes round and wide not expecting this conversation to go this way.

“He forgot to eat and sleep, just kept asking Jin Hyung and me if we saw you or if any other of guys saw you.” He says while you look at him nervously talking about the topic, picking his nails.

“Do you remember the time you were at the hospital due to your abdominal pain?” You nod at his question feeling your throat tighten up uncomfortably so you divert your gaze down at the plate with little blue flowers printed on the ceramic.

“He ran to the hospital since his car was still parked at your previous address.” Your eyes widen and you whip your head toward the man standing in front of you.

What does he mean he ran?

“What?” You whisper.

“Taehyung had a night shift and he was alone at the apartment. I tried to tell him to wait for me to pick him up when he called to ask if Taehyung left office or not, but he just hung up saying it would take too long.”

“So he ran to you.” You feel your throat tighten as humanly possible, eyes burning.

Wasn’t Taehyung’s house almost double times the way compared to your route connecting your house to the hospital? You can't even comprehend how he felt when you didn't even talk to him that day.

Shouldn’t you feel like he deserved to feel like that? Shouldn't you say that he did that to himself? That was what you should've said right? But your heart thumps harder every second making your eyes spill the tears gathering in them.

You remember Jungkook was really out of breath and was also wearing different slippers that day.

“Since it was pretty late, he couldn't even book a cab quickly..” Yoongi looks at you and notices how your gaze is zeroed onto him and immediately understands your expressions.

“Hey, I am not trying to make you feel bad or something like that, what he did and what you guys decided is totally none of my business but I just wanted to tell you that giving a second chance is not easy and I really wish things work out for your relationship. I really appreciate you both working through so much stress you know? I can see what his vision meant when he wanted to quit last month.”

“What?” You whisper

“No no, he doesn't want to quit now, I mean after what you both decided Namjoon talked to Mr. Park and handled it..” when Yoongi doesn’t see you respond to whatever he said he realizes that you look lost.

“You don't know, do you?”

“Don't know what?” You whisper again, heart racing. Why do you feel you're not gonna like what he is gonna say?

There is a pause, a very uncomfortable pause. He visibly scans your face and inhales sharply as if deciding against or in favor of telling you about the whole situation.

You clench your pajama pants into your fists as your hand rests on your lap. The kitchen felt stuffy all of a sudden. This might seem like an overreaction but your body feels defensive all of a sudden, deciding between running away or ripping the bandaid off.

Deciding on the latter you ask,

“Yoongi, please tell me?” You request softly and at your almost inaudible request, Yoongi sighs, giving up. He shuts his eyes for a second and then looks up smiling sadly at you.

You hold your breath.

“Um, he was promoted to be the next VP of the agency, and uh..” he rubs the back of his neck looking away, avoiding the eye contact with you.

“And he rejected it?” You whisper and Yoongi nods, still not looking at you.

“The job required him to give more time into his job, more hours away from home. From you and her.” He looks at you and then points his chin in your tummy’s direction.

“So when they told him the details about the hours and the business trips, he immediately refused. Since he was the most eligible person for the job, the CEO, Mr Park..” he says,

“Mr. Park.” You say at the same time nodding.

“Yes, Mr. Park tried convincing him saying he’ll adjust according to your due date and whatever changes Kook would want to his schedule but this kid..” Yoongi chuckles shaking his head, “..rejected it, saying if he had to quit the job he would do it but he would not add onto whatever hours he was working.”

“Then suddenly..” Yoongi picks up a tangerine from the fruit bowl and starts peeling it.

“He came up with an idea of actually quitting in order to give more time to you and your child, so when Namjoon said and I quote, ‘Y/N is gonna kill you if you do that, she knows how much you worked for this’ Jungkook said that you both decided mutually that rejecting the promotion was okay and you were okay with whatever he decided about his job. Which…looking at you right now doesn't seem like it.” Yoongi looks at you with a hesitant expression, offering you the peeled fruit.

You feel your ears heat up and not out of good reason, you are actually mad at him. You were hearing all of this for the first time and you can't believe he backed off from the job he got offered after working so hard. The reason he used to work his ass off, extra time, no holidays, always punctual, not caring about his meals and whatnot, and then just fucking backed off?

"When was this?" You say gritting your teeth, eyes glistening with angry tears, eyes still on Yoongi.

You take the piece of fruit from his hand and shove it in your mouth, eyes red with tears in them.

“Y/N..”

“Why didn't he tell me? And wait a minute he said it was a mutual decision?! What the hell?”

“Y/N, he must have had a reason for saying so, he did explain the reasons and it sounded like he gave it a lot of thought. “

“Don’t you mean WE gave it a lot of thought? hah.” You say chuckling bitterly, swallowing the fruit, your hand going through your hair in frustration as you face the direction where your husband showers unaware of the angry volcano on the other side of the bathroom door.

“What the hell is wrong with him?!” You almost scream but lower your voice remembering your parents are asleep, immediately looking around warily and Yoongi does the same, with similar expressions on his face.

“Sorry, I just feel so mad right now.” You say squeezing your eyes shut, speaking through your teeth.

“I guess you should talk to him,” he says looking at you softly.

“You’re damn right I will-“ you say

“But not now, privately, okay?”

You look at him breathing heavily, cheeks wet with tears, his eyes pleading to not lose your calm immediately. You look at his anger and countless emotions swirling in your mind, nose flaring.

“Ah, okay fine.” You say throwing your hands in frustration, coming back to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

The next few minutes Yoongi tried not to talk about anything and you just swirled your spoon in the spoon Yoongi served for you. He constantly made sure you were sipping the soup, giving you water, and peeling another tangerine for you.

He almost sighed in relief when the bathroom door clicked open and Jungkook came out of the washroom. The steam rushed out of the white-tiled space along with a drippy Jungkook and a goddamned towel around his waist.

You feel madder now. Is that even a word? You don't care because that's how you feel. Madder.

Remember when you said how your emotions were on a roll these days? Yea. It was an understatement because the moment you saw your husband with that damned towel hanging low on his hips your anger turned into angry horniness, you wished, only for a second, but wished Yoongi wasn't here so that you could straddle the half-naked guy and ask him about the stupid decision he made.

Although Jungkook had immediately rushed into the room to get some clothes on him it was enough to make your ovaries light up on fire. You're mad and horny, two things that don't go well for you. Especially not in this state.

"Hey guys I am sorry, I had to wash off all that puke stench. Why didn't you guys start eating yet?"

"I don't know maybe you took very long to shower." You snap at your husband and he freezes in his tracks to get the plate.

"Y/N, I was there for only 10 mins."

“I don't know, felt like 10 years."aAt your tone Jungkook looks at you concerned and then at Yoongi who watches awkwardly, the whole scene unfolding in front of him.

"Guys you know what I think I am gonna head home, I have eaten with Jimin earlier and need sleep."

“No- yoongi eat please-“ you request feeling guilty for making him awkward.

“Yes hyung, please finish your dinner.” Jungkook says, looking at his hyung but then flicking his gaze back at you.

“No no its really okay.” Yoongi says, already walking away from the island.

"Okay, hyung." He says after a second his eyes wandering back to you observing your sour mood. Eyebrows furrowed with thought while you just chewed on the rice mixed with the curry not looking at Jungkook after waving to Yoongi.

Yoongi walks towards the doorway with slow steps, the footsteps echoing along with the tinkled spoon made inside the curry bowl. He grabs the keys and walks towards the two of you, giving you a nod and patting Jungkook’s back.

"Take care Y/N and you too, kook." He stares two seconds longer at the younger male and then nods at him. Jungkook gets up halfway to which Yoongi waves in a signal for Jungkook to not bother seeing him off.

The door clicks shut leaving you and Jungkook in silence.

"Y/N wha-"

"Eat, Jungkook."

At your stern tone, Jungkook flinches and just resumes eating in silence. Silence for almost 10 minutes. 10 slow and irritating minutes. It was like the clock ticked 10 seconds forward and then 40 seconds backward. The silence added to the awkwardness you both felt, making the time more unbearable.

Again, did you mention slow?

All the thoughts come back to your mind, every emotion holding your neck in a chokehold, everything that you’ve felt since the day started comes back. The conversation with your mom about how she asked you if you wanted to move back in with ever, you thought your mom wanted you to leave so you cried. All the emotions you felt then catching up to you.

The thoughts of being alone with him made you happy and cry at the same time in the afternoon while you finished working on the report your seniors asked you to finish before your leave started. You feel all the emotions you felt while rewatching the notebook in the evening before dinner. You feel all the emotions at once, those emotions which you felt when Jungkook called you from his car and, also when he called you from his office to check if you had your medicine.

The emotions of frustration and anger when Yoongi told you about the job offer and how your husband rejected it. The thoughts about something bad happening to your child come back and make your head dizzy. It's too much at the same time. You're happy that he is eating his food in silence because if he did say anything before you finish, you might actually run to the bathroom to vomit all of your emotions.

After minutes of frustration and anger and sadness and silence, you finally got up and almost threw the plate in the sink, Jungkook tried to get your plate but you just brushed past him huffing finally making Jungkook ask you the question you didn't want to hear and hear at the same time.

You wanted to talk to him about the whole thing and didn't at the same time. You were on an emotional rollercoaster, and Jungkook was gonna be the bird that hit the coaster blades, getting hurt.

"Y/N did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, do you do anything right these days Jungkook? I don't think so." You chuckle throwing the glass of water into the sink thankfully not breaking it.

Turning towards your husband, you immediately regret saying what you said because he just looks like a kicked puppy. Big eyes filled with gloss, nose red, and wobbly chin. His features make you feel like the worst human being on this planet.

"Y/N, I am sorry for whatever it is but can you tell me what's wrong?" He whispers looking- no, pleading with his eyes as you stand like a wall in front of him.

"You tell me, did you do anything to make me feel stupid and pathetic recently?" You say pointedly. Venom. Pure venom.

"Baby.."

"Don’t. Don't call me that." You say firmly.

"Shit- I am sorry Y/N please tell me what happened..wait-" You push yourself away from the counter instantly feeling the pain in your lower back.

“Bab- Y/N wait.” He rushes to your side holding one of your hands and one holding your waist, giving you support but somehow his touch stings, in the best way. You hate your mind and heart. You just hate it.

“No, I can walk myself I am not a toddler.” He doesn't let go of your hand even though you tell him to, he helps you walk towards your room. You try to tell him that you can walk alone but he doesn't listen instead he just hums or mutters 'I know' and it infuriates you more.

Why isn’t he saying anything? You’re literally acting like a spoiled kid right now.

Opening the door he walks you inside the room and helps you sit on the bed. As you take heavy breaths placing a hand on your chest you feel how rapidly your heart raced.

Removing the lid of the glass sitting on your nightstand, he helps you sip some of the liquid. You feel tears in your eyes and when he removes the glass from your lips he just smiles sadly at you and wipes the tears from your face with his thumb.

Leaning into his touch you say, "Why are you okay with me being like this to you?"

Okay, that's a dumb question ask Jeon Y/N, you're mad at him but just looking at him you feel like you are treating him like shit for something he doesn't deserve. Of course, he cheated on you, of course, you want to not love him because of that, and of course, your heart aches when you think of the betrayal but can you ever unlove him? Can you ever hurt him knowing you're gonna hurt him and not feel bad? Can you ever just look at him and feel nothing for him? Can you ever not love him?

Your head feels buzzed and when he speaks and your anger explodes.

"I deserve it, baby." You scrunch his t-shirt in your hand and pull him towards you, making him almost fall on you but he regains his balance by placing one of his hands on the comforter. With wide eyes, he just stares at you and the way your eyes brim with fresh tears. He tilts his head as if feeling guilty for the tears but you don't let him say anything.

"Why?" At this he looks at you confused.

The other tattooed hand finds its way on top of your wrist holding his t-shirt and you feel your sanity fly away for a second but at his confused expression, you feel your anger come back.

"Y/N what-" he sputters with big eyes

"Why did you reject the job offer?" you finally say.

Pin. Drop. Silence.

"What?" he breathes out.

"You think you can make that big of a decision by yourself? " you say sniffling.

"How did you-"

"How did I know? How about, why didn't I know?" You raise your voice slightly, and he shuts the door so that your parents don't get their sleep interrupted, tilting slightly towards the entrance, your bed not being that far from the door.

"Y/N I am sorr-" you cut him off mid sentence.

"Sorry? How many things are gonna be okay just because you apologize Jungkook?! It was your dream, you worked so hard for it.." you say feeling tears spill out of your eyes and when he just looks down at your lap with his lips twisted in a straight line guiltily, you can't help but yell at him a bit, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

You didn't realize when your hand shifted from the t-shirt's neckline to his neck. You realize that only when his eyes shut for a second at the feeling of your hands on his face, the other hand coming to sit on top of the comforter on the other side of your body. Holding onto his face you asked him the question with big teary eyes, wet cheeks, and a wobbly chin.

"Tell me, kook?"

Sighing he answers, "Baby, they wanted me to go away."

"Don't lie to me, Jungkook, please. Yoongi told me they were ready to fix the schedule according to you -"

"And you think they were gonna do that for me forever?" He asks.

"Why did you say that I agreed then? Why did you lie? Why didn't you come talk to me? Do you think I wouldn't have understood or that you think it's not important for me to know?"

"Would you have let me quit if I wanted to?" He asked instantly.

You pause. Dammit.

"You see? That's why I didn't tell you. You're already handling so many responsibilities, I didn't wanna worry you more." He says, eyes turning soft.

You look at him. Eyes looking at him trying to find dishonesty, the thing was, Jungkook doesn't lie. Even after he did what he did, he came out to you truthfully. It hurt but you're where you are because he was honest. It's the bare minimum, honesty, but its rare. At least in your experience. But not with Jungkook. He can't lie.

"They were willing to change my schedule for me only until she is born.." he says looking at your tummy and then lifting his eyes to look at you.

"..I can't risk being away from you again. It might sound like I am lying but Y/N, baby, I don't wanna be away from you even for a single second. I wanna prove myself to be worthy of a second chance. I wanna be worthy of you and her. I can’t imagine my life even for a second without you or her. You can push me all you want, you can yell at me all you want but don't tell me that I should've chosen a job and not my family. I know I don’t have an answer for why I did what.." he pauses gulps and continues.

"...I did, I myself don't know why I did it, and trust me if I could turn back the time I would. But baby..." he puts his hand on yours that is resting on his cheek waiting for a second, barely visible, but he waits for some kind of negative reaction to him touching you. When he senses none, he continues,

"...I love you, and I will love you for my whole life, I will love you and my family until I breathe. I am so sorry for fucking things up but I want to fix them, I can fix them, we will fix it. Just don't please.." he squeezes his eyes shut slightly squeezing your hand as well.

"... don't ask me to go away from you. I can't live away from you. I would quit my job if that's what it takes to be with my family, to take care of my family, to take care of you, and to take care of us. Please tell me I can be with you, can you please tell me you don’t want me to go away? Pleas- “

You tell him exactly that, but not verbally because wasn’t it ironic how he feels sorry for not knowing why he did what he did when you don't even think of any second thoughts before you do what you do, without knowing why.

Lips crashing on his, you shut him up with an answer you feel him absorbing inside him. He freezes when you kiss him, his breath stuttering when you move your lips against him. You squeeze his t-shirt in desperate need, and you feel him flutter his eyelids against your cheekbones, your tears mixing with his, and he kisses you back.

Does it last? Does your happiness last? No.

As soon as he moves his lips, you hear him sniffle and break the kiss. His eyes are still red, and his cheeks are slightly wet as well. He sniffles again, but the only sound you can hear is your heartbreaking because he moves away.

Away from the bed. Away from the comforter. Away from the kiss. Away from you.

He gets up and takes a step back, shaking his head, eyes squeezed shut. He curses under his breath as if regaining his composure while you just stare at the space where he was sitting earlier.

“I- I am sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't, I can't. I am really sorry, I shouldn't. I just shouldn't. I am sorry.”

And he leaves the room, shutting the door, not completely but leaving it slightly ajar. It's just like he does always. You hear the kitchen tap opening. He probably is doing the dishes. You hear everything from outside the door, but you feel like there's radio silence in your room.

A low beep-like sound ringing in your ears, embarrassment? Hurt? Love? Anger? Betrayal? Pain? Need? Desire? You feel so much at once, and you don't know what to do with it. This is getting so much more fucked and somehow you both find new ways to make this way tougher than anyone can imagine.

After some time, you hear the lights outside click off, and you can't help but wish he came to you. He does, but only to keep a fresh glass of water on the nightstand. He wishes you good night in a whisper, glancing once at your face and then,

...leaves.

Well, shit.

___________________________________________

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[007reid]

u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg 😭 u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!

spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove

essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3

(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)

i am never ever Normal abt this guy 😞 i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa

hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and let’s loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.

pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!

soup. spencer reid

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k

you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.

there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.

it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.

you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.

except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.

"y/n? y/n!"

now, it is very probable that the voice isn’t actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reid’s voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencer’s voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell he’d cast on you (him simply saying two words) he’s managed to melt away your headache, because he didn’t. you still feel like shit.

“y/n?”

you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you could’ve screamed.

you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.

“spencer?” you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencer’s there, looking like heaven’s finest angel, smiling at you like he’s smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like they’re the love of his life. you sort of hate it.

“hi y/n,” he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. “i—“

“what are you doing here?” you’re too impatient to wait, still in shock.

now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, you’re not eager cleaning up the consequences. it’s an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually it’s a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? it’s ridiculous.

your defense is completely solid, you’d say. your number one defense is you can’t help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone who’s soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.

spencer doesn’t like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, you’re proud to be spencer’s little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and what’s a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.

it’s not something you’re proud of, however. you know it’s a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an ‘it is what it is.’ spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesn’t have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencer’s trouble, definitely trouble, but it’s hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when he’s rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.

spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. “you didn’t come into work and you didn’t answer your phone,” he explains. “emily told me to go check on you.”

you nod. he’s here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. “i’ll head in the office now,” you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. “sorry—“

“no you’re not,” spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the action—has spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?—but knowing that doesn’t help the heat that spread up your cheeks that’s definitely not from the sickness. “you’re burning up,” he says. “i’ll get you some water. you should clean up,” he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.

you take advantage of the time that spencer’s not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except he’s by your desk, hands on a book.

typical.

he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child who’s been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit it’s a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.

“you like toni morrison?”

“i love toni morrison,” spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. “especially her masterwork, beloved,” he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"

“you bought me soup?” you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.

“it's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, it’s the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...i’ll be right back…” and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencer’s always right but mostly because your legs feel like they’re going to give out.

spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.

spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.

yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.

"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."

you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.

spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.

to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.

the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.

"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.

"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.

"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"

spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.

“i can’t miss anymore days spencer, and i won’t,” you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like it’s your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. “i’m not too sick, either, it’ll be useless for me to stay home—“

spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.

“you’re burning up,” he announces. “means your sick. you’re not coming in today, y/n.”

“says who?” you say defensively, feeling a bit like you’re loosing.

“says me,” spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. “who’s a doctor.”

you scoff. “so now you’re an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?”

“i have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,” spencer quips and you didn’t even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?

“whatever,” you grumble, sounding a lot like someone who’s just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a “thanks” under your breath.

spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. you’re talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."

“fine,” you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. “little cold, actually.”

“it's the chills from your fever,” spencer informs you. “i…” he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. “do you need anything else?”

“no spence,” you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. “you’ve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.”

spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure she’s ok. leave. he’s done the past two steps. it’s time he completes his mission.

but…

“are you sure?” he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.

you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.

whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."

"you do that."

"remember to drink water."

"i will."

"do you need me to bring you more?"

"i'm okay."

"okay."

"okay."

the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.

you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.

"are you sure?"

i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."

"you have medicine right?"

you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.

"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."

"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."

"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."

"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.

he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.

maybe another day.

a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short 😓😓but i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3

[mrsnancywheeler]

the river (4) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter/next chapter

masterlist

4.8k words

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, talks of trafficking and abuse related to it, aftermath of breakups, mentions of torture, self destructive behavior, mental illness, unedited, no use of y/n, underage drinking, paranoia

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“I'm hurting you, real or not real." It's been days of this, of Finnick trying to bring you back to him. Half the time you were fine, you'd try to go over the past with him, joke, and open up, so he'd do the same. He had to be so careful though, it wasn't clear what exact things would set it off, but you'd get so paranoid about him and the doctors. Occasionally they'd be able to calmly bring you back, ground you back into the firmness of reality. The other times you'd devolve completely, screaming, crying, hysterical, and Finnick would have to step away as you'd get worse when he was close by. It was an exhausting, never-ending cycle, but it was worth trying to get you back.

Today you'd let his chair be by your bed, but now he was scared he'd be forced to retreat. He had to be careful, if he lied you might be able to see it in his face and be convinced he was lying about other things, or he could tell the truth and risk the spiral of guilt. “Real." He knotted his rope, staring down at it for a second.

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to or want to. I'm really sorry." You're crying and he's thinking, oh shit, so early in the morning and now a whole day of what could've been progress will be lost.

He stared at you, trying to portray as much genuine feeling as possible, “I know that, angel, I don't blame you. I could never blame you and have never blamed you." It hurt to be so close yet so far away, he could reach out and touch you, but he knew better. Not like you always told him when you did want him to hold you though, some days you communicated well, but others it was like you forgot that he needed explicit permission to come close. You'd get grumpy when he couldn't just tell you wanted him closer and do as much. Truthfully it was adorable, and it reminded him of the past, but that also made his heart ache. He couldn't just make an inference anymore on the off chance it sent you into a frenzy, so he'd have to sit by and wait.

“You should, I'm so fucked in the head, and you deserve better."

“Well I'm pretty fucked in the head too, sweet girl, and there is no one better." You were hiccuping on your sobs, this could go badly so quickly. “Hey, it's okay, we're okay, why don't you take some deep breaths with me, angel? Look at me, just follow what I do, deep breath in, deep breath out." He urged you to look at him and you did, trying to follow along through the tears until finally you were somewhat calmed down.

“I'm sorry." You sniffled, wiping away stray tears.

“It's okay, sweet girl, we're gonna have a good day today, right?" The last couple had been rough, so strenuous for the both of you. You nodded slowly, “Maybe they'll let us take a walk or eat lunch with everyone else. Would you like that?”

"I don't know.” Your knees curled up into your chest.

"That's okay, we don't have to take that step yet if you don't want to. We can just talk or sleep or I can teach you some knots, and whatever else we can think of.” You shrugged and he had to realize that it could be a good day, but it probably wasn't going to be an easy one. With you in one of your difficult moods that he'd be left to handle. You'd say no even if you wanted something, silently expect him to come to the conclusion himself, and if it had been before the Capitol dug their talons in it would've been fine. He would've teased you about it before giving into your quiet plea for attention and he would've relished it because it meant you wanted comfort instead of only comforting him. Now though he didn't know what you were thinking, he had assumptions but the risk of being wrong was too great. “We have to use our words, angel, and if that's too hard you can write it down."

You said nothing and laid your head down on your knees, shaking it. Finnick shifted in his seat, rubbing his head, he didn't want to be annoyed with you, but it had been bad day after bad just to lead to this. He was exhausted and hated Snow for making him work so hard just to have you back again. “Please, don't be mad at me.” Your voice was so broken and so soft that he regretted even showing any form of annoyance.

"Angel, I'm not mad at you. I just can't help you unless you tell me what you want or need.” You ever so quietly let out a small huff as you laid down instead, staring at the ceiling. At least you weren't screaming until you needed to be sedated, you were just having a hard time communicating your needs. Finnick was sure all you wanted was to be held, in the past that's what it usually had been. “Is this making you feel embarrassed, honey?" Sometimes the switch between trying to push down your own needs for solace had left you like this, difficult to feel like you deserved to be consoled. Now though, he reasoned, it was because you felt like such a burden.

"I don't know what's going on in my head and everything is so conflicting. I just want to be me again so I know what I want, and you know, and I don't know it's too much. And I want to say things, but I can't because I just want people to see me as I was and know." His poor, sweet girl having to fight all the inner turmoil. You felt different, but you weren't. You were just struggling and wanted things to be the same as they had before, he knew that, but he also knew that they couldn't be until there were less breakdowns, less paranoia.

He had to suck it up and just give what he was so sure it was at the risk of another breakdown if he got closer, but the alternative was a different type of breakdown. “Do you want me to lay with you again?” You played with your fingers and nodded, so he slipped in beside you. He knew there was more from the way you looked at him and hoped he wasn't pushing boundaries, that he was right. "Angel, do you want to be held?” You finally smiled just a little bit when you nodded, grateful, and he smiled back,"Come here, sweet girl.” The moment his arms were around you your head snuggled into his chest, it felt perfect, the way you two were meant to be.

"Don't let me go."

“Wouldn't dream of it." He hadn't touched you in so long it was like heaven in his arms again. “You ready to talk now, sweet girl? Wanna tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I'm sorry I'm so difficult for everyone, I don't know what going on in my head half the time anymore.” Your voice vibrated through his chest and it was so comforting to him.

“You're just trying to get better, it's okay. And you can ask me, angel, you don't have to sit with it in your head and let it eat you up. You can just ask me if it's real.” His fingers traced circles on your shoulder, you were so cold all the time, it made him feel less hot and stuffy

“I'm safe, real or not real?"

“Real." Safe from the arena, the Capitol, the only thing you weren't safe from was yourself.

“Okay." You snuggled yourself further into him, like you trying to let yourself believe it. “When I was in the Capitol…” Finnick's ears perked up,"I'd try so hard to keep myself in reality, and I'd think about that time we took that tiny, crickety rowboat out and you said it would be romantic. So you packed up your fishing rod and we'd been out for a couple of hours when it was probably time to row back. So I said I'd take one of the oars-”

"Because you insisted I deserved to rest since it was so hot and I'd rowed us out, which I wasn't, but you gave me that cute little pout so I let you have one.” Of course he remembered this, even if three years ago felt like an eternity.

"You were tired!”

"That's subjective.” You scoffed, but he could hear you smiling.

“Anyways, right after you give me the oar you started kissing me-"

“You just look so cute when you pout like that and you were shining in the sun, like an angel, I had to."

"But you distracted me and I got so caught up in it because you were being an ass, started leaning me down.” He does remember his diabolical plan when you were sitting down sweetly on that little row boat, trying to help him, he just wanted to lay you right down and show you how appreciative he was.

"And you dropped the oar, sweet girl, wasn't my fault.”

"Yes, it was, you distracted me and then you tilted your body when you heard the splash to see what happened and so I did the same. Which made the boat tip over and left us both in the water.”

“And you just started laughing, I couldn't even be worried about you because your sweet little laugh was the first thing I heard. I just swam right over and had you in my arms, started laughing with you, and the only way I could get you to stop was by kissing you.”

"And then you wouldn't let me help you get the oars and row boat back up.”

"You're so pretty, sweet girl, would rather watch you while I'm on task, we saw what happened when that doesn't happen.”

"That was your fault!” You exclaimed, he could feel your smile on his chest.

“Maybe, but it was worth it.”

You hummed in response, one of your hands playing with the fabric of his own medical gown. "And then you insisted I had to get on first and I didn't know how you did it but somehow you got me in the row boat again before climbing back in, without it tipping over, it almost did, but not completely. And it was so hot that it was drying us off completely when you rowed us back with that beautiful, goofy smile on your face the whole time.”

“Couldn't help myself, you're so beautiful, love to look at you, angel."

“And only after we got to shore and you were insisting on carrying the whole boat by yourself did I notice I'd lost one of my sandals." You let out a small laugh into his chest that made his own smile brighten. “So you told me it was another reason I couldn't carry the boat even though it didn't bother me. We'd lost all the fish so we just ate grapes and giggled as you tried to figure something else out."

“I sat you on the counter and you just smiled like you were the sun, so I'd sneak kisses in while I worked. We decorated that rowboat together, do you remember?"

You nodded into his chest, eyebrows scrunched together. “With flowers and seashells?"

“Yeah, good job! Flowers, seashells, fish, the ocean waves, our handprints, and I carved our initials into it too."

Your voice become somehow even softer, “So when I was in the Capitol I'd think about how refreshing the water felt when the sun was beating down on us, how it felt and tasted when you kissed me, how you held me, the sound of you laugh, how special you made me feel by taking care of me. I'd think about that day to try and stop me from slipping away, for a while it worked."

You never ceased breaking his heart and making him fall deeper in love with you. "Well you're still here with me, haven't really slipped away from me.”

"I feel like I have, that I've slipped away from even knowing myself.” You admitted, voice croaky.

“You've just fallen and we're helping you back up, angel, I'm putting you back in the boat. Maybe it'll rock, but I promise you, it won't tip again."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

His life was hell with you gone because now there was nothing but the ever present loneliness to return too. There wasn't a day that seemed to pass where he didn't think of you in some way. Sometimes it was how much he missed you, others it was fantasies of still being together, and the worst ones were when he'd imagine your life without him. It was terrible when the breakup had begun and he had his first party because everybody had been drawn to you.

“Where is she, is she not feeling well because I can stop by."

"You can't have let that one go, Odair, she was perfect for you.”

"Finnick, she was my drinking buddy!" People admonished him left and right when it was finally revealed that he'd dumped you. Although he was pretty sure people were more upset about the lack of your magnetic presence.

Initially he tried to play it off like his Capitol persona would have, you were just one of many girls lined up for him, and the committal part had scared him off, and you were so clingy. The rumor mill caught it and so many girls were ready to be next. He felt like he was betraying you every time he sent a flirty smirk back to whatever they said to draw him in. So he gave up the persona, he'd rather be mournful and drink away the problems each night.

Then he'd heard that Tallulah still saw you, she'd grab a bottle or two and sneak out to tap on your window. That way she still had someone to take care of her afterwards and she trusted you with the role. “Lulah please tell me what she says, I don't care what about, just anything. I'm begging you." Finnick was tipsy and felt like he was going to cry, but Tallulah pursed her lips.

“Finnick, I don't think that's a good idea.” She took another sip of her drink.

"I'll do whatever you want, please. I'm not asking you to pass messages or anything.” She must have taken pity on him and his tears when she agreed. So he soaked up anything you'd said the next time he saw Tallulah.

“I don't think you want to know."

“I do, I don't care what it is."

“Finnick, if you're already this beat up about it, I'm not sure telling you what she said will help.”

“That's okay, I deserve to feel bad about it."

Tallulah sighed, " People talk Finnick, so the things you'd said about her kind of, you know, got back to her.”

Finnick looked up as if it would stop the tears from falling,"No, no, no, no I didn't mean that. She has to know I didn't mean that.”

"But you said it.” Tallulah shrugged. "She kept asking if I thought she was too clingy or overbearing, sometimes she'd ask if you had someone else and then decided she didn't want to know.”

"No, never.” He said quickly and hated himself for leaving his sweet girl only to cause her even more pain from afar.

“If you're gonna leave a girl, you have to leave her, Finnick. Or you're both gonna spend your whole lives wishing for things when you could just move on. I'm not gonna do this again, just let her have Conway. It's always been them.”

"I know, that's okay.” But it wasn't because Finnick Odair was like a moth to a flame. Any time he could see or hear about you he would. He remembered when nearly a year later you'd started dating Beckett, the same goddamn Beckett that had drawn Finnick to you in the first place. He'd been jealous for a myriad of reasons he had no right to. At least it wasn't Conway, at least if you stuck with Beckett it was a different ending then the expected, the obvious route.

But god, did Finnick hate him. Because he represented you trying to move on, that Finnick didn't have a future with you, and worst of all that other people found you just as intriguing as he did. So when he'd walk the market in circles just to see Beckett shamelessly flirting with you and in your way, you'd flirt back. Maybe he was vain, but Finnick liked to imagine that you did it so he'd be jealous and take you back, even if that could never happen. Beckett had to know it affected Finnick too, who only maintained terse conversation or made jabbing comments towards the other boy.

Until finally whatever excitement you got from it burnt out and you told Beckett it wouldn't work. Leaving Finnick to wonder if it was wrong that he hoped it was because you realized you could never love someone as much as you loved him. It was probably fucked to want, but he needed to know so desperately that you were as longing for him as he was for you. His life condemned him to longing glances and whispers of your name over the ocean waves, but at least you would be safe. Maybe he'd find you in another lifetime, right person, wrong time. Then you could be safe and happy.

Instead he realized the universe didn't expect either of your lives to be ones of just the parted lovers, whatever he'd done in a past life, was coming back for blood. He should've known Snow would realize Finnick thought of you with every breath he took, that he still thought of your lips instead every time he was in the company of a customer, and that it would lead to more tragedy. Because when the fated reaping for the 69th Hunger Games began, it was your name sent into the labyrinth of death.

Any light left in his life had been aggressively ripped from him, it was as if everytime he thought he'd hit rock bottom the ground would crumble beneath him and the falling would resume. At least he knew you were smart, he was privy enough to the clockwork of you to know that you were terrified, but to anyone else you would've looked so calm and collected. Then you looked at him and he felt like the ground was breaking again, another thousand feet to fall. It was like you were sending him a love letter before you went off to certain death.

Tides were always changing, they could sweep you away or reveal the gorgeous curiosities of the waters, Finnick wasn't sure what it was when the second tribute's name was called. Conway. Why was he inescapable? If the stars destined you and Finnick to be tragic lovers, then Conway was always there to rock the boat. But through your eyes, glistening with tears, he sees the plan almost formed. Never has he been so grateful that his sweet girl could easily put on a brave face to handle anything, that you're used to using charisma as a way to fend for yourself, because that means success in the Capitol and you need that.

So although he wished your eyes had stayed on him, blessed him, instead they could do what he needed. Make you interesting enough for sponsors. He knew Conway deserved better, but how could he focus on him when you were right there? His sun, his moon, the stars in the sky, you were absolutely everything, so there was no time to think about what Conway deserved or didn't.

Finnick could easily craft your image to others. He was certain of it, he could sing your praises night and day, so it would be far from difficult to convince the Capitol that you were the model victor. If he had to grovel at the feet of every elite, let them damage his long gone sense of dignity, then it might be worth it for once. Your death would be the last piece of pressure on the dam before it burst open, he needed you to survive. If you won he could be with you. There wouldn't be any hiding because as a victor, Snow would already be finding ways to dig his talons into you. It was all worth it to be able to hold you again.

Finnick could watch every mechanical gear shift in your brain and fall into place. The way Conway loved you, which made Finnick seethe even if he'd always laughed it off like it didn't bother him in the slightest, was going to have to save your life. You'd hate yourself for it, but you'd hate yourself more if you didn't do everything you could do to be there for your family. The same family that you were convinced despised you, but you would spend every cent of victory money on doctors for your mother, or to make it so none of them had to worry about crabs ever again. Not as if that would be necessary, the influx of riches was so exorbitant no one really knew what to do with it once they'd helped those they loved and spoiled themselves sick. Regardless, if you had to step on Conway's head for them you would. Even if it meant the end of the friendship that had kept you afloat for years. Maybe you avoided home like the plague, but only after you'd worked to convince everyone you could sell out your booth. Finnick had always been in awe about how sweet little you could effortlessly piggyback on any information you had to make a sale, which was a largely successful method. If you won you'd have to focus your efforts on performing for all of Panem instead, but that wouldn't be an issue for you when your family would be safe.

Surely it didn't hurt that he was also on the other side of survival, maybe that was selfish for him to think about, but he hoped you knew he would take you back in a heartbeat. That every dream he'd ever shared with you, fantasy about your future, could be possible once you had that crown on your head. It would be full of trials and turbulent waters, but at least you could be together. So he watched as you forced your eyes to portray the gaze of a lover about to be ripped apart from her happy ending, the look you'd genuinely worn when he'd broken your heart. Conway seemed to know you well enough to understand that, but it gave Finnick pride to know he couldn't read you like a book, unlike him. At the end of the day that would be a good thing, at least Conway could die without his dreams of being loved by you being dismantled.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick should've known better than to fall asleep once you had. But it felt so normal to have you asleep on his chest. He was no stranger to nightmares, his or your own, it had become a constant present in your lives. Usually he knew how to handle them, but now it was a completely different ballgame. When you woke up screaming you didn't want his comfort, you wanted him as far away as humanly possible. Hitting his chest as he unwrapped his arms as quickly as he could to dart out of the room as fast as he could while the doctors flooded in.

“Just let him kill me." You were sobbing, curled back into the ball where your knees were pulled to your chest as you cried into them. A doctor tried to touch you and you instantly pulled away, like you were a wounded dog. Your hand covered your ears as you rocked back forth, and back and forth. “I need to see Conway." You muttered and then so lightly under your breath, “Conway, Conway, Conway."

“Angel, he's not here right now." He'd never be here, but further upset could be avoided.

You nodded slowly, “I need to see Peeta." At least that was doable.

“Tomorrow, he's been doing better, we can take you to see Peeta tomorrow." A doctor assured, no one wanted to sedate you again unless they absolutely had to, so this was much better.

“Promise?"

“We'll do what we can." She smiled at you sympathetically.

You slowly uncurled yourself from your ball, “Okay."

“Are you feeling better?"

“Yeah, I'm sorry." Thank god, no king crisis. Just a moment that had now passed.

“You're okay, just had a bad dream. Perfectly understandable, do you need anything?" You shook your head and the medical staff slowly began filing out.

“Can I stay?" Finnick's fingers found the rope to focus on. You looked at him for a second, like you were deep in thought, before nodding. So he took his place in the chair, “Do you wanna talk about it?"

“You should just kill me now." The words ran out of your mouth and made his heart drop, “I know you want to and I wanted you too. I probably deserve the uncertainty of when it will happen, but I'm selfish and just need it to be over with."

He wasn't sure if his heart had ever hurt more, but it was always reaching new levels of pain. “I don't want to kill you and I'm not going to ever.”

"You should. Even I know I should die, it's not wrong to admit.” You blankly stared at the glass in front of you.

“You don't deserve to die, you've done nothing with that. You've suffered enough to make up for whatever it is you think you did.”

"No I haven't, this is the universe’s lead up to it. I hurt him, the only person who really cared about me since we were children, and I tore him into shreds. It has to come for me.”

“Look at me.” You kept staring at the glass. Finnick's words came out harsher than he expected them too, but maybe it would mean they finally got through your head. “Look at me!” Finally you did, looking so startled and confused. "This karmic retribution fantasy needs to stop. It's been six years. I'm not telling you to stop hurting or that the guilt will go away, but it doesn't mean you need to continue to suffer or deserve death.” He leaned forward in his chair, "You used Conway, so you deserve death? You spent six years being used by any Capitol elite willing to pay. Being horrifically abused in any way imaginable. You got sent back into the arena! There was only one year you had a victor and she came out of the arena known for being ‘crazy.’ They sent you back into the arena to die and you didn't expect to come out of it. The Capitol held you hostage and tortured you. Have you not given enough to make up for what you did as a teenager? Conway, after six years, would have said it was more than enough to make up for a few weeks of deception. Even if this led to his death, because no matter what, he cared about you. He was angry then, but I doubt that in whatever happens after we die he's holding that grudge after watching you suffer for so long because he loved you. You don't want someone you love to go through something like that.”

You were sobbing again and Finnick felt his own eyes brimming with tears. “I miss him."

“I know, angel. I know." He would never be able to fill the role that Conway had and he'd long accepted that. All he could do was assure you that when I came down to the bare bones of it all, Conway as he was, wouldn't have wanted you to suffer as much as you had for it. Whatever punishment it caused had been more than paid and he would've known that. He would've told you that if he could. He'd been so angry in the moment, but Finnick knew Conway still would have loved you despite the transgressions in his heart and life because that had been his way. All Finnick could do was hope you didn't find a way to see what Conway would really say, in the near future, because then he'd follow quickly behind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you for reading, sorry this took so long, I've been very busy!! feedback, comment, likes, reblogs are all very appreciated. my ask box is always open and I loved answering them, requests are open and I've got some fics from them coming up after this. thank y'all so much for reading 💋

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