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astroboots · 11 months

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Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer.

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire.

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood".

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time.

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book.

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait.

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies.

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman.

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter.

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it.

This note didn’t work.

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry…

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you!

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook.

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot.

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you.

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note.

It doesn’t look like he came.

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen.

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video!

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews.

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had.

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression.

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around.

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go.

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly.

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through.

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow.

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill.

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now.

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek?

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why.

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen.

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness.

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it.

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast.

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth.

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do.

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail.

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest.

You want to see him again.

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people.

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail.

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by.

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

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#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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reiderwriter · 5 months

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Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️

Ps love your writing 🖤

A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+

Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.

You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.

Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.

You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.

You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.

It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.

When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.

“Who is this?”

It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.

You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”

“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”

“Okay, that was deserved.”

“Why are you calling Spencer?”

“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”

The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.

“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”

“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”

“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.

It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.

Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.

As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.

Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.

“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”

The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.

“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”

“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”

“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.

“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.

“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”

“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”

You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.

“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”

He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.

It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.

“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”

Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.

“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”

You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.

His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.

“I did go a bit insane, you know?”

His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.

“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.

“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.

He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.

And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.

You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.

After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.

Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.

Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.

But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.

Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.

You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.

It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.

“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.

A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.

He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.

“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.

Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.

It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.

You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.

Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.

He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.

It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.

It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.

Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.

You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.

His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.

His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.

He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.

With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.

Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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macgyvermedical · 6 months

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Need something that's not on the list? Just ask!

#nursing #writing reference #health education #condition education #medical accuracy #medical history #nurblr #reference #resource #adulting

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rileyslibrary · 11 months

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How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.

Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...

So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)

Ghost & Peppa (the dog)

Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:

Brief mentions of war

Mentions of physical & emotional trauma

This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy

I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.

——————————————————————

He’s fine. Of course, he is.

Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.

What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.

He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.

Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.

“I got nothing to say”, was his response.

Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.

“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”

But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”

And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.

Nothing.

For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.

But he was fine.

Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?

The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.

Plus, he was fine.

But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.

The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.

“Peppa, like the pig?”

That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.

“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”

The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.

Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.

“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.

Such compliance? From Ghost? How?

You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.

Peppa became his silent confidante.

He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.

Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.

But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.

He was fine.

You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.

Fine.

And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.

“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”

And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.

After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.

He was fine.

“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”

“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”

“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.

He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.

But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.

She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”

She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.

Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.

Whining and demanding more pets.

Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.

Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.

“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”

——————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty

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etoilesbienne · 6 months

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out of curiosity, what are the common qEtoiles mischaracterizations, and the accurate characterizations you wished people used more? Sincerely, an English speaking fan who is re-learning French!

honestly i kind of consider it a mischaracterization when people like... make etoiles into this team leader who always knows what to do and move things forward. or like that he has a bad attitude to like... match his fighting skills. or like the dark knight brooding warrior. he says he is these things. these are lies. he lies about himself constantly. i wouldnt trust a good 2/3 of the things he says about himself to be true. you read him clearer through his actions than his statements.

in my opinion etoiles is more like. sturdy second in command. he's not there to lead, he's there to fill in the holes where they pop up. he's there as cover. he's quick witted in shortchange scenarios, but that is so not the same thing as a genuine strategist. in another expression, if someone is a leader, the leader is a doctor, etoiles's role is more like... the EMS team in an ambulance. He's not there to fix your problem, he's there to keep your problem covered until you can get someone else to fully fix it. but that doesn't mean his role is any less important when he's needed.

Etoiles is also, like, so very much a team player if he respects and trusts a person. And it is so easy to have his respect and trust. His trust starts at 100% for everyone. he's also so very very very good at reading people (gesture to the bbh clip where bbh moves his mouse slightly downward and etoiles calls him out on being depressed). He read Mousey as enjoying dungeons and pvp way more and wanting to hang out with her. He's also one of the only people who like continuously runs in the girlies group and makes all of them pvp with him and they all love it so he keeps coming back to pvp with them. Thats how he started his whole thing with Tina and pvping with her constantly. Reading other people also, he loves finding other pvpers so he attacks roier constantly now bc he knows roier can pvp.

What else OH Etoiles loves whining (and this is because Rayou loves whining) that dude will just complain constantly. You haven't seen an etoiles stream if youve never seen him whine. Can't say I'm not kind of endeared by it. With this too he loves over explaining things (RIP armor powerpoint wish you couldve been given...) because he wants to help everyone....

OH and he's very over exaggerated too in replying to people in a complaining way and a self deprecating way and also likes to try to push the envelope with people and he does all of that to try and get a laugh out of others. like he's well aware people find him going "Oh so you don't give a shit about me and want me to die ? you want etoiles to die ?" fucking hilarious and also loves complaining in the first place thats why he does that. if your etoiles isn't complaining and whining then it isn't etoiles. the self deprecating thing is... its interesting bc he does have full faith in his abilities but will never say it out loud unless its trying to reassure someone who is worried. pushing the envelope is so specific he won't do it too much and its like........... from what ive seen (correct me if im wrong) heavily directed at non francophones where if they laugh at something wack he's done he'll try to do it again to make them laugh more. shoutout to the time he made bbh laugh so much when he cursed he didn't get languaged by bbh so he kept cursing to try to make bbh do it again. the dudes a total people pleaser.

smaller thing ive talked about extensively already (u can prob find it in my q!etoiles tag if i remember i'll edit a link to the posts in here soon lol) etoiles hates losing he looooooves winning he's very intense about it lol. its cute!

on a final note even if you don't become deeply unwell about etoiles like i am i think this highlight clip video has like everything he's like condensed into like 11 minutes. You should watch it. It's a good starting point.

youtube

#qsmp #q!etoiles #asks #hope this helps. Ahehe

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matthewsgreybubbles · 28 days

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I feel like we need a group for us softdom Spencer truthers - come on that boy is such a sassy little bitch who like to practically inhale the person he’s kissing, he wouldn’t utter the word mommy

Alright baby, take a drink because this is going to be LONG.

Because I don't think that soft dom Spencer is that much out of character. Honestly, I find it more accurate than some of the sub! Spencer I saw. Spencer is a worshipper, he's sub in that way but he is dom in the way he handles things. I'm not sure this is clear so let me explain-

Mentally Spencer is a sub, physically he's a dom.

Let's talk about early seasons Spencer first. Because that Spencer was not confident nor experienced enough to dom. He was supposed to be a chronically virgin. BUT, but, but- listen- have you seen the way he kissed that girl in the pool in season 1? Lyla? I think? Anyway, Amber Heard. The way he kisses Amber Heard in that pool SCREAMS dom. I think he always had that dog in him you know? He was just not expressing it. But oh boy-

The more we go through the seasons the more he becomes confident and cocky. Remember that episode in season 3 with the kid shooting the people from his school? Where he disrespected Hotch's orders and just sent everybody to fuck themselves? Or the "This is calm, and it's doctor". See what I'm talking about? He becomes sassy and cocky and he let his little "dom side" out.

But that being said Spencer is not violent or whatever and even "soft dom" is a bit too harsh for him. It's "really really really soft soft dom Spencer". It's dom Spencer in the bedroom who puts his whole heart into the deed, hm?

NONETHELESS, Spencer is a hot mess, he whimpers and cries, he's needy and putty in your hands. Soft dom Spencer is a worshipper. He wouldn't utter the word "mommy" no- But he would ask for your praises. Dude, he has such a praise kink. I think it's more the type to ask if he's making you feel good, if you love him, if you love what he's doing, etc. And boy he learns fast on that field so YES.

And it gets worse after prison. Post-prison Reid is even more "soft dom", it grows. He becomes more clingy, more firm in his touches, his hands are always on you, he's always needing reassurance, always needing you to listen to what he says to you because he is an anxious little bean. He will do nasty things to you while worshipping just to hear you tell him he did good. After prison he's rougher in his touches, he becomes more manhandling. But it's still Spencer so it's not that much violent but.

Soft dom Spencer is just a worship sub. He doesn't degrade or whatever. He just needs to be reassured by your obedience and he puts PASSION in rewarding you.

I think he's heavy on foreplay and stuff, even more than in the deed itself. I mean, once again, THE KISSES PEOPLE THE KISSES. The way he fucking kissed Cat against that door? I swear to God OPJFGHIOEZK. I am SPIRALLING.

Am I going too far again? Yeah probably.

Sorry for the rambling lmao.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #soft dom spencer reid #sub spencer reid #post-prison spencer reid #my sweet anons

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bookshelfdreams · 11 months

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So the German dub is out and I would like to offer up to all of you how it deals with the problem of formal/informal form of address because it's really interesting

(Preface: all of this applies how we as modern people use these forms of address. In the actual 18th century, addressing any adult informally was very uncommon, even between close friends. But we're doing a DJenkins approach here)

(@rocketrouquine wrote about how it is handled in the French dub here; also very interesting!)

The thing to understand about formal vs informal you is that it's about politeness, yes - but that's just a very basic understanding. Yes, you are supposed to be formal with people you don't know, but what they don't teach you in highschool foreign language class are all the things choice of address can communicate. Namely, what distance there is between people. About the closeness of a relationship, what level you're interacting on, about signaling how far you will let a person into your life.

The crew of the Revenge all call each other Du (informal) - except for Stede, who everyone calls Sie (formal). Du is for friends and Stede is not their friend, he is the boss. There is a camaraderie and solidarity among the crew that Stede can't partake in. Sie, in this case, is like a barrier that you put up to keep someone from becoming too friendly with you and reminding them what kind of relationship this is (namely, a purely professional one).

This is underlined by the crew obviously and openly thinking Stede is an idiot - and by Stede calling everyone Du. Is it because he sees himself as a social superior who can address people informally but insists on formal address for himself? That's one way to read it! But more interesting and more accurate, in my opinion, is to read this as an attempt by Stede to make himself part of their ingroup. It's especially obvious when Stede invites Olu and Jim to sit with him on the couch in ep1; he's using Du while Olu very poignantly keeps insisting on Sie. It underlines how visibly uncomfortable Olu is sitting there trying to explain to Stede that people choose a life of crime out of necessity, while making Stede seem even more oblivious and out of place.

Interestingly, Stede uses Sie himself to put some professional distance between himself and someone else. Namely, with the tribe elder from ep2, who he addresses formally. Is this a sign of respect? Sure, he has a tendency to go for Sie by default. But it reminds me more of how one would be per Sie with a doctor or therapist; as a reminder that this is a strictly professional relationship. It's easier to be open and vulnerable with someone who you know isn't emotionally invested in your wellbeing, isn't it?

Stede comes from a background where one is expected to address everyone with Sie unless granted permission otherwise. This is a sign of respect, the same way lower class people on this show tend to use Du as sign of solidarity; on Nigel's ship, all the officers call each other Sie. So when Nigel uses Du with Stede, it adds a layer of disrespect, despite it being perfectly acceptable, since they have known each other as children. This is even more evident with Chauncey, who we see interact more with other pirates; when he wants something from someone (Izzy, Spanish Jackie) he calls them Sie, no problem, while Nigel's crew doesn't even make an attempt at showing some respect at the ep1 tea party.

And then there's Izzy. Izzy and Stede call each other every insult under the sun and also address each other formally the whole time, which is the funniest possible choice. Like. I'm not sure why "Sie Arschloch!" is 1000x more bitchy than "Du Arschloch!" but it just is. It's taking this whole game of distance and closeness to a whole new level; I despise you so much I would never entertain the notion of being friendly enough with you to use your first name. Sie Wichser. It's made even funnier by the fact that for Stede, Sie is much more intuitive than for Izzy. It seems like Izzy has to make a lot more of an effort to keep the Sie up, but he's not gonna be the one to break this particular stalemate first, goddammit.

Finally (because that's the really interesting bit, isn't it) Ed. Initially, in ep3, Stede calls Ed Sie, which, of course he would think to do that while he's laying there half dead and bleeding, I love him. Ed echoes this back, because he's determined to "do this right", make a good first impression, and I thought this would be it, they'd be per Sie until the kiss, like it often goes in media translated from English. Fine, I guess.

But then.

When Ed wakes Stede up, he immediately goes for Du. No warm up, no getting to know each other first at all. And it's great! First of all, because Ed of course is the type of person to just call everyone Du, but also because of what happens next: Stede calls him Du back. This is the first time this particular hand has been extended to him, and oh, is he excited to take it.

(Other people call Stede Du first, Spanish Jackie, the chief, but it's not like this; not an invitation)

Stede isn't meeting Blackbeard, he's meeting some guy named Ed. Someone he instantly makes friends with; someone who has already seen him at his worst and so, who he can be himself with. Someone he doesn't need to put up pretenses or worry about proper behaviour with. This scene would have lost so much had they decided to keep up the Sie.

Remember that camaraderie I talked about earlier? Solidarity among the crew that Stede tries but can't manage to share in? Here it is! Here is the guy who will play dress up with him, who will delight in his interests, who will be his friend.

Yes, sometimes an unprompted Du can be disrespectful. But sometimes it is like this: Hey. I see you. Want to be friends?

#i could have rambled on for hours this is SO INTERESTING to me and they made all the right choices #kudos. praise and kudos.#our flag means death #stede bonnet #edward teach #thoughts #Unsere Flagge bedeutet den TOD 🏴‍☠️

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 9 months

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Pairing : Seo Changbin x F!Reader & Yang Jeongin x F!Reader TW : For Changbins : reader has type 2 diabetes ; ketoacidosis (is that a TW? Well it is now, it seems like it should be a warning) ; vomiting ; hospitals ; Changbin is still just a big sweetheart that cares too much ; IV's ; reader in a coma ; For Jeongins : reader has arrhythmia (irregular heartbeat) ; and potentially undiagnosed type 2 diabetes ; Jeongin has no clue so is therefore seemingly insensitive ; reader fainting ; Jeongin ending redemption ; Word Count : For Changbins : 4.6k For Jeongins : 4.1k (in total : 8.7k) Request : @maruskz @slayhyunjin & 4 other anons, the reader doesn't feel well!! A/N : THIS ONE IS FOR YOU ALL!! IT'S THE LAST ONE IN THE LINEUP!! I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!! Thank you to the person in my comments who let me know I (and google) goofed up. I will try to be as accurate as possible when writing about any type of disease, so please let me know in the comments if I'm wrong.

Changbin

“I'm gonna go to the gym with Chan after work, but I should be back home before dinner time.” Changbin said as he pulled his t-shirt on over his head, smiling at you as you laid in the bed still, your eyes still heavy although he chalked it up to you tossing and turning all night and having to get out of bed every couple hours to use the bathroom. “Do you have enough medicine to get you through the day? I can stop at the pharmacy before I go to the gym and drop it off to you.”

Your head shook in response as you let out a long yawn, sitting up in bed but immediately falling back as your vision momentarily went hazy, which you attributed to sitting up too fast. “I have enough… Thank you Binnie. I gotta work today anyway, so if I need my medicine I can stop by the pharmacy on the way home.” You murmured and he sighed softly, dropping down onto the bed beside you, his hand brushing lightly over your cheeks before leaning in to kiss you.

“You know I don’t like you walking to the store by yourself…” He reminded you, his bottom lip jutting out into a little pout and you playfully swiped your finger over it causing him to chuckle softly. “Plus you said that you weren’t feeling well… you shouldn’t be going to work like that. You can just stay home and rest… You need to rest, babe.” Bin had been your biggest caregiver since he found out you had diabetes, but not only was he the best caregiver, but supported you through it all, changing his diet as much as he could so that you didn’t feel like you were missing out on good meals, texting you every hour on the hour to check how you were feeling and to make sure you were taking your medicine. He was just as good as any doctor, and you felt safe knowing that you had him.

“Bin, I’m fine.” You reassured him, grabbing his hand and locking your fingers with his. “I need to go to work… I called out yesterday. I’m not trying to lose my job.” You explained, sitting up more slowly this time and then immediately resting your head against his shoulder.

“When was the last time you threw up?” He questioned, and you knew that his reasoning for questioning you was valid and it all came from his genuine care for you, it made you feel bad in a way, knowing that he probably spent more time worrying about you than about himself. “I feel like I heard you get sick in the middle of the night…”

“And you did… But that was the last time I got sick.” You said as cheerfully as you could. “It was probably just some 24 hour stomach bug, I’m totally okay. Now go to work before Chan calls me up and yells at me for making you late.” You kissed along his shoulder, giggling softly at the way he’d purposely flex his muscles whenever you did. “I love you Bin…”

“I love you too…” He whispered, tilting your head up so he could kiss you correctly, his lips held against yours just a little bit longer than usual as his eyes closed. You could tell that he was worried, but you were adamant, and he knew the one thing you hated was to be coddled because of your disease… But he couldn’t help it, although he tried his best. “Call me if you need anything… Or if you start feeling sick. I’ll rush home… I love you so much, babe.”

Going to work really was on your agenda for the day, you had even texted your boss to let her know you were coming. Sure, you felt a little tired still, but you attributed that to the fact that you had woken up in the middle of the night to throw up a couple times and it just took a toll on you. You truly thought that you were better, that is, until Changbin was gone and you got up to make yourself breakfast, everything was laid out perfectly on the counter, you were about to start cooking, but, without warning, your body had different ideas and you ended up doubled over the sink, throwing up the lack of contents in your empty stomach.

You couldn’t seem to catch your breath which put you into panic mode which inevitably made you hyperventilate even more. The entire room seemed to go hazy, or maybe it was just your vision, and it sucked that by the time you came to realize what was going on, you were too late.

It was hard enough as it was to try to think, it was like every single thought that you once had in your mind was gone, the only thing you felt or could think about was panicking. Your legs gave out and you fell to the floor, and it was like falling against the hard tile had shaken you enough to have you pulling out your phone and dialing the police. Before it could even finish getting through the first ring though, your vision went blank, your thoughts were gone, everything went black…

“I’m just gonna go home and check on her, she hasn’t answered any of my texts.” Changbin informed Chan as they walked down the hall together. It’s not that it was unlike you to be so busy at work that you were late to respond, it’s just that with the way you were feeling the night before, he just wanted to make sure you were okay. “I’ll meet you at the gym.”

“Nah, I’ll go with you, just in case you need me.” And it’s not that anything in Changbins words had made the oldest feel that way, he just felt like he should be there. “Plus I haven’t seen her in a while, you never bring her into the studio anymore.”

“Well she has her doctor's appointments and then she has to work…” He explained as he climbed into the elevator, holding it open for Chan before pressing the button to go down to the main floor. “I always tell her that she doesn’t have to work… I think she just feels like that’s the one thing in her life that she has control of… I don’t want to take that away from her.”

Chan nodded understandingly, he knew all about your conditions, all of the guys did. Changbin was very upfront about it, letting them all know that there would be days that he wouldn’t make it into work on time so he could go to appointments with you, and there would also be days that he wouldn’t come in at all because you needed him more than the group did. You were always and would always be Changbins top priority, and everyone was well aware of that. They didn’t mind, they saw how happy you made him, and they knew that if anything would ever happen to you, they’d end up losing him anyway.

“I thought she was going to the gym with you on her days off… Did she stop?” Chan posed the question as he pushed through the front doors to the building, holding it open for Changbin and then following him down to the car. “We could have a gym double date or something?”

Changbins nose crinkled at the thought, and then he chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Y/Ns just been feeling tired lately. I don’t want to push her. We take morning walks together and the doctor said that was enough until her energy comes back. They did switch her medicine recently, so that might be it.” He climbed into the drivers side and waited for Chan to get in before starting up the car. “I hope she packed herself a lunch, she shouldn’t be eating the junk they sell near her work… I should have packed her a lunch before I left.”

“You think too much, too pessimistic…” Chan mused, leaning back in the seat and glancing over at Changbin who seemed too lost in his thoughts right now. “You do a lot for her, not because you have to, but because you want to, because you love her… There’s not a lot of men who wouldn’t do that…”

“Well those men are assholes.” Changbin stated matter-of-factly, stopping at the red light that would have him turning down the street to home. “She deserves all the love in the world, maybe more… I wish I could give her every ounce of my love… I’d give her my entire heart…”

Chan pursed his lips, nodding along to what he was saying as he watched the familiar houses scroll past the window until he pulled into the driveway. “When does she usually go to work? She might already be there…” Chan mused when he saw that there was a package on the front step.

“Maybe they called her in early?” Changbin mumbled as he climbed out of the car, running up to the front porch and picking up the box before letting himself in. It wasn’t rare, in actuality it was quite annoyingly frequent that you were called in at a moments notice, usually going into work with an empty stomach, leaving Changbin to panic the entire time you were gone. “I hate when they do that to her…”

“It looks like she was in the middle of cooking something… or about to cook something at least.” Chan commented as he followed Changbin into the house, noticing the ingredients that were scattered around the counter, the sink not exactly running, but it was still dripping. “Looks like she left in a hurry.”

Changbin groaned loudly, pulling out the trash bin and dumping everything that littered the counter into it before slamming his hand down against the sink faucet to stop the incessant dripping. “I don’t care how much of a hurry she’s in… She shouldn’t leave the house like this.” He grumbled, looking around at the knives and the cutting board that were partially used. “It’s that damn job… She’s so scared of losing it… And they know that. They hold it above her head… And she won’t listen to me… It’s ridiculous. But to leave the kitchen looking like this!” His hands flew up in the air in disbelief before coming back down, slapping against the counter top. “You know what… I’m going to her work. I need to talk to someone… They’re completely taking advantage of her.”

Chan awkwardly chewed on his bottom lip, partially regretting coming along for the little journey that Changbin was now taking him on, but he hoped that being there himself would at least help him to be level headed enough to be as calm as possible. “Just… Don’t make a scene… And don’t try to jump across the counter, okay? We can talk about things like adults… Can’t we?”

Changbin rolled his eyes, not even answering the question as he walked out the door and climbed back in the car. The kitchen was disgusting, but he could never actually be mad at you, not at all… You were too innocent, and you’d never think that your work was doing exactly what Changbin knew they were doing. That’s why he wanted to talk to them specifically, whoever had called you in… “Oh I’m gonna talk about things… It’s up to them whether we keep things cordial though. Taking advantage of my girl like that? Not gonna happen! Not anymore!”

Chan knew that Changbin was an excellent driver, he was safe, he followed all the traffic rules, he’d drive with him whenever he felt he needed to… But not today. Changbin was pissed, and a driving, pissed off Changbin threw all of his cares to the wind. Traffic rules did not exist, and the other drivers abided by whatever rules Changbin came up with on the spot. “You know, if you get pulled over… You won’t be able to talk to anyone except the police.” Chan tried to remind her, but Changbin wasn’t listening to anything but the sound of the engine revving as he whipped around a couple other cars before pulling-very badly-into a parking spot right in front of your work. “There are going to be so many cops around your car when you get out of the store, oh my god.”

“As long as I get to finish with this conversation before they pull me out of the store, then fine.” Changbin said as he climbed out, his muscles tensed, the irritation just radiating around him. Chan was hesitant, but he knew that following him into the store would be the best course of action, so he did, but he did stay a little further behind, watching from a distance as Changbin walked up to the counter. “Alright… Where is she!? I know she had to work today and to be honest, she might say it, but I’m getting real fucking sick and tired of you taking advantage of her niceness and her willingness to work.”

The man at the counter was visibly confused as he looked around himself and then back at Changbin. “Uhm… dude… I don’t know what… Or who you’re talking about…” He mumbled, peering around Changbin to see the person waiting behind him. “But if you’re not buying anything… Can you get out of the line?”

Changbin turned around, smiling kindly to the stranger behind him, but the smile fell just as quickly when he turned back around to face the man at the register. “I know you called Y/N in today! Where is she, huh? You got her doing some backroom stocking shit right now?! You know she can’t do that! She didn’t even get to finish making her meal because you guys always call her in! It’s bullshit! Why have a damn schedule if you’re just gonna text her and tell her you need her earlier?”

“What are you talking about?” The man, now having harvested a little bit of sass to stand up to Changbin, who was still much bigger than the guy. “Y/N isn’t even here right now. She totally flaked on her hours, and the manager has been trying to get a hold of her but she hasn’t answered. How about you try calling her instead of coming in here and causing a scene and scaring away our customers.” The guy impatiently tapped his fingers against the counter before motioning with his head for Changbin to move. “Can you go now?”

If you weren’t at work… And you weren’t at home… Where the hell were you? His anger dissipated and quickly turned to worry. Your medicine was running out, but you had told him that you had enough to get you through the day. You were feeling sick the night before, but you claimed it was just a stomach bug and that you were feeling fine now. It’s not like you would leave him… He never gave you any reason to do something like that… Right?

“Maybe you should call the neighbors… See if they know anything?” Chan suggested as he and Changbin sat in the car, still parked in front of the store, and shockingly enough, there wasn’t a single officer in sight to get on Changbin about his reckless driving. That was a good thing though, clearly Changbin wasn’t in the mood or in the right state of mind to handle that kind of interaction. “Or maybe the police station or the hospital… See if any calls came in from your address?”

Changbin nodded, the movement kind of stiff as he pulled out his phone. He didn’t know where to start, but he also didn’t know the neighbors number, not by heart, and most of them had work today and they weren’t home. He didn’t want to have to call the hospital because that was the last place he wanted you to be, but it was the only option he had, the only line he had to hold on to right now.

The call was short, and for the first time the entire day, Changbin had been almost completely silent, only giving out the address and then a series of mumbled out acknowledgements were heard before the silence that followed once the call was ended. It was a scary silence though, one that held far too much emotion, and although Changbin hadn’t said anything, Chan could feel it. “So… What did they-”

There wasn’t a chance to finish as Changbins fists came down on the steering wheel, punching against it repeatedly as tears began to trickle down his cheeks, his screams cut off by his sobs. Chan didn’t know what to do, but he felt like he should try to stop him, mainly because the steering wheel looked like it would break off and neither of them needed that to happen. “Don’t touch me! Don’t!” Changbin shouted when Chan tried to grab his arms, but it had stopped his assault on the wheel momentarily, his head falling forward as his body shook.

“Changbin…” Chan said breathlessly, falling back against the seat and staring up at the roof of the car. “I don’t know what the hell is going on… But you can’t just beat up the car. If you want me to take you to the hospital, I will, because based on your reaction I’m just feeling like that’s where she is. Or I can take you home. Either way, you’re not driving, not like this. You’ll get in an accident and nobody wants that.”

He sniffled softly, nodding his head as he lifted it from the wheel, opening the door slowly and climbing out, walking around to the passenger side of the car. “They said… She was there…” He muttered, watching Chan climb over to the drivers side and then quickly getting in and putting on his seatbelt. “They said that she…. She can’t talk right now…” His head shook and his shakily sniffled, his entire body trembling as he practically gasped for air. “I knew there was something wrong… She wasn’t feeling good and… And I was worried but I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stay with her… I should have taken her to the hospital… I didn’t… I failed her…”

Chan knew that the guilt would be there, but it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking to see his friend, his brother like this. He didn’t even know what to do, because he knew that if the shoe was on the other foot, he’d be feeling the same way. “You didn’t fail her… You believed her because she said that she was okay… That’s not your fault. Plus, you said it yourself, she likes feeling like she has some sort of control over her life… Maybe she thought she’d be able to get better herself…”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I left… She’s supposed to trust me and… how can she trust me now… when I left her… Like that…” He was stumbling over his words as his tears continued to fall down his cheeks, his hands quickly swiping across his face to wipe them away. “She was… She was in the middle of making her lunch… She didn’t even get to eat…”

There was nothing that Chan could say to get Changbin out of his own head, so he just listened, completely understanding where he was coming from, but he wished that Changbin would understand that it wasn’t his fault. “She’s sick Changbin… These things happen… You’ve done a lot of research on it, you know these things can happen. But you can’t protect her all the time… You just can’t.”

Changbin was silent for a moment, his thumb coming up to his mouth as he chewed on his nail. “I want to… I want to protect her… I researched things and… And I knew that things like this could happen and I still left her. I knew the symptoms that were bad… and she had all of them… Why did I leave?” He was breathing heavily, it almost sounded like he was about to throw up himself. “If I was there..-“

“It still would have happened because she was sick, Changbin…” Chan said sternly, trying to snap Changbin out of this self deprecating spiral he was in. “You can’t be with her every second of every day, and I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be like that anyway. This would have happened whether you were home with her or not. Beating yourself over it won’t change things.”

The hospital towered over the car, shadowing him and Chan when they stepped out, like a giant dark cloud and Changbin hated it. He hated hospitals anyway, and the only reason he was going in was because you were in there. “You don’t have to follow me in…” He mumbled when Chan climbed out of the car as well. “She wouldn’t want to be crowded.”

“I’ll wait in the waiting room, I’ll wait for you. You can’t stay here all night and someone needs to drive you home.” Chan said and Changbin just nodded, he didn’t have the energy to go against what he said. “Do you need me to go up to the front desk and ask f-“

“I’m not an infant.” Changbin snapped before taking a deep breath and running his hands over his face. “Sorry… I just… I’m scared, hyung. I can do it though… thank you.” Chan pursed his lips as he patted Changbins back, holding the door open for him and then following behind.

It was hard to ask the lady at the front desk about you, mainly because it made it more real that you were truly there. His voice cracked and his vision became blurry as he started to cry again just from simply asking what room you were in.

“The treatment is going well, sir. It’s-”

“Is it?” Changbin cut the doctor off as he stood at the end of your bed, the IV’s poking out of your arm looked painful, and the tubes that were in your nose and your mouth to help you breathe surely weren’t reassuring. “Is it really going well, because if it were, she’d be awake right now. She’d be happy to see me… But she’s sleeping… She’s still sleeping… So tell me how this is supposed to show me that the treatment is going well.”

His fingers were wrapped tightly around the footboard of the bed, and his head slowly turned to look at the doctor who was, rightfully, quite scared of Changbin. His temperament was nothing short of seemingly hostile, and it seemed like anything could make him snap in an instant. “Sir… We truly are trying to get her to rise as soon as possible, and I assure you, she will be okay… She will wake up… But this rest, it’s, in a sense… It’s kind of helpful… Her body has surely been through a lot.” The word helpful in this setting was definitely not something that Changbin wanted to hear, and his teeth gritted together as he narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “Wh-What I meant to say is… She was sick… For a while. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t, we’re unsure… But her body just wasn’t able to produce enough insulin and… Well I’m sure that you know what ketoacidosis is-”

“Yes I know what that is.” Changbin snapped, his breaths becoming more harsh as he glared at the doctor. “I’ve done everything to protect her… To make sure she’s healthy and well… So why did this happen?!” He knew that shouting at the doctor wouldn’t give him the answers that he wanted so badly, but he needed to get it all out, he needed to let go of the anger that he was holding in towards himself, and sadly for the doctor, he was the only one in the room right now.

“We all want to protect the people that we love, and I tell you, it is crystal clear that you love her… But you can’t always protect them, you can’t always protect her, and you can’t protect her from herself. She’s got a disease, and with this disease comes moments like this… And that’s just something that you either get used to… Or-”

“I’m not leaving her.” Her hissed, finally turning back to look at you. “You hear that, babe. I’m not leaving you… You’re stuck with me. I’m gonna sit right here beside you until your beautiful eyes open and you look up at me and I can tell you how much I love you…”

“Well…” The doctor whispered sheepishly, his hands clapping together as he looked nervously as Changbin, slowly backing away in the process. “There are visiting hours and… Everyone kind of has to abide by those hours. You won’t really be able to stay in here… Or sit beside her… As sweet as the sentiment is…”

Changbin chuckled, although there was nothing funny about what was going on, and the sound was more snarky than anything as he grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and sat it down next to your bed, dropping down into it and crossing his arms over his chest. “I said I’m not leaving… And you can try to drag me out of here, but I’ll come back. I’ll always come back because I’m not leaving her here with you guys all by herself. So you can either cause a bigger problem… Or you can just let me sit here.”

The doctor relented, shaking his head as he walked out of the room. Changbin wasn’t sure whether he should prepare himself for security to come in and try to get him out, or maybe the doctor was just letting the other doctors and the nurses know about the way that he was. Whatever the reason, no one had come in the room for the past five minutes, and he felt like he was in the clear, so he let himself finally look at you, really look at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?” He murmured, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, wishing for the feeling of your fingers slipping between his own, but there was no movement, there was nothing. Your hands felt so cold in his and he quickly placed a kiss to the back of it before sliding it underneath the blanket to try to keep you warm. “I think I made you lose your job… But it’s okay… I’ll take care of us, I promise I will… I can even find you a job in the office if you really want to work… I just want you close to me.” Your heart rate started to climb the more he spoke, and that in itself had a solemn smile gracing his saddened features. “You hear me… I know you do. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I love you… And I’d do anything to hear you say it back right now… I just need you to wake up.” His sniffles were loud as his head fell forward against the bed, his entire body shaking and his fingers gripping onto the blankets. He had never felt so helpless when it came to you, but the doctor was right… He couldn’t protect you from yourself… That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t try though. In fact, he’d try harder now… He needed you to wake up though… That’s all he needed.

Jeongin

Jeongin didn’t exactly live with you, although the guys often joked that he might as well considering he was over your house more than anything else. It’s not even that he didn’t want to live with you, to be completely honest, he just liked the way you sounded in the morning when he rolled out of bed, the way you’d so cutely ask him if he was coming back over when he got off work. Of course he was, there was nowhere else he’d rather fall asleep than beside you, but he loved teasing you, and you’d pout up at him making it almost impossible to resist kissing your perfect lips.

From a technical standpoint, he had been living with you for three months now… and Jeongin was not only an amazing person to live with, but he was also an amazing boyfriend. Not for the typical reasons though, actually, it was quite the opposite. Your condition wasn’t too bad, it definitely wasn’t the best medical ailment to have, but… When life gives you lemons… You make what you can with those lemons.

In the duration of your relationship, you had become somewhat of a master at both treating your condition and hiding it from Jeongin. Now, you may be asking… Why hide it from him? And, the reason was quite simple. You loved him, and the last thing you needed him to do was worry about you when he had so much to worry about himself. He was a jokester, he was a smartass, but he had a heart twice the size of the moon it seemed sometimes, and if he knew that there was something wrong with you he’d worry too much.

It also made it easier to relax, to be able to somewhat make light of the situation, which of course shouldn’t be made light of, but sometimes you just got tired of the seriousness from the doctors and your family, you got tired of being constantly told to watch for your blood pressure, to listen to your heartbeat, to take your medicines. You just wanted to be able to joke around sometimes.

“Damn sweetcheeks!” Jeongin teased as he laid his head on your chest, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair as you both watched tv. “I really do make your heart go boom boom crazy.” And you couldn’t help but snort loudly at the comment because, while he wasn’t exactly wrong, your heart already beat like crazy, he just made it even crazier. “It’s cause I’m cute, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes at him, teasingly pushing him away. “Oh yeah, you’re totally cute.” You said mockingly, watching his eyes go wide at the very obvious sarcasm. “You’re the cutest, Innie. You already know that though.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead before sitting up and taking a deep breath, winded just from goofing up.

“Ooh, looks like I take your breath away too. Even after two whole years, I’ve got the same effect on you.” He sat up, kissing your forehead before getting up off the couch. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you for the rest of the morning, I have to go to work.” He pouted, as if you would somehow be able to bribe Chan into letting Jeongin stay home. “I guess I’ll just… walk out the door now… be gone for almost ten hours… that’s how long you won’t see me…”

He was always so dramatic, sometimes it seemed like Hyunjin had really rubbed off on him, not that you minded though. At the beginning of the relationship he had been so shy, it was like he avoided your touch and your affection, but now he was as clingy as you thought you were in the beginning. “The door will be unlocked when you get off, pooh bear.” You reassured him and he pouted even more now, causing you to, foolishly, jump off the couch, your head spinning and your vision going partially blank as your balance wobbled.

“Woah… you good there, sweets?” He asked, his usually cheerful voice masked with his worry as he placed his hands on your shoulders to hold you steady. “You coulda just told me to come over to give you the hug. Try not to get up so fast.” His hands slid down to your hips and he pulled you closer, leaning in to kiss you softly. “I’ll let you know when I get off and if you need anything from the store I’ll get it on my way back… I mean… If you want me to come over.”

“Oh shush…” You pressed your finger against his lips with a smile, still breathing quite heavily as you leaned your head against his chest, your hands falling to your side. “You can come over whenever because it’s your house too… It’s our house.” You kissed his chest and then backed up, falling back onto the couch. “Don’t work too hard… I’ll miss you.”

His lips drew into a thin line as he looked you over, trying not to think so hard about the way your head fell back against the couch and your eyes closed, your chest rising and falling heavily. If there was something wrong, you’d surely tell him… Of course you would. He was your boyfriend, you could tell him anything, he wanted you to tell him everything. “I’ll miss you too… I’ll be home in a couple hours… Love you.”

You hummed in response, listening for the door to shut before getting up and sprinting to your room, which in itself was a bad idea, falling to the floor and pulling out the shoebox full of medicine out from under the bed and taking one of the pills, laying your head against the edge of the bed as you tried to relax. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hide this from him, and you could see that he was already picking up on something being wrong, he just wasn’t questioning it verbally. It was just a matter of time now.

“Y/N’s been acting really weird lately…” Jeongin mused as he and the guys took a small break during practice, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of his drink, his mind reeling with far too many things right now. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just overthinking things… I do that sometimes…” He basically talked to himself now even though the rest of the guys were listening.

“Depends on what kind of weird it is.” Minho posed, and whether it was done on purpose or simply to try to help Jeongin get to the bottom of the way that he was feeling, it wasn’t helping at all. “Is it like a sneaky weird, like… Like does she have a secret side boyfriend? Is she gonna break up with you?” The questions were both terrifying and gut wrenching at the same time, Jeongins eyes widened at the possibility, but you would never do something like that… Not without talking to him first.

“N-No… It’s… It’s like a sick… Like she’s sick or something.” He quickly explained what had happened this morning, the way that you acted. He was worried sick, but he felt like if it truly was nothing then you’d think he was silly for being so scared. Then again, it came along with being your boyfriend… He was supposed to worry about you, right? That’s the way it seemed when he watched the other guys with their partners.

Minho hummed, nodding his head as he snorted softly, placing a gentle hand on Jeongins shoulder to try to calm the obviously worried boy. “She’s on her period. That’s what’s going on… And I promise you… She’ll be totally fine. She’ll just bleed for a couple days, she’ll probably cramp up so bring her lots of her favorite snacks and heating pads to help her… But other than that… There’s not really much that you can do. Best of luck.”

Your period, of course! Why hadn’t he thought of that?! He had been with you for a quite a while now, and he knew that your body wasn’t the kindest to you when it was that time of the month. “Right… Maybe I can get her some… Some ibuprofen or something too… To help with the cramps… Shouldn’t I?” He asked, looking to all of his hyungs for answers to this current situation that none of them knew about, but they had partners that suffered the same monthly fate that you did, so they at least knew enough.

“That’s good… That’s a good idea. Look at you! So smart.” Jisung ruffled Jeongins hair as he walked by, earning himself a grimace from Jeongin who took the comment as sarcasm, but he felt like he was a good boyfriend… A really good boyfriend for thinking of the medicine. He didn’t like seeing you in pain, and while he was rarely ever around for your times of the month because of work… He remembered the one time he came home when you were having really bad cramps and it broke his heart to see you hurting so badly.

“I’m the best boyfriend here. I’m gonna go home and take care of my girl.” Jeongin boasted quite proudly, and no one in the room disagreed. They were proud of him, they were happy for him. He had finally found someone to share his life with, he had grown and matured so much in the process too… They couldn’t feel anything but pride for having him as their little brother.

You laid across the couch, trying your best to relax, but it didn’t seem to be working, not the way it usually would. The last time you had felt this bad was so long ago, it had been your parents who had rushed you to the hospital, your feet not even touching the floor of the car yet as your mom sat in the backseat with you to try to help you breathe through it. The medicine was supposed to keep this from happening, or at least from happening as bad as it was right now. For the longest time it had helped, maybe you had just waited too long before taking it today.

“I’m home, sweets!” Jeongin announced as he walked through the front door, the sudden entrance startling you and saving you from slipping into unconsciousness yet again. “I know you’ve been feeling bad lately… So I got you some stuff.” He held the bags with a wide smile, and you didn’t know how he found out, but somehow he did. At least he wasn’t mad or upset with you for hiding it for so long.

“What’s in the bags, Innie?” You quizzed when he set them down on the floor next to the couch and then walked into the kitchen. “It looks like a lot.” It was about four bags, but they all seemed to be stuffed with a bunch of different things.

“Yah! Don’t go looking through the bags yet! I want to sit with you and watch your face when you see everything I got!” He called out, and you felt so warm, and your heart that was already beating erratically, fluttered even more. He had found out about your condition, and instead of coming straight home and trying to talk to you about it, he had gone and gotten you treats… He was the sweetest, kindest- “Damn, you really have been on that couch all day.”

Your soft thoughts practically record scratched at his words, and usually you’d be able to hear the teasing tone or the sarcasticness in his voice when he said something like that… But not this time. “What are you talking about? I have gotten up off the couch…” You defended yourself, because you really have been up on your feet, it just wasn’t the best thing for you to do right now so you were trying to keep yourself safe, that’s what your doctor had advised you to do when you felt this way.

The sink started running and you could hear the trash can lid being opened, slapping against the counter before being closed again. “Well not to do anything productive.” He countered, and you swore it was like a complete 180 with him. How could he just come home and seem so understanding and then get like this in a matter of seconds? “You left everything from breakfast all over the counters… Do you even know how long it’s been since I made you breakfast? That’s slob behavior!” He was clearly annoyed, and every time something was slammed down or thrown into the sink to be washed, your heart would skip a couple more beats and your chest would tighten up even more. “I know you’ve got your period and all… But damn, you couldn’t even clean off the counter or run some water over the plates? That’s just lazy.”

Period? You didn’t have your period… But now it was making sense. He thought he knew what was going on… He thought it was your period… That’s why he had bought so many things to try to make you feel better. He must have noticed you acting strange this morning and tried his best to figure it out, and obviously he wasn’t going to jump immediately to what your real condition was, there was no reason for him to even think that’s what was wrong. “I don’t have my period…” You retorted breathlessly, two fingers pressing against your neck as your eyes closed to focus on the rather quick, maybe far too quick, beating of your heart. “You don’t… You don’t know what’s wrong…”

“Oh clearly I do! You don’t have your period, there’s nothing actually keeping you from being even slightly clean. You’re just lazy.” He said as he turned off the sink in the kitchen and walked past you behind the couch. “I should have just stayed at the dorms tonight, at least they know how to clean up after themselves.”

You didn’t know where this was coming from, why he was being like this, but you were quickly moving on from being upset, to thoroughly pissed, and neither of those were good for your blood pressure right now. “Yeah… You should have… Because you’re not really helping me out here at all. You don’t fucking listen!”

Jeongin laughed sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t help!? I just cleaned the whole fucking kitchen because you didn’t, but I’m not helping you out. Okay. Yeah… Yeah okay, we’ll go with that.” He scoffed loudly, shaking his head as he went to the front door. “You know what, next time you want to lay around on the couch all day, at least have the common decency to clean up a bit so I don’t have to do it when I get home from work.”

God, he was absolutely infuriating. This was a side of him that you had never seen before, and while he didn’t know what was wrong, it didn’t give him any right to talk to you like that. “Just get out… Get the fuck out!” You gasped out the demand, going light headed from the stress of it all.

“Gladly!” He shouted, throwing up his arms before yanking open the door and walking out. He always had to have the last word, and that in itself was the final straw, the breaking point for you. It was an awful idea, but your anger momentarily fueled you, pushing yourself up off the couch and grabbing one of the bags off the floor, beaming it at the door that he had just walked out of.

Sure, he had walked out, but he wasn’t actually planning on leaving. After a couple minutes he planned on going back in and shamefully apologizing for what he said. He was leaning against the front door when he heard the loud bang against it and a bunch of items falling to the floor, and he knew without a doubt that it had been one of the bags, it was the closest thing to you right now. What he didn’t know though, was the sound that followed after. A loud thud and glass shattering, and he knew for a fact that it came from inside the apartment, and he couldn’t seem to get inside fast enough.

From the sound of it, it just seemed like you had tripped over the coffee table and maybe knocked over one of the glasses that were sitting on it. Upon further inspection and actually seeing it, he could tell that it was way worse. The coffee table, which was glass as well, was now shattered completely underneath you, which in itself was scary considering how dangerous it was, but the scariest part was the fact that you weren’t moving, you weren’t making any sounds at all.

“Y/N!” He rushed over to your side, the sound of glass crunching beneath his feet as he got closer was stomach turning, knowing that a majority of it was beneath you. “Hey… Hey come on… Get up now… This isn’t funny…” He rushed out the words as he kneeled down beside you, hoping that you’d open your eyes and laugh at how worried he is right now and it would be the perfect get back for what he had just done… Although there was no way that you would have been able to plan for this to happen… No… Something was actually wrong. “Fuck… Come on, sweets… Y-You know I love you… S-So much… You’re scaring me real bad right now…” He rambled, his hands shaking as he tried to move you off the pile of glass, feeling the slight warmth against your back when he got his hands under you.

“Sh-Shoe… Box…” Your voice was weak as you wheezed out the word that only had him more dumbfounded. The hell did a shoebox have to do with it? Did you trip over one of his shoe boxes? “Under… Th-The bed…” You continued, your eyes opening momentarily, only for them to roll to the back of your head, your neck going limp once more as your breaths became even faster as more labored. The bedroom was so far away, and that meant that he’d have to leave you alone to get it… And even if it was just for a moment, he didn’t want to leave you like this.

“Shit… What… What do I do?” He whimpered, looking between your body that lay in his arms and the bedroom door that was cracked open. “I’ll… I’ll be right back… I’ll get it… I will…” He whispered, and he carefully laid you back down on the floor, feeling bad enough as it is, but leaving you there only made him feel worse. He didn’t even know that there was a shoebox under the bed, he had never seen it, and part of him thought that you were just hallucinating… But he still ran to the room, basically diving onto the floor and reaching underneath. Lo and behold, there was a box, one that he had never seen before, and when he opened it up, he saw a vast assortment of medications, a blood pressure cuff, a stethoscope, and the phone number for your doctor. “What… What the fuck?”

It wasn’t the right time for questioning things, not yet, and he ran back out into the living room with the box, lowering himself to the floor beside you. Your eyes were beginning to flutter once again beneath your lids, and then they slowly opened, looking up at him in a sort of daze. “Shoe… Box… Under the-”

“Under the bed… I got it…” He finished your sentence, pulling out the multiple bottles of medication and holding them up. “Wh-What do you need? Which… Which one?” Your hand was shaking and you could barely lift your arm up to point at the bottle, but he moved them closer and your pointer finger slid across one of them, and he hoped to god that you were paying attention, that you knew what you had picked because he didn’t know a damn thing about any of them.

His own hands were shaking as he popped off the lid of the bottle and poured one of the pills into the palm of his hand, grabbing one of the bottles of soda from out of the bag that was still on the floor and then gently lifted your head up. Your lips parted just enough for him to slip the pill into your mouth, and he ever so carefully brought the bottle of soda to your lips, tilting it so you’d get just enough to swallow the medicine without any trouble.

How long would it take to work though? Had he given you the right one? His nerves were absolutely shot right now, his mind was in a frenzy, and it felt like it took forever for you to finally seem stable enough to actually talk. “The cuff… Pen… Paper… Number…” You muttered, and he didn’t know what the hell you were talking about, but you seemed to know, and you seemed to have done it enough to be able to do these things on your own even when you were still partially out of it.

“How long…?” He whispered, and you quickly shushed him, your eyes shut as the hum of the blood pressure machine filled the room that was otherwise silent apart from your still shallow breaths. Once it had finished, you wrote the numbers on a tiny slip of paper and then slipped them back into the box.

“I’m okay… Gonna have to sweep this up…” You said as you looked around yourself, shaking your head as you slowly got to your feet, but you stumbled once again once you were on them, causing Jeongins panic to only worsen as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his eyes glossy as he stared at you and held you steady.

“No… We’re talking… We… We need to talk…” He stammered, moving you to the couch and sitting you down, standing in front of you so he could really see you, so you could see him. “Y-You hid this from me… I… I still don’t know what’s going on… I’m scared… I’m worried… I’m fucking traumatized!” Your head once again rolled back against the back cushion and he rushed to grab your hand, his own heart racing. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“This… This is why I hid it…” You mumbled, your eyes still shut as you spoke. “It’s too much for you… It’s too much for anyone… I didn’t want to put you through this…”

“What are you talking about?!” He screeched, and while he thought it had been devastating to know that there was something like this going on without his knowledge, he was even more devastated to know that you had purposely kept it from him because you thought he couldn’t handle it. “I’m your boyfriend! I want to know these things! I want to be able to help you! If it’s about you… If it’s for you… Nothing is too much.”

“Jeongin… I didn’t do it to hurt you… Or to upset you… I did it because I care… I care about you. I didn’t want you… Worrying about me… You wouldn’t be able to focus on work… You’d constantly be wondering if I’m… If I’m having another episode… I just… I didn’t want this to ruin things for you…” You were breathing heavily again, your fingers wrapping around your wrist as you silently mouthed numbers. Did you have to do this every day? He had never seen you do this, and there were many times he had days off and things weren’t this bad. “We should just… Break up… So you don’t-”

“What?! Absolutely fucking not!” He screamed, kneeling on the floor in front of you and grabbing your hands, waiting for you to look at him before speaking. “You think breaking up will help? You think just ending this will make me forget about everything? You think it’ll immediately change the way I feel about you? I fucking love you, Y/N! And you’re goddamn right I’m worried about you… I’m gonna worry about you every single day for the rest of my life whether you were sick or not because I care about you.” Your eyes shut once more, but now shiny tears danced along your cheeks before hanging onto your chin, refusing to fall. “I may be young… And I’m dumb as shit sometimes… But I’m not a fucking idiot, I’m not gonna let you go, I’m not… I love you too damn much… I’m gonna take care of you… I will… You’re gonna be stuck with me the rest of your life, and I hope that I’m lucky enough to be stuck with you for the rest of mine.”

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mx-jinxous · 3 months

Text

Not beta'd, for @lexirosewrites

Dread filled Steve when he saw those pink lines staring back at him, his stomach doing a flip that nearly brought up what was left. It’d been what had brought the idea for the pregnancy test. Robin had been his first call while his body was numb, only registering as he told her. His voice was wobbling, tears running down his cheeks. Always the rambler she was, she started spitting off how a test wasn’t always accurate, that they need to go to the doctors.

So she accompanied him to the clinic, gripping his hand as they waited for his blood test, resting his head on her shoulder. She was rubbing his shoulder, trying to cheer him up, talking about how a mini him running around would be such a rascal. How they would make his hair fall out, how no matter what, they would do it together if no one stepped up. That’s when the doctor came back with the results, and a lecture about him being unmated and pamphlets on options, like adoption… or other solutions. Robin gave her a tongue lashing about ethics, but Steve couldn’t be proud at the moment. His hand fell over his stomach, pressing lightly, trying to feel his baby.

So for the next couple months, planning with Robin while he waited for his boyfriend’s to return from their mini tour. Eddie had been the one to call him when they had returned, Steve letting her know she was going to go talk with them by himself, a nervous skip in the step while he drove across town to Gareth’s house.

When he pulled up to see the garage door up and his four boyfriends wrestling on the couch, chuckling to himself as he just watched this moment. Those were his boys, playful and childish as always… and they were about to be dads. It was at that moment they seemed to notice his car, excitedly yelling when he climbed out of the Beemer. Jeff and “Freak”, Dougie, stayed behind as Eddie and Gareth raced each other, trying to beat the other to the omega. Unfortunately for Eddie, he wasn’t athletic, so Gareth was the first to wrap his arms around the older man.

“Hey Baby! Miss me?” By then, Eddie's arms joined the others, kissing Steve’s cheek.

“Us!”

“Oh, you know, just a little. I had Robin chasing away all the alpha’s for you boys.” He chuckled, wiggling loose and pulling the two towards the garage. He greeted each of the boys with a kiss before flopping on the couch, only for Jeff to flop down and scoop him into his lap.

“So, what trouble did you get into while we were away?” He asked, nipping at one of his scent glands..

“Please, you boys took all the trouble with you. How was the tour? Did you guys put on a metal concert?” The other boys joined the couch cuddle, Freak weaving his fingers through his hair while the others gripping his leg.

“You know it. Got some attention from a few scouts, so soon we will be able to get that big house that we promised instead of five different houses.” Eddie smirked, pecking Steve’s cheek.

“You know I don’t need a big house. It’ll be lonely when you guys make it big.”

“Then just one with a big room, a big bed for us.” Freak hand traveling to his hip, smirking at the other alphas.

“We’ll need one more room.”

Gareth snorted, leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “We know. Robin goes where you go and we have no intention of separating you from your soulmate.” The boys shared a look, knowing that those omegas were a package deal.

“Well, I mean yes, but then we need two.” Steve explained, shifting so that way he was hovering over Jeff’s lap. He could smell the arousal coming from them, having been separated from him for too long for their liking, their hands constantly on him.

“Who else are you dragging with? Dustin is still too young.” Eddie teased, pulling Steve down into a kiss.

“No one. But we’ll need room for a nursery.” He said, pulling the ultrasound image from his back pocket. The boys tensed, eyes wide at the tiny little blip in the image. They were silent, looking at one another and back to the image, nerves starting to rattle.

“Is that-?” Jeff mumbled, taking the photo.

“Yeah.”

“Whose is it?” Freak asked, looking up at Steve.

“They’re ours. It doesn’t matter who’s seed did it.” Gareth scoffed, pulling the omega into his lap, nosing at his neck. His hand fell onto Steve’s stomach, feeling the bump that was there.

“Don’t hog them.” Eddie teased, laying his head on Steve’s belly. “Hey Sweetpea. Your daddy’s are here.”

“So what do we do? I don’t want to be a downer, but we haven’t made it big and don’t have jobs. We don’t even have our own places. We live with our parents.” Jeff huffed, rubbing his neck.

“Well, you guys can still do the concert. Robin and I are full time and we found an apartment. We moved in last month when my parents found out that I was pregnant.” Steve huffed, hiding his face from the boys.

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you tell us?” The concern was heavy in their scents.

“You were busy and the Buckley’s let me stay till we could afford the apartment. We are stable for right now and I have several months left. You guys can try making it big and if you don’t, then we can get you boys jobs. Deal?” The boys stared at one another, eyes talking. They seemed to have come to an agreement, smiling down at the omega.

“Great, now let's get to celebrating!” Steve broke free, standing up with as much pep as he could.

“Careful!” Jeff huffed. He and the others stand to help Steve stand, only to get brushed off.

“I’m not glass. The doctor says I’m fine to do all the things I normally do. Speaking of, are we going to Gare’s room or mine?”

“My parents are out.” Gareth smirked, already being pulled by the eager omega.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #corroded coffin #corrordedking

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fatuismooches · 10 days

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Currently in my bed just fantasizing about having kids Dott.. Like, if it was through normal means or you somehow got Dottore to create a baby in his lab, I find it very amusing if the kid came out looking just like him.

This little baby with the same curly blue hair and red eyes as Dottore :(( He just stares at the child, unsure how to react. I bet during the first few months he’d be very unsure how to handle his child, sometimes not even wanting to hold them out of fear he may hurt them somehow.

Everyone is confused why Dottore made a child segment, everyone just kind of assuming his child was a segment. It’s not until they grow old enough to walk around and figure out how to slip out their father’s arms to explore the palace people start wondering what Dottore’s actual relationship with this child is.

Other Harbingers and even some lower ranking Fatuus see how Dottore grows agitated and almost anxious when the child leaves his line of sight, the doctor’s already short temper growing even shorter as he snaps at anyone until he can find the child.

Dottore eventually begrudgingly telling some of the more nosy Harbingers he has a child after they grow a bit too curious. Word travels fast and it’s not long until you have a few low ranking Fatuus and maybe even a Harbinger like Pantalone or Childe asking how you could possibly want to have a child with Dottore of all people.

I just.. hoghh i know the harbingers r like war criminals but i wanna be all lovey and domestic and have families with them 😞😞 [📺 Anon]

To convince Dottore to have and raise a kid with you is such a procedure that couldn't accurately be put into words. Here you have a man who doesn't have the slightest bit of father material in him. It took ages for him to love you, will he be able to love his child? When he struggles to make peace with himself and yet his kid is the spitting image of him? Surprisingly enough, he takes these things more seriously than one would ever think because he is self-aware and clearly remembers how his own parents treated him.

He's most poor at taking care of small children, especially when they're crying. And even when they're quiet and docile, Dottore still can't bring himself to do anything, his fingers flexing awkwardly. His hands just aren't suited for this gentleness. However, I think he gets more comfortable when the kid is older. He likes talking with them and expanding their mind. Making them toys and puzzles that are probably too advanced for their age. And seeing how the child is a mix of both him and you, your features are ever so endearing... even when the child inherits your mischievousness and goal to terrorize him. Over time the relationship gets better and the child and father get a lot closer, even though it started off pretty hazy at first. You're very proud of the progress.

(Okay but people thinking his kid is a segment... that is just too funny because the idea of someone having a kid with the Doctor never crosses their mind eh? And people being nosy and asking you questions 😭 poor reader, how can you explain you just wanted a family with the love of your life? Not a perfect one, but a happy one.)

He's definitely not the model father but he does have you to help him out, and teach him slowly but surely. He truly does love his child even if his affection isn't shown in a typical manner. Regardless, it must have worked out, considering the child loves their parents very much. A little menace in the making...

The war criminals will be unconventionally domestic with you I promise!!!

#smooches talks #📺 anon #dottore love notes <3 #i still remember ur previous ask abt this 📺 anon the brainrot is STRONG huh 😭#i can relate to this tbh #i dont want kids irl but with dottore yes 😭🙏#idk how genshin is gonna end but i love thinking abt settling down w him after everything is over and somehow u have a kid with him #biological or not #(yea yea im delusional keep scrolling)

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onceuponastory · 1 year

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heartbeats - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Like most people in the hospital she works in, Y/N is head over heels in love with the gorgeous paramedic Bucky Barnes. Yet she has come to the conclusion that their small chats they have whenever he drops off a patient is the closest thing they have to a relationship. That is, however, until an accident on a night out brings them closer together. Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Doctor!Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, needles, pain meds/drugs, injuries (nothing too graphic) and bruising. As always, if I miss any triggers please let me know! Notes: This is my first entry for the @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse Challenge! One of my squares was Nurse, so here we are! Obligatory I am not a doctor (clearly), so my medical knowledge may not be the most accurate. Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Hey. What have we got?” Y/N asks, waiting to greet the incoming ambulance.

“You know, I’d say I admire your tenacity to provide the best care to patients as soon as they arrive… but I know the real reason you got down here so quickly.” Her coworker smirks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here to help treat the patient, which I swore an oath to do.” Y/N lies, ignoring the way her cheeks are heating up with embarrassment.

“Oh suuure, you’re totally here for honest reasons. Definitely not just to see if the hot paramedic is coming. You’re really not subtle, Y/N.”

“Who's to say that’s not why you’re here, too?” Y/N replies. But her coworker is right. Y/N loves her job as a doctor, and getting to help so many people from all different walks of life. Especially after the amount of studying it took to get here. Yet, she’d be lying if she said that seeing the paramedic Bucky Barnes isn’t a big part of her job happiness. Bucky, the aforementioned hot paramedic, is charming, caring and makes everyone in the hospital swoon with just a smile in their direction. If Bucky treated all the people who have heart palpitations and need oxygen when he shows up, he’d be a billionaire.

As one of the lead emergency doctors in the hospital, Y/N comes into contact with Bucky a lot during her shifts. And each time, his dazzling ocean blue eyes and winning smile send her heart into a flutter and make her legs go weak. Like everyone else in the hospital, Y/N is head over heels in love with the charming paramedic. Every time she sees him, she wants to get over her nerves and finally ask him out, or just to get to know him better. While, of course, secretly hoping that he feels the same way as she does. And yet, she just can't bring herself to tell him the truth. She and Bucky have a great working relationship despite only seeing each other during a patient handover, and despite how much she wants to get closer to him, she also doesn’t want to ruin what they have, and make either of their jobs awkward.

And besides, he has the pick of almost everyone in this entire hospital, so he definitely wouldn’t go for her.

But then, the sound of sirens cuts through the air, interrupting Y/N’s thoughts. It’s time to go to work, and not think about her incredibly attractive coworker. Yet, when the ambulance door opens, a familiar face steps out.

“Afternoon ladies.” Bucky grins. Y/N swears he even throws a wink in there. Immediately, her heart starts beating even faster. Sometimes, Y/N wonders if Bucky does actually know the effect he has on people, how he makes them all swoon and go weak with just a smile. If he does know, Y/N thinks he relishes in it.

“Hey. What have we got?”

“This is Mike. He’s a 23-year-old male who had a fall at work, and is now complaining of pain in his left side.” As Bucky explains the man’s condition, Y/N’s mind goes back to her feelings for him. She’d love to tell him the truth about how she feels more than anything, but the only time they see each other is when they’re with a patient, which doesn’t exactly lend itself to a lot of conversations, let alone heart to heart talks about your feelings. And her time spent with Bucky is always quick before he has to go be a hero again. She can’t just dump all her feelings for him when he’s about to leave. “Can I leave him in your very capable hands, Y/N?” Bucky asks, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Of course.” As Bucky departs, Y/N watches him go, registering a strange twinge in her heart. One she normally feels whenever Bucky is around. God, this man is definitely going to break her heart one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A few weeks later,

“Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? Your ankle looks really bad.”

“I’m fine.” Y/N lies. “I’m a doctor, remember?” A doctor with a very twisted ankle that hurts to even move. Groaning, Y/N leans back, trying to avoid hurting herself even more. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. It was a celebration of finally finishing four night shifts in a row and having some time off to recharge. But, after one drink too many and a pair of heels that are just too high to walk in comfortably, here she is. Sitting on the side of the road with a throbbing ankle and her pride and happiness shattered.

“Y/N, I really think we should call you an ambulance. You need to be checked out.”

“I’m a doctor, I can do it. I’m okay.” Y/N snaps. Gritting her teeth, she tries to push herself up, but cannot get to her feet without yelling out in pain.

“Absolutely not. You need to go to the hospital, and none of us are sober enough to drive you.” One of her friends replies, taking out her phone and calling for help, ignoring Y/N’s complaints. As she sits back down, trying to manoeuvre her ankle into a more comfortable position, Y/N knows her friends are right. She needs help, which she isn’t able to provide for herself. Maybe for once, after all her time spent taking care of others… it’s her turn to be taken care of. Soon enough, albeit longer than Y/N likes, an ambulance pulls up.

“Thank god.” She murmurs. However, when the paramedic steps out, illuminated by the streetlight, Y/N immediately regrets her words. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky Barnes is standing right in front of her.

“Hey everyone, where’s the- Y/N?!” he gasps. She can’t fully explain the emotion on his face as he looks at her. In fact, it looks like a mix of emotions: surprise, concern and pity all rolled into one. Heat rises through Y/N’s body, settling on her cheeks. Bucky is the last person she wants to see her like this, sitting in the middle of the street on a Saturday night, in pain and crying, no doubt with her makeup smeared everywhere. At that moment, all she wants is for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Bucky kneels beside her, his face mere inches from her. “Not going to lie, you’re not who I expected to see tonight. But it’s a welcome surprise.” He smiles, and Y/N registers a familiar fluttering sensation in her stomach. “So, how are you feeling? Your friend said you broke your ankle, but what’s your personal diagnosis, doc?” He chuckles, and Y/N’s blush deepens. Bucky’s never called her doc before… and she’s just realised that she loves it.

“I think it’s just a sprain. Nothing worth worrying about.” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head.

“Well, you say that… but I still wanna check you over in the ambulance.” Y/N suppresses a groan. Of course he does. God, why does he have to be so thorough?! Why can’t, just this once, he- “Besides, if I missed something, I’d never forgive myself, especially if something terrible happened to you.” He admits, his words suddenly leaving her speechless and her heart racing. “Can’t have the best doctor in the area out of action, now can we?”

“Okay, now I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Nope. It’s true.” Bucky shrugs, and Y/N gasps.

“I-I-thank you.” She stammers out a reply, still in shock. She’s not used to this, to seeing Bucky outside of her job, and especially not as a patient. Or to be complimented so much by him. And what a way to start. But at least she’s finally going to know what being cared for by Bucky Barnes feels like.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks, gently helping her up. When she yelps in pain after putting pressure on her injured foot, Bucky whispers: “It’s alright. Just lean on me, okay? Your carriage awaits.” He chuckles. Despite how weird this situation is, it feels nice to be so close to Bucky, and to be cracking jokes with him like they’re actually friends, and not just coworkers. Y/N just wishes it could be like this all the time. Aside from the twisted ankle, of course.

Slowly, Bucky leads her inside the ambulance, and onto the bed inside. Y/N watches him as he grabs all the equipment he needs. Her brain feels like it’s going a million miles a minute as Bucky’s words replay in her mind. “I’d never forgive myself.” Does he care about her? Is there a chance he feels the same way about her?

But then, her mind brings her crashing back down to reality. Of course he cares about her. It’s his fucking job. And right now, she’s just like any other patient. One that’s hopelessly in love with her paramedic and wants him to feel even a smidge of the love she feels for him. Although maybe, just this once, she can pretend that it’s just for her. Slowly, Y/N’s eyes wander lower. God, how does his ass look so good in that uniform?

“I bet this is a unique experience for you, huh? Being the one getting diagnosed?” Bucky laughs, turning back to her. “Especially by me.” Y/N nods, hoping and praying to whatever higher power there is that Bucky didn’t catch her staring, and especially not at his ass. “I just need to check your vitals.” Bucky explains, holding up a stethoscope. Y/N gulps. Bucky’s going to be closer to her than he ever has before, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Gently, Bucky lifts up her shirt, pressing the stethoscope to her skin. Despite the sensation of the cool metal against her skin, Y/N has never felt so warm in all her life.

“Your heart rate seems to be elevated.” He muses. “Take a deep breath for me.” As she does, Bucky tuts. “Your breathing is a little shallow, and you seem stressed. Although, I guess that’s normal after something like this.” Oh, if only he knew the true reason. As Bucky checks her blood pressure, his face is mere millimetres from hers. So close Y/N can see the grey hairs within his beard, feel his breath against her skin and even smell its minty freshness. And it’s sending her heart into a spiral. If only she could actually work up the guts to tell him the truth about how she feels. “So, do you mind me asking what happened?” Bucky asks as he checks her ankle, gently pressing against the tender skin. Each time he touches it, it sends shockwaves throughout her entire body.

“Well, let’s just say alcohol and high heels really aren’t the best combination. God, I knew it was a bad idea to wear those shoes. Especially when I’m so clumsy.”

“It’s alright. You’re not the first patient I’ve seen who needs a bit more practice with heels, and you definitely won’t be the last.” He reassures her, his words making her smile. A genuine smile, her first since she hurt her ankle. “If I’m hurting you, just say okay?” Actually, it doesn’t hurt. Or at least, not as much as she expected it to. Of course, part of it could be down to the shock, but she knows a larger part of it is because of how much care and tenderness Bucky is treating her with. She looks up, catching his eyes. Would telling him the truth be so bad after all? “I think you’re right. It’s starting to bruise, and it looks like a sprain. But I still want to take you to hospital to get you checked out and get an X-Ray, just in case.”

“Let me guess, the one I work in? God, my coworkers will never let me live it down.” Y/N groans as Bucky injects her with some pain meds.

“If anyone gives you trouble, just tell me, alright? I’ve got your back.” He winks, and Y/N’s stomach flutters again.

“My hero.” she giggles, and Bucky even bows for her. But Bucky is a hero, one who saves people day in and day out. Hopefully, he knows just how loved and appreciated he is. Of course, as a doctor, Y/N knows people would say the same about her too. Yet, she knows she doesn’t hold a candle to just how kind and caring Bucky is.

Throughout the ride to the hospital, Y/N begins to get sleepier as the meds begin to work. “Thanks Bucky. You know, I should get you a drink after this.” She mumbles, not expecting him to hear her. But when Bucky laughs and says,

“Okay, sure. I’d love that.” her blood chills. When she said before that she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole when Bucky first saw her in pain, she was wrong. This is when she wants the ground to swallow her whole. After that, she sits in silence for the rest of the ride, all the way til Bucky wheels her into the hospital. “Well, this is the end of the line.” He sighs, his tone causing Y/N to raise a brow. Maybe it’s just the drugs talking, but she swears Bucky is sad to see her go. “Now, promise me you’ll take care of yourself, alright? I don’t wanna see you here again anytime soon. At least… not on this side of things. We have to get you back here as soon as possible.”

“Thanks Bucky.” She smiles. “It’s just part of the job, right?” She chuckles. Yet, Bucky shakes his head.

“Not always. Sometimes it’s because you care about the person too.” But before Y/N can say anything, he’s gone, off to save the world again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I still cannot believe you got treated and brought in by the hot paramedic.” Y/N’s coworker gasps as she bandages her foot. “What did he say? What did you say?!”

“Nothing.” Y/N sighs. “I was in shock for most of it. Both literally and figuratively.”

“Well, at least you got to hang out with him outside work… sort of.” And now, she’s off work for a bit until her ankle heals, meaning she won’t see Bucky for a while. Just her fucking luck. But then, a knock sounds at the door, and her supervisor pops his head inside.

“This arrived for you, Y/N.” He says, passing over an envelope. Inside is a get well soon card. She knows who sent it to her before she even opens it.

“To Y/N. My favourite doctor. Or should I say my favourite patient? Don’t tell the others I said that. Honestly, though, I hope your ankle feels better soon. If you are serious about that drink, give me a call. Although maybe don’t bring your heels this time.” Bucky’s number is written underneath. Y/N stares at the letter, still unsure that it’s real. Maybe it’s even a hallucination caused by the meds. But, it’s still there. It’s still real.

And that means Bucky wants to see her. Immediately, her heart pounds, and her stomach flutters all over again.

“Oh, my god.” Her coworker gasps, peering over her shoulder to read the card. “Are you gonna call him?”

“Yeah…” Y/N smiles. “Yeah, I think I will.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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