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#and at this point it's like...my doctor brushed me off when i tried to get help in the summer so i waited like she advised

luveline · 14 days

Note

May I pretty please request an emergency medicine doctor!reader x Hotch blurb? I’d love to see both of them in careers that are difficult, yet despite that they still manage to be together because they understand each other so much. Maybe something with the rest of the team as well if it’s possible 🫶🏼🥹

Emily used to think Hotch would never be happy again. She’d drive him home after work, pick him up in the mornings, and she’d think about how miserable he was, the kind of misery that hooks you in its grip, has you turning to wine or whiskey just to keep breathing.

She thought for sure he’d buckle. When Hayley died, he’d have to. How could you not? But he kept going and proved she should’ve had more faith in him, becoming the father Jack deserves, and, surprisingly, your partner.

“You’re squeezing me too tight,” you mumble, just loud enough for Emily and the others to hear you where Hotch hugs you a few feet from the dinner table. “Why are you trying to break my back?”

“I haven’t seen you in three weeks.”

“Eighteen days is not three weeks.”

“It might as well be.” Hotch peels away from you to give you a once over. Emily’s half jealousy and half fondness, seeing him love someone so obviously. “Are you hungry? I ordered for you.”

“Super hungry. Do I smell like antiseptic?”

“No, just soap.”

“Well, that’s not much better.”

Hotch puts his arm behind your back and guides you to the table. The team squeeze out hellos between mouthfuls and you take your place at Hotch’s side behind a steaming plate. You’re as ravenous as the rest of them after your long shift; Morgan can hardly get a word out of you for the first ten minutes, though he tries, and you attempt to be polite. Emily nudges him until he gets the hint to stop.

“Here,” Hotch says, putting a heaping of his food onto your plate with a large spoon.

“Stop.” You attack his spoon with a fork.

“It’s fine, you like it more than I do.”

“Don’t care. You need your energy. I’m going to make you carry me up the stairs home.”

He’s unintimidated. “Ah.”

“Ah,” you echo. “You sound so doubtful.”

Hotch looks like he might try to keep flirting with you, but he gives in quickly, betraying how much he’s missed you with a hand slipping under the table. Emily sees his fingers curl over your knee, averting her gaze with a feigned sip of coke.

She can deduce the silent question you ask one another about anyways.

“We’ll have dessert,” you say. We won’t skip out early. “What are you having, Dr. Reid?”

Hotch orders you three different things, which you eat fast.

“They’re not feeding you at the hospital?” Rossi asks.

“Three emergency transfers in twelve hours,” you explain, slouching now into Hotch’s side, one slow inch at a time. “I didn’t have time for much.”

“That’s not healthy,” Hotch murmurs in concern.

“I’m sure I can ask any of your friends about your eating habits and find a similar schedule,” you brush him off, raising your gaze to Emily, then Morgan, then Rossi and Reid. Everyone smiles the same way. Hotch is caught, and his laugh jostles your shoulder.

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘do as I say, and not as I do?’” he asks.

God, Emily thinks with a huff of a laugh she can’t contain, get a room.

“He likes that one,” Spencer says.

“I don’t doubt it.” You lift your lips to his jaw and press a peck to the line of it. One, then two. “Maybe that’s why we've lasted as long as we have. Mutual disregard for our wellbeing.”

“And a great deal of care for each other,” Rossi says, nodding sagely. “This is why my marriages never last.”

“Is that why?” Spencer asks.

“You’ve gotten to be quite the lark.”

“Lark,” Hotch whispers to you. Emily, sitting at his other side, might be the only one who hears, the others distracted by Spencer and Rossi’s ensuing squabble.

“Scoundrel,” you agree.

“How’s your head now?”

“It’s gonna be a hundred percent better if you give me that,” you say, pointing hopefully at his full drink.

He doesn’t hesitate to press it into your hand. Emily would never suspect you hadn’t seen one another for weeks; you move and he follows. You rub your cheek against his shoulder. He touches his nose to your hair, his eyes shuttering closed for one stolen, blissful second. “Missed you,” he says under his breath.

Emily looks away with a smile. Hotch isn’t hopelessly miserable anymore.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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grandlinedreams · 6 months

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Heya!! Hope you’re doing well <3 love the writing you’ve been spoiling us with ^_^ 🫶

If you’re open to requests, would it be okay to ask for headcannons form Zoro, Sanji and Law and a reader who unintentionally “works till they drop”? Like, they’re bothered or upset about something- but isn’t sure how to confront or deal with it, so they just keep on working till they just crash in bed, sleep, wake up and repeat?

Sorry if thats a bit much to ask-! You can ignore this eheh… wishing you the best and hope you have a good day <3

Oh i absolutely can do that!! But also I hope you're doing well bb, make sure to eat well and stay hydrated!!

[Heads up!: some unhealthy habits, comfort, the boys being good boys 😌]

Zoro ㅡ He may give the impression that he doesn't pay attention to what you do during the day, but he does ㅡ especially when you usually end up napping with him sometime during the day.

So when you stop and he starts seeing less and less of you because you're busy from sun up to sundown, he knows something is up. He also knows that confronting you outright probably isn't the best eay to go if it's something you haven't brought up yourself, so he does it in a roundabout way.

Grabbing at your hand when you pass by his napping area of the afternoon, he simply tugs until you end up leaning against him, arm thrown over your shoulder. "Nap with me," he says simply, and you frown.

"Zoro, I have stuff to doㅡ"

"It'll be there when you wake up." His tone is firm, clear that he won't be taking a 'no' for an answer. When you relent, he hums. If you fall asleep, that's fine. If you don't, that's also fine ㅡ Zoro's intent is to just get you to stay still long enough for your body to get some rest.

And then later, if you feel up to it, he'll ask if you want to talk.

ㅡ

Sanji ㅡ Like Zoro, he knows your routine and any deviation from it immediately sends off warning bells, especially when you start neglecting the snacks and drinks he brings you. (It doesn't go to waste, you give it to Luffy who has no qualms in telling Sanji it's him who ate/drank them, not you.)

"Mon petit chou," he coos as he sets down the delicate flute and plate, "A snack befitting someone as sweet as yourself."

"Thanks Sanji," you say, "I'll eat it in a second."

You don't look up, and Sanji frowns. "I think Luffy might finally get a cavity if you keep feeding him extra sweets."

You freeze. "Sanji...it's not that I don't want to want it, I just..." He holds a hand up.

"Being busy is fine," he says, tone soothing, "but you need to make time for yourself too."

He's right, you know that ㅡ amd you appreciate the reminder, as well as the affectionate hand on your shoulder and kiss to your forehead.

When Sanji checks later, both the glass and plate are empty, and smiles to himself Luffy whines about not getting a predinner snack.

ㅡ

Law ㅡ Truthfully as someone who does the exact same thing, Law's a little horrified it takes him as long as it does to see how bad it's gotten with you.

He feels guilty and tries to get you to talk about it because he knows something is bothering you ㅡ and if you don't, he gets it. But he also won't just sit back and let you tear yourself apart like that either.

So when he demands you take breaks, he does so himself ㅡ gives you the ultimatum of building healthier coping skills with you rather than let you do it alone.

"Are you speaking as my captain or my doctor?" You ask at one point when he tells you that you need to take a break, and his eyes flash before he leans over you.

"As your boyfriend," he intones, lets his fingers drift along the line of your jaw and up to brush hair from your face. He isn't above using affection as incentive, and it's amazing the turnaround he gets from you when kisses are involved.

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #law x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #time 4 bed goodnight

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mignonricciardo · 8 months

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small acts | dr3

this was written while listening to zach bryan's new album hence the title "small acts" after track smaller acts... this is an entirely self-indulgent fic focused on comfort and cute after the news of today's crash and daniel's injury :( i hope he's recovering well and as quick (and safely) as possible check out the end for a little instagram au <3

summary: helping daniel after an injury (and making sure everyone knows that, yes, he's still alive) (1.8k words)

warnings: none really, dutch gp crash, mentions of broken bones and x-rays, sex jokes but no sex

The week had been going too well — perfect weather in Amsterdam, no issues on flights, a date lined up for after the race, an extra day to explore the city together. I should have known something was bound to interrupt the weekend with luck like Daniel’s and mine. It’s like I watch the incident in slow motion. The orange car I was still having to remind myself wasn’t him skidding into the wall and resting right at the racing line Daniel is taking. I watch, knowing he is too close to clear it, and my stomach falls as he veers into the wall, narrowly avoiding the car only a few meters away from him. The impact is harder than I anticipate, but his voice over the radio makes me hold the headphones tighter against my ear.

He’s hurt. My heart aches as he apologizes to the team, explaining he saw the McLaren too late, but I hear how his breath is sharp through his nose. I look to his trainer, my frantic eyes must give something away, and he heads toward Daniel’s race engineer in the garage. There’s silence on the radio besides Daniel’s labored breathing, and his race engineer looks to me, following his trainer’s pointed finger. He begins again.

“Are you okay?”

The hesitation feels like it lasts forever, but when Daniel answers, my stomach drops.

“Fuck, my hand,” he says, and in the corner of my eye, I see his onboard footage as his ungloved hand shakes. “Fuck.”

I tug the headphones off my ears, pinching between my brows and attempting to calm the nerves in my stomach. It’s not long before I’m whisked away from the garage to the medical center, and race staff escorts me into the center where Daniel sits. A doctor prods at his hand as he discusses exactly what happened, and when I walk into the room, he looks to me with a soft smile, “Hey.”

My heart tugs as he sucks in a sharp breath when the doctor’s hands touch a particular part of his hand, and I head toward the chair next to where he’s seated. I sit, brushing his knee with mine as I smile back, “How are you feeling? Honestly?”

Another sharp inhale as the doctor lifts one of his fingers, “Pretty fucking bad. Better now that you’re here, though.”

Even the doctor chuckles at his shameless flirting, and I roll my eyes with a laugh. He reaches his free hand toward me, lacing our fingers and squeezing my hand, “Thank you for coming, babe.”

I nod my head, squeezing his uninjured hand back in return. It’s comfortable — our fingers interlaced and my thumb tracing the delicate bones in the back of his hand — and we sit in this silence as the doctor continues his evaluation. It’s not long before he fashions a sling around Daniel’s neck, our hands separating so he can work, placing his injured hand carefully in it. When he directs Daniel to visit the local hospital for x-rays, the injured driver lets out a groan as he mutters an are you serious? We thank the doctor who wishes him well as he goes to inform the AlphaTauri staff and Daniel’s immediate team. I reach for his free hand, finding comfort in his warm palm against mine.

“You had me scared, you know,” I say quietly, thumb rubbing along his hand. “It looked like a hard impact, and I could hear you breathing over the radio. I knew something was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head before standing from the exam table. “I didn’t think it was that bad until I tried to get out of the car. What if it’s broken?”

“We’ll figure it out,” I answer, bringing our entwined hands up to kiss the back of his. “We always do.”

It’s a long afternoon. They load Daniel, myself and his immediate team into the car bound for the hospital, and with another round of doctors poking and prodding and Daniel sharing everything, they take him for x-rays to confirm his suspicion. Broken, the doctor says, metacarpal four. I sit with him as they put a cast on him, hiding some of my favorite tattoos of his from my sight. He makes jokes about it as they do, searching for some humor as Blake calls the team to confirm he won’t be able to race the rest of the weekend. With his hand in a cast and a real immobilizer on his arm, we’re left alone in the room. He still has his race overalls around his waist, his team polo on and fireproofs cut up and long forgotten in the corner of the room.

“So much for our perfect weekend,” he mutters, squeezing my hand.

“We’ll make it work,” I whisper, standing up to give him as much of a hug as possible with his immobilizer. He leans into me, my chin resting on his curls, and he sighs contently as his good arm wraps around my waist to pull me as close as he can without aggravating his injury. One of my hands rubs his back gently, a comforting habit the two of us had picked up, “I was excited just to spend time with you, Dan. Sitting in a hotel room watching movies is just as good as whatever surprises you had planned in Amsterdam.”

“You know I love you, yeah?” he asks, head pulling away from me to meet my gaze. His eyes look tired despite the soft smile on his face, “When this is over, I’ll make it up to you.”

“All you need to do is whatever the doctors tell you so you get better as soon as possible,” I answer, leaning down to peck his lips gently. “That’s enough for me.”

“No I love you back?” he grins, pouting his lips.

I laugh, kissing his lips again, “I love you, too. We should get you back to the track to prove you’re alive. There’s been no update, so people have been asking. Even my mom texted me.”

“She loves me,” he grins, letting me help loop his good arm through his team jacket and drape the other side over his shoulder. “Must run in the family.”

“Full of yourself much?” I laugh, walking with him back toward Blake.

We load into the car back toward the track, and while Daniel isn’t quick to admit how much pain he’s really in, it’s all over his face as he grimaces with every bump in the road. I let him squeeze my hand with his good one the entire ride, clasped hands hidden in his lap, and his team talks about potential next steps and timelines. Walking back into the paddock is tough with sympathy and condolences written on everyone’s faces and resting on the tips of their tongues. Daniel does well to navigate it, answering a few questions about eventually being alright. I walk just behind him, focusing on how his uninjured hand clenches occasionally at his side. He heads into the team hospitality with everyone to meet with Franz and Christian, and he thanks me as I offer to head back to the garage to gather his things from his driver’s room. By the time I arrive back in hospitality, I have his backpack slung on my shoulder and a large bag of stroopwafels in my hand with a note attached from the marshals who helped him out of the car. He’s talking to Max when I come in, and the two drivers interrupt their conversation as I approach.

“Mate, I think she could replace you at this point,” Max grins, giving me a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”

“Ready to play nurse and enforcer if I need to,” I answer, and Max and Daniel both laugh as the latter wraps his good arm around my waist gently in an unusual display of public affection. “I’m most concerned he won’t actually take it easy. You know him, Max.”

“Have a little faith,” he laughs quietly, leaning into me.

I pass him the bag of stroopwafel, and he smiles and laughs as he reads the note from the marshals. I let him continue his conversation with Max in private, stepping away to update my family and Daniel’s family who had begun texting me due to his amount of typos with just one hand to type. After he makes his rounds, he comes up to where I sit on the couch, nudging my knee with his, “I’m sorry, babe. You ready to head back?”

I nod my head, standing and grabbing his backpack, “No need to be sorry. Just glad it didn’t end any worse.”

I yawn repeatedly on the way to our hotel, bidding Blake goodnight as he exits the elevator on his floor. We stumble into our room, exhaustion from the day finally catching up to both of us, and we immediately collapse onto the king-sized bed. We lay there for a few moments, basking in the quiet and alone from the whirlwind of the day.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I’m going to ask you to undress me and have absolutely no sexual motives,” Daniel groans, and I let out a loud roar of laughter. Tears prick at my eyes and I clutch my stomach, and he groans as he huffs that he’s serious.

“Is this a glimpse into my future?” I joke with him, helping to carefully free his arm from his immobilizer just enough to slip his team polo off.

“Talking about our future now,” he teases, and I stick my tongue out at him as I help him shimmy his race overalls off. He sits on the bed in his boxers and cast on his left wrist, and I can’t help but giggle at the sight. He laughs along with me, flopping back onto the bed as I change into one of his t-shirts before following his movements.

“You know, I’m too tired to even shower,” I yawn, curling into his side.

His injured arm lays next to him as his right arm curls around me, and he hums quietly, “Shower together in the morning? I’m going to need your help anyway.”

“You can’t wait, can you?” I can’t help but laugh at the ornery look on his face knowing he’s been caught.

He shrugs, “Well, we have to be at least a bit productive, yeah?”

“You’re unbelievable,” I groan, reaching for my phone.

He watches me scroll on it, commenting on some of my friends’ posts as I scroll past. Daniel laughs each time another text from any of our friends or family appears at the top of my screen. After the eighth text, I turn to him, huffing as he clears hair from my eyes.

“Do you think if I just post that you’re alive they’ll leave me alone for the night?”

He kisses my forehead, “I think it’s cute they know you’re my keeper, but if it gets everyone to leave you alone, go for it, babe. Plus, I need everyone in the paddock to know I have a cast so they’ll sign it tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, you really are unbelievable.”

“You love me for it!”

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, redbullracing and 548,908 others

yourusername getting used to switching what side we usually stand on to hold hands 🤍 dan-o is okay considering everything, and we're just grateful it isn't worse. as you can see, he never stopped smiling, and he has lots of treats that will absolutely not go to waste (sorry to his diet).

thank you to all the medical staff, lovely marshals and everyone checking in!! it's time for me to play nurse now 🫣

—

landonorris is playing nurse code for something you freaks

user1 mother is mothering guys (for real now)

danielricciardo think we can do this whole in sickness and in health thing together?

maxverstappen1 did you really just propose to her in her comments yourusername leave him alone right now he's fragile (but the answer is yes we can) danielricciardo get him sweetheart (I'll start working on the ring)

alphataurif1 glad to see our guy so well taken care of (we'll pretend we didn't see the sweets)! 💙

user2 the update we've all been waiting for 🥹

oscarpiastri looking forward to seeing you back on track mate 👊

yourbestfriend this feels like karma for uni when I had to drive you around with that bum ankle

danielricciardo why have I never heard about this? yourusername no reason yourbestfriend three too many bevvies

natalie_pinkham my favorite duo 💗 can't wait to see you both back at the track

#formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fluff

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dropsofletters · 9 months

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sorry, who is mark lee?

—SUMMARY: she swore up and down on the night of her graduation as a doctor that she would never work with dr. mark lee. not under any setting. after all, she’s not here for people who get everything served on a silver platter just for being…nice?

however, years after their graduation, mark comes back into her life not brushing his hair and talking about a new project that they are supposedly going to be working on for the next three weeks, and all hopes of not working with him die down when she realizes…maybe, she had not truly known who he was.

sorry, but who the hell is mark lee?

—TITLE: sorry, who is mark lee?

—PAIRING: mark lee x reader

—GENRE: med school!au ; doctor!au ; neurosurgery resident!au ; gyn-ob resident!au ; enemies to friends to lovers!au ; idiots in love!au ; slowburn kind of.

—WORD COUNT: 12,000 words

—TYPE: fluff; humor; extra layer of fluff; angst

Heart wounded tight against her ribcage, she sits front row for the grand opening of a new chapter in her life. She relays perfectly still, wearing what Yoonoh had once called the ‘boring gray dress’ that she dreamed of having on for her graduation. Finally, as her pulse quickens, she is one step away from being called a title that holds so much interest and weight to her—to be able to put a name to everything she studied, to be recognized as such to the eyes of the world. For her, being a doctor is like exchanging identities, all the trials and errors coming to the flourishment of a new person ahead of her.

Now, the title that reads off her name and gives a certification to all the years she spent in between textbooks, needles and round-ups with doctors asking her endless questions, lays in between her fingers. Digits spreading against the tube with trembling motions, feeling the need to drop dead right at that moment. Yoonoh promised that he’d record the exact moment in which it happens. Her, called to the stage again, to give a speech to the rest of the graduates as the best grade of the entire career.

She had given it her all, though it wasn’t always the result she wanted on a piece of paper that weighted her will and thrive to continue down this path of endless studying. However, the road seemed a bit brighter now. Yoonoh, her best friend, sits right beside her—for, her family couldn’t make it because of the winter that had surpassed the city—, holding that pompous camera that he bought on a brim online as he sits on the edge of his chair. His caramel brown hair is pushed back, long nose crinkled as he squints one eye into the lens of the camera, pointing it towards the stage.

“It’s happening.” She mumbles, watching one of her cardiology professors—and representative of this graduation event—slip into the stage. He’s an old man, eyes wrinkled and lids heavier, though still wearing polished suits and raking a faint smell of the whiskey that, word has it, he’s been very familiar and all too lost in nowadays. She presses one hand to Yoonoh’s shoulder, the other weaving over her graduation cap, smiling as she bites on her bottom lip, holding in all the excitement that bubbles up from within her.

“Do you want me to record him or you?” Yoonoh is just as excited. Funny thing is, Yoonoh has been her best friend ever since they were neighbors back when they were just children. He surpasses her in age the slightest, not too much to make a difference, so he tried to protect her on the playground near their homes as ‘the older one’. As of now, she has to protect her friends from dating Jung Yoonoh. He has an eye for a med student.

“Him.”

“This group of people we have right here…” The cardiologist, Mr. Yoon, says as he inspects the groups of people. She remembers telling them off on their lack of studying back when they were rotating with him, nonetheless, now he smiles at the crowd. “Are all winners. I don’t see a single person in this room that I am not proud to say is my colleague now.” Those words flutter her heart, making her cling onto her hat the slightest. She’d throw it in the air now if she could, and get on that stage to read off the notes that she had oh-so-diligently practiced in front of the mirror. “I meet plenty of people every day. That’s the perk of being a doctor. You meet everyone to an extent that is universally deep, even your students. You see their hardship, tears, their biggest errors, their questioning and their will to try again. You either see them lose themselves or grow because of you. Good diamonds are made under pressure, and…” He trails his voice, taking off his glasses and rubbing at one eye before putting them on again. “There is one person that was already such a bright diamond. I remember the first time I got an answer in a grand round from this person and I was…sure about the kind of doctor I would have in front of me one day.”

“Fuck.” Yoonoh mumbles, smiling in a way that presents the dimples on his cheeks, before it happens. Just as her best friend is grasping her hand that had been on his shoulder, Dr. Yoon announces what she thinks is the winner of this entire race that is medicine.

“Doctors, family, friends, may I present to you the graduate with the highest graduation score.” Dr. Yoon smiles, extending a hand towards the screen behind him before his lips part to say what she had once imagined to be a dream, but has now turned into her grandest nightmare. “Please, let’s call to the stage Dr. Mark Lee. Let’s give him a round of applause. Dr. Lee, I know you’re there.”

Her world freezes.

She doesn’t know the precise quantifications, but a university student—much more in med school—should read more than a million words in order to be, somewhat, knowledgeable in his career. She spent day and night, losing her eyesight, blurring her sclerotic while looking at a laptop, writing notes time and time again, repeating stories written about patients, stammering through words just to get the answer out. She had tried so hard, wished for it and hunted for a dream that never happened.

“Stop recording.” She tells Yoonoh, spreading a hand on top of the lens when she realizes that it’s pointed towards her. The deception of not getting the first spot spread right in the main screen of the video that she planned on playing to her family when she went back home.

“I—I can’t. I’m trying.” Yoonoh stutters, giving the camera a few smacks to no avail. Both their gazes turn to the stage when they hear the cheering that follows after one of the two hundred graduates in the med field in this event. His black hair is parted in a comma hairstyle, from what she can tell by the little strand that peeks from under his cap. The gown is a little too long on him, cheeks dipped in what would be a childish smile as he shakes Dr. Yoon’s hand. She had seen this guy around, never coinciding in a grand round or talking through night shifts, but the face was definitely familiar. His eyes are twinkling when he reaches the podium, grasping the edges until his knuckles turn white.

She’s ready to stand up from her spot and leave, adding: “I’m leaving.” In a whisper that could only be heard by Yoonoh, but her best friend clasps a hand onto her forearm, dragging her down.

“The fact that you didn’t get first spot doesn’t mean you don’t get to celebrate your graduation. Stop pestering your mind when you’ve already reached so much. It’s your best day.”

“It’s not how I wanted it to go.”

“You’re still a doctor.” Yoonoh tugs her closer by her shoulder, practically pressing her into spot, unwilling to let her move.

Whoever Mark Lee is as a person doesn’t interest her. As he stands in the podium, stammering and stuttering to let out words in between a bunch of ‘uh’ and ‘well…’, she thinks that he may be the antagonist that she never expected to have. Clearly, he hadn’t prepared, and would it be so bad for her to feel envious towards what he is having right now? Sure, she’s not a woman of attention, always ready to keep her circle closed and straight to the point with the people whom she talked to and believed in, but she wanted her last moment in between those crowd of people that competed one against the other to be memorable. For her to say, in between all odds, that she had won.

Anyone who saw her would think that the tears in her eyes are out of emotion because of the speech Mark is giving, however, she’s tired. Of trying and never succeeding, so when the crowd goes crazy for, now, Dr. Lee, she proclaims him her biggest enemy, even when he doesn’t know her.

Tangled fingers in threads of hair, elbows propped on the desk where the medical records she had been working on are written and set in a handwriting that leaves much to the imagination, she wonders why she always likes difficulty. After the big failure of not even remotely called out as good when she graduated, venturing into the world of the easiest and perhaps, the most tranquil specialization and residency should have been her first thought. However, after years of not shutting an eye properly, and getting used to it like a toxic relationship does at most occasions, she decided it would have been a great idea to, two years later, become a full-time resident in the gynecology and obstetrics department. Where, sometimes, a woman just decides to pop by with her fetus almost popping out of her, because seven kids later…and the contractions aren’t quite as strong as they were with the first baby.

The problem relies on the fact that sleep deprived and thriving off coffee is not her best conceptualization of herself. She has attended seven births in what has been just twenty-one hours and, as a matter of fact, she was an observer in three c-sections. The problem is that, as a first-year resident, she’s asked to do most of the work. Hand wringed around a pen, and fingertips gliding across the keyboard to finalize the paperwork is something that she’s used to. As the third-year resident and the night shift’s boss, as well as her coworker, Dr. Johnny Suh, had decided to take a nap now that the seashore had died down a little, waves subsided because of teamwork.

All of this just to say that she needs sleep, if she doesn’t want to drool on all the graphics that include important details of the procedures that had taken place.

She had been nice enough to ask the interns to go sleep, but now that she’s alone, she’s not even in the mood to listen to music. Could keep her awake, but at what cost? All she needs at this moment is a tight shower that lets her glide a sponge on the deep crevices of her hands and a fluffy pillow that a hospital bed cannot provide, but her mattress back at home invites her to try. Only a few more hours and she can, after she finishes her work, go back to her apartment. Hoping that her roommate doesn’t decide to be an absolute ass the rest of the morning.

The problem is that when a night shift is far too quiet, it can only mean trouble. Much to her distaste, the sound of the emergency doors sliding open with a stretcher-bearer not following far behind is the notice that makes her stand up from her desk and hate this night. Not her job. God, providing some kind of relief to her patients is the only thing that keeps her awake, but when she expects to see a woman in her thirties perhaps being a few centimeters into birth, she’s received by a woman in her seventies, very clearly in pain.

“Doctor, this woman got to the emergency room bleeding.” The stretcher-bearer adds, rubbing his hands together, ready to take the next step.

With a frown to her features and a quick inspection to check skin—not too pale to consider the bleeding to be chronic—, and definitely still with even breathing and signs of being hydrated, she believes this could be something that happened very soon. “Put her on the examination bed.” The bearer does as he’s told, and while she’s being moved around, she sighs deeply. “Night, Miss. I’m the doctor of the shift tonight. Do you mind telling me what happened?”

Cheeks tinged red, the old woman looks to the side and huffs. “I—I just started bleeding.”

“Alright,” Though she’s not convinced, she thanks the bearer with a nod of her head and then, hums. The nurses don’t seem to be anywhere around her, so she starts moving around the room, waiting for the man to leave—which is done fairly quickly—to start looking for her gloves and speculum. “Do you have a history of endometriosis, fibroids, abnormal bleeding?”

The patient shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“How many kids?”

“Four.”

“All vaginal births?”

“One c-section. The rest were birthed.”

“Did you hit yourself, per chance?” She asks, sparing a look at the woman after fixing the inspection light. “I know this could be a little invasive, so I ask for your permission to have your clothes taken off so I can inspect with a speculum and vaginal palpation to see where the bleeding comes from.”

The patient trembles when she sits up, slowly taking off her pants and speaking to her while she does so. “No.” She responds, though something shifts within her. Perhaps, the delicacy and seriousness of her tone had been enough to grant the patient some kind of relief, because the patient toys with her hands, looking up at the ceiling as she drags herself to the proper position to be examined in. “Doctor…I…I was having sex with my partner. The bleeding started after a special position—”

Bingo.

The problem relays after she gets to the diagnosis. A cervical tear that must be taken to the operating room as soon as possible. Johnny gets there in the matter of seconds, only for the nurses to still be gone. The patient needed attention provided by them, and she knows there are around four or five nurses only for the Gyn-Ob night shift willing—or pressed—to work. None in sight, leading her to having to lurk through the hospital, through chilling corridors in bone white that breathe out the scent of isopropyl alcohol and iodine.

Once she reaches the nurses’ office, she’s surprised to see them gathered. At this hour of the midnight, grabbing bites of pizza and speaking to none other than a man whom she knows fairly well. Not personally, but she’d recognize that face just about anywhere. Mark Lee has let his hair grow the slightest, the black strands peaking from under his surgery cap, eyes dotted in tiredness behind rounded glasses. There are bags under his eyes and he smells like he has used cautery pen, a little bit like burnt meat. He has one leg crossed over the other, surgical gown opened in the back, munching on a pepperoni slice with all the tranquility in the world as he laughs along with the other older-aged women.

She clears her throat, making them jump and slicing through the lively conversation that they had been having with the super smart asshole, as she calls him, in his first year as a neurosurgery resident. “Oh, what a blessing. We have all my nurses here with Dr. Lee instead of attending the emergency that just got here. I have a seventy-six-year-old woman waiting for an IV line and for her surgical gown so we can fix her cervix tear. And our specialist is about to wake up, so we need to do it fast.”

She may not be the sweetest of residents, but she’s efficient. The oldest nurse, Mrs. Kang, yawns as she tosses what was left of her pizza on a plate. “Doctor, don’t get angry with us. I know it’s late, but we hadn’t eaten and Dr. Lee also hadn’t grabbed a bite.”

Oh, she knows. He had been operating since two in the afternoon. Lucky him that gets pushed into the operating room in his first year, while she’s Johnny’s little assistant. She does it with glee, for…various reasons. “You can’t all leave the emergency room. I was alone.”

“You’ve always done well alone.” Another nurse says and she glares at them.

“I know, but I shouldn’t be doing your job.”

Mark coughs a bit in his hand, and he’s looking at everyone with tension in his eyes. Irises trembling, legs now unfolded, and looking a bit stiff. “It’s my fault.”

Mrs. Kang gasps. “Not a chance! We’re just weak for your pretty little face and we wanted to share with you.”

Of course, everyone wants to share with Mark Lee, but not with her. “Dr. Lee,” She tells him, for she had been waiting for the perfect moment to pierce through his pride like he did with hers. Her chin juts forward, staring through the bottom of her lashes before speaking up: “I would be very happy if you didn’t steal all my healthcare workers to share pizza slices with you. Everyone speaks about how smart and good-looking you are, but here, we need to be respectful. Above all.”

“I understand.” Though, Mark has an air of innocence to him. Everyone sees him like a cloud in a world of pebbles, soft and kind, and she almost ate it up when he grabbed a slice from the box just as he says: “Would you like a slice? I watched you as I got out of the surgery room and you looked like you hadn’t eaten the slightest.”

She hasn’t, but she won’t admit to fucking Mark Lee that she was starving and perhaps, just about to cry.

She wants to grab it, but ugh—that would be losing against him, isn’t it?

Mrs. Kang is, luckily, loud enough to awaken her from the glare she has casted upon Mark’s face. He has dimples that form even when he is just speaking, slim eyebrows and tall cheekbones, a fold on his bottom lip that creates a shadow inviting in this nice lighting. “Aw, c’mon, Doctor, how could you be mad at Dr. Lee?”

“Could we just please hurry up the work so we can stop that poor patient’s bleeding, please?” She asks, closing her eyes tightly, torn away from that hypnotization that Mark Lee somehow does so well.

“Alright, come with me.”

Thankfully, she turns around and doesn’t have to look Mark Lee in the eye again. That’s how he gets people, portraying that sweet and innocent face that probably gets too many opportunities just for that alone. The least she needs is to be like the nurses going crazy over him. She won’t fall for the whole persona Mark has constructed.

Her laptop is about to die. Or she is about to die. Whatever happens next. Who knows?

Johnny, on the other hand, has decided that it is appropriate to just sit on the desk of their shared office—just for residents—, more like lay on it, as she types away on the presentation she’s preparing, keeping it as developed and actualized as possible. However, the topic that she should be presenting on the congress that the hospital will be hosting in their fiftieth anniversary is still a bit loose. In the sense that it hasn’t been approved, and she’s not quite sure if being granted Johnny’s spot is any better.

Locks of black hair cascade on each side of his face and she can only get distracted from her job by one person only. It’s a bit stupid that she was once Johnny’s intern, as he was fresh in the residency, and now they are colleagues. Back then, she never thought she’d hold a crush on someone so…basically loved. Everyone could fall for Johnny, but now that she knows him, she envies and likes him at the same time. Never breaking a sweat, dangerously threading through portions of her heart that she deemed unvisited for many years.

“Why didn’t you want to do this presentation?”

“I am not a great public talker. Or well, I am, I just don’t like doing it.” Johnny sits up, clearing his throat in a way that has her scrunching her nose the slightest. Okay, that wasn’t really attractive. He sniffles soon after. “…And I may be catching a cold, so the first person I thought about was you. You’re, like, the smartest one of our residency and you’re just beginning.”

Maybe, that’s why she likes him so much. It has been a while since someone has truly told her something of that kind, and she’s starting to believe that intelligence is not really her most fitted dress. However, sweet words won’t take away the stress she feels. “More of a reason for me to doubt you. First year residents are torn to shreds in congresses. Could you have—?”

“Taken this choice just to ruin something special for you? Jesus, I’m an asshole, but I graduated as a doctor. I have to have a bit of human in me. Within me. Not like in me. I don’t have anyone in me.” Johnny speaks a little too much before dropping off from the desk. Just when he’s about to say something else, her laugh is cut off by someone knocking on the door and before Johnny could even invite whoever is there in, a head pops through the small slit that was caused by the door being opened.

Lord and heavens. What kind of karma is she paying? Did she step on a puppy a little too hard or did she steal someone’s boyfriend? Because none other than Dr. Mark Lee is standing by the door, sporting that coat that he always wears and is a little too big on his bodies. His ties are a tad shorter than what they should and alongside Johnny, he looks frankly small. In confidence and, also, in height.

Judging by how close they are as Johnny hugs him.

“Dude, I’m totally freaking out.” Mark speaks a little too quickly and Johnny clicks his tongue.

“You’ll do fine. What kind of neuroscience shit are they having you talk about?”

Oh, she’s not even going to pretend like she’s surprised. She expected Mark to be invited as a spokesperson in the event. Everyone adores him, and he has also been one of the leaders of the theorical science studying team in the hospital for the past year. Of course, she understands him being picked. Nonetheless, when he widens his eyes towards her, she knows something is wrong. As in, for her.

“Oh, actually, that’s why I came here.” Mark stumbles, turning to look at her and lifting two fingers in the air as a form of a greeting. She only gives him a curt nod. “…Dr. Hong told me early this morning that you should check your emails more constantly. I was informed that we are going to present a study on the use of antiepileptics in eclampsia.”

No. No fucking way.

She can work with him in the same hospital meters away, but the way her ego would be torn just by sharing a stage with Mark alone is not something she wants to go through. Words will mingle across the room; with people saying that he’s better than her and that he had once won over her. She knows how people adore Mark Lee, and how gray she is in a world filled with color.

“Anticonvulsants? With you?” She questions, standing up and spreading her hands across the desk. She feels a little tense thanks to the skirt she had pressured herself to wear instead of her usual scrubs, just because she wanted to feel pretty and professional. Mark’s eyes gravitate towards her legs and she swears she sees a blush flying to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lee, but I already have a presentation that I have talked about with Dr. Hong.” The owner of the hospital, mind her.

“Yes, about eclampsia, but considering I am going to talk about antiepileptics and people rarely know the proper and organized treatment and ladder of management for pregnancy, I think it could be amazing to present—”

“Us two?”

“Yes.” Mark stops, sparing a glance towards Johnny from the corner of his eye. Silence basks them for a second before he asks: “Is there a problem I should be aware of…or that I am missing out on?”

She sighs deeply. Okay, this is the moment she sits Mark on a chair the same way she had been planted on one when she had lost her biggest goal to him. She spares Johnny the benefit of gossiping about this. “Dr. Suh, could you please wait for us outside? I have some matters to talk about with Dr. Lee.”

She rounds the table by the time Johnny adds: “Shit, and just when things were about to get saucy.” Johnny does as she says, however, opening the door and disappearing with a swoosh of his lab coat. Mark just stands there, looking like a lost deer in the headlights, black hair still not pushed back with enough gel to make him look perfectly polished and professional.

“So…” Mark trails and she chuckles sarcastically at his words.

“Yes, I have a problem with you.” She tells. “I didn’t know about your existence before, Dr. Lee, with all due respect and you decided to show yourself up the one time you shouldn’t have. You’ve been granted everything in a silver-platter and while we had almost the same score when graduating, people just loved you more for speaking in front of everybody. ‘Cause you are sweet and like a boy-next-door, but that’s not what medicine is about. This is about hardships, still trying, and succeeding at the end. It’s about being strong enough to study and make people survive.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at that moment, gaping at her words before shaking his head. “Let me understand this well.” He internalizes her words before splaying a hand on his chest. “I am truly sorry you feel like that, but I also tried hard. The fact that I have not grown bitter over the career doesn’t mean I don’t care about it, or that I don’t have to study like a madman every single day.”

“I can’t even shine by my own because I have to be your little shadow.” She tosses, only to have Mark shrugging.

“You’ll shine! I’m not here to make you feel any less. Geez, you’ve created this competition out of nowhere.”

Of course, Mark is always eager to make himself look more caring and sweet. She understands that he may be so, but to her, Mark doesn’t care about her the slightest bit. He’s just overrated, over the top, a little too dull for her to feel fine with losing to him.

“Well, if we’re going to talk about anticonvulsants—”

“Antiepileptics.”

“Jesus, can you let me talk for once?!” She raises her voice, only to have Mark crossing his arms over his chest.

“If we’re going to work together, you have to understand something. You know more about pregnancy than I do. I know more about the human brain than you do. And that’s just factual of specialization. If not, they wouldn’t exist.” He tells her, and for a reason, whenever he is granting information regarding his career, Mark’s voice turns deeper and sulkier. Why is she even listening to him this closely? “I say antiepileptics because the term anticonvulsant is no longer user, or not proper to use. Eclampsia counts as a cause of epilepsy.”

She sighs through her nose, pressing two fingers to her temple. “Alright. Antiepileptics. If we’re going to do this together, you…have to understand that I’m not used to getting along with you and I haven’t…thought about getting along with you. So, we’ll do our best to make a great presentation, and we’ll listen to each other as closely as we can without constantly interrupting ourselves. Am I correct?”

“Never planned on doing anything different.” Mark whispers, frowning deeply when they hear a bang against the wooden door. “Someone’s there.”

“Johnny!” She screeches, only to heard another bang against the door.

“Sorry, I fell!”

“Why are you listening through the door?”

“Who said I was?!”

“You’re listening right now.”

Then, the conversation goes dead silent.

“Fine.” Mark says.

“Fine.” She repeats, only to watch him open the door and that alone has her relaxing all the muscles in her body.

This will be the most horrible set of three weeks ever.

Mark can’t work in hospital settings, so he says. Yet, when he invites her to a packed-up park, the least she expects him is to see seated on a picnic cloth, wearing an oversized tank-top and reading from a neurology textbook with frowned eyebrows and squinted eyes. Even when his glasses are supposed to better his eyesight, he still has a hard time reading, it seems. The paper he has under his thigh, not even propped anywhere to be kept in place, holds scribbles of notes that he probably will forget about sooner or later. However, she inspects him from afar as she holds onto her backpack. Mark’s cheekbones tinge pink at the mere touch of the sun, short eyelashes glammed-up by the caress of the sunrays that pass by the tree over him. He has prepared some meals, too, from what she can see.

Next to him are two containers with what she can judge is bibimbap, and she wants to do nothing more than run away. Men are easier to understand when they don’t care about being nice, or people as a whole, as a matter of fact. She has never known someone that has truly been nice without expecting anything in return, and while Mark is now aware that she is not entirely pleased by his presence, he still tries to be…human.

“I wonder, sometimes, if you know about the existence of a hairbrush.” She whispers, though she doesn’t say it in a condescending way. A palm of hers splays on top of his hair, not even pushed back by gel, but messed up by the wind that tangles it in small waves. Then, she takes off her cap and places it on top of her head, only to have Mark looking up, eyes squinted because of the sunrays that probably surround her like a halo.

“I’m too lazy to do anything to it.” He says, though he doesn’t take off the cap. Instead, he turns the book around. Who would have thought Mark was a little bit of a nerd? “Did you know that magnesium sulfate is the first treatment that pops up to our heads when thinking of eclampsia, but that it is not the first line if we consider the antiepileptic treatments that are out there?”

“I stand by magnesium sulfate, and you’re not going to steal that away from me, Dr. Lee.”

“Mark.” He corrects, putting the textbook down as she sits. She looks at the pink cap on top of his head and she almost wants to laugh. He looks…innocent. “And as an obstetrician, you do. But as a neurosurgeon, I have to tell you you’re wrong.”

“Mark…”

“What?”

“We said no correcting.”

“You never said that. You said no interrupting.”

“Okay, let me read that book.”

The afternoon relays on the beauty of summer, August coming with the pressure of success as midterms arise in their residencies. However, for a moment, they are just two people studying together. She was right, though Mark doesn’t do much introduction to the meals he brought other than he made them, and while the pieces of meat he added are a bit burnt, she still eats with glee. Reading off the textbook Mark had brought while he’s lurking in his laptop and fixing their presentation, she starts to learn more from what he knows. The insight he has in the new, always lurking to be the difference, igniting protocols, excelling in research, not following after what is told and older doctors expect them to repeat.

Of course, they have to follow after what they know is correct but Mark actually ponders why such treatments are used. At some point, as Mark reads off one of the pages, she’s typing down the information on a presentation and their shared Google Document, laying on the picnic cloth and wishing the hours didn’t pass by so quickly. Now, she’s hungry again, and that doesn’t help her concentration, mind fading as she looks at the way the strap of Mark’s shirt had fallen off one of his shoulders, back dusted in endless freckles. Too many not to be noticed.

Without noticing, or perhaps, without really meaning to, she extends a hand. The tip of her finger trails a constellation of freckles on his back, his voice haltering suddenly, turning around with a jump to his movements. When their eyes connect, she can only spurt out an apology, but Mark’s eyes are widened, pulling the strap up his shoulder and almost hiding his back.

“I—I didn’t mean to make you feel insecure. Sorry.” She tells him and she’s about to let it be, but the image pops inside her head once again. And for some reason, maybe medical curiousness, she wants to know more. “You have a lot of freckles.”

Mark laughs about it, flicking a page to the side. “I didn’t have that many. I got them throughout med school.”

Her heart hammers a bit against her chest, worrying. Sure, Mark is not her favorite person, but she still doesn’t wish for him to go through real pain. “Are they benign?”

“Oh, they are freckles. Nothing like nevus or anything of that kind.” Mark replies, sparing her a look before spreading his hand on the side of his face, casting another shadow other than the one on his bottom lip. “Where I studied before I got exchanged here was really hot, so I’d have to walk to university every single day. I got severely sunburnt, even when I wore layers and layers of clothes. The skin on my back just changed tones a bit, that’s all.”

He didn’t have it easy. Sure, she had her family that could take her to classes on the first few semesters, and then it was Yoonoh helping her. She never had to go through that, but she felt for him. “Oh…” She trails, sitting up and sighing. “That’s why you decided to exchange here?”

Mark hums. “…Not really. I just wanted something different. I like being here and there. No matter the hardships.” Though, he does push the brim of his glasses higher up his nose. “The library was just a plus in our university.”

“Nerd.”

“Have to be so to be successful, don’t I?” Mark stands up at that moment, cracking his back and closing his laptop, that she had put aside. “I think I’ll head home now. Need me to give you a ride back home?”

“No.” Though, for some reason, she wishes Mark would invite her dinner. She means…it’s not like she wants to spend more time with him, but if they were both hungry, they could take a trip to the next street, where she knows there is an excellent pizza place. “I brought my car. I’ll head back home if we’re not doing much else.”

“I’ll email you what I find.”

“Same.”

With that, they both go separate ways. As it should. As it has always been meant to be.

“Has it always been common notice to you that we share the same shift?”

She scrunches up her nose upon the arrival of Mark to her triage. Where she’s locked, like a tiger ridden of its will of roaring, while Johnny is out there operating and bringing babies into the world. Luckily for her, she had sorted out all the patients of the night and after making some quick work with the stories and checking in with the hospitalized patients, at two in the morning, she can finally sit down to grab a bite of…whatever her potato puree is now. A blob, most likely. Granted, this time of the night is also when Mark finalizes his operating sessions and while his eyebags are probably on the verge of falling to the floor to match the backpack he has left there, and it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her that she sees him…again.

It has been like that for the past month, and they have gotten to exchange a few words for the last two weeks, ever since they got paired in their presentation together. However, one of the interns is seated on the desk not too far away from them, with her cheek squished against the wooden surface and lulled into the perfect world of dreamland. Johnny would give her an earful for never making the interns do anything, but she’s certain of something—the sooner she gets to do her stuff, the earlier she’ll leave tomorrow.

“I substantially tried to avoid you the first few times I noticed you were around.” Mark pushes away the container that she had set on the desk, where she was hoping that the blob wasn’t going to make her throw up or even worse later on the…morning. Yes, it’s the morning now. Midnight. Whatever it is. “Hey, I was planning on eating that.”

“You were planning on eating what was probably rotten potato. I know we attend emergencies, but I’d rather avoid having you in gastroenterology later tonight.” He announces, dragging a seat towards her and making her shush him.

“The kid’s sleeping.”

“The kid was with me last semester. Carmen. You should probably make her do something.”

“Why?”

“She never does anything! She failed last semester and needs to do well in this one. Push her to be better—”

“Ah, I can’t change people.” Mark’s far too close, though he’s not making any effort on turning her uncomfortable. Instead, he props his glasses down on the table and now, she realizes it’s the first time she has seen him without those. His hair is a mess after taking his surgery cap off, eyes puffed out, eyebrows slim and yet, somehow messy because of his palms roaming over his features. She continues speaking, because somehow talking to the person she likes the least feels liberating. “As a student, I think your value comes from how hard you work, but it’s also highly subjective. I can’t push a student to do better if they don’t feel inspired by me, and that’s just what I think. It’s like women trying to change their husbands, for example. It’s never going to happen unless he feels the need to really change, you know?”

And talking about Carmen as if she wasn’t there is a bit rude, so she nudges his side with her elbow.

“What have you brought? I’m sure it’s just as rotten as my potatoes.”

“Nope. I ordered some sushi from a place nearby.” Mark tells, opening the bag and introducing two black plastic containers which lids he takes off. The scent of freshly cooked spices, vegetables and rice has her mouth salivating. God, when was the last time she had a proper meal today? “I think they forgot the wasabi. In your mind, that must mean they don’t want to put effort into their jobs so I shouldn’t call for them to bring me my wasabi or place a complaint.”

“Precisely. Don’t be a Karen, Mark.” She replies, earning a laugh from Mark that has her neck feeling heated. He doesn’t cover up the fact that he’s genuinely happy, baring all teeth, tossing his head back and letting out a high-pitched laugh. He doesn’t let the title of a doctor rid him of the happiness in which he lives his life in, and she envies that to the point she kind of feels relieved that not everyone goes through the same thing she does. “You bought some for me?”

Mark is already lost in the magic of eating late at night, munching on a slice of sushi and letting a sprinkle of rice end on the tip of his mouth. He doesn’t notice it and she battles the twitch of her fingers to flick that piece of food away. “Of course. You know, every time I go to the operation room, I see you here, trapped in this emergency room just making the shift work. You give it your all every second you can. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t eaten a thing.”

“Thank you.” She retaliates. God, the hospital had been so cold just mere seconds ago, but since the moment Mark arrived, it feels like summers has embarked inside its walls. “I’ll have you know a little fact. Doctors are the main patients that can get type two diabetes. We eat the worst, even when we recommend to our patients to do otherwise.”

Mark crinkles his nose. “I’ll have you know something.” He tilts his head to the side, and she tries to embark in her own food and not look at him. The lulling nature of his smile, and the softness that comes with the tone of his voice, all detonators of thoughts that shouldn’t pass her brain. They’ll present the information they have gathered in the hospital’s anniversary and that will be it for them. She promises it’s just that. “I hated intern medicine. Whenever I had to read the ADA articles, I felt like a part of me died a little. It’s just…it’s so…”

“Non-surgical.”

“Exactly.” She laughs at his words, to which he responds with a twinkle in his eyes that she wants to erase, like a towel on top of a stain, rubbing away until it’s gone. Not because she wants to take the spark that makes him be so bright, but because he is…dizzying and blinding to the point of no return sometimes.

“You’re also like that. Though, I don’t know why Johnny just…doesn’t let you operate with him. You’re amazing with birth-care, but there has to be more to it.” Mark insists and she tries not to think about it. Johnny just likes doing things his way, and that’s never been wrong. They work well together, though separated. “Don’t try to defend him.”

“What? I’m not talking.”

“I know you always protect him. Johnny has gotten in so much trouble around the hospital, for reasons that I won’t judge him for because he is my friend and I know he’s a good worker, no matter how lazy he can look,” Mark stops for a moment and without noticing, she’s staring at his lips again. That fucking rice should leave, shouldn’t it? “Uh, you’re like, kind of into him, aren’t you?”

Johnny? It’s a little complicated to tell these days. “He’s different from me.”

“And?”

“I like different.” Because she can’t truly live with someone who voices out what goes inside her brain. She needs brightness in what she considers a dulling ocean of midnight thoughts. “But not a chance, Mark. Not a chance.”

“Took you too long to deny.” Mark points out, before sighing. “I’m not saying he’s not into you, I don’t want to be the guy to—”

“But he isn’t.” She replies. She knows how Johnny Suh is. That doctor can have anyone within his pocket and he does so. She’s aware of how far this crush can go, and a relationship or even a hook-up is not it. “That doesn’t hurt me, Mark.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Alright, I’m the one saying it.”

“Don’t be so rude to yourself.” Always positive, Mark stammers. “All I’m saying is that, as his pupil, he should invite you to the operation room more often. My higher-up resident invites me and that’s why—”

Without noticing, she’s flicking a thumb over his bottom lip, moving away the rice that had gathered there. Mark’s eyes widen, his hand spreading on top of her own and she recognizes then how close they are. She sees the twitch of his tongue as it gathers his bottom lip until he traps it in between his teeth and as the sweet mood-ruin person he is, he adds:

“Ah, I—Fuck, I was talking and I had something there all along? Shit. Fuck. Uh, hold on, I’m cussing, aren’t I?” Mark, without noticing, plops another slice of sushi inside his mouth and she tries not to snort out a laugh directly at his face. “You should’ve told me.”

“We were talking about other things.” The tips of his ears are tinged red, and maybe the internal summer she’s going through is also happening to Mark Lee. “You’re blushing.”

“Fuck no.”

“You never cuss. Do you curse when you’re nervous?”

“Who said I was nervous?”

“It doesn’t take being a rocket scientist to know.” She answers, though, she doesn’t want to mortify Mark any longer, picking at her own food before giving a bite. “Either way, don’t worry about that crush. I think it’s more…admiring what he is able to do without being as inside his head as I am in mine. It’s never going anywhere. I don’t want it to.”

Mark nods, and she thinks she broke him, because he doesn’t speak for the rest of their little dinner until she resurfaces the matter of their presentation and its preparation.

“Some sponsors are here, so I only want Mark to…you know, do the talking.”

Everyone adores Dr. Hong. He’s a neurosurgeon, head and owner of the hospital, and he was so at the mere age of fifty-two. Rather young for everything he has achieved and the textbooks he has written, she looks up to him even when she’s from a whole different field to his. However, as she wore her most elegant set of pants, flowing against recently shaven legs, along with a turtleneck that she had paid a little too much for, her shoulders fall at the sound of his voice. He’s sipping from his glass of water as people gather on their seats in the auditorium, and he says it in front of everyday, just so she doesn’t explode right at that moment.

Of course, he knows more about Mark as a student because he’s his own pupil. Nonetheless, he could have some shame. She had prepared with all the will and hardships in the world, balancing studying for her midterms and the presentation, while also investigating deeply with Mark almost every day. It’s no wonder that even Mark is a little surprised, and in the past, she would have thought he was fully aware of this. He pushes his classes to the top of his head, gasping at what Dr. Hong has just said.

“B—But…I can’t do it without her.”

“You should’ve learned both parts for the presentation.” Dr. Hong scolds, his bottle-bottom glasses making his eyes look significantly smaller. He smiles to one of the invites that briefly drops a hand on his shoulders before he’s returning to his hushed whispers with them. For a place so brightly decorated in balloons and signs in bright orange and yellow, she feels…hollow and mellow. “It’s nothing against you, darling, but people know more about Mark and his studies, and he’s more of an open personality. He’s the kind of sweet we need for an opener. Like a cocktail, you know?”

No, she doesn’t know shit about this. Because Mark gets opportunities that she doesn’t. Mark is already opening his mouth, spurting out: “It’s not fair. She worked just as hard as I did—”

Though, something that she has never gotten the benefit of, like Mark did and continues to do, is not to be disciplined. She tries to push a smile up her lips, but she’s sure it looks more like a mock. “I’d have to thank you for the opportunity, Dr. Hong, but then, I won’t stay. I haven’t…gotten enough sleep, so I’d rather leave right now.”

Dr. Hong trails his brown eyes over her features before giving her a half-hug that feels a bit forced. “I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but you wouldn’t have worked as hard if I had done so, right?”

“Exactly, Dr. Hong. That’s how it is.” She spits out softly, giving him a curt bow before she turns around. She feels the corner of her eyes bottling up with tears, and she looks up in order not to let them fall. Familiar faces scatter across the rows of seats that feel endless, and she wishes she had gotten the chance to prove what she was made of. Maybe, another time, or that’s what she promises herself each time.

When getting out of the hospital’s auditorium, she feels the sudden need to take off her lab coat and heels right at that moment and cry like a baby just born in the world. However, as she rushes down the halls, she hears the sound of steps following after her, and she wants to say they are slow and just trying to reach the same destination as her per chance, but the elevator is within reach when Mark appears in front of her, hands extended to stop her from moving any father.

“Mark, could you move?”

“I’m not presenting that without you. You’re also the core of this investigation, I—” He’s rushed in the way he is speaking, and it surprises her that he has the heart to do what he does next. His palms gather her own in between his, trapping her and enticing their gazes to connect. Mark has the prettiest set of brown eyes, and when they are worried, they almost seem to gleam like diamonds. “Why…Why is it like this for you?”

“I guess that’s how the world works. I’m a woman, first and foremost. I’m more strong-willed than you are. I stick out like a sore thumb and being opinionated has never helped me much.” Saying those words out loud has tears dropping against her cheeks. Fuck, her makeup is ruined now. Hiccups escape her lips when she looks around, hoping that no more doctors arrive through those elevator doors just to see her cry. Fore-front, too. “Say mean shit to me, that way I’ll stop crying. God, I can’t believe I’m being such a pussy.”

“Hey…” Mark’s voice is softened, like the thumb he lets roam the brim of her knuckles. “I wouldn’t say anything mean to you. You…You hate me, for fuck’s sake, and I still wouldn’t think of you as anything more than worthy of being there more than I am. You’ve never gotten your chance to shine.”

“And I want to believe I never will, because it’s easier. Living life while being bitter just feels…more common to me.” She tells him, pushing at his chest and sighing. “Say I don’t deserve it, Mark. Just say it!”

“You do!” Mark replies, voice just as loud. She wants to shut him up, press those lips together and just let him look as handsome as he does right now, with a few buttons of his blue button down undone, gray suit clashing against the whiteness of his coat. “So please, get back in that auditorium. Let’s do things our way.”

“I…I can’t.” She responds, extending her back until her shoulders become straight, as if poised and entranced. “My pride doesn’t let me, and sure, I will probably never reach half the things you will while being like this…but if someone doesn’t want me there, I just won’t do it.”

“I want you here.”

“And when your vote counts, I hope you still wish for me to do so.” Just when she’s about to press the elevator’s button to watch the doors open, they are caught off guard. The doors do open, but a set of doctors plan on passing through by them. Mark moves quicker than she does when a small curse leaves her lips, pushing her until she’s relying on the wall, his body used as coverage as he drops his head and shelters her from the eyes of others. He is probably seeing the trails of mascara and the runny lipstick, but he doesn’t show his discomfort. Perhaps, he doesn’t feel so.

“Don’t move.”

“Don’t let them see me.” She replies, looking up at his eyes. Mark nods, though she sees the fraction of second of distraction that passes by his features. She wants to run her fingers through his hair, fix that goddamned strand that he always lets out, but that breath of connection is broken by the clearance of his throat as he gives one step back.

“They’ve left. And you’re leaving with me.” Mark complies, only to have her shaking her head.

“Not a chance.”

“I’ll carry you there.”

“You’re too shy and non-assertive to do such a thing, so I’m not worried.” Rubbing a hand against her eye and perhaps, ruining her makeup even more, she says: “Just go steal the show, Mark, you’ve done it time and time again. Why not do it now?”

“I know how much this means to you now. I didn’t…I didn’t know when we graduated just how much you care about education.”

“Well, shit just happens.” Before Mark could say anything else, she pops inside the elevator, hearing him bang his fists against the doors when she closes them with rushed fingertips against the buttons. Soon after, she’s sighing when dropping herself against the wall, looking up at the bright lightbulb and feeling more tears gathering and dropping. One by one, like her worries, piling up until she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Somehow, she can’t hate Mark at this moment. Not this time around. Yoonoh would probably laugh at her for giving Mark excuses for always getting her chances, but it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, either. He may be the kind of person people want posing on pictures and being their doctor, and that’s something she has to live with. Not being his shadow, but also, not shining on her own. One day, it will come—and she hates that she’s thinking like this, because she’s starting to sound like Mark.

A month later.

She uses the pendant as a joke.

Dr. Hong wanted to apologize in some way or another—or so she wants to believe. Isn’t there something along the line of bosses being very political and not wanting to look bad in front of their workers?—, so he decided to give his staff necklaces as a gift. Necklaces and keychains, she forgets about that sometimes, but she’s reminded when she feels the new weight of a pendant against the lines of her palms. But, that’s not what she decided to sport ironically today, as she’s wearing her favorite pair of gray scrubs and a braid that she learned how to do on a TikTok video. The point is…that Dr. Hong must have made a mistake, because when he gave her the box that was supposed to hold her necklace with her name as a pendant, she got Mark’s instead.

Today is Thursday, a month after they were paired together to work on that presentation that was, according to the attendees, the best one to date coming from residents of this hospital. However, she doesn’t want to ponder back and forth on what could have been. Instead, she’s knowledgeable of the fact that Mark should be consulting his post-operation patients today. Hence, she pops through the neurosurgery portion of the hospital, greeting a few familiar faces with a nod of her head—and a swing of her hand against someone’s shoulder, when the newest intern and last year student, Na Jaemin, decides to give her a hug a little too tight and call her by name instead of doctor—, and clinging to the necklace as if it is her pride and joy.

She waits for the last patient to leave, and she remembers Mark talking about this case. An astrocytoma that he had extracted and was scared of the neurological outcome of the patient. Luckily for him, the patient was not walking on two feet, but when he pushed his wheel-chair away from the consulting room, he was talking to his partner. She smiles, pushing the door open once again and not missing the way Mark perks up at that moment, always eager to welcome his patients.

“Oh, Mr. Jude, did you happen to forget something—?” Mark stops on his tracks when he turns around, seeing her with a shit-eating grin that must be weird for him to look at. Through the other wall of the consulting room, the specialist must be working and examining the patients that Mark presents to him, but for now, only the two of them are left in this room. “…You’re happy.”

“I can be.” Though, she sprints and jumps a bit on her step as she moves closer to him. Mark is already speaking, not paying too much attention to her, just because he had seen her in these scrubs before.

“Dr. Hong made a huge mistake. I have this necklace that was supposed to go to you. But either way, how are you doing?” Mark’s unaware of the way she fidgets with the necklace around her neck, leaning back on his desk and looking through a few of the papers his handwriting his scribbled on, when she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s okay. I am supposed to go check how the patients are doing upstairs and then, head back to the emergency room to check on a patient I had with a vaginal infection. Well, she contacted me outside the hospital and wanted some help because it’s recurrent, but whatever.” Once again, she wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Mark, I need you to look at me.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s, once again, lost in his thoughts, before he’s frowning. “You need me to look at you? Do you have anything? Oh God, how’s the Glasgow? Are you having memory loss?”

“No, dumbass.” She rolls her eyes, swinging the necklace back and forth. “What’s different?”

“The hair?” Mark snaps his fingers, happiness trailing after his smile. “It looks lighter!”

“No wonder you wear glasses.” She gets closer to him, still holding onto her necklace, and perhaps, Mark does have that medical eye that everyone prides him on, because a motion of his gaze across her body that electrifies the utmost recondite portions of her muscles has him squinting his eyes at the necklace and then, she full on laughs at his realization. “I knew I got the wrong necklace, but I thought it would be funny. It kind of looks like one of those couple things, doesn’t it? Like that Taylor Swift song—”

Mark’s pupils dilate, eyes darkened. As a matter of fact, she expected him to be a stuttering, sweating mess at this point. She must not know all sides of Mark Lee, precisely. His digits trace the necklace with just the tip before he’s engulfing the pendant in his palm. She looks at him, watching the even breathing, rising and falling of his thorax, followed by the purse of his lips and the eccentricity of the simplest of movements from his eyebrows. He rotates the pendant, studies it with fervor, before he tugs her closer by it. The skin of her nape arises in goosebumps, throat contracting in a thick swallow when she finally realizes that Mark is just not a cute, quite obnoxious and oblivious, guy that she can play around with.

There is a man in there.

The broadness of his shoulders, barriers to the smallness of his waist, clashing worlds that come together with the scent of his perfume and…is that an aftershave? Mark uses an aftershave?

Maybe, she had been unable to see what really made him so attractive to the rest of the world.

His chin perches up, looking at the necklace from underneath his eyelashes. “Don’t take it off.” He musters, deep from within his chest, rumbling in a vibrato that has the curve of her back deepening and transcending towards him.

“What?” Now she’s the one stammering, and it’s incredible that Mark has this kind of power.

“It looks…great on you.” And the way he toys with the silver material, rotating it in the axis of his index finger, has her aware of how awfully close the digit is to her skin, as if the desire to have that finger trailing down the column of her throat and towards the expanse of her chest is…unbearable.

Summer. He has brought summer to her face again. It’s not a blush, she swears.

“It has your name.”

“So what? It still looks amazing on you.” Mark recites, pulling away to hoist her chin in between his index and thumb before he moves her face from side to side.

“Do you have a fascination with necks, Mark?”

“Not that I know of. Could be my debut as a neck-fascinator, y’know.” He jokes around, and she would laugh if it wasn’t for the tightened knot in the pit of her chest. When he lets go of her, she feels like she can finally breathe, and why is that something that comes out as poor in comparison to the way his touch feels on her? “As much as I would like to keep talking to you, I have more patients waiting for me outside and…” He moves over to the door, and she’s eager to have him opening it so she can cool off, but when his hand spreads on the doorknob, he adds, while looking at her: “Shit, don’t take it off, okay?”

She would have laughed at herself years ago if she heard herself saying, in a small tone: “I won’t, Mark.”

Four months later.

“Care to explain why Mark Lee’s drunken ass is in your birthday party? Because I’m all for change of pace, but this is a whole new story we’re talking about.”

She had missed Yoonoh, dearly, so when he had decided to tag along to her dinner birthday party with his new girlfriend, she thought it would be the greatest of ideas. She must have forgotten that in between all the mess that is being a resident, and also the fact that Mark’s position in her life is as much of a question mark—pun intended—as it is settled, she had not told Yoonoh about his existence as a…well, friend? Supposedly?

Yoonoh’s hair is shorter, bleached with the tips painted in a bright pink, and she has to adjust to the colors even when the restaurant is bathed in colors of purple and blue, the VIP section pushed into the agenda of her birthday thanks to Mark’s idea. He had been the one behind all this, but how does one say that to Yoonoh when he was there, listening to her complain about Mark’s existence, for whole months? She wouldn’t stop talking about him.

She tilts her head back, moistening her mouth with a daiquiri before shrugging. “Life happens. Mark had to work on a project with me and then, we just…I’m not going to say we’re friends.”

Yoonoh bares his teeth as a wolf would do before eating its prey alive. Yes, she’s the prey, but she’s just going to get shit-eating grins the entire night. “Oh, but you’re so friends. Tell me, what is it that has made you forgive him for putting you through the biggest turmoil of your life?”

Considering that he is now standing on a table, swinging hips from side to side in a comic way, with a few buttons of his shirt undone and almost popping a nipple, she’s thinking that he wasn’t that much of a threat to start with. “Just look at him. He’s singing Fifty-Fifty. A man that truly wants to ruin your entire life wouldn’t make hearts while karaoke-ing to ‘Cupid.’”

“I wouldn’t put it that way. Men are menaces, me being a man is enough for me to prove it.” And the way Yoonoh has slowly pulled away from his new girlfriend, letting her go get drinks on her own side as she’s now talking with a whole different group of women, lets her know that, maybe, just maybe, he’s not the best one to date. Johnny is somewhere around, too, speaking with a few other residents of the Gyn-Ob program. “Is he treating you well?”

“Don’t start with the brother talk.”

“I’m not giving you the brother talk.”

“Well, you’re asking me questions a brother would think about when his sister has a new boyfriend but hey, newsflash, I don’t—”

“I don’t like Mark Lee, she said, totally lying to herself. Come on, you’ve been eye-fucking him.”

“What do you know? You’re drunk.”

“Two of these?” He holds the two empty soju bottles he has around him. “Don’t bother me. Cupid boy over there, though? He’s on cloud nine and I think it’s about time we slice the cake and take him home.”

“You just want cake.”

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly trimmed eyebrow before chuckling. “Trust me, babe, I’m getting a good slice of cake tonight, but the sweet kind wouldn’t do me wrong, either.”

This memory could be one for the books, considering Yoonoh has one arm wrapped around Mark’s shoulder as they both drunkenly—or not so—sing into the camera Yoonoh is holding on one hand the goddamned birthday song. She’s clapping along, laughing when Mark dips a finger into the icing and tries to smear it on the tip of her nose but completely misses.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t handle soju just as well.

Yoonoh says his goodbyes and finally decides to return to his date, or girlfriend, or whatever it is that he calls women in his life these days. That’s the moment she wraps an arm around Mark’s shoulder, hoisting her hand until she’s clasping the two ends of his button down closed so he doesn’t show more of his chest. For his sake. Or hers.

“I didn’t ask for nudity tonight.” Mark’s cheeks tinge pink and he laughs at her words, shaking his head.

“Dude, I’m not naked.” Though, he does take a second glance, creating a double-chin when he looks down at his chest and then, it’s her turn to giggle. “See? I didn’t have to check or anything.”

“I’m taking you home.”

“But Johnny’s still here!”

“Don’t care. I’m taking you home. Enough celebrating. It’s four in the morning, not my birthday anymore.” She replies, tugging him along with her as she carries on her empty hand a bag with the half-eaten burger he had left on his plate on a container and the slices of cake respective to them. She waves the hand that she has on Mark’s chest as a goodbye to the rest of the group before they’re engulfed by the night. “Okay, Mark—”

He’s not in this world, or this night, because he’s singing slowly to himself: “I’m feeling lonely. Oh, I wish I could find a lover that could—”

“Mark.”

“Hold me.” He does a few runs with his voice at that moment, which is not unpleasant, but definitely uncalled for as she is trying to take them back home.

“I need you to do either one of two things. Reach into my purse and grab my car keys, or button your shirt so you don’t die of a cold.” He chooses the latter, popping his hand inside her purse and lurking around. His body rolls on the curve of her arm, a crease growing between his brows as he tries his best to find the key in this darkened night. From the closeness, she can smell the soju in his breath, mixed with the mustard that he reapplied on the burger that was served to him.

“I’m on it. Just give me…a second.”

“We don’t have many seconds.”

“Eh, eh, dude, no rushing.” Mark complains, dragging his voice. “A true surgeon doesn’t rush, you know?”

“I’m an obstetrician-to-be.”

“Babies take time, too, you know? To make them, pop them out…” Mark’s voice starts to face until he grabs the keys, grabbing them harshly in the palms of his hands before smiling. “Here they are! We can go…back…home…” His tone grows duller when he looks at her, faces inherently close, in positions that almost translate to being chest to chest, only separated by the purse in between them, and it doesn’t help that she has one arm wrapped around his waist. “Can you smell the mustard?”

“Mark—” She’s about to pull away, but Mark tugs her closer, perfecting the position she had put them in. He wraps both hands around her waist, molding and digging until all she feels is his skin, muscles and bones. His abdomen contracts against her own, insufferably tight and making her own stomach flip a bunch of times. The breeze plays with the hair he lets fall on his forehead and she swears she sees a hint of condensation in his glasses.

“I’m sorry. All I’ve done is ruin every opportunity I’ve had with you.” Mark whispers, almost like a drunken blues, before he licks his lips. His eyes divert to the necklace hanging in between her collarbones, his name still there, most of the time covered by her coat at work or her scrubs, but he wears her name around her neck, as well. She’s sure someone has figured out their little game by now. “…But you still wear the necklace.”

Freezing is the tip of his nose against her septum, trailing against the skin as his lips part. The shuddering breath he lets out speaks a thousand languages, each more confusing than the other. Those eyes of his remain closed, while she only looks at him. The crease of his brows, the trembling of his bottom lip and the palpable need to kiss her, only to be interrupted by his own insecurities:

"Just kiss me." She pleads, though she would have never imagined that her voice would let out such things. Mark was supposed to be the man she hated for the rest of her professional life, but somewhere in between, the lines had blurred.

"I can't." Mark announces and when he doesn’t let go of her waist, she knows that said words don’t mean that he doesn’t want to. “Because I don’t know if us wearing our names on each other’s neck means we are really good friends, or that you want to kiss me just as bad. And you may have a stronger heart than I do, taking disappointment after disappointment, accepting life to be unfair with you, but I am not quite as strong as you are.”

He breathes in deeply and she takes that as a cue of him not being over his speech.

“I’m afraid you’ll break me.”

“I would never.” She admits, trailing her nose to the skin of his cheeks, deepening the tip on the hollow where his dimples form, before breathing his scent deeply. “Mark, I’m tired of running from things just because I am bitter. I don’t want to be bitter anymore. If life is going to suck, then, at least I want to say I tried having a good thing, however way it turns out.”

When he dips his mouth to taste hers, he does it as if he can’t handle the tremor of his lips. He’s unused to her motions, growing impatient and then, falling back into rhythm. One can feel that he’s nervous, but that doesn’t stop him. He puts the effort to trace the outline of her mouth with a simple caress of his lips, puckering them up the slightest in a peck before he’s parting them to grant himself the benefit to learn the shape of her upper lip and her bottom one. She sighs against his mouth, finally pushing back that one hair that he never brushes back quite well, guiding his mouth deeper into her own. For him to finally scratch that source of curiousness that had built to be a warm feeling at the tip of her stomach, and the bottom of her heart.

She had once not known who Mark Lee was.

But now she’s certain that he won’t let her forget through this kiss, and if she’s lucky, the ones that will come after.

#mark scenarios #mark x reader #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct fluff #nct au #mark fluff #mark au #writing #kpop scenarios

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ijwrsmff · 6 months

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What's Wrong?-Law x Reader (Appendicitis)

A couple people requested this on my archive, while requests were open, so here's this! I don't really know what trigger warnings to use for this? So just in case.

Tw: reader in pain, medical procedure, reader has a fear of needles.

It started off harmless enough, but it just seemed to keep getting worse…what began with cramping along your mid stomach, has expanded and gotten more painful. It wasn’t too bad, to begin with. You brushed it off as a strained muscle from a fight, but your suspicions it was something more serious was nagging at your mind. The pain was becoming unbearable, but you tried to hide it…especially from your boyfriend.

You knew it wouldn’t be easy, seeing as he was the submarine’s doctor. He had pushed, making sure you were safe after every fight. Law immediately knew something was up, when you barely said a word after the fight and went straight to your own room. You had almost always stayed in his room, you should have known he’d pick up on that. He did tend to be overly observant.

There wasn’t even a knock on the door, he just walked in to see you laying on your bed. He walked up to it and crossed his arms with a cocked eyebrow. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” Straight to the point as always. “You’ve been acting differently. Not spending as much time with me or the crew, and you seem to be distracted during our most recent fights.”

You gulped and sat up in bed, trying your hardest not to wince. “Just…feeling a little tired…is all…” It was a terrible lie, and you both knew it. You tried to back it up by continuing, “Not really feeling up for fighting, it’s no big deal! I probably just have a cold or something!” While smiling at him, you tried not to look at his face. Another clear sign you were straight up lying to him.

“Uh huh…” He walked forward, closer to you and you leaned back. “Then you should have come to me. Even though that’s not the case.” He reached a hand to your forehead, “Hm…you do actually have a bit of a fever though.” He felt around your neck, and didn’t seem to find anything swollen. “Still, you’re coming to my office. Let’s go.” He turned to walk, and he fully turned back when you didn’t go to follow him.

“N-No it’s okay! I’m fine!” You gulped, knowing he probably wouldn’t drop it this time. He could be so stubborn…you loved him a lot though. Your love for him made you feel bad for hiding your pain from him, but what if he had to give you a shot? Or IV? That fear triumphed in your mind. “I just need some rest is all!” He glared, and you realized your mistake. He didn’t like when people claimed to know better about their health than him.

“Come on.” He walked back to you, and went to pick you up but the sudden movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through your abdomen. You practically screamed, not expecting it at all. Even Law looked surprised, and he let go instantly. You could tell by that look in his eyes, that his “doctor mode” was already activated.

“What’s wrong? Clearly it’s more serious than some cold. You don’t even hardly scream like that when wounded in battle.” He looked you over as much as he could without touching you again. He didn’t see any clear signs of injury, and there was a distinctive lack of blood on you or your clothes. “Lay down.” He was much more careful this time, and aided you into a laying down position.

You looked sheepish, and embarrassed when being caught. “I just…no needles. You gotta promise me that…” You tried to relax, but the pain was throbbing at this point. He felt around your neck, down to over your heart and he stopped there.

“Your pulse…it’s escalated substantially.” He continued, and lifted up your shirt slightly to put pressure on different places on your stomach. He didn’t even promise not to use needles, and continued, “I can’t promise that. Not until I know what’s wrong.” Once the pressure went over your lower abdomen, you hissed, which had his eyes shoot up to your face to gauge it. “Shit…” He muttered, and you could see a battle in his eyes.

“Shit? What? Is it bad?” Your fear spiked, and you tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held you firmly in place. “Law?” His eyes were a mixture of fear and irritation. Either at you, or whatever was causing your pain. You weren’t sure which one would be more ideal in this situation. Whichever it was, you didn’t want to be in more pain like this for a longer period of time.

“It’s your appendix. They’re close to bursting, and that can be fatal. I have to get them out. NOW.” He waved his hand, and the room appeared. “Stay still or this’ll hurt.” He was completely focused now, hand drifting across your abdomen until reaching where he knew they were. “Take a deep breath in…” You did as instructed, and you closed your eyes in preparation of the pain.

It didn’t come, and when you opened your eyes he was standing above you, examining your appendix that he held in his hand. He turned to glare at you. “Do you know how serious this is? You could have DIED. Understand?” His eyes softened when you looked at him with guilt written on your face. “Look…just come to me next time. And every time after that. I…I know you’re scared of needles, but it’s better than how much pain this must have caused.”

“I’m sorry…” It was all you could say, and you rubbed at your abdomen instinctively. It was definitely still sore, but after he took them out it was already better. Not perfect, still…but better. “I know I shouldn’t hide things from you…in my defense I didn’t know how bad it could get.” You reached over and took his hand, and he gave a small smile for a moment before going back to his usual neutral look.

“We can work it out. Just tell me your symptoms as they happen. I can give you an answer for almost anything.” He sighed, and rubbed the back of your hand as he sat next to you. “I won’t even use needles if I can help it.” He wanted to say those words, but he was rarely the first to initiate it. But his words made the message clear. Even if he didn’t say it often, you knew.

“I love you too, Law.”

#x reader #gn reader #one piece x reader #request #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #tw; medical procedure #tw; reader in pain #law x reader #appendicitis #fear of needles

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thefallennightmare · 7 months

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Miracle-one

(gif created by me, the fallen nightmare. feel free to use, simply give credit)

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: forced proximity, slight enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, and swearing.

Summary: Reader is the merch girl for Bad Omens. It wasn't what she wanted to do with her life but when her mother got sick with Alzheimer's, reader took a job where she could to help with the costs. She thought it would be a one-time gig but the longer she was on the road with them, the harder she fell for Noah Sebastian; even if he wanted nothing to do with her. She needed a miracle to save her mom and her future.

Authors Note: Here we go! Tags are open if anyone is interested!

Tags:

"Mom, do you need anything before I leave?" I asked my mom, who was sitting on the couch in our living room.

Her eyes were cold and vacant as she watched the television, well tried to anyway. It didn't matter if she paid attention to whatever was on, she would forget in a while. When she didn't respond, I sighed and brushed the graying hair out of her face which caused her to look up at me, finally.

No hint of recognition in those vacant eyes.

"Who are you?"

Her words chipped away at the stone wall I had around my heart as I blew out a shaky breath.

"Y/N. I'm your daughter," I said while kneeling in front of her.

Even with my name spoken, my mother didn't recognize me.

It's been like this for the last six months since she first received her Alzheimer's diagnosis. It was farther than we would have liked and the doctor said that her health would decline fast. She forgot who I was one month after her diagnosis and the bad days were more so than the good days. From the second I woke up till the very moment I lay in bed for the night I spent the day taking care of her until recently. My job was going to pick up again which meant I would leave her for about five weeks.

I was terrified to leave her alone especially for that long. There was this great company that I can have a live in nurse take care of her while I'm gone but when I looked into pricing, I nearly had a heart attack. We did okay money wise. After my dad passed away a few years ago, he left us a decent cushion. The house was paid off a very long time ago which helped on the bills; except the medical bills.

Every drug, every trial, and every visit burned deeper into my pockets and now the overdue bill's kept pilling up on our kitchen table. My job paid good enough where I could fill our fridge with groceries and take care of the smaller things but even that couldn't help with the bigger things. I thought about asking for a small raise but the fear of having to tell one of my boss' why was daunting so I never did.

Which is where I was headed now. I had to help get everything ready before we hit the road for the tour. My heart fluttered knowing I would see him tonight.

"Y/N," my mom raised a brow. "I'm sorry, I don't know a Y/N."

I swallowed the lump in my throat then gave her knee a squeeze. "I should only be gone for a few hours. My phone number is writing on the piece of paper next to the house phone."

I pointed to the table next to her where said phone and paper was. My mom tracked it with her vacant eyes and nodded.

"Just watch your show and before you know it, I'll be back. Alright?"

She said nothing, merely watched the television, so I stood straight, giving her shoulder a squeeze and left the house. I wasn't the one to pray so instead I whispered out into the world my words repeatedly.

"She will be fine. She can handle herself for a few hours."

I walked into the large warehouse hearing laugher and voices carry which eased my worries of leaving my mom alone. No one I worked with knew about my mom and I planned to keep it that way. Davis smiled at me when I walked over to the large table he was standing in front of, a large array of shirts, hats, and sweaters lay on top of it.

"Think it'll be enough?" I asked as I started helping him fold everything into sections.

Davis shrugged. "It's always good to have extra than not enough."

"The new designs look sick," I said.

"Thanks," Davis smiled while bumping his shoulder with me.

While Davis and everyone else who worked for the band had important jobs, mine wasn't anything even close to important. The only reason I got the job was because Davis and I went to high school together. We weren't best friends but stayed in touch. He's also the only one who knows something is going on back home but never knew exactly what; which is why he recommended the job for me. He knew I was desperate for money.

I was the merch girl for Bad Omens and the vocalist absolutely despised it.

Maybe it was because I never asked him for the job or the slack that merch girls always get. They only have the job so they can hook up with members of the band. Which was the absolute last thing I wanted to do; even if he was breathtakingly handsome.

As if her could sense my thoughts about him, his ethereal voice echoed throughout the warehouse and my breath caught in my throat. I looked over my shoulder and saw him standing at the back of a large truck, the one where the merch and other things for the new tour will go.

The smile that graced Noah Sebastian's face brightened everything dark and scary in my mind for a few moments and I reveled in the way my heart skipped a beat whenever he was near.

"You're staring."

Turning back to Davis, I scoffed and went back to work of stuffing the boxes. "I am not."

"Are you actually going to talk to him this tour? Last one you barley said three words to him," he said.

"I would if he wasn't such an asshole towards me. I didn't even do anything to deserve the cold shoulder."

Davis sighed while letting a large pile fall into the box at our feet, a lot messier than the ones I had been packing. I gave him a narrowed gaze of annoyance, one he ignored.

"Don't take it personal. Noah is quiet. I'm sure if you tried to talk to him, you'd find out he's a great guy," Davis suggested.

"I'd rather chew broken glass," I muttered.

I'd work with Bad Omens and crew for about almost a year now and in that time, Noah and I spoke less than ten words to each other. While on the last tour, I kept to myself not knowing anyone besides Davis which might have put me off to Noah. He probably thought I didn't care about getting to know anyone else here; which wasn't true. I had other things on my mind.

Like wondering how I was going to pay my mom's medical bills.

"New designs look sick, Davis."

My shoulders stiffened at the deep voice, his scent filling all of my senses. I could see Noah out of the corner of my eye while I continued to fold the shirts and sweaters. His gaze burned into the side of my head before falling to the messy pile of clothes in the box.

"You're not going to leave it like that, are you?" Noah raised a brow.

I audibly choked on my spit at him blaming me for that mess.

"No, I was planning on leaving it like that. I mean what's the point of folding everything perfect when it's just going to be packed in a box," I replied dryly while holding up the pile of clothes I had been folding.

Something flashed in his dark eyes, the corner of his lips pulling up slightly.

"She does speak."

"Oh, fuck off Noah. I'm not in the mood," I snapped while giving him my back.

Davis let out a low whistle before taking the now full box of merch to the truck, leaving Noah and I alone. It might have been a bad idea snapping at him like that but it was true. I was dealing with a lot at home so the last thing I needed was bullshit from him.

"Did you break up with your boyfriend?"

The shirt I was folding fell onto the table at his words. Boyfriend? I didn't have one; I never did.

"I don't have a boyfriend," I muttered, fingers toying with the fabric of the shirt.

Noah hummed while leaning against the table next to me. He sat facing everything behind me while I stood facing the wall behind him.

"Davis didn't want to go out with you?" He pressed with a sly smirk.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my growing anger at bay. I already snapped at him once, I couldn't risk my job my doing it again.

"Davis and I are just friends. I don't think of him like that and I'm sure the feelings are mutual."

"Good," Noah nodded. "Because the last thing I need is you distracting someone on the crew because of a little crush."

My eyes snapped over to him, flaring with fury. "What is your problem with me, Noah? If you don't want me here, just fire me so you can stop wasting my time and yours."

With how much taller he was than me, even sitting on the edge of the table Noah towered over me as he leaned closer. His warm breath fanned across my face as I peered up at him. Even with my fury, my heart hammered hard against my chest with our proximity, something I hope Noah couldn't hear.

"Trust me, angel. You'd know if I was wasting my time with you."

He watched me for a few moments before walking away; him taking the warmth that cocooned around me away with him. I blinked long after he left, trying to let his words process in my mind. What the hell did he mean by that?

But suddenly, his pet name for me was the only thing at the forefront of my mind and I wasn't sure if I liked the way my body reacted to it; heat spreading from my heart straight down between my legs, core aching with need.

For the next little while, I worked alone finishing up folding all the merch and when I had four boxes stuffed full; I began bringing them over to the truck. On my way back with my third box, I saw Noah and Nick Folio standing at the back of the truck, laughing about something I didn't know. I ignored the way my stomach warmed at seeing the large smile on Noah's face as I walked past him up the ramp of the truck.

Folio noticed how I could barley see over the box and reached out for it.

"Hey, Y/N. Need some help?" He asked.

I let him take it with a small smile. "Thanks, Folio."

Unlike Noah, I spoke to the other members of the band and crew. I wouldn't say we were close but more than strangers.

"How many more do you have?" He asked as he set down the box next to the others.

"Just one. I can get it though, I don't want to distract you."

As the last few words came from lips, I made sure to lock my eyes with Noah, who was watching me with bright eyes, arms crossed over his chest. The way his eyes glinted with the setting sun almost made a smile break out on my face.

Almost.

Folio looked between Noah and I before letting out a low chuckle. "If you guys go the whole tour with this tension, something is going to explode before it ends."

I shook my head. "There's no tension."

"Right," Folio clicked his tongue. "And I play guitar for Bad Omens."

The sarcasm in his voice wasn't missed and with a sigh, I left the two of them back to whatever they were doing before I interpreted. The only tension, if there was any, between Noah and me was hate. He never liked me even from my first day. So why would I bother being nice to him when he didn't give a shit about me?

After the last box was loaded into the truck, I began walking back into the warehouse to see if Davis needed me for anything else when my phone rang.

"Mom?" I spoke when I saw the caller I.D.

Noah was walking inside the warehouse with Nick Ruffilo, laughing that beautiful laugh, so not wanting him to hear my conversation I held back away from them.

"Who is this?"

I sighed while pinching my eyes shut. "Mom, it's Y/N. You called me. Is everything alright?"

"Oh." There was a long beat of silence on the other line before some rustling came through. "I was hungry and wanted to make something to eat."

"NO!" I yelled into the phone.

Noah turned to look at my sudden outburst but I didn't bother to look at him, the fear of wondering if my mom turning on the stove filled me.

"Did you turn on the stove?" I asked.

"No, there's a note saying not too. Which is why I called."

I swallowed the sob that almost crawled out of my throat.

"Okay, good." I nodded. "I'm almost done at work. I'll pick up some pizza on the way home. You like pizza."

Another long beat of silence.

"Alright. I'll go back to watching my show."

"Good, I'll be home soon. Love you mom."

The line clicked off before I even finished speaking and I stared at my phone with a long breath. If she had turned on the stove, things would have been a lot worse. A few weeks ago while I was taking a nap, my mom tried to cook something and forgot about it, letting it blaze up in flames and when she tried to extinguish it, she burned her hand pretty bad. So since that day, I had a large note tapped to the front panel of the oven saying not to use it.

Thank goodness I did.

"Everything alright?"

I jumped slightly at the deep voice and quickly wiped away the stress tears that burned at the corners of my eyes before turning on my heels. Noah stood in front of me with his hands buried deep into the pocket of his black hoodie. My hands itched to run through the messy strands of his face but I held back.

"Uh, yeah. I loaded all the boxes up in the truck. Is there anything else you want me to do?"

His gaze took over my chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath I took and I knew he noticed the tears that gathered in the edge of my eyes.

"If you could-."

My phone rang again, interrupting Noah, and I apologized with a sheepish frown. When I saw the unknown number, I excused myself from him and answered.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ms. Y/L/N?"

"Yeah, who is this?"

"This is Chief Reynolds with the Los Angeles fire department."

My heart fell out of my ass and I stumbled out an incoherent sentence, forgetting that Noah was still standing behind me.

"What happened?" I finally managed out.

"We have a Mrs. Y/L/N here at your residence."

I rapidly nodded even though the Chief couldn't see. "That's my mom. Is she alright?"

"Well, it seems as if she tried to cook something on your stove and let the gas burn. A neighbor called in a strong smell of gas. It seems as if she had it burning for a while."

"Oh fuck," I groaned while running a hand through my hair. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, we tested her for any effects of the gas but she seems fine. We opened some windows to air it out. You shouldn't have any issues."

I spoke to him for a few more seconds before thanking him and hanging up. Fucking hell, she tried to cook something and damn near exposed herself to gas. I left her for two hours, how the fuck was I supposed to leave her for five weeks?

"Do you need to leave?"

I jumped, hand over my chest when I suddenly remembered Noah was still standing behind me. For the first time in almost a year of knowing him, I saw concern in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Uh, a small emergency at home. I have to go take care of it," I said.

Noah nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. Did you have a ride set up for Saturday?"

I cursed, almost forgetting that in two days we were leaving for tour. I needed the money but also couldn't bear the idea of leaving my mom alone.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I was going to ride on the crews bus."

"I hope things are alright," he said while motioning to my car in the parking lot.

"Thanks," I grumbled before jogging over to the car, not wanting to leave my mom alone for a second longer.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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gadriezmannsgirl · 5 months

Note

heyy, can i request one when the reader met gavi's family for the first time and they were a little rude/suspicious about her, because they know that there are girls who just want gavi's money and fame. but then, they meet a second time and they're really nice and just fluff?

It's been a little while since I wrote for my babyboy, Pablito🥹 so here's a little something. Sorry for the delay, anon! Life's been busy these past days

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, I'm not doing a reference to Pablo's knee injury because it's not a cute little prompt😭 Páez Gavira family being overprotective of their small baby🥹 Gavi overprotecting reader, angsty at some point but other than that, it's fluff

Book Covers -P.G6

Summary: First meetings aren't always the best ones

As soon as the door closed you let yourself fall to the floor

"They don't like me" You said hiding your face into your hands

"What? ¿Qué estás diciendo?" (What are you talking about?) Your boyfriend of five months, Pablo shook his head "They like you"

"They don't!" You cried softly "Your mom was looking like she was ready for me to have a mistake so she can call me out for it, Aurora was rude most of the times, it was your dad the one who was lightly accepting of me" You exclaimed looking up at him with teary eyes "I really wanted for them to like me" You whisper softly

"Amor, they like you. Créeme" (Trust me) Pablo fell on the floor with you and pulled you into him. "They always are a bit insecure about who I let into my life but once they see how good you are with, to and for me they'll get around" Pablo kissed your forehead brushing your hair away from your face

"What if they don't?" You whisper "I really wanted to like your family since mine loves you more than they love me"

"They will" Pablo said with confidence "I know it, like I said they just need time, preciosa" He kissed your cheek several times making you smile softly "That's the smile I love so much" You smiled looking into his brown warm eyes "And even if they don't like you, I do. You're my girlfriend and I love you"

"You're not helping me, amor" You laugh softly

"I'm just saying, nothing and no one will stop me from being with you. I love you, you're my girlfriend and that's all that matters for me"

You looked at him for a few minutes before kissing him softly "I love you" You say making him smile, you kiss him once again "I'm gonna take a shower"

"Funny thing... so was I"

"Yes, Pablo. You can shower with me" You say and he yelped in happiness running to meet up with you to the stairs

"El último en llegar hace la cena" (The one who comes last will do dinner) He said running past you but not before giving your bum a slap

"¡Pablo Martín!" You squealed before running behind him to return the slap, both of you laughing

*** One Month Later ***

"Fuck!" You yelled with tears in your eyes. The one match you miss going to, it's the match where your boyfriend was injured.

You had just gotten out of a final exam, when you decided to see the match statistics, only to see the words "Gavi comes out of the pitch injured, Fermín is subbed in"

It was minute 68, so you decided to go to Montjuic and see him. You picked your car up and drove to the stadium.

Guards already knew who you were so they let you in, you tried your best to not run towards the dressing rooms but it was impossible. You knocked on the door and heard a groan before a small "come in" came through

"Cariño" You almost cried watching your boyfriend laid on a bed as medics worked in his ankle

"Hola mi amor" He smiled softly as you walked to be next to him and hugged him softly, his hands around your waist, yours around his shoulders, his head buried in between your breasts and your lips on top of his brown sweaty hair.

His hold on you tightened when the doctors applied pression on it as they put a bandage on him

"How is it?" You ask after a few minutes

"He has a sprain, it's not severe but it does need a time off to heal properly"

"How much?" Gavi asked

"About three to four weeks" The doctors said "Do your best to just rest, avoid activities that can cause pain, swelling or discomfort. Use an Ice pack for about 15 to 20 minutes and repeat every two to three hours while you're awake, it helps a lot and also compress the ankle with a bandage, tightly but not enough to hinder circulation" They smile lightly "If the pain's too much you can also take some ibuprofen or acetaminophen"

"Thank you so much" you said as he smiles softly at you

"Let me get you some crutches, you'll have to walk with those for a while and then you're able to go" He said leaving you and Gavi alone

"You didn't have to come all this way, amor"

"Stop talking nonsense" You shook your head "Of course I have to" You said grabbing his hand "My boyfriend's injured how could I not come to see him?" he smiled softly "You heard the doctor" You said for you two, he nods “I... Do you need help at home once you get out of here?” You wonder “I could help you? Or, maybe you can.. I don’t know-”

"That would be lovely" You smile softly as he accepts he needs help. You brush the hair that's stick to his forehead thanks to his sweat "But I don't want to be a bother"

"If it was me the one injured, would you think I'm a bother?" He quickly shook his head

"I wouldn't"

"Well, I don't think that either" You kissed his dirty cheek "It's time for you to rest, amor"

"What did I do to deserve you?" You blush smiling, he mirrors your smile, his hand going to the side of your face and pulling you into him for a kiss.

"Come on, guapo. It's time to go home and rest"

°°° °°°

"My family is coming to see me" You stopped in your tracks and looked at Pablo

"That's nice to hear, amor"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable" He said before taking a spoonfull of soup

"I can't do anything if they don't like me, sadly" You sighed "But I'm here for you, because I care about you and I love you" You said "and unless you don't want me here, I won't leave you" You looked at him only to see him smiling down at you "What?" You ask laughing

He shakes his head "I'm just way to lucky to have you"

His parents and sister may not like you but for you it only matters that he did. And he does like you a lot.

You blushed at his comment "Come on, soup's getting cold"

"Won't you eat with me?"

"I have to clean this up first"

"Leave it and come eat with me, please" He pouted ever so lightly but you fell for it

Without saying anything, you grabbed a bowl and served yourself some soup and as you were about to sit the bell ringed

"Where you waiting for someone?" you ask Pablo while he shakes his head. You open the door to reveal the Páez Gavira family "Hi!"

"Hello" Pablo's dad said with a small smile "Is Gavi here?" You nod opening the door to let them inside

"¿Qué tal están ustedes?" (How are you?) You ask

"We're good, thanks" Aurora says with a small smile "Where's my brother?"

"How's he?" Belén asks

"He's doing good, he's eating right now" You didn't even got to finish the sentence when they were already on their way leaving you with Pablo.

"How are you, dear?" He asks and you nod softly

"I'm doing well, sir. Thank you" He nods smiling "Do you want me to help with the luggage?"

"I have it handled, hija. Thank you tho" You nod watching the man walk to the stairs

"¿Por qué esto está tan sucio?" (why is this so dirty?) You cursed lightly and walked to the kitchen watching how Belén judged the counter

"I just finished making lunch, I was about to clean it up"

"And why didn't you?"

"Because I was going to eat first?" She made a sound before leaving the kitchen, Aurora behind her. You sighed softly, grabbing your bowl of soup and throwing it away

"Amor"

"I'm not hungry" You said before starting to clean up

"Pablo, hijo. You better not be sleeping in the second floor!"

"I'm not, mamá. We are sleeping in this guest room"

"That's great! I'll be sleeping with you today to check if you need anything"

"But Y/N's-" Gavi went to speak but you cut him off

"It's okay" You say "I can sleep in the guest room that's upstairs"

"I already settled Aurora's thing there" Pablo said as you nod

"I'll sleep on the couch then, it's fine" You laughed softly

It wasn't fine. You slept only with a small blanket covering your cold body. You had no pillow since most of them were taken by Gavi to elevate his foot, Belén refused to take one away from him and you nodded agreeing with her.

But your back and your neck weren't pleased.

"How are you, mi vida?" You nod at Gavi's question with a small smile

"How about you?"

"I'm asking for you, Y/N"

"I'm fine, amor" You kiss his lips softly trying to forget about the pain on your back, you undo the bandage before pressing the ice pack to him "20 minutes" You started the chronometer "I'll do breakfast, call me if anything, okay?" You say as he nods

You started making some tortillas and coffee, when Belén came into the kitchen

"Buenos dias" She said with a smile

"Buen dia" You replied to her softly "Coffee's done, I'm doing some tortillas, Pablito is in the couch with the ice pack"

"Yes, I just saw that" She replied "He told me you were here" You nod not knowing what to say "We're sorry" She said as you stop what you were doing

"Pardon?"

"We weren't treating you in the best way and we're sorry about that" She said and you look at her

"It's okay, miss"

"No, it isn't" She cut you off "We're just so worried about who comes into his life, he seems like a though guy but he's so shy and sentimental. We don't want anyone, mostly girls, coming up to him, only to use him for fame and money and then leaving him alone and suffering. We're always nervous and suspicious about who he hangs out with. But you're not like that and I'm sorry if we made you have a tough time. We judged you before we even got to know you completely"

You nod smiling "I understand, miss. But I love Pablo for who he is, not for what he has. He's it for me, at his highest and at his lowest, I'll always be here for him"

"And he for you, I'm sure of that" She smiles "I'm sorry" you shake your head

"No worries, miss"

"It's Belén, miss makes me feel old" You laugh softly "Can I hug you?" You nod and she embraces you in a tight hug "Do you need some help?" You shake your head

"I often make Gavi wash the dishes but I'll do that after this is done"

"Nonsense. I'm helping you with it right now!"

"I'm happy to see my two girls getting along" Pablo said

"Stick your mind in that ice pack, Gavira and stop being nosey!" You reply

"¡Te quiero!" You smile looking over at him

"What do you want?"

"Can you please put some ketchup on mine?"

"Where's the please?" Belén asked

"Please?" you laugh softly

"Only because you're guapo and injured"

"If I get baby treatment from you while being injured, then I'll need to be injured all the time"

"Can you stop speaking nonsense?" Belén asked "I'm sure Y/N babies you all the time"

"Yes, she does but I want more! Can you blame me? I love her!"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#gadriezmannsgirl is writing #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi #gavi x reader #pablo gavi blurb #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi imagine #gavi blurb #gavi icons #gavi imagine #pablo gavi one shot #gavi one shot #fc barcelona

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kookie-doughs · 7 months

Text

Daddy Cupid

Modern!Various One Piece Men X Reader

-When your father grows weary of your single life, he takes it upon himself to play matchmaker. With him knowing the entire city, he embarks on a mission to find you the perfect match.

Chapter 2: Cupid's Arrow

As you approach the condo, the guard recognizes you and opens the door with a smile and a nod, familiar with your face.

Having a spare key, you simply let yourself in and crash onto the sofa.

"Y/N," a voice calls from behind you.

With your face planted on the couch, all you can manage is a muffled "Heyy."

The man groans, and hearing his footsteps walking away, you finally turn to face upright.

"Smokeyyyy..."

"What?" he replies from the bathroom, where he's brushing his teeth.

"I fell for Dad's tactics again..."

His head peeks out of the bathroom as he rinses his mouth. "Who is it this time?"

"Edward's son..." you sigh, realizing you've been roped into another matchmaking setup.

"Well, that can't be that bad," Smoker remarks optimistically.

"You say that, but all the dates Dad has set up for me so far are weirdos," you retort, listing off your previous experiences.

"They're not weirdos."

"King tried to rope me into his cult. Kuro is obsessed with cats, and his two cats are hideous. Pretty sure he also had a knife play kink. And Cracker plays with his food like he's 7."

"Marco isn't that bad from what I heard," Smoker offers.

"Who's Marco?" you inquire.

"Edward's son. He just moved here a few weeks ago. He's a doctor," Smoker explains.

"Ugh, you're supposed to talk shit about this, don't list off his good traits. Do you not want me to marry at 40?" you complain, frustrated with Smoker's positive outlook.

"You're hopeless. Come on, I'm on duty," Smoker insists, pulling you up.

"Can't I just stay hereeeee...." you whine.

"No," Smoker says firmly, pushing you out and closing the door behind you both.

You pout as Smoker escorts you out, and you protest, Smoker sighed. "If you want someone who'd shit on people, go visit Buggy or something."

"Fine, maybe I will!" you stomp away, and Smoker follows you silently.

Before you part ways, he ruffles your hair and says, "See ya later. Good luck on your date," with a smirk. Leaving you more upset.

As you mumble under your breath and scrunch your face in frustration, you become distracted and fail to pay attention to where you're walking.

"You're in the way!"

In a moment of carelessness, you accidentally get hit by a bike, causing you to stumble and fall to the ground. As you and the man on the bike fall, you quickly look up to see who it is. Your eyes meet his, and you both take a moment to assess the situation. You find yourself face to face with a tall and imposing figure. The man had a considerable stature, with a strong and well-built frame. He has black, curly hair cut to chin length that fans out at the tips, tanned skin, and an altogether lean, long build.

Your upsetness quickly takes over, and you glare at the man who bumped into you.

"This was a sidewalk, why are you even here!" you snap.

"Bikes are allowed on this sidewalk. Why weren't you paying attention?" he grumbles in response.

"You ruined my clothes!" you exclaim.

"You ruined my bike."

"No, I didn't!" you argue, pointing at the perfectly okay bike that was just on the ground.

"Fine, maybe my bike is fine, but you're still at fault," he concedes, getting up and dusting himself off before picking up his bike.

You hurriedly get up, not wanting him to divert from the issue at hand. However, you wince when a sudden pain shoots through your wrist as you try to push yourself up, causing you to clutch it in discomfort.

The man looks at your wrist and, despite his grumbling, takes your hand to examine it. You wince in pain and pull your hand away from him.

He then pulls out his wallet and hands you a paper. "Calling card. Get that checked, then call me. Sorry for the trouble," he mutters, seeming somewhat remorseful.

"Shouldn't you take me to somewhere I can get checked instead of telling me to go alone?" you glare at him, frustrated by his lack of assistance.

"I'm busy. Anyways, just call me," he says as he starts to leave, showing little interest in staying to help further.

You trudge to the closest hospital or clinic you can find, nursing your injured wrist. The nurse at the front desk helps you fill out the necessary paperwork, and you take a seat in the waiting area.

After a while, the doctor emerges from his room, the doctor was a tall, lean, muscular man with blond hair and a rather sleepy look on his face sporting some stubble around his chin. The doctor briefly speaks with an elderly lady, cautioning her to be careful, before turning his attention to the nurse and inquiring about the next patient to see.

The nurse calls for you, and you make your way to the doctor's room. The doctor, with a sweet smile, welcomes you inside.

"So, Ms. L/N, for a broken wrist?" he reads from your paperwork.

You nod and reply, "Y-Yeah, an asshole bumped into me..."

He chuckles sympathetically and looks at you as you cradle your injured wrist. "May I?"

"O-Oh, right," you say, realizing he needs to examine it. Slowly, you hand your hand over to him, and he gently takes it, carefully inspecting your wrist. He proceeds to move it and perform various examinations.

"Well, I'll just wrap it up and keep it on for two weeks. You can't let this get wet, and I'd suggest you remove it when you sleep," he advises, outlining the treatment plan for your broken wrist.

"Also, from your paperwork, it said you got hit by a bike. You might have bruises or something, would you want me to check those too?" the doctor inquires.

"Uh, sure..." you agree, realizing that it's probably a good idea to make sure you haven't sustained any other injuries from the accident.

The doctor carefully examined you, paying attention to any potential injuries beyond your broken wrist. After a thorough check, he pointed out, "Well, it seems you have an abrasion at the back of your thigh, and there's another one on your ankle."

You blinked in surprise, realizing you hadn't even noticed those injuries. "Oh, I didn't even notice."

The doctor chuckled at your response. "Perhaps its the adrenaline from the accident must have masked the pain. It happens more often than you'd think. I'll clean and dress these wounds for you, so they don't get infected."

After the doctor dressed your wounds and provided you with the necessary care, you paid for the medical services and expressed your gratitude before leaving the clinic.

With your wrist securely wrapped and your minor injuries tended to, you made your way to Buggy's place.

You knock on the door, and it's answered by a slim, well-endowed woman with dark-green eyes and long, wavy black hair. She greets you with a scowl, clearly not pleased with your presence.

"Who are you?" she scoffs, crossing her arms defensively.

"Don't worry, I'm not here for you," you reply dismissively, pushing past her to enter the room. She gasps at your audacity.

She quickly runs to the couch, where you spot a familiar redheaded figure watching TV. She jumps into his arms, and you roll your eyes at the dramatic display before knocking on Buggy's room, eager to get this meeting over with.

As you knock on Buggy's room, the redhead inside turns to see who's entered. His eyes light up with excitement when he sees you, and he quickly pushes away the woman who was in his arms.

"My love! Y/N~ You couldn't help but come for me, hmm~?" Shanks exclaims, trying to pull you closer.

"Is Bug home?" you ask, trying to keep the conversation on track.

"I am~ Do you still need him~?" Shanks sings, pulling you closer once more. Annoyed, you grab his ear, causing him to hiss in pain. "Ow owowowow!!!"

"Yes or no?" you demand.

"He's asleep!!!!" He finally answers, albeit reluctantly.

Pushing Shanks away, you roll your eyes and decide to call Buggy directly. You pick up your phone and dial his number, not wanting to deal with any more unnecessary drama in the room.

In the background, you can hear the woman and Shanks starting to argue, but you pay them no mind as you patiently wait for Buggy to answer your call.

Buggy picks up the phone after a few rings, and you quickly inform him of your presence.

"I'm outside, open your door," you instruct.

You hear some commotion and noises from inside the room, and then the door swings open. "H-Hi!" Buggy stammers.

Without wasting any time, you push him back into the room and close the door behind you, not wanting to deal with Shanks or the woman any longer.

"Bug, Smokey didn't comfort me," you complain, turning your attention to Buggy.

"Comfort you why?" Buggy asks, looking genuinely confused.

"Dad got me another date..." you sigh in exasperation.

"Again?? Didn't he promise not to?" Buggy questions, clearly surprised.

"I know, right?! He never keeps his promise! I told him I'm moving to mom's if he doesn't keep this promise."

Buggy raises an eyebrow. "Who's your date this time?" he inquires, curious about the latest candidate your father has selected.

"Smokey said his name is Marco. I don't know him, though..." you explain.

Buggy chuckles and says, "I bet he's an ass too."

"THANK YOU!!!" you exclaim, rolling your eyes. "Smokey said he's amazing," you mock, emphasizing the word 'amazing' with a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, I bet he also said how this one might be the right one!" Buggy adds, catching onto the pattern of your father's matchmaking attempts.

"EXACTLY OMG!!" you reply, the frustration evident in your voice. It seems both you and Buggy share a similar skepticism about these setups.

"Why not just ask your dad to help you with Hawkeye," Buggy suggests.

You flush and retort, "Shut up, you clown."

"It was just a suggestion. You want him anyway," He insists.

"He has kids," you remind him.

Buggy smirks and teases, "What a dilf, am I right?"

"You're the worst, omg! I have a date tomorrow, hellooooo!" you exclaim, exasperated by his antics.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

HI GUYS I'VE WRITTEN AND ALMOST FINISHED DOFFY'S STORY BCUZ UHM I KNOW I SAID THIS STORY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OWNED BY MARCO BUT I FELL IN LOVE WITH DOFFY AGAIN

I'll be writing either Marco, Katakuri or Aokiji next I'll let you know who ill write

im letting you guys know in case you want changes and as ive said before characters thats been written are not receiving change of tropes

to clarify stuff too i wasnt going to make this a harem but perhaps some people got the wrong idea

these are separate stories sharing the universe where Y/N will go down the route of romance for this character sometimes they'll make references from the other stories if i can think of funny ones but yes

i hope you guys enjoy this story thanm you so much for all your supports!!

-kookiedoughs

Taglist?

@nykie-love-anime @gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @angstylittleb1tch @valen-yamyam16 @melodyidk @anicega @littlegreekgirl1 @rebeccawinters

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makeyoumine69 · 1 year

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No One but You 🖤

◥ PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: Even a man like Patrick Bateman needs some love and care when he's sick.

◥ CONTAINS: (S)picy Fluff with Feelings🔥

◥ WORDCOUNT: 1.8k

◥ A/N: Since I'm terribly ill and the only thing that warms my heart is thinking about Patrick - I dreamed of taking care of him when he was sick. Also, I was inspired by this headcanon written by @bluujai 💗 I hope you like it!

◥ LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓

Imagine you heard his suspiciously hoarse voice while you were talking to him on the phone; you would ask him "is he okay?" and of course he would say he's more than okay - "nothing to worry about". But you wouldn't believe him, and right after that you would take a taxi to his place, even if it was pouring rain outside - you wouldn't care.

All the way to his apartment, you thought about how to persuade this stubborn idiot to accept your help and let you take care of him. Soon you were standing at the door of his apartment, the concierge had already warned him of your arrival.

Patrick slowly opened the door, his tired face only confirming your concern about his health. "(Y/N), I have no idea why you came, because I don't remember inviting you."

His grumpy intonation disappointed you at first, but then you glanced at him, noticed how red and puffy his eyes were, and something cracked in your chest, so you just pressed a hand against his abnormally hot cheek.

"You won't let me come in?"

"If I don't, I'll have to listen to your whining for almost … forever?" He tried to laugh but coughed heavily instead.

Without more words, you stepped into his apartment and held his shoulder, this time he didn't even try to fight.

"Do you have all the medicine you need?" You asked as you led him to his white couch, patting his back and feeling how wet the expensive fabric of his robe was.

Damn, he definitely had a fever.

"The doctor just left," he exhaled, resting his head on the back of the couch. "He gave me a list of meds that I think could compete with some novels in length."

You just nodded sympathetically, causing his eyebrows to knit and his voice to drop even lower: "Hey, don't look at me like that, I don't need that pitying glance!"

"I didn't… " you started to explain your genuine worry about him when you decided to leave this idea and just move on. "Give me the list, I'll go to the pharmacy."

"It's very rainy outside," he muttered, brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead. "You don't have to."

"Just give it to me, okay?"

Bateman gasped, pointing to the coffee table. Quickly, you picked up the list and left the apartment as suddenly as you had arrived.

Several hours later, you lay next to him, stroking the top of his head as he finally fell asleep. His heavy breathing made your heart sink as you wanted nothing more than to ease his pain and help him feel better. From time to time, you tugged the blanket around him, checking his forehead and feeling sad when it literally burned under your touch.

Still upset, you would get up from his bed and go to the bathroom to get a piece of cloth and soak it in cool water. Then you pressed it against his hot forehead and gently brushed away his messy hair. Asleep, Patrick would let out a sigh of relief and snuggle into your palm as you caressed his face, mumbling nearly audibly:

"It's going to be okay, my love," you kissed his nose and continued to brush his cheekbone. "I will be here for you. I always will… "

After saying that, you took his palm and pecked it lightly, and even though he couldn't hear you because he was asleep, his lips curled into a soft smile that made your heart skip a beat. Jesus, he looked so vulnerable right now, so small, so helpless. You couldn't help but kneel down beside his bed and hug his sleeping form tightly, whispering something sweet into his ear.

Certainly, you had to take a few days off to make sure that Patrick was getting better. And he did, but his behavior seemed weird to you, especially when you noticed that you talked more in your conversations than he did, and it was not because he was sick, no. He was just very confused. Confused and out of touch because he wasn't used to be so vulnerable, so exposed. The way you cared about him was both shocking and heartwarming, but it was too difficult for him to accept, too damn difficult.

"I'm going to make chicken soup this time. My grandmother used to cook it for me when I was sick." You glanced at Bateman, who was sitting next to his kitchen island, looking better than he had a few days ago.

"Mmm, that's nice." He replied almost emotionlessly.

With a sharp breath, you placed a kitchen towel on the counter and stood across from him.

"Patrick, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he covered his mouth and coughed a little. "But if you keep asking me questions like that, something will really go wrong."

For some reason, the last sentence he said was exactly what you were waiting for. It was so him, so cheeky, so Patrick.

You didn't react, though, as you decided to continue cooking, peeking at him from time to time as he read the newspaper.

That night there was a huge thunderstorm, you woke up every time the lightning flashed in Patrick's bedroom. Sniffling, Bateman slept like a baby on his side and you couldn't resist drawing some invisible lines on his broad back, ohhhh he was so huge, just a pile of buffed muscles. You smiled to yourself at the delightful sensation of his soft skin under your fingers, and then you tried to sleep as much as you could.

But it didn't last long. When the loud clap of thunder echoed off the walls of his bedroom, you almost jumped, but his strong arms held you still. Breathing heavily, you tilted your head to the side to meet his eyes, now even more mesmerizing with the flashes of lightning reflected in them.

"Hmm, I even forgot that my little girl — is not a fan of thunderstorms," he murmured before pressing his warm palm to your cheek. "Don't worry, I'm here."

God, he always knew what to say, especially in moments like this.

"I … I didn't mean to wake you. Are you feeling better?"

He nodded and pulled you closer, his muscular arms now roaming around your shivering little frame, outlining the shape of your curves, paying special attention to your hips.

When Bateman reached your butt, he gave it a few playful squeezes that made your head spin like a tornado. "Patrick…you need to rest, you haven't fully recovered and…"

And he just cut you off with the tender kiss on your lips, turning you on your side to get closer and letting you wrap your hands around his torso. Bateman enjoyed every second of your lips moving against each other as he did his best to be gentle and not press you down with his weight. Closing your eyes, you moaned passionately against his mouth, encouraging him to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue inside you.

It was so overwhelming.

Your bodies twisted together like snakes as you didn't stop touching each other even for a second. Sucking on your lower lip, Patrick suddenly brushed his palm against your breasts, teasingly pinching your nipples, and that was the last drop of self-control.

"Mmmhm, Patrick!" As you moaned, he quickly towered over you and pulled up your pajama top, exposing your heavy boobs.

"How I missed this." He purred so sexy before catching one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting it so skillfully, and taking another in his hot mouth.

"Ohh … y-yes … mmm, Patty … yes."

It didn't take long for you to turn into a whimpering, dripping mess as you writhed on his big bed and watched him play with your swollen nipples the way he liked. Panting, Bateman would switch between your little tips, sucking them greedily and then licking them barely sensibly.

When Patrick felt your body tense like a spring, he planted a sloppy kiss on the hollow between your boobs and then murmured: "Baby girl, do you want me … there?" He punctuated the last words with a noticeable push on your pubic bone, forcing your lungs to cramp.

"Patty," you stroked his flushed cheek, brushing away his brown strands. "You don't have to…"

"Shhh," he nuzzled against your nose. "I allowed you to take care of me, now let me take care of you, sweetheart."

Trembling, you had to crease the sheets beneath you as his experienced fingers began to play with your oversensitive bud. You moaned again and again, each time louder than the one before.

Patrick was gently kissing your face, watching you close your eyes in pleasure. "I love seeing you like this, honey. Such a perfect little angel." Bateman mused into your ear before he leaned down to your tits and repeated his ravenous assault on them once again.

"A-awwww!" you whimpered, arching your back as he nipped at one of your nipples, his fingers starting to rub your clit more intensely, causing a slick sound to mix with your lustful squeals. "I'm so c-close, mmm-aah."

"I know, honey." He moved up to your face and gently looped his hand around your neck, letting you rest your head on it.

"Mmm, P-Patrick," you looked into his eyes, balancing yourself on the edge, desperately trying to hold onto his firm body. "P-Please…"

Affectionately, Bateman smooched your temple and whispered in a demanding tone. "Cum for me, baby … just like a good girl you are."

The way his finger pads brushed against your little tip was almost unbearable, not to mention when Patrick pressed his forehead against yours, speeding up his ministrations to the maximum.

A coil in your lower abdomen finally snapped, and you couldn't help but wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him closer. It seemed as if the walls of your womb were spasming countless times in a row, and you trembled under him like a little kitten. To calm you down a bit, Patrick locked his lips on yours, kissing them, licking them, tugging on your lower one. You were kissing for almost an eternity, until your lips were swollen, and your lungs ached from lack of oxygen.

Later, you lay on his broad chest, his big palm caressing your forehead.

"Patrick … "

"Hmm?"

You pecked at one of his beefy tiddies before continuing: "I love you."

He didn't answer, but you could feel him smiling against your forehead, and there was nothing more to add.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #american psycho x reader

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒽𝓊𝓇𝓉𝓈 ⎹ 𝓑.𝓗.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ the boy (2016) / @dollshorror-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ brahms heelshire x chubby!nanny!reader ( f )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ basically all smut, mentions of surgery ( written with a hysterectomy in mind ) and pain, oral sex ( f!receiving ), fluff, “baby” talk

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.9k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions. thank you so much @theluckychemist for the commission and being so patient with me ❤️ enjoy!

you were in so much pain.

you take in a shaky breath, glancing at the clock on your bedside table. the light from the moon spilled through the open curtains and illuminated the hour hand pointing at the three. three in the morning.

three in the morning and Brahms hadn’t moved, with both arms hugging your thighs together, his head resting against your lower belly. at first, it hadn’t been so bad; he was gentle, just excited that you’d come home. he kept repeating, “You came back. You came back to me.” until he’d fallen asleep. you knew he’d been worried— he’d even cried when you first told him you had to go away for the doctors to work on your tummy. he pleaded and sobbed and tried desperately to keep you from leaving; but you were able to calm him down with a promise of returning. you wouldn’t ever leave him, but everyone else had so you knew why he was so scared. but now, he was dead weight on you.

your fingers come through brunette curls as you try to nudge his head off of you, but the gentle coaxing only has him nuzzling harder, and you wince. “Brahms,” you whisper, petting him firmer, “baby, can you… can you get up for me?”

he stirs, shifting atop you, and hums softly, confused and drowsy.

“You’re hurting me.” you didn’t want to tell him that, but you felt like he was tunneling a hole through your guts with his head. “I just— just need you to move your head, baby.”

he hears you, and responds by snapping his head up to stare at you in the dark. “It hurts?” he asks, concerned.

you nod, brushing his hair back, “Do you remember what I told you? What the doctor said? That I have to be really careful with my tummy for a while?”

you could hear a shaky breath on his lips, and even with naught but the pale moonlight, you could see his eyes brimming with hot tears at the prospect of hurting you. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, dipping his head to ghost the porcelain over your bare belly, being extra delicate around the stitches. “I’m so sorry, please don’t hurt anymore.”

you were holding your breath when the nose of the mask brushed over the stitches, worried that he’d not be gentle enough, but it only stings a little bit. “‘S okay, baby.” you assured him, trying to get comfortable, “You just can’t lay on me like that for a while.”

“I promise I won’t do it again,” he continued, and you could hear him choking on his tears, “and— and— and I’ll make it up to you! I’ll make you feel good…”

he palms your thigh, rubbing the flesh in firm circles, wanting to persuade them to open as he shifts to sit on his knees.

“Brahms,” you bite down on your lip, pushing your knees together, “remember what else the doctor said?”

he pauses, looks at you, and nods.

“What did he say?”

“No playtime until you don’t hurt anymore.”

and yet? yet, he still pried your legs apart and nuzzled between them. “I just want…” your legs were shaking by his head, your heart pounding. you could only imagine the excruciating pain that would come with trying to sleep with Brahms too soon after your surgery. he reaches up with both hands, prying the mask off to set it by your feet. you feel your heart leap into your throat, looking down at him. even though he trusted you, he rarely took his mask off— it made him feel his safest, but the few times that you’d been blessed to look upon his countenance, you always found yourself breathless. it wasn’t the burns or the one, cloudy eye, but it was his beauty that shone through both. “I just want to kiss it better. Like you do with my pain.”

“You don’t have to—oh!” you were going to protest, but he was already pressing his face against your panties, rubbing against the cotton, inhaling deep and smacking his lips. both of your hands found his hair and gripped it at the root as you felt a pooling in your lower belly, “I— Brahms…” you draw your lower lip into your mouth to suck hard as he kisses your clothed sex, already panting, already moaning. he was working himself up at the same time as you.

maybe you should’ve told him to stop; that you would rather recover and then play, but he just felt so right between your thighs, grinding the bridge of his nose between your folds, and you were soaking a patch through your panties. you were giving in, lust taking over your better judgement, and he wasn’t helping— squirming on his belly and hugging your thighs close to each side of his head. you shift against him, arching your back to jut your hips and grind your panty-clad core against his eager face, muffling his happy moan, smothering him in your scent. “Just… just your mouth, okay, baby? Promise me that you just wanna kiss it.”

he looks up at you, pupil blown out, his mouth open and lapping at the cotton. you let out a weak moan from the display alone. “I just… I just wanna kiss it.” he repeats, submissively.

you nod, slow, and gesture to the panties, “Okay… take these off, and be gentle, okay?”

he does as instructed, snorting hot air on your legs as he pulls the panties down them; he sits back on his calves to unhook each of your feet and toss the panties aside, before kissing your ankle, crouching back down. “Mm… love your taste…” he murmurs, dragging his open mouth over the flesh of your leg and careening over your knee to kiss and suck on your thigh, slithering on his belly back to your core. “I love to kiss your pussy.”

his lips smack, wet and glossy, against your weeping folds and you whimper, giving his hair a little tug. “Kiss it good for me, baby…” you plead, no longer concerned. the pain in your lower abdomen was a distant throbbing, because this new, lovely sensation of him lapping at your netherlips like a starving pup had your full attention, “Is it yummy?”

Brahms nods, fervent, licking a hungry stripe from your swelling clit to your hole, and back up again. “So… so yummy…” his eyes are still focused on you, even as he flicks his tongue, one hand reaching up so he can use his first two fingers to spread your lips and expose your clitoris to his merciless teasing. “Wanna… feel you quiver on my tongue… swell up for me… please… it’s so good!”

your head drops back against the pillow, your fingernails massaging his scalp, and you moan in pure ecstasy, staring at the headboard. “Brah—Ms…” you purr, shaky, “that’s so good… you’re such a good boy…” bringing one leg up, you rest your foot on his shoulder, whilst the other traces his spine, your toes following the dip. “Keep playing with my clit, that’s it…”

Brahms does exactly as he’s told, wrapping his lips around the bundle of nerves, he slurps on it until you’re mewling and squirming, and he moans too, grinding his hard cock against the mattress to please himself as he services you. you’re acutely aware of the edges of his teeth grazing your nub, and you press both of your palms down on his head, pushing his face as flush to your cunt as you could, forcing him into your slick. “Suck harder, Brahms,” you begged, breathless, dribbling his head with your eyes rolling back. you can feel a churning in your belly, and you knew you were close, “come on, baby, eat up… come on…” your knees hook around the back of his head, locking him in place, but he doesn’t seem to mind— if anything, it only turns him on more, and he fucks himself against the sheets even more fervently, moaning needy and weak against your sex, each sound transferring through your core as wicked vibrations to push you closer to the edge.

you couldn’t imagine that he could breathe, not with your pushing on his head and the way you rut upwards to drag your sex over his face, but he loves it, and you can see it by the way he looks up to try and catch your stare when you open your eyes and look down at him— he’s eyes are partially closed, dazed. you knew that look.

the closest he’s ever gotten to drunk, he did so on your pussy. he went dumb on it, relying on the most primal of his instincts to just keep licking and sucking until you came.

“Gonna cum,” you croak, shifting on the bed to get a more comfortable angle. all your muscles were pulling taut, and you needed to relieve the pressure built up in your belly. “Gonna cum!”

Brahms had beat you to the finish line, whining muffled as he suckles on your clit, his hips twitch and shudder when he falls apart, soaking the sheets underneath him.

you were begging him under your breath not to stop, knowing that he’s cum now, but you needed to get off, so you grip his hair tight and use the hold to bob his head up and down, “Lick it, baby, fuck, don’t stop!” his tongue hangs out, and he snorts and pants, ragged as you control his head, dragging the bumpy muscle over every, screaming, sensitive inch of your sex until you come undone.

it hurts a little more than you anticipated, your lower belly in knots just beyond the stitches, but it felt good, too good to stop. moaning his name, your head drops back again and you buck your hips until your muscles are simply overtaken by pleasure, decimated by the orgasm, and you finally still.

Brahms whines, his face coated in your shiny release, when you start to come down from your high, and you ease your grip on his roots, sucking in deep, slow breaths. “Brahms… you did so good…”

almost reluctantly, he plucked his face from your cunt, looking up at you with hopeful, hazy eyes. “You forgive me for hurting you, then?”

you quirk a brow, before holding out your arms, “Of course, baby. Now, come up here and kiss me. I want to taste myself on those pretty lips of yours.”

#brahms the doll #brahms #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire x you #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms smut #brahms x reader #brahms x you #the boy 2016 #horror #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut

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frozenjokes · 2 months

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Toys Like Tape Measures (And A Brand New Splint!)

tw for drugging, though only in the medical sense. however, because of the language barrier, Mumbo doesn’t understand what’s happening really, so if that makes you uncomfortable I would skip

“Alright, so here’s the deal,” Mumbo heard Scar before he even reached the clearing, and he couldn’t be more excited. Scar was back, (and Grian was there too) he was finally back after being gone all week! “Today we’re going to fix that splint- ope- don’t make that face at me yet, let me explain, let me explain. I promise it will be 100% safe.”

“So many things- so many things, Scar, but you are not a doctor, much less a veterinarian- how do you even think this is going to work? Mumbo won’t even let us touch him, what makes you think anything about this will be safe?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of research, Grian! I’ve talked to every large animal vet I know, and a few fish people as well! This big ol’ bag on my back you’ve been nagging me about has everything we’ll need! Well, except the fish. You’re going to have to catch a few of those.”

“Scar! Fishing in this spot isn’t even very good and you know it, if you needed fish, why wouldn’t you bring any.”

“Forgot.”

There was a small silence before the two humans burst into the clearing, climbing through the path they’d ended up making through the brush by walking through so many times. Mumbo surfaced to greet them, though they were still preoccupied with each other.

“Of course,” Grian groaned, sighing as he threw down his bag, “Guess I’ll get to it then.”

“That’s the spirit!” Scar beamed, patting the other human hard on the back, who made a soft oof sound before scuttling away, moving to hide its face from Scar as it turned a reddish color. Odd. Usually Grian would yell at Scar for doing something like that, rightfully so (Mumbo still didn’t understand why Scar would randomly hit his friend), but instead Grian was far more meek. Had something happened? Maybe since Scar was hurt, Grian was taking a more passive role than normal. Mermaids were gentler with sick friends as well, and Mumbo knew quite well he could get away with more when he was unwell.

But it was good to see Scar looking healthy. His shoulder was still bandaged, visible under his shirt, but he couldn’t be feeling too badly given his bright demeanor, and his movement didn’t seem to be impaired at all. Thank goodness.

If it was even possible, Scar brightened further when he spotted Mumbo, happily throwing off unnecessary clothes before hopping right into the water, showing absolutely zero signs of fear. Oh, that was a weight off Mumbo’s back; he didn’t even realize how worried he was about Scar being afraid of him until now, until Scar very clearly wasn’t. Good, good..

Mumbo met Scar in the shallows, deep enough that he could keep his tail from dragging on the sand, but shallow enough where he could navigate with his hands; he was in near constant pain even with a week to recover, and while slow, pulling himself along the bottom with his hands caused the least agony on his tail. His splint was sufficiently broken now, only getting more uncomfortable with every passing day. At this point, Mumbo was just waiting for it to fall off; trying to figure out how it was attached was far too painful, though he had tried briefly a couple of times (with little success).

“Hello, Mumbo!” Scar greeted him, “I’ve got something you’re going to like. I’m pretty sure you like human stuff, so you’ll get a kick out of this.” Scar held up a small silver object, round, but not quite circular. Mumbo moved to get a closer look, though he couldn’t lift himself very far out of the water, so Scar crouched down to get it closer. “Tape measure.”

Mumbo squinted. “What.”

“Tape measure.” Huh. Weird word. Usually human words weren’t that long, though, maybe Mumbo had only learned the shorter ones. Was this a human tool? Mumbo attempted to snatch it, but Scar was faster, jumping back with a surprised look on his face. On his perch, Grian laughed.

“I told you! I told you he’d try to take that, and you won’t be getting it back.”

“Well he can have it if he wants, but not before I’m done!” Scar huffed, then turned back to Mumbo, speaking sternly, “No.” Mumbo stared, unamused. He could have guessed Scar didn’t want him to have its human tool, that didn’t change the fact that he was going to take it.

“Scar,” he tried, reaching out a hand a little slower. Maybe it wouldn’t see? ‘Your human object. Give me.’ he continued in a whistle due to the lack of human words, but Scar only huffed, an incredulous smile across its face.

“No!” Scar repeated a tad more forcefully, but Mumbo could see the smile on his face, he knew well enough he could keep trying. Mumbo moved a little forward, hoping to get within reach, but Scar stepped back, then back again, rolling his eyes, “You’re going to make measuring you really difficult, Mumbo.”

“Yeah,” Grian said from across the way, a small laugh in his tone, “I’d say I’ve got plenty of time to catch something.”

“You will, but this is not the reason!” Scar yelled back, pointing an accusatory finger, but the smile never left Scar’s face, and soon his focus was squarely back on Mumbo (who definitely hadn’t tried to snatch at the device while it was distracted).

The tool made a soft whirring sound as Scar pulled on one end, a flat yellow line appearing from inside the device, then snapping back when Scar let go. Whoa. What was that? What was the purpose? Scar moved a little bit closer, pulling the yellow line further this time, but when Mumbo managed to touch it, the line snapped back into the silver device with a sharp crack. Huh. Was it alive? Maybe it was shy? It looked a little bit like a snail..

“What.” Mumbo said, hoping for more information, but Scar only put his hands on his hips, making a show of his annoyance.

“I can’t show you if you keep trying to take it from me!” Nonsense. Guess Mumbo would just have to take it to figure it out for himself.

The next thirty minutes was an odd dance of Scar struggling to keep his distance while also trying to line up the tape measure with Mumbo’s body, and Mumbo would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying the game. The tape measure hurt if it snapped back on Mumbo’s hand, but if anything, that only made the game more exciting. Even with the limited use of his tail, he found himself splashing far more than usual, a certain recklessness brought about only by play. He didn’t even want the tape measure anymore (lie), he just wanted to keep up the game. Scar did not like the game as much, less and less as more time passed, but Grian seemed amused at least, occasionally looking over to laugh when Scar stumbled or outright fell over.

“I could use a little help here if you don’t mind!” Scar called, and Grian laughed again, the sound coming out more like a cackle.

“I thought you had it handled? You kept insisting you were fine, what changed?”

“He just won’t stop moving! Listen, I’ve measured plenty of animals, but they don’t usually have hands! He’s being impossible- he knows I’m not trying to hurt him and he knows I need him to stay still and he’s just not listening! On purpose! This was supposed to be easy!”

“He looks like he’s having fun, I wouldn’t want to rain on his parade.”

“Grian! Help me!” Scar cut himself off with a yelp as Mumbo lunged for the tape measure, but he didn’t get far with his limited mobility, so Scar stepped easily out of reach. He was lucky Mumbo couldn’t use his tail, lucky. With another short laugh, Grian got up from where he was fishing, making his way gingerly off the rocks and giggling as he went before stepping into the water as well. Ah, so another challenger joins the fray!

Though, with Grian holding one side of the yellow line, Mumbo couldn’t quite grab at it anymore, the whole thing bending and snapping like it might break in two if Mumbo wasn’t careful. And that wouldn’t do, no no, how could he figure out its purpose if it was broken?

Instead, he stilled so he could watch instead- wow the line went out so far! How much could fit in there? How far could it go? Mumbo moved to follow the humans’ movement, but they seemed to want to pull the line the length of Mumbo’s tail, chirping nonsense to each other the entire time. At least Scar looked excited; it was always nice when Scar was happy, nice enough that Mumbo didn’t mind all that much that their game was effectively over. Mumbo didn’t love how close they were getting, but a small flash of his teeth was enough to get Grian’s attention, who communicated to Scar in Mumbo’s stead.

It wasn’t very long before the two of them were satisfied though, Grian easing the yellow line back into the tape measure. Mumbo took his chance, lunging as quickly as his impaired mobility would allow, but Scar surprised him by turning around instead of jumping away like normal. While Mumbo was scrambling to keep himself from running face first into Scar’s legs, the human tossed him the tape measure, the thing plopping heavily into the water. Mumbo gaped for a moment before grabbing it, but when he resurfaced, Scar was walking toward the shore, chatting away with Grian like the tape measure didn’t mean anything at all. Well.. okay.

No matter! Mumbo had a new toy, and first he wanted to know just how long this yellow line was. The answer was very long. Mumbo lodged one end under a rock and swam as far as the line would allow, and while he was quite impressed with the length, he was even more excited when he let go of the metal base, the whole thing shooting back in the other direction. Yes! Yes! Mumbo did the same thing at least seven more times before getting a little bored, then experimented with the tape measure above the water, where it snapped back much faster. The height of his fun was setting the end of the yellow line under a rock on the surface, bringing metal end to the other side of the cove, then letting go and watching the thing skirt across the water, splashing all the way. He was relatively sure he made some sort of trill or other noise in his excitement, as Scar and Grian’s laughing caught his attention. Mumbo cringed a little, suddenly very aware of their eyes on him, but his embarrassment was short lived, outweighed by the joy of funny human trinket.

Mumbo would have spent the rest of the day playing with the tape measure, but something else caught his eye. Scar was working on something- no, he was making something. Mumbo had never seen a human make something before- not in the way Mumbo liked to do! Scar’s creative process looked very similar as well, which is to say, all the materials he brought were strewn all over the grass, wildly unorganized as he fiddled with different parts. Most of his materials were long metal rods, but there were also some leather looking pieces, and what looked like parts of white tubing as well. What was he up to?

Mumbo shimmied as close to the shore as his tail would allow, hoping to grab Scar’s attention. “What. What. What,” he said in human, hoping the extra emphasis would translate through the repeated words.

Scar looked up, clearly amused, but seemed to struggle with explaining, starting and stopping speaking several times before settling with, “For you.” Not very helpful, and Scar knew it, making a couple of vague gestures at Mumbo before giving up and going back to his project. Well.. that was fine. Mumbo would just have to watch.

Scar was mostly focused on the leather piece, positioning it in a circular way and winding the metal through to create a cage-looking structure. The leather was adjustable too, Scar fiddling with a buckle on the front to make the entire thing wider or smaller. Mumbo was particularly fascinated by the white pieces though, much flatter than the rods, which Scar only weaved through one side. Why? He tried to ask again what the human was doing, but was only offered the same non-answer.

“Oh!” Grian made a surprised noise from his place on the rocks, and Mumbo saw his line tighten. If only he was fast enough to snag whatever was on it off the hook, but alas, Grian was already reeling in a decent sized fish. Scar hopped to his feet and Grian let out a celebratory noise of his own; it was so cute how humans got so excited about every catch. Though, in all fairness, Mumbo would have been quite chuffed catching a fish that size, especially this hungry. Maybe if humans really didn’t eat the fish they caught, they’d be open to sharing.

Grian scooped the fish off the line with a net, maneuvering the hook out of its mouth before walking it back toward the shore to Scar, who cheered all the while.

“Right,” Grian said as he hit the sand, “You want to give this to him? I’m assuming you’re going to drug him or something.”

“That’s the plan. I was considering a tranquilizer, but I don’t want to make this experience traumatic or anything, and hauling a big ol’ rifle out here might put a damper on some of the trust we’ve established. Hopefully this way he’ll just be real relaxed, maybe even take a nice little nap.”

“You’re not trying to put him to sleep? What are you giving him?”

“Not necessarily, but I doubt he’ll be able to stay awake. Trust me when I say he won’t be in pain, definitely not. And I brought a cone, too, just in case he freaks. I came prepared, Grian, prepared I tell you. I’m no large animal vet, but you could say I’ve been quite involved in many a procedure.”

“Scar, what are you giving him?”

“Like.” Scar paused, tapping the smile on his lips, “A lot of morphine.”

“Morphine?”

“Works on fish. Mumbo’s big, he can handle it, and anyway, it’s the safest option for everyone involved. Are you worried about our friend, Grian?”

“I’m not- how did you even get morphine, Scar?”

“Scar’s not taking any more questions at this time, please call back later. In the meantime, hand me that fish so we can get this show on the road. I’ll stay with him as long as he needs me, but I’m not expecting anything to go wrong here. Still, the sooner we start, the better.” Scar got to his feet, taking the fish net from a gaping Grian and heading back to his bag. Mumbo couldn’t quite see what he was doing, but Grian followed quickly after, fretting the entire time. What, was something wrong with the fish? Scar didn’t seem to think so.

Maybe Grian hadn’t wanted Scar to give Mumbo his catch, but Scar did regardless. Mumbo was more than happy to accept the gift, only throwing Grian one mildly guilty look before devouring the whole thing. He didn’t feel very bad, not really; clearly the humans ate well enough, and given he was having a hard time hunting right now, this seemed fair.

Eating only served to brighten his mood, and with the slight weight off his chest, watching Scar continue working on his human device was all the more fun. Grian went back to fishing on his rock, but he was acting more anxious than normal, stealing glances toward Scar and Mumbo just about every time he cast his line. Though, it didn’t take very long for Mumbo to stop caring, far more intrigued by whatever Scar was up to. It was crazy how much better he was feeling; usually the joy of eating didn’t carry so far after a meal, but when Mumbo was this hungry..

And then it hit him; he wasn’t in pain. The lightness he was feeling was from the lack of hurting- oh that couldn’t be good. What kind of fish was that? He hadn’t even looked! Please say he hadn’t accidentally poisoned himself… Mumbo didn’t feel nauseous though. And if he’d poisoned himself, he imagined he’d be feeling a lot sicker. And he had so much energy! Anyone with this much energy wouldn’t be poisoned, that would be ridiculous! He should do something- go somewhere- hunt- he could do anything! … Nevermind.

Not in pain, no, but tired, goodness, maybe he was dying. Probably not. But maybe. Honestly, he didn’t care all that much. Scar was looking at him an awful lot now, though Mumbo wished he would focus on his invention instead so Mumbo could figure out what it was before he died. Hm.. It kind of looked a little bit like his splint, didn’t it?

…

The gentle touch of skin on scales. A presence around his neck, tight, mildly uncomfortable, but not enough for Mumbo to want to do anything about it. A crack, loud enough to frighten him, to open his eyes, but there was no pain, so it must not have been bone. Something was draped over his eyes, dark like home. It was nice. A couple of clicks told him of Forces, big and near and moving; he should probably swim away, but that’d be quite a bit of effort, wouldn’t it. Maybe another time.

His fins rose and fell with the presence and absence of touch. Not unpleasant. Not until they tried to lift him.

Pain like thorns lit his blood, everywhere, pain, pain- Some sort of noise escaped his throat, something animal, and he moved without coordination- it hurt, everything hurt now. Distantly he heard them, humans, why were humans here? Talking, they were talking nothing, repeating the same words again and again, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Couldn’t they see he was in pain? Why weren’t they helping?

Too much time passed before his attackers released him, but wasn’t sitting in the water the same as before. It was awkward, unpleasant honestly, but he stopped struggling quickly. Too painful to move. Too much effort.

He wanted to curl up. Somewhere dark, somewhere enclosed and safe. Something hard stopped his movement. Guess that was that.

But maybe that was fine.

Whatever had been there was gone now. Nothing else was trying to hurt him. That was good. That was enough.

…

The humans were talking. They were loud, Mumbo could hear them, though his face burned just slightly, a dry feeling. Was he above the water? It didn’t much concern him.

“He’s still asleep, Scar.”

“That’s fine. Normal, even. He’s going to be fine; if he was going to have any bad reactions, I’m pretty sure we would have known by now. I’ve been keeping an eye on his breathing, and it’s stayed consistent this whole time. He’s okay.”

“You said four hours. It’s been five.”

“Yeah, for a human on a human dose. I also told you I don’t know exactly how it’ll work on a mermaid. I doubt anyone knows. I gave him quite a bit more than a human dose anyway, and I’m pretty sure he needed it. He was freaking out when we were trying to get the splint on.”

“I just don’t like the fact that we drugged him without being sure how he’d react.”

“I don’t know what else you wanted me to do, Grian. He was not going to let us touch him, and I don’t think there’s any world in which we could have explained what we were trying to accomplish. Tail injuries could be fatal for mermaids, we don’t know. How’s he supposed to eat if he can’t swim? It’s not like we can weigh him. This was the safest option.”

“You really think we couldn’t have explained it to him? He’s smart, Scar, he’s really observant.”

“I don’t know, I think there’s a chance. But what would happen if he got scared? Even a human might’ve panicked, even if they knew every detail about what we were doing. And you know how strong he is- I’ve still got bruises on my arms from where he grabbed me. He could have hurt himself or us completely by accident.”

A long silence. “I know.”

A longer silence.

“So when’d you change your tune?”

“What?”

“About Mumbo. Nearly every day two weeks ago you made sure to remind me how you were totally going to kill him and sell all his parts or whatever, but I haven’t heard a peep from you since Monday. Did you come out here without me and have some sorta spiritual experience or what?”

“I- no. Of course not. I’m still planning on doing that, I just decided I’d spare your feelings and stop talking about it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! And anyway, with you paying me egregious prices for my fish, I’m not exactly hurting for money right now. So it’s fine. I’m not in any rush.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Stop- stop talking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t believe me.”

“Well, Grian, that’s going to be a problem because you’re right, I don’t believe you.”

“I- how dare you! I am going to do it! I could do it right now even, but I won’t, and not because I don’t want to, but it wouldn’t be fair, not while he’s all drugged up.”

“I see.”

“Stop it!”

“I believe you, I believe you.”

“No you don’t!”

“Shhh,” Scar said, his voice dropping, “No fighting,” he trailed off, and the silence was charged with something new, something Mumbo picked up on even in his half-asleep state.

“No fighting,” Grian repeated softly, “He wouldn’t like that.”

“Mm,” Scar acknowledged him quietly, but spoke no more words, and neither did Grian. That, or Mumbo had just fallen asleep again. Possible, all things considered. That was okay.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #scarian #hermitshipping #it’s there.#mumbomaid au #hermitfic

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whatsfourteenupto · 4 months

Text

It’s over bloody football that she finally breaks.

She’d gotten Shaun a new one for Christmas, just because. Lord knows he loves the game enough, even if he hasn’t had as much time for the local rec league these last few years. Late in the afternoon, she takes a cuppa out onto the porch for the first moment alone she’s found all day, and finds him and the Doctor playing a pickup game in the yard.

Shaun’s been pretty skilled with a football for as long as she’s known him. He toes it into the air, juggles it about on his feet for a few moments, then passes it off to the Doctor with his heel.

"Alright, just like that. Top of your foot," he says.

The Doctor manages to catch the ball, grinning from ear to ear as he taps it up into the air again. "Here we go! Think I’ve got it!”

"That’s it, Mate!"

They manage to juggle once, twice, before clumsily tossing it back toward Shaun. He receives the pass effortlessly. In a move that would be impressive if she hadn’t seen him fall on his ass a near hundred times trying to learn it, he throws his leg over and twists around, taps the ball into the ground, and kicks it back up.

The Doctor lets out a whoop, mouth wide open in an awed smile. “Blimey! That’s brilliant!”

And suddenly, Donna’s eyes are burning.

After fifteen years of missing something she couldn’t even remember, and even longer wondering if she’d ever have this many people to love her, she’s got her entire family in one place for Christmas. Her best friend and the love of her life are goofing around in the yard as though they’ve known each other for years, not mere months. They don’t have to do that. There’s nothing forcing them to be anything more than cordial, but they’ve begun a great friendship in their own right and she’s so damn grateful for it. For them.

From down on the lawn, Shaun looks up to throw her a dazzling smile. It falters into confusion, and then concern, and then the sort of fond teasing look that she knows means she’s been caught. He nudges the Doctor and nods in her direction. They share a look, and then the Doctor throws an arm around Shaun’s shoulders as they make their way back toward the house.

“All right, Love?” Shaun calls.

She waves her hand at him, trying to blink her eyes dry before they reach her. “Fine, fine,” she says, taking a rushed sip of her tea.

“You know, Shaun, I think we may have made her emotional,” the Doctor says, feigning shock. “I think she may be crying!”

“Oh shut up!” She tries to glare at them, but she can’t keep it up for long. “I’m just happy. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you two are getting along.”

The Doctor grins and Shaun reaches out to take her hand. “Well, we’ve got a pretty strong cause uniting us,” he points out. “Can’t very well not get on with a bloke who’d do anything for my wife. They’re family!”

Donna laughs again, watery. “Damn right they are.” When she looks back at the Doctor, he’s still smiling goofily. “Oh, stop looking at me like that.” Their only response is to grin even wider, a gleam in their eye that could be mischief, or could very well be tears of their own. She smacks them on the arm. “Stop it!”

But it’s too late.

Instinctively, she tries to reach up and brush away the rogue tears, but Shaun is still holding her free hand. Before she can try another way to hide the evidence, she’s swallowed up in a hug from either side. “Hang on, hang on!” She shouts, turning to quickly set her tea on the patio table. That done, she throws her arms around them both and holds on as tight as she can.

They stay that way until Rose sticks her head out the back door and shouts that dinner is nearly ready. Once they’ve all stepped back again, Donna wipes at her eyes and tries to blink herself back into control. “Idiots.”

“True,” Shaun agrees.

“But you still love us,” the Doctor finishes. She can’t help but laugh as they each press a quick kiss on her cheek before rushing inside to follow the smell Christmas dinner.

“I do,” she sighs after them, shaking her head. “No idea why, but I do.”

#doctor who #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #shaun temple #what’s fourteen up to #Donna loves her idiots #I should have edited this but #I’m tired #I just wanted to get the last of my Christmas with the Nobles thoughts out #merry Christmas to all #and to all a good night

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bomberqueen17 · 2 months

Text

*vibrating slightly in place*

So ok. When I was in kindergarten, my classroom was arranged so that four desks were linked together, so we were in little groups. I used to regularly vibrate my desk and the three it was attached to, with three other children in them, across several feet of floor space, until the linked desks ran into the teacher's desk, which was larger and did not move with the force of my vibrations. I was a good student, but hard to control, and markedly uneven in my ability to like. Do anything. "Well," my mom said once, upon beholding my entire spectrum of a report card, "we'd just hate to be bored."

When I graduated with my bachelor's degree, seventeen years later, my mom said "I never thought you could do it," and when I, shocked, said "what?" she said "well what with your ADHD and all," and I said "my what?" and she said "well, i never wanted to shake your confidence, and I thought once they put a label on you it'd be over, but you super have like, turbo ADHD. Why, what do you think your deal is?" She said it nicely and not in those words at all, but it was the first time I'd ever really realized that I wasn't just mildly eccentric, I did seem to actually have something wrong with me.

I've been trying to get a diagnosis ever since. I've never been able to. I had no health insurance at all for a huge chunk of my twenties, which put a damper on things. One doctor told me "you'd know if you had that" and when I was like "I... do" she was like "no i mean. you'd already be being treated." Which shows a wild and totally unwarranted optimism in our medical system, but she was a resident. The doctor overseeing her care of me suggested I try taking fish oil capsules. To "rebuild my brain tissue".

I did. It didn't help. I still buy them but mostly I use them now to get my cat to take pills.

Eventually in my 30s my doctors started sort of believing me maybe, or at least realizing they couldn't really brush me off (I have gotten... less easily-cowed as I've aged) but they were all like "oh, I can't evaluate that. You'll have to research and find a place that can do a neuropsych eval for you. Insurance doesn't cover those. So good luck. Have some antidepressants in the meantime."

I slid into my 40s, still undiagnosed. I read as many self-help books on the topic as I could find, did all the checklists I found. They all said "girl you super have like turbo ADHD." I tried meditation. I tried divination. I tried bullet journaling, which was hilarious. I tried yoga.

I actually damaged myself doing yoga and am banned from yoga, but at least I'm in physical therapy now. (Word to the wise: if you have really really flexible hip joints, don't fucking do yoga. "Usually I don't have to tell people not to get into that position," said my bemused physical therapist. "Oh," I said, blissfully bepretzeled. "It feels super good." "Mm," she said, "you've torn your labrum. Stop doing that." Now I do really, really boring stretches that don't feel nearly as good, but I also can walk without limping, so. Like. We take the good with the bad I guess.)

Anyway. My PCP in January was like "wait you didn't follow my super vague directions to go see 'the guys downstairs' and see if they can squeeze you into their eleven-month waiting period to get an evaluation that i cannot mention without saying it's several thousand dollars and your insurance surely won't cover it? you must not want this diagnosis very badly!" (At no point has anyone ever given me a phone number for 'the guys downstairs'. I still don't know what she meant by any of those directions. This PCP and I technically speak the same language but I've never understood a single thing she has told me and I don't think she understands a word I say in return, everything I tell her seems to be such a shock to her. You blame antidepressants for your weight gain? I've never heard of that. Ma'am please look up what the incredibly common side effects of antidepressants are.)

I called around but noplace both took my insurance and was accepting new patients. Finally I gave up. Then my Dude went on our insurance company's website and took over the search. He found that there's some kind of concierge service thing, which the insurance company normally charges $450/mo for but our plan includes it, because it's pretty well-hidden on the website and most people aren't ever going to find it anyway. So he said, you know what, I am going to instigate a query on this.

They took two weeks but eventually came back with a list of 13 places, most of them not remotely local. Ten of them were red X's, disqualified for varying reasons-- one because the phone number didn't work, another because it's a seven-hour drive away and doesn't do telehealth. One was in New Jersey. None of them were the local places I had already called.

Two of them were valid, but the insurance wouldn't cover the evaluation for various reasons.

One of them was fully covered, the insurance company said. So I went there.

Their website said "no you're not we can't see you". But Dude was like, call them on the phone. Surely, surely, the concierge service couldn't have lied??? Bet, I said, and called them and left a message, and said to him, if they call me back I will eat a hat.

But they did. They called me back. "Our insurance checker widget is down," they said. "But we do take your insurance! We can see you. We just don't know how much it will cost."

Ominous.

But. They could see me later in the week, via a telehealth appointment.

So I signed up.

The appointment was this morning. I turned up. Their insurance checker thingy still wasn't working so they couldn't be sure how much the appointment would cost me. I at this point don't care, and gave them my HSA credit card, and said do what you will.

I waited 45 minutes and then texted the number they'd texted me from with the confirmation, and a moment later the guy showed up. "Whoops," he said, "that system isn't working quite right either!"

He talked to me for like. Three minutes, and was like "yeah that sounds. Pretty textbook. I'm going to prescribe you stimulants." He then proceeded to take a very basic medical history, and I recognized all the questions because I have researched stimulant medication for ADHD so much. And he was like "We're going to start with Adderall, check at your pharmacy in like an hour." And then he gave me extremely useful and detailed instructions on how to take it, when to take it, what side effects to worry about, what to expect, what to note down in case it might mean a problem, and how to be safe about it. (He asked me three times if I'd ever been suicidal, and it had also been in the online pre-screening. I am aware that can be a rare but very serious side effect of stimulants!)

And then I went to Rite-Aid and I now have 16 pills in my possession, and i am going to wait until tomorrow morning to start taking them, and I am already scheduled for my follow-up in 15 days.

I have absolutely no idea how much any of that is going to cost, but for the record the pills were eleven dollars.

So. I don't know why the last decade of my life has been spent being told that a comprehensive and unattainably expensive neuropsychological evaluation was my only option. Maybe this place is a disreputable pill mill or whatever. But. I am going to get to try to medicate this disorder that has warped my entire life to this point, and I am going to try to see if I can't have some more control over my life, and if it doesn't work then at least I will know, instead of on my deathbed being like "i wonder if i'd ever tried amphetamines maybe I'd have been able to finish a project ever in my life, guess we'll never know".

Which was what I was starting to genuinely think was going to happen.

Literally though why can't a primary care doctor just refer you to a psychiatrist who can then decide whether you need an assessment or whether your condition is likely to respond well to a basic diagnosis?? I get needing the whole nine yards if you're not sure what's wrong with this kid and you don't want to give them the wrong thing-- like I know misdiagnosing a bipolar sufferer with depression can give you really bad outcomes, for example-- but-- I don't know? I don't know.

I just want to be able to start and finish projects. What I'd really love is to be able to make to-do lists meaningfully, as that is an ability I did used to have and now absolutely don't. I legit cannot make a to-do list in any meaningful or useful way.

So we'll see. I'm going to keep a journal and the real test of whether the pills work is to see whether I can actually keep the journal.

But I need to find some kind of edible hat, at some point, just to keep my word.

#about the author #actually adhd

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forever-rogue · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I've seen you account recently and I was thinking maybe you could write eddie munson x reader when the reader is always so guffy and childish. So reader is sick like have really bad fever and is weary weak, almost fainted because of that and Eddie take kare of them and maybe lullaby them to sleep by singing them and rocking them please

Also English isn't my mother language so please forgive me for any mistakes love you

Feel free to ignore me if you want to byee

AN | No, but Eddie would take such good care of you 🥺🥰

Warnings | sick!reader

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew that something was off as soon as you woke up that morning. Your head was pounding, you felt fatigued despite the fact that you’d gotten plenty of sleep, and your throat was taking on a dry, scratchy feeling.

You’d experienced enough life and were definitely smart enough to put the pieces together. The conclusion to which, naturally, was that you were getting sick and coming down with…something.

Once you were up and had taken a shower, you walked back into the bedroom you shared with Eddie and found him still sound asleep since he started at his job later than you did. Every fiber of your being yearned to crawl into bed with him and let him hold you…but you also didn’t like to succumb to something so simple. Besides that, if you were getting sick, you didn’t want to be around Eddie too much and potentially get him sick as well. Although by this point, you were sure that he’d probably already be exposed to whatever you had.

It was with a heavy heart and tired bones that you got dressed, made coffee, and headed out the door to work. In an effort to keep everyone else safe, you’d already decided that you were going to lock yourself into your office and keep to yourself.

Hopefully this wouldn’t turn into anything too bad.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Making it through the work day had been a challenge and a half. It had, realistically speaking, ended about an hour before you were actually off, when you’d managed to fall asleep at your desk. You were thankful for closing the door; it would have been an awkward situation to explain. Your head had been on the desk and you had been drooling…needless to say you were out of it.

You probably should have called and asked your husband for a ride, but you hated the idea of bothering him, so you sucked it up and got yourself home. As soon as you walked in and dropped your bag and kicked off your shoes, you made your way over to the couch and collapsed onto it. A groan escaped your lips at the feeling of your sore body hitting the soft fabric. You grabbed the blanket at the end of the couch and pulled it over you, cuddled up as you gave in and took another nap. Your body was desperately craving it and you were too tired to fight it.

It wasn’t until Eddie came home that you awoke again, and not until you felt his soft touch on your shoulder. Your heavy eyes opened slowly as you found him looking back at you with a look of concern.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he didn’t miss a beat and you silently cursed how observant he managed to be. You tried to shake your head and reassure him that you were fine but…definitely fell flat. Your throat was dry and scratchy and sound barely came out as you looked at him pathetically, “aww, baby. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“No,” you croaked out, fooling either of you. Eddie huffed as crouched down and held the back of his hand to forehead. The corners of his mouth tugged into a frown, “I just need some rest.”

“Baby-”

“Really,” you insisted, “‘m fine.”

“You have a fever,” he raised his eyebrows as you fervently shook your head, only making the pounding worse.

“Are you a doctor now?" There was a pretty pout on your lips that Eddie wanted to kiss sway. You tugged up the blanket so it was covering your face. He chuckled fondly as he brushed your hair out of your face.

"Yes," he cheesed happily, "Dr. Concerned Husband. Now let me take care of you, stubborn thing."

"I can handle myself," your defenses were slowly coming down. Maybe it was Eddie's puppy dog eyes or the ache in your bones; probably a combination of the two.

"I know you can," he promised softly, "but I don't want you to have to. I've got you."

You looked at him, attempting to be strong, but once you saw those big, brown eyes, you couldn't handle it anymore. The tears started to pearl up and rolled your cheeks as your lip trembled and you sniffled. Eddie silently wrapped his arms around you, holding onto you gently and rubbing your back in soothing circles. You burrowed your face into his chest, long beyond thinking about getting him sick; he clearly didn’t care and you knew that you’d take care of him if the roles were to reverse. A few small, pathetic sounds escaped your lips “‘m sorry for being such a baby. I just feel so shitty.”

“That’s not you being a baby, baby,” he peppered kisses to the side of your head, “that is you have a normal reaction to not feeling well.”

“I just wanna go to bed and sleep,” you pouted at him and he nodded in acknowledgment, silently commiserating with you.

“I know baby,” he promised, stroking his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “but have you eaten today? Maybe a nice hot shower or bath would help.”

“I ate some yogurt this morning,” you already knew that Eddie was going into full blown mother hen mode, “but I wasn’t feeling good at all, so I didn’t eat anything else.”

“I think you should eat something,” he chided softly, “even if it's just some broth, yeah? Something simple and lots of water.”

“Then maybe a bath?” the idea of soaking your tired, aching bones into a tub of hot water and soft bubbles sounded magical. Eddie nodded softly as you relaxed slightly; if you were being honest, just his mere presence was already making you feel better, “will you join me?”

“As if I’d miss that opportunity,” he teased, brushing his fingers along your jaw. You started to laugh, but it was quickly turned into a coughing fit, “oh honey. You are going to rest here, in a warm little nest, while I go and make some soup. After that it’ll be a bath and then - and you’re not going to work tomorrow.”

“Eddie.”

“Princess,” he took your face in hands and you could see the love that was etched into his features, “I’m going to take care of you and that’s not up for debate. Yes?”

“Yes,” you promised softly, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You want me to undress you?” there was a small bit of amusement in his voice as you held your arms and offered him a sheepish little expression, “yeah, you do. Alright, pretty girl, let me help you.”

Eddie’s movements were gentle and tender as he slowly took off your sweater and bra, before following suit with your jeans, underwear and socks. You half expected him to make a comment about the current situation, but tonight he didn’t. Instead he studied you with reverent affection, “don’t - I look horrid probably.”

“On the contrary,” he made it clear that there was no room for argument, “you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You always are - but now, into the tub and do not argue with me.”

“Fine,” you huffed playfully as he held out his hand to help steady you as you stepped into the tub. An unstoppable sigh of relief at the feeling of the warmth and the lavender smell of the bubbles escaped your lips as you eased your body into the tub. Once you were all settled and engulfed in the water, you closed your eyes, “this feels like heaven.”

“Well, this is certainly my idea of heaven,” his smile was beaming as you peeked one eye at him, “but right now I just want to make you feel better.”

“Join me.”

“Don’t you want me to wash your hair? And your body?” he raised an eyebrow in amusement as you shook your head, “never heard you turn that down before. That’s how I know you’re really not doing well.”

“Just wan’ you,” you were ready to plead with this man if you had to, “please, my love? Pretty please with all the cherries on top?”

“You don’t have to beg,” your husband stood up and whisked his shirt, revealing his pale, inked torso - which you shamelessly marveled at - before practically kicking off his jeans. You laughed softly, stopping yourself before it turned into another coughing spell, “you can have whatever you want.”

“Well, I want you,” you scooted over to the other side of the tub so he could get in. Eddie gently lowered himself into the water, grimacing slightly at how hot you liked the water. He made a sound of content as his legs bracketed yours, “hi.”

“Hi,” he whispered back, holding his hand out to you, “you really gonna stay at the other end of the tub?”

“No,” you shrugged, “but didn’t want to assume you wanted me right in your space.”

“I always want you in my space,” he scoffed, “that’s never anything you have to doubt.”

You let him tenderly pull you over, settling on his thighs as you sat back and leaned against his chest. He wasted no time in wrapping his arms around your waist as you sighed wistfully. Eddie pressed a row of soft kisses to your shoulder, and you turned your face to kiss his cheek.

“This feels nice,” you were already feeling sleepy again as your eyes started to flutter close, “I’m sorry in advance if I fall asleep for a few minutes.”

“I’m not,” you really, really loved this stubborn, strong-willed man, “you need your rest and you’re going to get it. No if, ands, or buts.”

“Yes sir,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together, smiling when you felt him give your hand a squeeze.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come on baby,” your eyes opened slowly at the sound of his voice as you looked up at him. He was already dressed in clean pajamas, holding out a warm towel for you, “let's get you to bed sleepyhead.”

“I bet you warmed that towel, huh?” you stood up slowly, immediately swallowed by the towel that Eddie wrapped around your body. Just as you suspected, it was extra warm and fluffy, “you did! What an amazing husband you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink as you made sure your entire body was covered, “whatever you say sweetheart.”

He steered you towards the bedroom before pulling back the covers, “bed has never looked so good before.”

“Stay there for one moment,” he was out of the room and running back downstairs before you could even say anything. You saw down on the edge of the bed, already fatigued by the simple act of getting out of the bath. Within a few moments you heard him run back up, breathless by the time he re-entered the bedroom, but grinning nonetheless. He held up your clean, warmed pajamas with a small sound of triumph, “ta-da. All ready for you, baby.”

Without you even needing to say a word, he came over to help dress you, his movement slow and methodical. Once he was done, you were thoroughly warm and sleepy, smiling at him like a fool, “thank you, my love. You are so wonderful.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” he tossed the towel to the side, a worry for later, before starting to tuck you in, “now you can get some rest.”

“Only if you get in with me.”

“That was my plan,” he pulled the covers up and made sure you were bundled, “I’m just going to get us some water, okay?”

“My hero!”

“Very funny,” he pecked your forehead, “I’ll be back in a moment, baby.”

“I’ll be right here.”

“You better be,” he shot you a wink before reluctantly leaving you, even if it was just for a few moments.

Eddie tidied up the kitchen for just a moment before getting plenty of water and going back up the stairs. By the time he made it back into the bedroom, you were already asleep and snoring softly. He was glad - you needed and deserved the rest. He set the water down on the nightstand by your side of the bed, making sure to put some medicine there as well.

He brushed the away the few locks of hair that were in your face before kissing your cheek. You made a small sound but didn’t stir otherwise; he was almost positive that a small smile was tugging up the corner of your mouth.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered, turning off the light before walking to his side of the bed. He crawled into bed next to you, delicately as possible so he wouldn’t disturb you, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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