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sohotthateveryonedied · 3 years

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Dad...I’m Bilingual

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.”

Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?”

“Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age.

When he wakes up, the first thing that Dick’s sluggish mind can latch onto is how tingly his tongue feels. His taste buds buzz like someone poured a can of Pepsi into his mouth while he was sleeping, bubbles tickling the path down. Or maybe pop rocks. Or tiny little bumblebees, their legs scritching and scratching the surface they tread. The tingling spreads outward, Dick notices as he careens toward the wakeful part of wakefulness. Mouth to neck to torso to fingers to the cement block that he is pretty sure used to be his right leg. Soda and pop rocks and bees, the whole way. A quiet, questioning groan slips through Dick’s heavy lips. He cracks his eyes open and squints, blinking against the unforgiving brightness of the room he’s in. “Mm. Bruce?” A nearby chair squeaks. “Dick? Are you awake?” Bruce’s voice is uncomfortably close, booming in the short space between them. Dick grimaces. “C’n you...back up? Your breath smells like meatloaf.” He opens his eyes fully and is greeted by Bruce’s lined face, bags sagging under his eyes. They’re in a hospital room, white walls and white sheets.

Bruce’s meatloaf breath huffs once in amusement, then retreats. “I’ll take that to mean you’re back up, then.” In his lap is a magazine laid open to a page that’s all squiggles and bumbled lines. It matches the rest of the room. Dick’s head swims.

The numbness has receded mostly now that Dick is back online, but his stubborn cement leg takes longer to reboot. “Feels like I died. Then came back to life. Then died again.” His mind churns slush and soup. “You did just get out of surgery,” Bruce tells him. “Leslie said you’ll be woozy for a few hours.” Dick frowns. “I can’t feel my leg.” He has to parse his words carefully, his mouth working slowly like his muscles have melted into molasses. “I should hope not. You just had your knee put back together.” That part sounds...somewhat familiar? Dick has mismatched memories of surfing a stop sign across Clayface’s back, then sirens so loud and so close they split his head in half. He remembers Leslie yelling into one ear while the other listened to Bruce and Steph arguing about a video she uploaded to the Batman Incorporated Twitter account. That was completely irresponsible, Bruce said, out of his Batman suit and in one of the backup outfits he has stored in Leslie’s office for nights like that one. You’re lucky he only broke his knee. That stunt earned the Bat brand fifty Twitter followers, Steph snarked back. I need a goddamn vacation, Leslie said. “Tim left to crash a jet ski in the harbor,” Bruce continues, though Dick doesn’t remember asking, “so your alibi is taken care of. Jason and Cass went to track down the pudding cart, and Alfred took Damian home to sleep.” The half-drawn curtains make it hard to decide if that’s a sunrise or a sunset he’s seeing. Either way, it speaks to long hours of sitting and waiting and hoping. “I think…” Dick licks his dry lips. “I think they cut my leg off?” It feels like it. Did Leslie take his leg away as punishment for being dumb? Is the hospital hiding it from him? Bruce snorts. “Then what is that?” He gestures to Dick’s leg, the entire thing encased in weighty layers of gauze and plaster. “An imposter,” Dick says. Duh. “They gave me fake metal parts like Vic.” Dick slumps against the pitifully flat pillow behind his head. “My brain feels fuzzy. Did they take stuff out of my head?” That would explain the foggy memories and the way all of his words swim away from him like he’s been plunged underwater. Underwater hospital. Now there’s an idea. “You’re on painkillers,” Bruce says plainly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his magazine. “Heavy ones, it looks like.” Dick can’t remember if painkillers are supposed to feel like bumblebees buzzing around inside his thoughts. Maybe they’re made of honey. “Y’know, last time I woke up all confused in a hospital room, a bullet stole secrets from my head.” Bruce looks pained. “I assure you that all of your secrets are intact this time around.” Dick hums. “You should...take the painkillers out.” “Why is that?” “‘Cause I don’t wanna spill stuff.” Bruce frowns. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Dick wonders if he spoke in Portuguese by mistake. Bruce places his magazine on the plastic chair beside him. “Well, I can’t take out the IV because you’ll be in pain, but I promise you that the room is safe. Tim checked for bugs.” Why a bug would be in the human hospital, Dick doesn’t know. He shakes his head. The front pieces of his hair fall into his eyes, but his arms are too tired to fix it. “That doesn’t work, ‘cause then...then you’ll know. And that’s bad.” “This isn’t about your secret identity, is it?” Another head shake. “I might acci-mentally tell you ‘bout how I spilled tapioca on the Batmobile’s seats.” Bruce’s eyes widen. “That was you?” “Yeah, but don’t tell Bruce, ‘kay? You gotta promise.” Bruce rubs his temples like he’s sleepy. “I spent ten minutes yelling at Jason for that. I made him clean the seats.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an asshole.” Dick huffs, blowing at his pesky bangs until Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes them back for him. “Thank you.” “I appreciate you telling me about the tapioca. We’ll talk more about that when you’re sober.” Dick makes a face. “The whole point’s that I can’t tell you about the tapioca. It’s a secret. I’ve got too many of those—a whole big fuckin’ army of secrets. And it’s too many. No fun when you can’t share ‘em.” “What about Nightwing?” Bruce asks. “‘S different. You already know that one. I can share it.” “But you can’t share the other ones,” Bruce finishes. Dick snaps his fingers. “Zactly.” Bruce studies Dick—his bundled-up leg and the clear bag hanging on the hook beside his bed, pumping drugs into his bloodstream. “I should let you rest.” He starts to get up, the action somehow guilty despite there being no inherent guilt in vacating a chair. Bruce can pour guilt into anything if he tries hard enough. “You wanna know the worst part?” Dick continues on like Bruce hadn’t spoken, words spilling freely over compromised lips. “I could tell you. I could. But I’m a scaredy cat, so I can’t.” Reluctantly, Bruce sits back down. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re very brave.” “I’m not. If I was, I’d be able to tell you, because I know you’ll still love me no matter what I am, and I’m still scared. And that’s what scaredy cats do. They run away.” When Bruce’s face wears that expression, that gentle turn of his mouth and that pang in his eyes, Dick is stricken by memories of being nine years old. He’d go out every night in the Robin suit, wearing it like a suit of armor and trusting that nothing could hurt him. Bruce would be there by his side, protecting his Robin from harm at all costs. His soul wrapped around Dick’s like a second layer of armor, and it was then that Dick started to wonder if it was possible to have two fathers. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes,” Bruce tells him now. “There is if you’re a superhero.” “Even then. Sharing a secret can be a scary thing, even when you know it’s safe. That’s why they stay secret for so long.” If Dick didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce already knew what Dick desperately wanted and didn’t want to say. But not even Batman can read minds. Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.” Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?” “Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age. Bruce leans back in his chair with an odd, bemused expression. It’s not an angry one—more like when he’s cracked a case and lets the truth soak in. What case he’s cracked, Dick doesn’t know. Puzzlement morphs into something soft. “Okay. You’re bisexual. That’s not so bad.” “Yeah. But it would change stuff if you knew.” “Not exactly,” Bruce says. “You’re still you, Dick. Nothing’s changed—not really.” “Mm.” Dick’s chest warms. That must be a delayed effect of the painkillers, surely. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, then. Later,” he amends. “When my head’s not full of mothballs.” “Sure, son.” Bruce reaches out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

#HELLO FOLKS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY #i didn't even tend to post this on father's day but y'know what it makes sense #there's never enough good dad bruce content out there #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #batfam #bisexual dick grayson #bi dick grayson #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #pride month #lgbtq #bisexual

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dimitrescus-bitch · 3 years

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Catch a Break (Meredith Grey x Reader)

Every year of interns had its duds and it appeared that you were the dud of your year. It was like you couldn’t get anything right. You’d pissed off somebody because for your first few months, all you had gotten assigned was scut. Once you’d finally gotten to work under someone, you got Mark Sloan, who just loved to torture his interns. After begging the chief resident to reassign you, you were put on Arizona Robbins’ rotation.

She’s been great, you loved working in pediatrics. However, it seemed that she’d been a bit too fond of you because when you went to work under Dr. Torres, the woman made you miss the way Sloan had treated you. You kept getting bounced around and on what was supposed to be a simple surgery, your patient had died. Despite the fact that you weren’t the first to lose a patient, they’d dubbed you 007 anyways. Once that had started to die down a bit, a new pile of shit was thrown your way.

“For someone banging Ellis Grey’s daughter, you’re really getting shit surgeries,” one of your fellow interns commented as they looked at the schedule. That had done it for you. Finally, you snapped and without a word, decked your fellow intern in the face. Chief Hunt came rushing over towards you to pull you away before it escalated too badly.

“My office, now!” Hunt yelled at you. You sulked a bit as you walked into his office. “What the hell was that about?”

“Everything I guess,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Surely you’ve heard how my first year is going.”

“It can be rough and you definitely haven’t had it easy. That doesn’t give you an excuse to go around punching your peers,” Hunt told you. You nodded and he sat down on the edge of his desk.

“I’m sorry sir,” you apologized.

“I think that maybe you need to go somewhere to relax. Dr. Grey doesn’t have any surgeries scheduled for this morning. I’m sure she’s a good listener,” Hunt advised you. You left his office and walked around until you had found Meredith.

“Hey, um, did you hit someone?” Meredith asked you as you approached her. “It’s okay if you did, I just want to know why.”

“Because I didn’t get a chance to even observe a surgery until my second month here. Then, I was put through Mark Sloan’s bullshit intern hazing. I was finally happy working with Dr. Robbins, but that put me directly in Callie Torres’ warpath of jealousy. Oh, can’t forget about the fact that I finally get a chance to try some surgery and become the 007. People start to forget about that, but only because apparently I’m not fucking you well enough to get in on a good surgery. I can’t catch a break,” you ranted. Meredith pulled you down to sit next to her and squeezed your hand tightly. “I’m like the super dud of my group.”

“You aren’t a dud. Out of all the interns, you’re the most determined. You stayed on Sloan’s rotation for 2 months. We both know that you don’t care that much about plastics. Seattle Grace has thrown its worst your way and you’re still here. Yeah, you punched someone and that’s not really okay, but you’ve made much better choices than I have,” Meredith assured you. “So, relax and sit with me for awhile. It’s not much, but it’s a little bit of a break.”

#Meredith Grey #meredith grey imagine #meredith grey imagines #meredith grey x reader #Grey's Anatomy #grey's anatomy imagine #grey's anatomy imagines #grey's anatomy x reader

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taetaespeaches · 4 years

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“Don’t you dare.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.6K

a/n: Eeeek I’m so excited to finally be posting Min/Kid again!!!! A lot has happened since I last wrote for these two. You know, a shoulder surgery, release of BE, and a Grammy nomination just to list a few. Soooo all three of those are included in this. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading! :))

CHOPPING the celery, you hummed along with the acoustic melody resonating in the kitchen, the voices of your boyfriend and his members filling the space. The slow, sad tune was one of your favorites on the new album, but then again, you favored them all.

Looking down at your feet, you spotted the small fluffy dog staring up at you cutely. “I just wanna be happier,” you sang at the dog, “How about you, Holly?”

At hearing his name, he cocked his head at you, you smiling fondly. “Are you happy?” You continued your conversation with the pup in a tone that was higher pitched than your normal speaking voice. “What’s up? Do you want some celery?” You asked. “I don’t think you’ll like it much, bubs.”

You watched the dog for a moment longer before he got too excited, jumping up your leg causing you to giggle and relent. “Ok, ok,” you grinned, taking a small piece of the vegetable between your fingertips. Crouching down, you held it out for Holly to take, the dog carefully sniffing it. “I’m telling you, dude, you’re not gonna like it,” you told him just as he slowly grabbed the morsel from your fingers and dropped it to the floor. “Are you gonna eat it?” You questioned in surprise, both you and the dog too intrigued by the celery to notice the new kitchen visitor standing behind you.

“Is he eating celery?” Your boyfriend’s groggy voice suddenly sounded, you turning around in surprise and slight startlement.

“Shit, hi,” you greeted him, clutching your chest in fright, taking in his disheveled appearance as he had just woken up from a nap. “He’s considering,” you smiled before turning back to the dog. “I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“Holly, you’re not starving, buddy,” he told the little pup, a slight chuckle lacing the words. You listened as Yoongi’s feet shuffled closer to you, his hand suddenly finding its way to the back of your head, his fingers instantly slipping into your strands, lightly massaging your roots.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your lips as you stood, leaving a light kiss to the back of it before trailing them down the bottom of his thumb and to his wrist. “How are you feeling, baby?” You asked him, the man giving you a soft close-mouthed grin that made his fluffy cheeks look even fuller.

“I feel fine,” he assured you, moving his hand in your grip to intertwine his fingers with your own as he leaned toward you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You should have woken me up, Kid,” he whispered against your lips.

Your mouth curved upward as you shook your head, kissing him once more before stepping back from him and reluctantly separating your hand from his. “Absolutely not,” you said simply, Yoongi scoffing as he pulled his gaze from you to the dog, you following his eyes to see Holly propped up on your boyfriend’s legs. Cast to the side was the piece of celery, you giggling as Yoongi smiled in amusement.

“Do you want a real treat?” He asked the dog, you looking fondly at your boyfriend’s wide-eyed gaze as he addressed Holly in a cutesy voice. “I’ll give you a real one, none of this celery stuff,” he playfully teased you, shooting you a gummy grin.

“Hey, he asked for it,” you defended, crossing your arms over your ribcage as Yoongi made his way across the kitchen to the treat cupboard.

You observed him as he reached for a plastic container with a twist lid, however stalling when he realized it would be quite difficult to take off with one arm. Instead he reached for the bag of treats next to it, using his teeth to hold one end of the zip lock as he pulled it open.

“Here you go, Holly,” he handed the pup the treat, the dog wiggling excitedly before running off to munch in peace. “That’s why I’m his favorite,” he told you with a smug smile, your mouth opening in feigned surprise.

“You think you’re Holly’s favorite?” You asked him, the man giving you a weak shrug, given one of his shoulders was out of commission. “Aw, Min,” you cooed. “When did you get so delusional, old man?”

Yoongi chuckled at you as he turned back to the bag of treats, a focus overtaking his face as he struggled to reseal it with one hand. Of course you felt for the man, having undergone a shoulder surgery in the recent weeks, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing to watch him pout in frustration at a bag of dog treats. And you only became fonder when he finally sealed it, a quiet hum of satisfaction leaving his lips before turning to catch your gaze, you holding back a grin as his cheeks tinted pink.

“Everything is so much more difficult,” he whined in embarrassment, you allowing yourself to lightly laugh at his expense.

“You’re so cute though,” you complimented, the man grunting at the comment as he looked to the cutting board.

“What can I help with?” He asked you, you shooting him a glare.

“You can help by keeping me company,” you told him sternly. “Sit here and chat with me, I missed you today.”

Opening his mouth to contend your command, you held up your hand to him. “Don’t argue with me, I’ll stop helping you put your pants on,” you teased him, Yoongi letting out a silent laugh paired with his adorable gummy grin.

“That’s just cruel,” he joked back just before taking a seat across from you at the kitchen island. “Maybe I’ll just stop wearing pants then,” he suggested.

“Now who’s being cruel?” You questioned with a smirk, enjoying the amusement displayed on your boyfriend’s features. Picking the knife up, you continued chopping up vegetables as Yoongi watched you carefully. “How was therapy this morning?”

“I’m so tired,” he chuckled at himself as you pouted and cooed. “It was fine though,” he nodded.

“Good,” you grinned. “You better not be pushing yourself too hard,” you warned, Yoongi letting out a light laugh.

“I want to get back out there,” he noted, a small knowing smile forming on your lips. “I want to be ready to perform this album when we’re able,” he added, nodding to your phone as ‘Telepathy’ sounded through the speaker.

“And you will be ready,” you assured him, “as long as you pace yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teased, you trying to hold back your smile but failing. “Have you picked a favorite yet?” He asked, referring to your favorite track on his group’s new album.

“I’ve always had a favorite,” you told him as you started lightly grooving to the upbeat track.

“This one?” He asked in surprise, making you roll our eyes as you started dancing more and singing along. “Wow,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you just saying this to make me feel good since I’m all laid up?” He asked, you giggling at the question.

“You’re so annoying,” you told him through your chuckle, reaching for a piece of celery and lightly tossing it at him. The piece of vegetable made contact with his cheek and he pulled a dramatic expression of shock, his mouth open as he playfully gasped. “Of course I’m just saying that to make you feel good,” you teased, Yoongi laughing breathily as he popped the piece of celery into his mouth.

“Thank you anyway,” he smiled softly as you let out a breathy laugh. You both watched each other for a moment, your eyes traveling each other’s faces before your gazes connected, Yoongi only holding contact for a second until quickly averting his orbs to the countertop.

Smiling to yourself, you placed the knife to the stone, the sound of metal clinking against the hard surface piquing Yoongi’s interest enough for him to look at the blade. As you began walking around the counter toward your boyfriend, his eyes found your hips, dragging up your frame, landing on your grin.

“The song is amazing,” you assured him seriously. “And I think this might be my favorite of your guys’ albums.”

“Really?” He asked curiously, his eyes widened as he studied your expression, replaying the words in his head to scrutinize your tone. You simply nodded as you slotted yourself between his legs, your hand meeting the back of his neck as you lightly played with the ends of his dark brown hair.

“And speaking as a fan,” you told him, dipping your head to catch his eyes. “I know all the other fans loving it as well.”

Flashing you a honey boy smile as his cheeks tinted pink, you leaned down to press a sweet kiss to their plushness. “You did good, Honey Boy,” you complimented, a breathy chuckle sounding from the man as he relaxed in your touch, dropping his forehead to your sternum, leaving a light kiss to your chest through your shirt.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly. He sometimes had a hard time vocalizing it, but your opinion meant everything to him.

Running your hands through the back of his hair, you shook your head. “Thank you,” you countered.

“For what?” He asked wrapping an arm around your waist, allowing his fingers to lightly trace indistinct patterns against your side.

“For inspiring me daily,” you told him, the man looking up at you with an expression of adorable surprise, making you smile and lean down to kiss his soft lips fondly. “With your talent and hard work and openness to express your vulnerabilities. I know there’s a lot of people out there who appreciate it, but don’t forget that I’m one of them,” you informed him, the man taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Leaving a kiss to the tip of his nose, you trailed them up the bridge until your lips met his forehead, leaving a series of pecks against his warm skin. “What’s on your mind, Min?” You whispered before placing another kiss to his hair. Probably a lot. A major shoulder surgery, a new album, Grammy nominations coming, you were sure it was busy inside his head.

“How lucky I am to have you,” he revealed shyly but boldly, you nearly cooing instantly. “And how much I hate this fucking shoulder right now because I can’t just grab you and take you right here like I want to,” he partially joked. Oh jesus christ.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, lightly slapping his uninjured arm. “You know what? I’ve settled on what your three best skills are.”

“What are they?” He asked, pulling you the slightest bit closer as he smirked at you.

“Rapping, producing, and ruining cute moments,” you told him, the man immediately laughing as he pulled a feigned thinking face.

“Kind of thought rocking your world was gonna be one but I’ll take it,” he replied, you groaning as you pulled out of his grasp.

“Have I told you you’re annoying?” You teased, leaning toward him to steal a quick kiss before stepping away from him, the man slowly chasing after your lips as you backed away, reaching for you with his functional arm only to shoot you a pout when you returned to the other side of the island.

“Of course you have,” he smiled.

“Good,” you said simply, wearing a fond grin as you returned to cooking.

“You’re so cute in your pj’s,” you cooed as you helped button his top, preparing to get into bed. You had finished eating dinner earlier in the night and Yoongi had helped you with dishes by rinsing them with his one functional arm. “I should get a matching pair, how adorable would that be?” You teased, Yoongi shooting you a look of disgust. “What is that face? It would be cute,” you defended playfully, only for your boyfriend to hold the expression as if you committed an atrocity. “Stop it, don’t pretend like you hate the idea.”

“I do hate the idea,” he defended weakly, hiding a smile.

“Oh whatever, I know you, Min,” you reminded him with a glare, the man huffing as you giggled, securing the last button on his pajama top. “Ok,” you lightly patted the right side of his chest after securing the final button. “All done.”

“Thanks,” he breathed out, watching as you reached for his shoulder brace. “I can put it on, Kid,” he told you, causing you to pause and stare at him. The two of you had been playfully fighting for weeks over taking care of him. The thing was, you both enjoyed you doting on the man a bit.

“I want to,” you pouted, Yoongi giving you a soft smile. Smirking in victory, you wiggled your hips happily just before you began placing his arm in the sling, Yoongi scoffing as he smiled.

As you adjusted the straps, ensuring his shoulder would be as comfortable and secure as possible, Yoongi watched you carefully. Fondly. When your eyes found his, catching him staring, he cleared his throat to play if off with an act of nonchalance.

“You know,” he started, determined to set your mind on something other than the fact that he had been staring at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I’m beginning to get used to you waiting on me all the time,” he joked, you biting back a smile as you shook your head.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, pulling up on the velcro to resituate the strap.

“What?” He feigned innocence, his eyes widened with his lips secured in a small pout. You allowed yourself to smile as you let out a forced scoff to cover your amusement.

“Don’t you dare get used to it,” you told him sternly as he laughed silently, thoroughly amused and smitten. “You know what, just for that you can tuck yourself into bed,” you teased, walking away from him, Yoongi looking at you in pretend shock.

“Kid,” he whined with a smile as he watched you crawl under the covers, leaving the grown man to fend for himself.

Opening your laptop, you kept your eyes in a glare as Yoongi shuffled to the bed, staring at you with a pout as you resisted the urge to smile. “Stop looking at me, Min,” you told him, your straight face breaking as he chuckled, you giggling as you pulled up the Grammys website.

Carefully but lacking grace, Yoongi crawled into bed next to you and looked over your shoulder at the screen. “What time are they announcing nominations?”

“Um,” you looked at the time, doing the math in your head. “Should be around 2 or 3 am, so a couple hours. Do you want to get some sleep and set an alarm? Or do you want to wait up?” You asked, looking at him, reading the nervousness in his features instantly.

A soft smile overtook your face as he breathed out slowly. “Uh, I think wait up,” he nodded to himself. “Yeah, wait up.”

“Ok, baby,” you nodded back. His eyes were glued to the screen, and more specifically the gramophone displayed in the top left corner. You knew he wanted this. It was the highest honor a musician could receive for their work, so of course the boys wanted that. And you couldn’t think of anyone more deserving. Even when you stripped back all of the hard work and hardships, the years of struggles for credibility and spotlight under a new company with no money, defying the odds and breaking through as a worldwide act, the music was still amazing. The music is what gave you the intuitive confidence to assure your boyfriend that he had nothing to worry about. “You’re going to get nominated,” you assured him sincerly. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes slowly leaving the screen to meet your face, his cheeks looking plush and kissable in the glow of the computer monitor.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching for his face, gently placing your palm to his cheek, simply because you just had to feel their fluffiness on your fingertips. “And if you don’t, I’ll start drafting a letter to the recording academy immediately to scold them for committing the biggest snub in Grammys history,” you joked. Your lame humor was met with a highly amused gummy grin and an adorable shy giggle as he turned his face into your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Between me and Army, just imagine all the scathing articles the recording academy will be met with,” you added, Yoongi chuckling further, the sound of his laughter making your belly feel warm and content.

“Well hopefully we’re nominated,” he said through his light laughter. “For two reasons,” he clarified, you raising your eyebrows curiously. “You’re scary when mad and also that would be very embarrassing to have my girlfriend send a letter to the recording academy on my group’s behalf,” he laughed more, you joining him as your hand slid to the side of his neck.

“Well then, they better nominate you,” you agreed just as Holly jumped onto the bed, nuzzling next to yours and Yoongi’s legs, both of you shooting fond grins at the little pup.

You weren’t sure what time it was but the grogginess in your mind told you it was much too early to be awake yet. So why were you?

“Kid,” a hushed whisper sounded next to you, you groaning in response. “Kid, wake up, baby,” the voice sounded again.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still too tired to peel your eyes open.

“We fell asleep,” Yoongi told you, you humming again. “Kid, the nominations have been announced.”

At that statement, your eyes popped open, your hazy gaze searching for Yoongi. Blinking the sleep away, you squinted at your boyfriend as your eyes adjusted to being open. His face coming into clarity in the early morning hours, you studied his features, preparing to either celebrate or console. With a racing heart, you watched as his lips curved into a massive gummy smile, and tears pricked your eyes instantly.

“Oh my god,” you whispered huskily.

“We’re nominated for a Grammy,” he told you, the words hitting you with the force of reality causing you to shoot up from the covers startling Holly as you did so, the dog looking at you in confusion.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you squealed, standing on your knees as you lightly bounced, trying to be careful not to create too much motion that you would hurt his shoulder, pumping your arms in the air gleefully. Holly jumped up, hopping against you for a moment. “Oh my god,” you screamed excitedly, Yoongi laughing as he let out a happy excited yell of his own. Holly leaped onto Yoongi’s lap, barking at the commotion, unaware that he was partaking in a celebration. “Yoongi, oh my fucking god,” you yelled once more through Yoongi’s own excited squealing as he pet the dogs face giddily.

Showing you his phone, you skimmed through his group chat with the boys, the photo of the nomination taking center stage, the texts full of yells of excitement making you smile widely. Another squeal left you as you dropped the phone and placed your hands to the sides of Yoongi’s face, Holly deciding to settle on your empty side of the bed next to you and Yoongi. “Baby, you’re nominated for a Grammy,” you told him, the words fully hitting Yoongi as it sunk in for the first time. You watched as his eyes became glassy, emotion overwhelming the man.

Crawling closer to your boyfriend, you placed yourself on his lap and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, careful not to make contact with his recovering shoulder. Yoongi instantly rested his head against your shoulder and it didn’t take long to hear sniffles as he body shook, the man crying into the fabric of your pajama top.

“Oh, you did it, Min,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head a few times quickly as your fingers comfortingly toyed with his strands at the nape of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you spoke into his hair, the man’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you firmly against his side as he continued to cry.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, the only sounds coming from you both being his silent sobs and your occasional kisses to his head and the whispered compliment on how deserving he was. There’s a special kind of happiness you feel when the people you love achieve a certain level of happiness themselves. And well, Yoongi was really happy in that moment. And you loved him more than anyone.

Eventually, his tears slowed and he looked up to you, finding you smiling down at him with your own lash closed to the brink of overflowing emotion. “Not to brag but,” you stared playfully, “I did tell you that you’d be nominated,” you teased, Yoongi chuckling as he craned his neck uncomfortably to find your lips. Watching you be so happy and supportive of him, he couldn’t quite relay his gratitude for you through words. He needed to show you.

Happily, you kissed him back, the meeting full of passion and love. The kiss was an act of sharing and relaying pride and excitement and relief and thankfulness, and just all the intense emotions hitting you both in that moment. It was slow but meaningful, the kiss full of intent but frantic and messy. It was perfect.

When he pulled away just slightly, he took a shaky breath, letting out a single breathy laugh of disbelief. “The recording academy must have felt the energy of your threat,” he joked, you shaking your head with a fond smile.

“Nah uh,” you told him. “This was all you guys.” Yoongi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you wiped under his eyes gently, ridding him of his tears. “You deserve this, Yoongi,” you assured him.

“I love you,” he told you as a soft honey boy smile graced his face.

Leaning down once again, you kissed his lips softly. “I love you too,” you whispered against his mouth. “My Grammy nominated Honey Boy,” you smiled, Yoongi chuckling as he connected his lips to yours once again.

562 notes · View notes

itsamejin · 4 years

Text

it’s you || part 2 (finale) || taehyung angst/fluff || hanahaki au ||

Part 1

Summary: You’d rather live with thorns endlessly scratching the back of your throat than be devoid of the light that Taehyung brought into your life. Even if your love for him was slowly killing you, you didn’t mind as long as you could keep the warmth of his presence until the very end.

Warning: Mentions of throwing up and death

Genre: Fluff, Angst, hanahaki!au, college!au, fuckboy!tae

Pairing: Taehyung x female!reader

Premise: Hanahaki Disease comes in different forms in this universe. The disease would eventually disappear if your love wasn’t that strong to begin with, but if you truly, deeply love someone, your flowers will rip at your throat. Throwing up flowers wasn’t a rare occurrence and for most people it disappeared after a few days. If Hanahaki persists, surgery is recommended, but it would severely dull the positive emotions of the person under surgery. Due to this, some choose to die with their unrequited love.

Commission Request: @guksflavor

Word Count: 6,524 words

—

The sound of Taehyung’s body hitting the floor woke you up from unconsciousness. When your blurry eyes had started to focus and your ears were beginning to register the screaming, panic had hit you like a ton of bricks.

“You fucking heard me,” Jungkook’s voice resounded. “You gave her Hanahaki.”

Taehyung stood up, tears staining his cheeks, and sucked in deep breaths. His teeth were bleeding from the impact of Jungkook’s fist and his mind ached from his words. It just didn’t feel real to him. It didn’t feel like a possibility.

You sat up on the bed, horrified at what you were witnessing. Jungkook, who had sworn to you that he wouldn’t tell a soul, betrayed you in your presence. Nothing hurt more, though, than the pained expression Taehyung carried, like the idea of being loved by you physically hurt him.

“You had no right,” you whimper quietly, enough for your two wounded best friends to turn their heads toward your brooding figure. “You had no fucking right Jungkook.”

“[Y/N], I-” Jungkook started, but couldn't do anything else as you screamed for him to not take another step forward.

“Get out,” you spew as small sobs escape your lips, “both of you.”

Jungkook pleaded with his eyes as if begging for forgiveness, but you refused to look up at him. Taehyung, on the other hand, grabbed his coat and rushed to leave. His mind was cloudy and he needed time to think, the hospital air suffocating him. Jungkook grabbed his wrist.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks through gritted teeth, gripping him strongly.

Taehyung pulled his hand away roughly, giving him a death glare. He wasn’t in the mood for any more confrontations and he couldn’t bear to see your crying face any longer. Before he stepped out, Taehyung took one last look at you.

“I’m so sorry, [Y/N],” he says before exiting. Jungkook glares at his leaving figure with disappointment etched all over his face. Just because you asked him to leave doesn’t mean that he actually should.

“Do you see what I fucking mean, [Y/N]?” Jungkook rants, striding to your bedside. “Why am I the one here and not him? He doesn’t deserve you [Y/N]. The sooner you realize that the sooner you’ll get better.”

You shook your head quietly as you tried to steady your breathing. Jungkook patted you on the back as you continued to cry onto your blanketed lap.

“I told you to leave Jungkook,” you reply, attempting to steady your voice.

“And I told you to get that fucking surgery,” he says seriously, “but look where we are now.”

You cry harder as he comes closer to hug you. Although Jungkook might have ruined any chance of you having a beautiful last memory of Taehyung, it felt comforting to have someone assure you- to have a shoulder to lean on.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jungkook mutters into your hair.

“Yeah,” you choke out. “I still love him, though.”

You felt Jungkook shiver in your arms. You realized then that the man who usually stayed silent, the best friend who rarely showed affection, was crying.

“I don’t want you to die,” he cries into your shoulder. “Please, [Y/N]. Please get the surgery.”

You shake your head as you sob louder. Jungkook held onto you tightly as if you would disappear the moment he let you go. He doubts he’d talk to Taehyung again after that fight and if he loses you too... then he doesn’t quite know how he’d live with himself.

“I don’t want to die either Jungkook,” you muster out. “I don’t want to die.”

Your words were barely legible as you started to cough uncontrollably. Small petals started to escape your mouth and it made you cry harder at how horrible the timing was. Jungkook ran out of the room to call a nurse, concern dredging his already harrowed face.

“I don’t want to die,” you repeat as the lasting image of a nurse rushing towards you is consumed by darkness.

—

Taehyung ran to his apartment, locking the door behind him like he was in danger. He collapsed on the floor, his body pressed up against the door. It felt as if his mind was conceptualizing everything and nothing at the same time. He tried shaking his head to clear his thoughts, but it only made his headache worse.

He didn't even realize how badly he was shaking, how badly he felt his heart constrict in his chest. Why had you not told him? Why were you choosing to suffer all alone? And why wouldn’t you get that damn surgery?

Taehyung struggled to stand up, not even bothering to turn on any of the lights as he walked to his room. Before he could drop himself into bed, he caught sight of himself on the mirror that faced his bedroom door. Taehyung walked closer to it, seeing the reflection of his shadowed figure on it. He cringed at the small outlines of his face battered and bruised. It would be hard to show up to class the next morning with a black eye and dried blood on his lips. He looked closer, particularly into his own eyes and how they shined in the moonlight. They would usually crinkle in happiness, but now they looked nothing more than hollow.

Taehyung knew he shouldn’t have left- that he should’ve stayed to reassure you and that this changed nothing about your friendship. Yet everything was happening too quickly for him to register and he couldn’t lie and say that this didn’t make him view things differently.

Taehyung realized that you were dying because of him. You were dying over an idiot that can’t commit to relationships easily, a fool who thinks more about sex than love. He grimaced at his past habits, wondering how he could ever let it get this bad.

He doesn’t know when he could last hear your laugh or see your smile or hug your frame. Somehow the image of you lifeless on a hospital bed is what made the tears come down naturally.

—

As usual, Taehyung skipped class, but not for the usual excuse. He went to his favorite Thai restaurant, ordered some Tom Yam Kung and Mango Sticky Rice, and headed to the hospital. He was noticeably nervous, his palms sweating from the lack of preparation. Taehyung was planning on apologizing for last night’s events, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to practice any written speech. He figured he could wing it, that you’d be willing to forgive him for picking a fight with Jungkook, forcing information out of him, and ultimately fleeing when he got said information.

As he was met with the front door of your hospital room, he sucked in a deep breath. Taehyung knew this apology would most likely end with him in tears, but he needed to see you- no matter how hurt he’ll be in the end.

He knocks once and slides the door open without hesitation. You sat upon the bed, hollowly watching whatever news channel was on the hospital TV. Your expression darkened as you saw him approach you. It wasn’t like you were mad at him- more upset with Jungkook than anything- but you didn’t know if you could face him after your feelings were made known.

“Hi,” you croaked out, voice extremely damaged from the night before. You had passed out before you could spew out any more hydrangeas, but it still left scarring.

He approaches you, laying the Thai food on the desk that was attached to the hospital bed. He sat on the chair Jungkook had slept in the night before.

“How are you feeling?” he asks solemnly. “Your voice-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off. “It sounds bad, huh?”

You try to laugh, but it came out as small wheezes, only pushing him to be more concerned. Taehyung looks around the room so you wouldn’t feel as embarrassed. He wanted to distract himself from the sadness of it all.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

Your face softened at his name. When you had woken up, he was sleeping next to you on the chair with furrowed brows. You had sent him home, promising you’d still be alive after he takes a shower and attends his classes.

“He went to class,” you say. “Like some other people I know should be doing....”

Taehyung shook his head and stood up. He untied the knot to the plastic bag and took the food out. You couldn’t quite read his face, not really knowing what he was thinking.

“Tae you know I can’t eat-”

“I know. Who says these are for you?” he says seriously, but with a teasing glint in his eyes. A lighter approach would work much better. It would hurt less to talk about it too straightforwardly.

“Jerk,” you mutter, shaking your head in fake annoyance. “Go ahead and eat then asshole.”

“I will,” he sticks his tongue out. “Enjoy watching me.”

You muster out a chuckle before you start to cough again. You grab the open water bottle on the nightstand and gulp it down until it was almost finished. Taehyung watched with worried eyes as he broke his chopsticks in half. You set down the water, embarrassed that he had to witness you struggle so much from just a laugh.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N],” he whispers. “For everything.”

You purse your lips. An apology was the last thing you needed from him.

“I don’t regret falling in love with you, Tae,” you start. “I want you to know that.”

He bows his head and bites the inside of his cheek. No matter how cold you were towards him at times, you still cared for him so much. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve you.

“If I had known earlier-”

“Nothing would change,” you smile sadly, ruffling his hair to get him to look up at you. “Forcing yourself to like me shouldn’t be an option you think about, Tae.”

He raises his head and takes the hand that was on his head into his own.

“Is it okay if I hold your hand like this?” he asks, concerned you might have another flower fit. He had read somewhere that physical touch causes more pain to the Hanahaki patient.

You nod your head in response, lightly squeezing his hand with the very little power you had left in your body. His heart skipped a beat at how longingly you looked at him, an expression he hasn’t quite seen before.

“It’s fine. They put me on really strong suppressants last night. This should be okay.”

“Why do you need suppressants?”

You hesitate to answer, knowing he’d only be more concerned if you told him that you fainted. You could feel his panic in how sweaty his palms were already. He could already tell the gist of what happened by the look in your eyes and he condemned himself even more.

“Fuck [Y/N], I’m so sorry,” he closes his eyes to compose himself. “I shouldn't have been a coward and I should’ve been more considerate to your feelings when I always dragged you and Jungkook out to clubs and I should’ve stopped asking you to give me your friends’ numbers and-”

You shushed him, smiling at how he went off in a tangent. Even in sad moments like this, Taehyung was so undeniably cute.

“Tae, it’s fine,” you reassure. “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” he replies, “because I really hate myself right now.”

“Don’t,” you say, brushing his bangs out of his face. His face was still badly beaten up from the night before. “I just want good memories with you from now on.”

Taehyung smiles sadly at you. His heart clenched at your words and his lips quivered as if he was holding back a sob.

“I’ll try, [Y/N].”

He clutches your hand tighter as he sees you on the verge of tears. Taehyung doesn’t want to push you to get the surgery; he knows by now that you already made up your mind. There was nothing else he could do except watch as one of his best friends slowly fall out of his reach. He just knows that he’ll miss you. He knows he will.

—

A week passed and Jungkook and Taehyung still refused to talk to each other. They had miraculously coordinated their schedules so that it was impossible to run into each other while they visited you. The one time they had, you were forced to watch them try and avoid each other’s gazes as Jungkook made his way into the hospital room with a large teddy bear. Taehyung had whined to you about him the next day, saying that Jungkook was holding a grudge against him.

“He’s being a dick to me,” he starts, “more than usual.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t assumed the worst out of him then you wouldn’t have gotten knocked out,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just so you know, I threw the first punch,” he chides.

“Yeah and look who has the more busted face?” you chuckled.

The coughs worsened and sometimes the suppressants weren’t enough to fully push down the flowers, so you would throw up small petals during that small time frame when Taehyung left and Jungkook was yet to come. It felt like you had fooled Jungkook into thinking you had gotten better, but he would always scold you every time he came over and heard your worsening voice.

“You need to stop letting him see you,” he says roughly. “The doctors literally told you it would be more dangerous if he keeps hanging around you.”

“Jungkook, I want to see him,” you reply hoarsely. “I’m pretty sure it would hurt more if I wasn’t able to see him before I-”

He cuts you off before you can say it. Jungkook was always upset when you said the word die, as if not saying it would make it any less of a reality. He thought there was still a chance- a chance to save you.

“It’s not too late to get the surgery,” he says through a sigh. “Just let me know and I’ll call the doctor in here right now.”

You groan at his insistence, figuring he’d be sick with the nagging by now. You laid down on the bed, turning away from his sitting form.

“Jungkook,” you warn quietly, “If I have to say it again-”

“I know, I know,” he says, standing up. “But every time I walk in here you look worse than the day before. This isn’t right [Y/N].”

When you didn’t reply back, he only sighed out in frustration. You were acting like a child again.

“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out, but remember what I said. If you ever decide to change your mind, I’ll take care of you after the surgery. I’m not gonna leave you alone.

You close your eyes, feigning sleep. You clenched the bedsheets as you heard him walk away.

“You won’t turn out like your mom, I promise you.”

You clenched your teeth. How dare he bring that up?

“Make sure to close the door on your way out,” you reply angrily.

—

You sat on the couch in front of the window, a massive notebook in your lap. You scribbled on it without much thought, words pouring onto the sheet of paper without hesitation. It was the letters you were planning to write to all the close people in your life. Just an hour earlier, the nurses had come in to inform you that the doctor wanted to speak with you.

“[Y/N], it seems the disease is getting ready to...,” the doctor stumbled slightly, not knowing how to phrase the next part. “It’s getting ready to come to an end.”

To you, it was obvious he meant that your time was ticking. He advised you to start making calls to any loved ones and finalize a will, though you don’t know what real assets a college student working part-time could hand over to anybody.

You had decided on giving away your remaining belongings to charity and putting Jungkook in charge of separating your items from your dorm room. You would give Taehyung all your plushies and sentimental items, hoping he could work out an agreement to split the items with Jungkook even if you were gone.

You hoped that they would reconcile, preferably when you still had the chance to be with them one last time, but beggars can’t really be choosers. It hurt to see your best friends avoid each other because of you and so, you wrote letters to them that would detail just how important they were to your life and how important they were to each other. It motivated you, knowing they’d read it and maybe find a way to forgive each other for the black eyes they were still nursing.

You started with Jungkook’s, a little easier to write because you knew exactly what you wanted to tell him.

To Jungkook,

If you’re reading this then that means I’m gone and I know you’re probably punching the air right now at how stupid I am, but I just wanted to say something to you before you start crying reading this. I know you’re a little more sensitive than you let on.

Before anything else, I want to say thank you. Thank you for drawing these beautiful flowers on my skin and being there for me when no one else was. You are the only person I told about what happened with my mom and you listened to me without being the judgmental prick you usually are. I know you want me to live, more than anyone else, but I hope you understand one day why I can’t.

You know Tae. You know how happy he made me. If I chose to live without loving him, I wouldn’t be me. I’d be alive, but I’d barely be living.

Jungkook, there’s not a lot of words I can use to express how much I needed you in my life. Genuinely and truthfully, you were the glue that held our friendship together. You were my voice of reason and I am so happy I got to know a person like you in the short time I’ve lived on this earth.

I hope that you’ll be able to experience a mutual love in the way I couldn’t. I hope you have a wonderful life in the future and that I’ll be a good memory to tell your kids one day. You deserve to grow out of that tattoo shop and start your own. You deserved to have finished college without the added trauma of having your best friend die on you. I’m sorry I caused all this pain, but I know you can get through it. I know you can get through life without me. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn till the very end-

Tears had started to drop on the notepad, smearing the black ink just a tad bit. You had to collect yourself to continue, looking out the window to prevent the tears from hitting the paper. You took in a deep breath and continued.

but Jungkook you know me. And you know that I’ll miss you, no matter what happens to me after this has all passed. My final wish to you is that you and Tae keep me in your memories and stop fighting all the time. I’ll find a way to get back to you guys somehow (though I don’t know what will happen to me after death) so please stay together and wait for me until then. I promise I’ll find a way back to you guys. I promise.

You gently ripped the piece of paper you had written on and folded it in half, setting it underneath the notepad. You’d ask the nurse for an envelope later. You stared blankly at the new and empty page, a wet mark of your tears remained from the previous paper. You racked your brain for words to say to Taehyung. You had to be honest, that’s the only way you could leave this world peacefully. Not even bothering to write a greeting for him as you did with Jungkook, you let the words flow out of your pen easily.

—

“What the fuck is this?” Jungkook asks you, his hands shaking as he held the envelope in his hand. It was as light as air, but it felt so heavy between his fingers.

“A letter,” you say, by then your throat was already too strained to speak too loudly. “To read after I pass.”

He shakes his head, thrusting it back towards you.

“I’m not reading it [Y/N],” he replies through gritted teeth. “If you want me to fucking read it then you need to get the surgery.”

“Really?” you ask him, anger bubbling up within your chest.

“You can’t just expect me to stand here and take your last words and be okay with that-”

“Really Jungkook? You’re really gonna argue with me about this?”

He refused to make eye contact, noticeably upset. You shook your head out of agitation.

“Just listen to me for once, Jungkook,” you say dangerously low.

“That’s all I’ve been doing,” he clenches his fist. “I’m tired of listening when it feels like I can’t even do anything to help you [Y/N].”

You beckon him to face you, grabbing the letter you wrote for Taehyung on your nightstand.

“You’ve done more than enough, Jungkook,” you say with a sad smile.

“I haven’t done shit,” he chuckles sadly, clutching the letter harder. Was he supposed to watch as his best friend suffers through a curable terminal disease?

“But if you want to make it up to me,” you start, with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Give this to Taehyung.”

He looks at the envelope with doubt laced in his eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve a fucking letter [Y/N].”

You glare at him until he begrudgingly takes the letter from your hand.

“It’s not gonna work you know,” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna hold a grudge against him for the rest of my life for giving you this fucking disease.”

You sigh.

“Just try?” you ask pleadingly. “For me?”

—

A few days passed and Jungkook sulked in the hallway of Taehyung’s apartment complex, waiting for him to show up. His shoulders tensed each time he heard the elevator doors open. He didn’t quite know how to talk to Taehyung without spewing out an insult, but he knew he had to muscle through it for your sake. He waited and waited, until eventually, a guy with a cut across his cheek walked past him, scrolling through his phone. Jungkook smirked at how unaware of his surroundings he still was.

“Yo,” he says, grabbing Taehyung by the elbow as his figure approached his. Taehyung glared at the hand that wrapped around him and pulled back aggressively when he saw who it was.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” “Don’t worry,” he sighs out of exasperation, “I’m here to deliver something.”

Jungkook took the letter out of the back pocket of his jeans. He grabbed Taehyung’s empty hand and slaps the crumpled envelope on his hand.

“[Y/N] wants you to read this after she...” Jungkook swallowed as he feels his words falter, “eventually passes away.”

Taehyung wouldn’t let the glare go, but clutches onto the letter, bringing it to his side as if Jungkook would take it away from him.

“Why are you the one giving it to me?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Because she wants us to be civil. Make up or whatever.”

Taehyung lets out a scoff.

“And you?” he mocks. “Why would you agree?”

Jungkook clenches his fist and walks toward his friend- if he could call him that anymore. He places a firm hand on Taehyung’s left shoulder and looks him straight in the eye.

“I agreed because I know it’s no use in hating you over something you can’t control,” he starts, “and because I know you’ll read that letter right away anyway. I figure I’d stay to at least watch you cry.”

Taehyung chuckles and Jungkook broke out into a toothy grin himself.

“So I’m guessing you read your own letter?”

Jungkook nods, smiling sadly.

“[Y/N] shouldn’t trust us so blindly sometimes. Of course, I was gonna read it right when she gave it to me.”

Taehyung shook his head, feigning disappointment.

“Did you cry?”

Jungkook smirked.

“I held it in when I first read it,” he started, a blush forming in his cheeks, “but when I was in the shower afterward I started fucking sobbing. You’ll probably start crying after the first word.”

Taehyung chuckled lightly, punching Jungkook in the shoulder.

“I’m gonna cry, alright...” he zones out, opening the envelope and unfolding the large piece of paper. He bit his lip lightly, too afraid to read it silently. With shaky hands, he announced the words out loud to ease his mind just a bit.

Truth be told, I tried to make myself hate you, Kim Taehyung. When I found out I got Hanahaki after you kissed me on my cheek, I was so pissed that I let myself fall for you.

The two boys laugh softly. Sure enough, Taehyung was already biting back tears that were starting to form. His heart sank with each word he enunciated, but he continued on with a wavering voice.

I know the kind of person you are, Tae and for the hundredth time: no, I don’t blame you. You’re gonna spend the rest of eternity hating yourself if I don’t keep repeating this. Yeah, it was annoying that you always tried to flirt with my friends, but I doubt you knowing my feelings would have stopped that.

Jungkook let out a cackle, surprised that you were staying light-hearted in your letter to him.

“She’s right, you know.”

Taehyung ignored his words, reading further.

You wouldn’t be the Taehyung I’d fallen in love with if you weren’t overly flirtatious and clingy. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this directly, but I love you Taehyung. I love you so fucking much. You gave me so much hope, so much light, and so much to live for.

Taehyung felt something else well up in him that was neither tears nor guilt- something foreign.

I’m sad I can’t see the three of us grow old together or flourish in our future careers, but I know that you’ll get through the struggles of adult life as long as you and Jungkook stay together.

Jungkook laughs to himself and Taehyung glares up at him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing’s funny, man,” Jungkook sighs to the ceiling. “I’m just realizing how fucked up this all is.”

Tae if I was being really honest with you... I don’t want to die. I really don’t. I was starting to think that you fell in love with me because I didn’t throw up flowers yesterday or the day before that, but it’s just the suppressants. There’s still a small hope that you’d fall in love with me and that we could make things work out, but the chances of it happening are so slim. I’ve learned to accept it by now... that you won’t love me back.

I wanted you to read this letter after I pass away because I didn’t want your feelings to waiver, for you to trick yourself into loving me only to end up hating me later on. My dad fell out of love with my mom and... she was never the same after that. I don’t want that to be us Tae. I want us to have only good memories of each other.

Jungkook patted Taehyung’s back, as he struggled to read with the tears in his eyes. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear this pain any longer.

I’ll love you even after death, Taehyung, just as much as I love you now. And for the hundredth and one time: no, I do not blame you. I can’t blame you for the beautiful flowers that I now know the names of by heart and I can’t blame you for not loving me back. I can’t blame you for anything Tae. I love you and that’s all that matters. I want you to know, most of all, that I didn’t die for you- I died for myself. I love you Tae.

Sincerely,

Your Guardian Angel :)

Taehyung didn’t quite know when he had stopped reading the letter and started to sink to the ground, balled up in a puddle of his own tears. Jungkook had read the rest towards the end. He too was a wreck, but he hid it well.

“I can’t fucking do it Jungkook,” he sobs. “I don’t think I can live without her.”

Jungkook crouched in front of him, not really knowing how to comfort a crying Taehyung. This was the first time he’d ever seen him show this much emotion besides their big fight a few days ago.

“Taehyung,” he starts firmly, “you need to tell me the truth right now.”

“What?” Taehyung asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Promise me you won’t run away after what I’m about to tell you.”

Taehyung looked at him confusingly but wiped his tears away to get a better look at Jungkook. He was serious.

“O-okay. I promise?”

Jungkook sighed out in relief and pulled Taehyung up.

“The nurse told me [Y/N] hasn’t been on suppressants for a few days now,” he says seriously. “I’m registered as her guardian so they thought it was best if I told her that they stopped lacing it into her meals. It was to prep her for her death.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

“Taehyung, how are you not getting this?” Jungkook frustratingly scolds. “She hasn’t been throwing up and she hasn’t taken medication. I know it’s fucked up I’m asking you now, but I need you to go see her.”

Nothing seemed to click in Taehyung’s brain. Jungkook was always the fastest thinker out of them. He didn’t really know why he was speaking in such cryptic terms anyway.

“Why?”

“Because if what I think is true,” Jungkook says slowly, “then [Y/N] isn’t going to die.”

Taehyung was about to speak, confusion even more evident in his expression.

“What the hell are you talking about Jung-”

“I think you’re in love with her.”

The world seemed to stop at that second. Nothing made sense and yet everything did. The gears were moving in Taehyung’s brain, but it still felt like he didn’t know the full gist of what Jungkook was trying to tell him.

“Huh?”

“I know how fucked up it sounds that you started miraculously liking her after you found out she was dying, but all that matters to me now is that you accept her love so that she recovers faster. Tell me- am I wrong?”

Taehyung’s head was spinning and he was having trouble forming a sentence.

“I- I don’t know. I haven’t been in love before, how the fuck am I supposed to know?”

Jungkook sighed deeply.

“Well I’m here to tell you now: I’m pretty sure she didn’t fall out of love with you all on her own and it’s not the work of suppressants that had her recover. I’m not trying to convince you that you fell in love with her, but I’m pretty sure you did.”

Taehyung shook his head profusely.

“I think we’re just not thinking through this logically-”

“When have you ever been logical?”

He groaned and buried his face into his palms. Jungkook was right.

“So what should I do if I actually like her?” he says. “I feel like this is too sudden. [Y/N]’s gonna be suspicious-”

“Just tell her,” Jungkook replies sternly. “Don’t run away and just tell [Y/N]. Whatever happens, happens. We have nothing left to lose except her.”

“If I tell her I love her and I actually don’t, that would just hurt her more.”

“That’s impossible,” Jungkook starts, “because she’d be throwing up flowers by now if you didn’t.”

Taehyung nods, but he’s still not quite convinced. He stands up from his spot and makes a beeline to the elevator, figuring he should just do it without thinking about it too much.

Jungkook doesn’t follow after him. He knows that you two are probably better off talking this out than with him butting into the conversation. He rolls up his sleeve to see a beautiful tattoo he had drawn on his wrist just days ago. Flowers.

He drew it in remembrance of you.

—

As you were about to fall asleep to the sound of your own heart monitor, a loud thunk of the door opening had alerted you to open your eyes. Taehyung stood in the doorway, panting like a mad man as he walked closer to your bed.

“Tae-”

“We need to talk.”

It was then that you realized that he was clutching something in his fist. A piece of paper, wrinkled and smudged with black ink.

“You read it?” you ask disappointingly. It was a little embarrassing now, knowing that he’d seen everything you wanted to say to him after your death. You had a hard time looking at him in the eye.

“I couldn’t wait,” he pants, now next to your bed. “It’s not like I would have ever gotten a chance to read it otherwise.”

You tilt your head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung sat on your bed, touching your forearm lightly before collecting his thoughts.

“You’re not going to die, [Y/N],” he says with a glint in his eyes.

You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m not getting the surgery, Tae. It’s already too late for-”

“When was the last time you threw up flowers?”

You furrowed your brows.

“A few days ago. Why?”

He inches closer to you so that he could get a better look at your face. He was gauging your reaction just in case he said anything too uncomfortable. You were looking a lot less sick than yesterday and it crossed out his suspicions a tiny bit.

“Do you know why you haven’t been getting them?”

“Because I’m on suppressants?” you say as if it was an obvious fact.

Taehyung shook his head and finally laid the letter on the bedside table. He clutched both of your palms into his.

“I think,” he stumbles, “I- I think I fell in love with you.”

You looked at him with a deadpan gaze. You pulled yourself away from his grasp. How dare he?

“That’s not funny, Tae. Why the fuck would you even joke about something like that?”

“I do, [Y/N]. I love you.”

It felt so right to say out loud. It felt like the suffocation he was feeling for the past few days had been lifted off of his chest and into the clouds. All of his doubts were erased from his memory.

“Tae, saying it again isn’t going to-”

“I love you,” he says a little louder this time, clutching you even closer. Your eyes shined from tears threatening to spill over. He was being cruel- too cruel. It was unlike him.

“Tae, seriously I’m getting-”

“I love you,” he repeats, closing the distance between you and him, his lips gently touching yours. He pulls away and his breath is taken away with the tears that started falling from your eyes. He wiped them away from your cheeks. This was the reaction he was exactly expecting from you, but all he can do now is reassure you so that you don’t lash out on him.

“A-are you serious?” you say through bated breaths. “You’re not joking are you?”

He shakes his head with a grin.

“I think it took me a while to realize, but I do. Genuinely.”

You had started to cry harder, but it wasn’t out of happiness. You were holding something back. After all of the pain you went through and you finally got what you wanted... it just didn’t feel real. His heart hurt at the sight of you.

“Tae,” you struggle to say. “This isn’t what I wanted. I... I didn’t want you to force yourself into anything or to feel sorry for me-”

“That’s not it, [Y/N],” he reassures, pushing a stray piece of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. “No one’s forcing me.”

“But still-”

He shushed you with a peck. It felt liberating being able to kiss you freely and he couldn’t stop himself with how cutely you pouted your lips. How could he have not seen how irresistible you were before?

“I wish I realized it sooner,” he says sadly. “That way you wouldn’t have to suffer as much.”

You shake your head, easing your breath.

“I don’t know about this, Tae. I’m just having a lot of doubts,” you mutter.

“And I’ll get rid of those doubts sooner or later,” he kisses your hands. “I’m new to this whole love thing so you need to tell me if I’m overstepping anything alright?”

You chuckle lightly. Your heart could burst right out of your chest at how lovingly he was looking at you. For the past few days he’s done that- just look at you with a smile and make your heart beat fast for no reason. The effects this man had on you...

“You’re not gonna die,” he says softly. “I’m not going to lose you.”

You purse your lips.

“I don’t know what to say, Tae...”

He sits a little closer to you and softly holds your face into his palms.

“Say it back.”

You were caught off guard, flustered with his words. You fiddle with your fingers as you struggle to get the words out. He gazed at you expectantly.

“I-I love you too.”

Taehyung smirked and pulled you in. Your heart monitor picked up in speed as he kissed you deeply. The flower tattoos on your arm were dotted with goosebumps, your breath taken away by Taehyung.

He pulled away first but peppered you with more kisses around your face. His forehead leaned against yours as he giggles at your flustered expression. The stars were in his eyes and he admired how gorgeous you looked at that moment.

“Now tell me are there flowers in your stomach?” he asks teasingly as if he didn’t just read your would-be last words a while ago.

You chuckled lightly.

“No flowers,” you intertwine your hands with his. “Just butterflies.”

—

A/N: Thank you again to @guksflavor for requesting this! If you guys want to commission stories for me to write, please read my rules page and find the link to my ko-fi on my blog! I don’t really do fluff endings but I thought this was a cute way to end things off. How do y'all like it? No more tears for this chapter, I hope. Thank you all again for the support and I appreciate all types of feedback for my stories!!

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rkived · 4 years

Text

drabble #5: the highlight of the day for pediatricsurgeon!jungkook is when generalsurgeon!reader stops by his office with his daily iced americano. except today, someone else has delivered it for him.

or, in which you should be a little more careful to who you tell jungkook’s coffee preferences. (hospitalplaylist!au)

↩ previous | 📍drabbles masterlist

Jungkook likes iced americano.

He’s not really an avid coffee drinker. Definitely not one of those ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ sort of people, but he does like to drink an iced americano once a day.

Not because he needs it to survive, but because it’s become part of his daily routine ever since he started working at the hospital.

A routine you had started for him and that still to this day you continued to feed.

He can’t complain.

One of his highlights of the day is when you pop by into his office, whether it be announced or out of the blue, with an iced americano for him.

He doesn’t even have to ask for one, you just always bring it to him.

And on the days you can’t bring him his coffee, he just doesn’t drink it. As if there’s no purpose to go down to the hospital’s coffee shop and buy one for himself, because where’s the fun in that if it doesn’t come from you?

But today, surprisingly enough, Jungkook is drinking an iced americano that was not given by you.

Instead, first year intern Lee Heeyoung was the provider this time.

And it’s not unusual for interns and residents to give out small gifts to their superiors. Actually, when Jungkook used to be the favorite doctor around, it wasn’t a surprise when someone would shyly knock on his office door and bring a pastry or a drink from the coffee shop, a token of admiration and sometimes as a way to ask a small favor from the pediatrician.

Thing is, no one had ever brought him an iced americano before.

Maybe because the pediatrician doesn’t seem like the type to drink one or because he always had his in the privacy of his office away from curious eyes, usually the only witnesses around for that were you and Taehyung.

First year intern Heeyoung had come into his office, a shy look on her face and Jungkook had to practically beg her to come in and his eyes widened slightly at the iced americano she was holding on her trembling hand, which Jungkook figured out was due to the coldness of the drink.

She apologized for interrupting his free time and he assured her it was alright, then she took a deep breath and said:

‘‘Dr. Jeon, I don’t want to cross boundaries but I was wondering if, maybe, you could give me the opportunity to go into the O.R next time you have an operation. I know that interns usually don’t get to go in, but I just wanted to see if you would allow me to─’’

Then, Jungkook interrupted her.

‘‘Of course you can, Heeyoung.’’

And after she thanked him a dozen times with the biggest smile, she placed the cup of iced americano over his desk as she explained it was a way of thanking him, whether or not he complied to her request.

She left shortly after, apologizing for the interruption once again and leaving before Jungkook could tell her there was no problem.

The pediatrician stared at the drink in his desk and wondered what a coincidence it was that this is the one she decided to give him.

He shrugged his shoulders and sipped the coffee anyway.

Jungkook’s just about done with the drink when his office’s door opens suddenly, almost making him choke with the liquid in his throat.

This is how he can tell the difference between an intern or resident with his friends.

‘‘Oh! Kook, I’m so sorr─’’

Your apology at the notice of your coughing friend with an almost done iced americano on his hand makes you stop abruptly.

Why is he holding an iced americano when you are holding his on your hand?

Jungkook quickly recovers from his coughing fit and pouts at you ‘‘I’m going to have to start asking you guys to knock before coming in.’’

You completely ignore his comment and focus on the cup in his hand. The coffee cup holder you’re carrying feels heavy and…awkward.

‘‘I didn’t know you went down for coffee,’’ you say with the softest voice possible, concealing whatever confusion you felt ‘‘you could’ve told me.’’

Your coffee cup felt lonely. Usually, you only bought Jungkook’s, but today you decided that you’d make him some company, buying yourself an iced americano as well.

You didn’t even like the drink, but since Jungkook enjoys it you’d make a small sacrifice.

Now you have two iced americanos and they don’t look appealing enough to force yourself to drink them.

‘‘Oh, I didn’t buy this,’’ he clarifies and you look back at him with a raised eyebrow ‘‘one of the interns gave it to me. Lee Heeyoung, you’ve seen her?’’.

There’s a glint of annoyance in your eyes, but you quickly turn to look somewhere else before Jungkook can notice.

Oh, you’ve seen Lee Heeyoung.

More importantly, you saw Lee Heeyoung earlier that day when she casually asked you during the waiting line at the hospital’s cafeteria what was your favorite drink to order at the coffee shop.

‘‘Well, I usually go for a latte.’’ you answer with a small smile, it was hard to decide what your favorite drink was, but lattes were your go-to most of the time.

‘‘Oh, I like that too!’’ she commented and you nodded, turning back around figuring the conversation was over. ‘‘And doctor, do you know what Dr. Jeon’s favorite drink is?’’ she shyly asked, making you turn around again.

You gave her a quizzical look, but her face displayed nothing but innocence.

‘‘He likes iced americano.’’ you answered and she nodded as if she had correctly grasped the information you had given her.

‘‘Thank you, Dr. I won’t bother you any further.’’ she smiled.

You know you shouldn’t feel bothered by this because it’s not strange to receive stuff like that from interns and residents alike. You had gotten plenty of drinks and pastries given to you by the younger interns before.

But it just doesn’t sit right with you that your best friend had practically finished the drink you, and no else but you, have always brought him.

‘‘Y/N?’’ he calls you over, noticing how you hadn’t answered his question about whether or not you knew Heeyoung. He notices the two drinks sitting on the table ‘‘I can still drink one of those─’’

‘‘No.’’

Jungkook is taken aback by your stern tone, he usually only hears it when he’s being scolded by something he did. But Jungkook’s sure he hasn’t done anything wrong.

Right?

You instantly notice how angry that simple answer came out and you clear your throat ‘‘I mean─no. I bought this for, uhm,’’ you quickly try to think of any of your friends ‘‘Taehyung! Yeah, Taehyung.’’

You’re trying to convince yourself here because the neurosurgeon hates iced americano. He’s more of a cappuccino guy. Also, you’ve never bought Taehyung a drink before.

‘‘Taehyung?’’ Jungkook asks, surprise hinting in his tone because he can’t believe that. ‘‘Taehyung is scheduled for surgery all night,’’ Jungkook informs you ‘‘and he doesn’t like iced americano, he always makes fun of me for drinking it.’’

Oh, right.

You fake a cough ‘‘Really?’’

Jungkook nods and his gaze is entirely focused on you, waiting to see if you show any signs of this being a total prank. You’re never this oblivious.

‘‘I didn’t know.’’ you fake chuckle and Jungkook’s head tilts.

If Jungkook knows you as well as he usually tells his other friends he does, he’d realize you’re lying and your facade is slowly fading away. And you’re hoping he does call you out because you’re definitely not bringing it up first.

But instead, he shrugs his shoulders and decides that he won’t prod any further.

“Did I tell you that Jin came by a few hours ago?”

Jungkook changed the topic, retelling how your plastic surgeon friend had come down from his office for what felt like forever. And it was big news, considering Jin rarely leaves his office to exchange pleasantries, but you’re too focused on that damn cup now placed in his desk.

Mocking you with its emptiness, reminding you that Jungkook had drinked it without any second thought.

“He kept shifting in his seat, it was so funny,” Jungkook laughs “I told him not all of us had the privilege of having a leather couch imported from—”

The pediatrician is interrupted by you suddenly grabbing the plastic cup and throwing it in the garbage bin beside his desk. He’s rendered speechless by your action as you heaved with anger.

“I was gonna throw that out later.” Jungkook mutters as you dust your hands in your lab coat.

“Your welcome.” you mumble

A silence follows after and it’s not like the ones you usually both have. It’s not comfortable or peaceful, but filled with tension instead.

“Is everything okay?” he asks carefully, not wanting to push any buttons since it seems you’re a moment away from yelling in frustration.

You don’t do that, however, you do look at him like you’re about to give him a piece of your mind and poor Jungkook is not ready for that at all.

But you sigh. You close your eyes momentarily as you breathe in again.

“Nothing.” you answer back with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes “Everything’s peachy.”

Please call me out, please call me out on my bullshit.

“Alright, Y/N.” he sighs, hand scratching the side of his head “But can I—”

He’s not allowed to finish his request because you dump the two drinks you had bought inside his garbage bin without any further announcement.

Jungkook is left with his mouth hanging open as he looks at the wasted coffee probably making a mess inside the bin.

“I gotta go, I’m needed in the E.R.”

You’re not. Your phone didn’t ring with the usual tone you have set it up as whenever you have emergency calls.

Jungkook is about to tell you that, but the shock of the drinks dies down by the time the door closes and he’s realized you’ve left.

—

“Ah, fuck, not you again.”

Taehyung has just finished his six hour surgery. Fresh off of telling the patient’s family members that everything had gone according to plan, but that the patient was to be kept in the I.C.U for further checkups.

His neck hurts and he’s wishing he could have Yoonah come over to give him a massage. Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of his youngest friend waiting for him at his desk’s chair.

“Why haven’t you gone home? It’s late.” Taehyung asks him, laying down on his couch as he closes his eyes.

Due to his patient being in the intensive care unit, he chooses not to go home and stay in case anything happens. He knows this because of prior experience.

“I want to ask you something.” Jungkook quietly asks, ignoring his friend’s question.

Taehyung hums “If this is about that boneless wings or regular wings discourse then I don’t wanna hear it.” his friend warns him.

If this wasn’t a serious matter Jungkook would have argued that regular wings are better than boneless ones, unlike what Yoongi had said on the groupchat last night. But he has more important topics to ask about right now.

“No, it’s not that,” he clarifies “I just—I want to know, since you’re the only one who’s dating in the group…”

“Yeah?” Taehyung encourages him to continue.

“How—uhm, how do you tell when Yoonah’s jealous?”

Jungkook’s question is not one Taehyung had expected, it makes him abruptly switch from laying down to a sitting position. This is actually serious for once.

“Jealous, how? Like, when she’s jealous of other girls?” Taehyung asks, just to make sure this is what his younger friend is referring to.

Jungkook nods with a stoic expression.

“Well, Yoonah is slightly different in the way she approaches jealousy. Like, with the other girls I dated they would never tell me they were jealous.” Taehyung begins to explain “But Yoonah, on the other hand, she’s up-front about it and like, aggressively so.”

“Could you explain?” Jungkook shyly asks and Taehyung nods.

“Let’s say that Yoonah sees me talking to—I don’t know, a nurse? I might be having a normal conversation regarding a patient or something, but Yoonah sees it as if I’m telling the girl that I want to move in with her, have five kids and live on a farm.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung chuckles “and she tells me straight away that she doesn’t like the girl, that she doesn’t trust them and that I shouldn’t be talking to her.” Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly “I don’t know, she says she has a sixth sense or something.”

“But she tells you she’s jealous?”

“Oh, hell no,” Taehyung replies “Yoonah would rather eat glass shards than ever admitting she’s jealous.”

That must hurt.

“But I just know, y’know?”

Jungkook looks at him like he’s lost and Taehyung sighs. Sometimes the youngest could be a little too slow for his liking.

“It’s clear when a girl is jealous, dude. Whether they try to make it obvious or not. They get defensive, evade your questions, get a little more irritable.”

Jungkook gasps slightly and Taehyung cocks an eyebrow at him, wondering what is the matter. But the pediatrician is not telling him anything, especially knowing Taehyung’s a fifth placer who isn’t worthy of knowing information as important as this.

Plus he’s tired of hearing the neurosurgeon bother him with the fact that after all those hypotheticals that Jungkook was sure were never going to happen, they ended up becoming a reality.

A reality that Jungkook had to put up with because his older friend could not shut up about it.

“I gotta go, thanks.” The youngest quickly excuses himself from Taehyung’s office, leaving the neurosurgeon with a puzzled expression and a few unanswered questions.

There’s a slight bounce to Jungkook’s step as he walks through the hospital’s hallways.

He’s trying hard not to break into a grin, but he can’t help the slight smirk that appears on his face because now he knows.

a/n: let’s play a fun lil game in where u take a shot every time i mentioned iced americano n yes u should take another one now !! lol i don’t rlly have much to say besides jk n reader r both idiots but we’re making some progress :P hope u enjoyed <3

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts au #bts drabble #jeon jungkook au #jeon jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook drabble #now i’m gonna go n work on my hws i’ve been putting aside lol

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pleasancies · 3 years

Text

Escape Attempt #1

wordcount : 1.8k+

cw : self harm, mention of past torture, suicidal behavior

tropes : lab whump, lady whump, failed escape attempt, manhandling, whumper as caretaker, sensory overload, wound agitation, blood (everywhere)

***

Previous Chapter

John laid her on the infirmary bed, the white sheets instantly turning red. He left, and Professor Clayton replaced his absence with Lisette trailing behind. He had accompanied Avis to the institute, wrestled against five foot long greenery and walked over the pile of carcasses, yet his coat and pants doesn't look affected at all.

"Fenrir, I wager I never properly introduced myself."

"I've heard about you. Get lost."

Clayton glanced at Lisette. She hurried to the storage room. His side leaned against the bedframe. He reached for Avis's ankle. He held it in a vice grip. Plastic casing rubbed against gaping wound.

Avis grit her teeth, ended up voicing a guttural groan instead. Her voice was strained as she managed a 'stop'.

"I'll stop if you let me work on you. Cooperate."

"Just kill me and get it over with."

Clayton twisted his grip. The burning sensation multiplied. "It would be a mercy. Don't you understand? You lost the choice to kill yourself the moment you're trapped with us."

"Watch me," Avis said between grunts of pain. The edge of the wound on her ankle skinned raw. She tried catching Clayton's hand, but he had withdrawn his hold. He went into his pocket. The shock stunned Avis's like a slap to her face.

"Alright, try. Right in front of me. I'll help you even. Say the word, and I'll turn on your shock bracelet to full blast. You'll scream and writhe under this bed until you shit yourself. After I'm sure you're dead, I'll took your brain and put it inside a warbeast. I'll save the handful of memories that makes you you. The next thing you know, you're tearing your comrades limb from limb and there's nothing you can do about it."

Avis didn't bother to hide the fear in her face. It was abhorrent. Even the most pro-monarchy man she met would squirm with the idea. She think back to the warbeast she'd slain. Their eyes, does it ever glowed the way a human would? The bout of nausea was back. Avis covered her mouth, swallowing a gulp of saliva.

Lisette was back. She was carrying a table filled with medical kit. There's a thin smile on her face. A cross between smug and content. Did she heard?

Professor Clayton doesn't wait for permission. He took a small screwdriver, methodically disassemble the ankle bracelet. The man is practically oozing with competence. His steps were hurried but certain. Years of experience in researching alien technology shows clearly in the lines of his face and the coat he wears.

Meanwhile, Lisette worked on her smaller scrapes and bruises. She cleaned her up, dabbing a soaked rag across her bloodied face. She started from the top, wiping up Avis's blood matted hair first. Cool water dripped from her neck. Avis supressed a shiver. The intern nurse's fascination to her scars and peculiarities had died down. Lisette didn't even seem to care if she is alive. She grab a clump of hair, pulling it from the base of the scalp. All that for Avis to lift her chin.

"Cut it out, Lise."

"Stop what? I'm taking care of you."

Avis let it slide. Frustration welled deep inside of her. She let Lisette tug at her shoulder, poke and prod the bruises on her back like it was nothing. Her fingers somehow managed to find every point her body hurt most and make it worse. She hated it, the way people would play others like a toy if they could get away with it. She looked down on the bed, watching her shaking fingers. Avis wasn't feeling particularly cold, but her hands just wouldn't let up. She wondered how they distributed their tasks or what Lisette and John will do after their internship.

"What's wrong?" Lisette asked.

"My hands."

Lisette frowned. Concern crossed her face. Even Clayton stopped.

It was Avis turn to ask now. "What's wrong with me?" As if anyone would give a straight answer.

"Nothing. The trigger serum wasn't exactly a full success is all." Clayton draw a small incision on her ankle. The pain was dulled. It flared slightly as he fully opened the second layer of bracelet clinging on to her skin. "The Fenrir formula adjusts it's effects depending on the host. You'll always get the same enhancements of course, but each of it's potency differs in each person. You and the first Fenrir weren't the same, obviously. Not even similar. We need to run some basic test first before your reeducation. During your reeducation, we'll recalibrate the trigger serum. And then, you'll go through this test again. Ready as ever."

The professor dips a wad of cotton to a small jar. He gently dabbed it against the skin. The oily fluid runs againt the burning wound, causing Avis to wince.

"Now, now, don't flinch. I assure you, your next test will be so much more this would feel like a gentle stroke in comparison."

Avis scowled at her doctor. Fucking fantastic. Another round of tests, surgeries, physically molding her into the perfect hound. And a long session of brainwashing, mentally shaping her until she could strangle her comrades and derive joy out of the act. Avis needs to escape. And she doesn't even know which research facility they held her in. Empire's Defense Department my foot, practically every Institute is made for them. It's simply the easiest way to gain funding.

Clayton and Lisette left shortly after. The entire session with John passed like a dream. He was strangely sheepish. Unlike yesterday, he doesn't bother to strap her arms and legs. Avis was too tired to notice. Or even think. She slept.

A couple of days have passed when her hands and legs stop feeling like stone. It was midday. There's no other patients but her. One nurse stationed near the door. The same one she'd seen when Lisette brought her here to recover from her bruised ribs. It doesn't took long for her to notice Avis was staring.

"Yes, Avis? Anything you need?"

"Uh, some water please." Avis looked away, heat growing in her cheeks. Is she really that obvious? Embarrasing. Valerie was nice. She was the only one who called her with her real name. Shame knotted in her gut. Just a minute ago she was thinking how to incapacitate her. If only Valerie knew the reason why Avis was staring at her.

Valerie set the glass to her bedside. "Next time, talk."

Avis mouthed a thank you. She stared at her drink, unwilling to touch it. The beige walls of the infirmary looks a lot like the first hospital she got into as a patient. It was a strike that had gone awry. She was separated from her friends. The Empire's officers doesn't care if she was young or a woman. She could still remember the faint taste of rubber boots in her tongue. Her broken leg had healed a long time ago, but the dull ache in her foot stays every winter. Back then, Emmett and Sherman hadn't joined their organization. James got arrested. Their old friends like Thomas and Mike were either too injured or busy dealing with the fallout. Nancy alone had to hold her in a bridal carry.

"Well? Aren't you going to drink that?"

"Sorry, Valerie. Just zoned out a bit."

The infirmary nurse sat beside her. "Had something on your mind?"

"Yeah, actually. Do you think I should be reeducated?"

"I'm not an expert opinion on that. You should consult your handler."

"No, I'm not asking for you to revoke my probationary status. I just want to know your personal opinion."

Valerie pursed her lips, her face drawn in concern. She glanced at the camera in the ceiling. It's too unreliable to pick up sounds or even the movement of her lips.

"I'm conflicted to be be honest. You... you did a lot of bad things to other people, but when I got to know you better, it's obvious that you're just lost. Those Heretical men used and abused you. You're one of the good ones, Avis."

"Thanks," Avis said. Her heart sanked. "I'm really sorry, though."

Before Valerie could react, she swung the glass to her face.

***

There are two major types of pain. Acute or chronic. There are other classifications based on what caused it for or how debilitating it is, but it was irrelevant. In the context of Avis triggers, there's three. All of them present in her current situation.

She was backed to a corner. The soldiers were split in two. A small squad were standing at the bottom of the stairs, while a couple of them guard the door she sneaked out from. Drops of blood trailed her departure. It formed a line, then a puddle below her wrist. Avis cradled her bleeding hand. A piece of tape still stuck on the edge of her wound. Her hand is throbbing, a continous pulse that quickens alongside her heart rate.

A man started to climb towards her and Avis brings her hand on the edge of the wound. Clawing at the edges.

"Stop," she said. "Took one step closer and I'll fucking eat you." She hissed, partly due to pain and a spontaneous urge to do so. The hiss turned to a groan as she dip her fingers in. The floor sways slightly under her feet. Red stained her hospital gown.

This is manageable, she insist. What was she thinking? She doesn't even know where she is. It's fine! People had run away without figuring out where are they are. But she's escaping an military complex. Stupid, reckless! But she doesn't have a choice right? Barnes had warned her. Clayton had fucking taunted her.

Avis shield her eyes from the light, blood running through her face. The buzz of fluorescent lamp almost drowned the murmur of conversation between soldiers. Her senses grew sharper with every hurt she inflicted. A dull ache growing on the base of her nails, gums, and joints. This time the transformation was slower. Passive, even. Slow enough, she could understand the change in her mindset. Her stomach was already empty before she did her escape, but now the hunger pangs were almost unbearable.

Avis taunted between gasps of breath, "Go on, shoot me like an animal."

The door at the bottom of stairs swings open. Someone spoke, and the voice sends a chill to her spine.

"Don't listen to her. She can't hurt you. She's not under the trigger serum."

Professor Clayton strides up the stairs. Avis's legs scrambles backward but there's only solid concrete behind her. His eye settled on her arms.

"You pulled off your IV. Are you afraid of needles?"

"No, just don't want to be drugged again. It's what you do. You'll wait until I let my guard down before testing."

Avis glowered. The armed guards advanced to protect Professor Clayton. Nothing they give is safe. Anything could be drugged. Food, medicine, even the air she breathed.

"The test wasn't due for a week. But I could speed things up for you. How about the day after tomorrow? How does that sound?"

She tackled him, but there was no power in her arms. Avis collapse on his chest, her vision darkened. Gravity rapidly dragging her feet. The last thing she remembered was her nails, puncturing Clayton's shirt and flesh.

Next Chapter

#whump fic #lab whump #lady whump #failed escape attempt #whumper as caretaker #manhandling #sensory overload #suicide cw #self harm cw #past torture #injury whump #bleeding out #wound agitation

11 notes · View notes

prettyboyreid · 4 years

Text

safe

Request: can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Spencer experiences what is possibly the worst twenty-four hours of his life, and so does his wife.

Warnings: spoilers for Criminal Minds season 9 finale, lots of talk of blood, gun violence, normal Criminal Minds content

Word Count: 4,623

She almost didn’t even notice what happened. She almost kept firing at the unsub inside the restaurant. She almost carried on as if nothing had even happened.

Almost.

Spencer had pushed her and Blake out of the way at the very last moment, somehow knowing they were in the line of fire after only a few bullets had been shot at them. She thought he would’ve gone back to behind the car door he had been crouched behind, but the second she heard Morgan running towards them, her heart sank. She felt the weight of the world crash onto her shoulders that couldn’t bear it. She dropped her gun before running over to him, hoping the bullet had hit the Kevlar and not him, that the wind had just been knocked out of him and he would get up in a minute.

If only she had been so lucky.

Morgan held pressure to his neck as she scrambled over to his limp body, trying to assess the situation the same way her husband would have if it were the other way around. Her hands soon replaced Derek’s much larger ones before he ran into the building, chasing down whoever it was that had shot his best friend, his brother.

Spencer’s eyes looked heavy, like it took most of his strength just to look at her. She gave him a soft smile as she held him, doing her best to try and at least make him feel comfortable. He always told her that he felt safest with her.

“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on me, Spence. You’re gonna be alright,” she promised, repeating those four words to him over and over again like a mantra. The promise was more for herself, knowing she was the one that probably needed to hear it more than him. She watched as he tried to open his mouth and say something to her, but he couldn’t even muster up more than the necessary breaths that kept him alive.

“Don’t try and say anything, okay?” she soothed him, looking up only for a brief moment as she heard the sirens of the ambulance she assumed Hotch had called approaching quickly. “You need to save your strength. The ambulance is almost here, and we’re gonna get you some help.” She used the back of her hand that wasn’t pressing down on the fresh wound to wipe away a few tears she had let slip, not wanting him to see her cry right now. She was supposed to stay strong for him, and that was getting harder and harder the more she watched his gaze fluctuate between her and his eyelids.

The ambulance had arrived much quicker than she expected. Once the paramedics had reached Spencer, the ringing sound of bullets had long subsided. The buzzing of the possibly fatal hit, however, buzzed in her ear like radio static, and the longer she watched him the louder it became.

The EMTs quickly mounted him onto a stretcher and ushered him into the ambulance, holding cloth to his neck to stop the bleeding. She looked back at their Unit Chief quickly to make sure it was alright for her to go, and he nodded. Y/N quickly climbed into the car before the doors closed.

She laced her hand with Spencer’s much larger one, though it was just limp and nearly lifeless. He could hardly keep his eyes open, practically choking for any air he could get as he struggled to stay stable in the back of the ambulance. The vehicle lurched forward before quickly driving off towards the nearest hospital, the paramedic riding in the back with the couple continuing to hold pressure on the bleeding wound.

“We’re almost there, Spence,” she whispered to him, her gaze glued to him as she gave him a weak smile. By this point, since she wasn’t even sure he could see her, she let her tears flow freely. She felt weak, like she was about to break the second he left her side for surgery.

She didn’t want to let him go; she wanted to hold his hand through every step to let him know she was there for him. She worried that he wouldn’t feel her next to him in surgery, worried she had gone back to work, forgetting about him.

“Keep your eyes on me, okay? I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. Eyes on me,” she told him, wincing slightly as the ambulance pulled to a stop.

The paramedic that had been driving ripped the doors open seconds after they had stopped, helping pull Spencer out of the vehicle and set the wheels down to the ground. She had hopped out of the ambulance and quickly followed them in, her mind tuning out the jargon they were yelling at the doctors as he was pushed down the white sterile halls towards the surgery wing. She focused solely on him, watching as his eyes slowly closed just as he was pushed past two large red doors, forbidding her from staying with her husband any longer.

She stood in that spot for a while - somewhere between five and twenty minutes, she wasn’t really sure - until a nurse carefully approached her. The young woman rested a hand on her arm, catching Y/N’s attention before she turned down to her.

“Is there anybody you’d like me to call? Family, maybe?” the nurse (who she had deduced was named Evelyn, based on her name tag) had asked. It took her a few moments to respond before she nodded, wanting to wipe her tears away the way Spencer would before she remembered his blood had been caked over her fingers.

“Uh… um yeah. Penelope Garcia. I have her card somewhere and I’m sure she’s on her way but… I just need to be sure,” she said, sniffling a bit before looking around the hospital as she dug through her pockets. She pulled out a few small pieces of paper, sifting through them before she found the one she had been searching for. She handed it over to the nurse with shaking hands, letting out a sigh before she let her eyes shift between her and her hands.

“Where’s the restroom?” she asked quietly, knowing she should clean herself up before she caught more than a few judgmental stares. The nurse pointed her in the direction of the nearest one, giving her a soft, sympathetic smile. Y/N thanked her quietly, following her directions before pushing the heavy door open with her elbow and making her way to the sinks.

She scrubbed the dried maroon blood from her nervous, shaking hands, the entire scenario replaying in her head as she watched everything swirl down the drain. Even after her hands were clean, she continued rubbing them down with thinly foamed soap and freezing water, hoping it would take away the memory of watching him hang on for his life by a thin, narrow thread.

It was wishful thinking, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

After a few minutes, she twisted the water off and grabbed a few paper towels from the automatic machine beside the sinks, rubbing off any excess water that still remained. She stared at her hands, wondering how long she would have the picture in her mind of her holding his neck, praying to whatever God there was that his eyes would stay open, that he would keep breathing. The very thought made her lose what little lunch she did have into the garbage can by the door, holding her hair back quickly as she coughed up anything left in her stomach.

She ran her hands back through her hair as she tried to at least get a hold of herself, splashing some cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth out. (She made a quick note to herself to ask Penelope to pick up a travel toothbrush and toothpaste set at the airport whenever she landed.) She looked herself over in the mirror, her skin pale and sunken in as if she had aged ten years since this morning, though given what she’s been through, it didn’t feel like much of a stretch.

She made her way out of the restroom and back to the waiting room, letting out a sigh of relief as she saw Alex sitting in one of the chairs waiting for her. Y/N gave her a soft smile, sitting in the empty chair next to her before leaning back into the plastic cushioning.

For a few minutes, she stayed silent. Both of them did. There were no words they could say that would comfort the other. They both felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, knowing that it should have been one of them that was on that operating table, not Spencer.

Spencer could do no wrong in either of their eyes. He was a protector and a lover. He didn’t kill anyone unless someone else was in trouble. He hated having to use his gun unless it was necessary. He always tried to talk people down as a first option, even if they came at him with a knife.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Alex assured her softly, her focus trained on a stack of untouched medical and gossip magazines across from them. She didn’t rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she didn’t try to give her a hug - not that she needed either. Her presence was all she needed right now, and that was enough.

Those were the only words spoken between them until the most colorful woman entered the hospital a little over an hour later, looking around nervously and curiously before her eyes landed on the two women in the waiting area. She walked quickly over to them, the clicking of her heels being the only sound in the room in the early hours of the morning.

“Any news?” she asked the two of them, digging into her purse before pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste before handing it to Y/N. She gave her friend a soft smile, sticking the two items in her back pocket before shaking her head.

“No, not yet,” she said, clearing her throat as she checked the time on her phone. “They took him in a little over two hours ago. They should be almost done, ideally,” she added, folding her arms across her chest as she looked around the room. Only a few other people were there - an older couple who looked like they were grieving, a small family who looked anxious (but in a good way), and a middle aged man and what looked like his young daughter. Most of them were tired and exhausted. No one could really blame them.

“He’ll be alright. He has to be. It’s Spencer,” Penelope told her, sitting down next to her before resting a hand on her knee. The anxious wife gave her a smile, though anyone who could see her could tell it wasn’t genuine; it wasn’t her normal smile, one that would light up a room like a Christmas tree.

As if on cue, one of the doctor’s came into the waiting area, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his lab coat while his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.

"Y/N Reid?” he called out, reading the name off of a clipboard before looking up around the room. She stood up quickly and made her way towards the doctor. She held her arms crossed over her chest, sniffling a bit before shifting all of her weight onto her right foot.

“Is he okay?” She wanted to ask if he was alive, that was all she cared about right now. But she thought he was too selfish to ask that, so she asked the next best question. The doctor softly nodded, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in.

“He’s stable. He flat-lined when he was on the table, but he’s alright now. A few centimetres to the right and he would’ve died. He was very lucky,” the doctor informed them. She squeezed her arm a bit as she listened to him, desperately wishing she was squeezing his hand instead. However, she nodded along as he spoke, telling her about his condition and how long it would be until he could be discharged.

“When can I see him?” she managed to croak out, her nose scrunching up a bit as the smell of the hospital finally caught up with her. She had been so focused on Spencer, she hadn’t paid attention to anything else, including the sickly intoxicating scent of the sterilized building.

“He’s still asleep, but you can come back to his room. We can’t say how long it’ll be before he’s awake, so it could be awhile if you need to go-”

“I’m not leaving until he’s awake,” she said a bit too quickly, mentally kicking herself as she thought of how rude she probably sounded. The doctor, thankfully, nodded understandingly, before leading her back towards where his room was.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she followed him quickly, looking back towards Alex and Penelope before nodding back towards his room, indicating that they should come as well. Penelope gathered up her purse and offered her hand out to Alex before the two of them hurried behind her.

It was a short walk from the waiting area back to the post-op room where he was resting, but to Y/N, the trek felt like it took hours. Her body had been drained of all of her energy, and she wanted nothing more than to take him home, back to Washington, D.C., back to their house they had just bought and back to their bed. She wanted to make him dinner again, to pick out his suit for the day while he picked out a pair of mismatched socks that only the two of them would ever see. She wanted to sit on the couch and watch Doctor Who and Star Trek with him, listening to him make small comments about the science and physics behind every little detail and why it is or isn’t possible.

But it wasn’t about her right now.

The doctor pushed the door open carefully so as to not disturb the sleeping Boy Wonder, letting the three of them in before disappearing down the hall yet again. His wife quickly made her way to his side, her hand lacing with his limp, nearly lifeless one as she sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs much like the one she had been in for the past few hours. Garcia reached into her bag, setting up a few little figurines from some of his favorite sci-fi shows on the table in front of him. Blake sat in one of the seats across from the bed, crossing one leg over the other as she watched Spencer patiently. None of them made a sound, hardly took a breath, as if their presence would wake him up immediately.

It didn’t take long for the three exhausted women to fall asleep, despite the freezing room and hardly cushioned chairs.

Spencer had woken up about an hour after they all fell into their deep slumber, smiling weakly at the sight of some of his closest friends waiting for him. He used his free hand to rub at his eye tiredly, the slight movement of his body enough to wake up Y/N, who hadn’t let his hand go even as she slept.

She let out a heavy sigh as she saw he was awake, letting her head rest against their intertwined hands. “You’re okay,” she breathed out, kissing his knuckles softly before she looked up at him. Her eyelids were heavy, her short nap not nearly long enough to make up for the drowsy feeling that overwhelmed her body.

“You told me I would be, didn’t you?” he said in a groggy voice, slowly and carefully pulling their hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand. She smiled brightly at his comment, running a hand back through her hair with her free hand.

“Get some sleep, angel. You look worse than I do - which is saying something, considering I was just shot in the neck,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He always knew that she took everything to heart, especially when it came to him. Even when they started dating - almost eight years ago by now - she was overprotective of him. Whenever he put himself in danger (which was far more frequently than she would have preferred), she did everything in her power to keep him safe. So, he knew that right now, she probably was physically pained to see him like this, that she wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until she knew that he was going to be alright.

“I’ll be fine. Can I get you something? They have Jell-O downstairs, some pudding, I think Garcia brought-”

“Y/N.” His voice was as firm as it could be, but it came out more like a plea. She looked down at him, her eyebrows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.

“We both need rest, alright? I’ll take you up on your offer for Jell-O in a few hours, but you and I both need sleep, okay?” he told her, squeezing her hand three times softly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she listened, but nodded after a few moments.

He scooted over on the small bed until his side was pressed against the plastic rail that prevented him from falling off. He patted the now empty spot on the firm mattress, tugging on his wife’s hand softly to pull her up to him. She smiled softly at his offer, standing up and sliding into the bed next to him. She thanked whatever God there was that he was the width of a toothpick, or else both of them would have never fit on that bed.

The second she was next to him for the first time in more hours than either of them would like, he pulled her flush against him with the rest of the strength he had. She rested her head on his flat chest, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and old books that followed him no matter where he went. Her arms delicately wrapped around him, not wanting to hurt him in case any part of him besides his neck was still sore. He did the same to her, letting out a sigh as he let his head rest against the rock-like pillow the hospital had provided for him.

Spencer fell asleep almost instantly, easily exhausted from everything he had gone through that day. Y/N, however, couldn’t sleep for the life of her. She worried that if she closed her eyes, something else would happen to him.

Instead, she listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, a sound she’d forever be grateful for being able to hear. She assumed that was what kept her up - the beautiful sound of his heart that had stopped for only a few moments, the sound that proved to her that he was alive and that he was okay.

ー

Alex was the first of the three to wake up. Y/N looked at the digital clock on the bedside table once she noticed the older woman stirring, noting that it was just past three A.M. Blake sat silently in her chair, checking any emails and calls she had missed from the team.

Penelope was next. She gave the couple a bright smile as she saw Y/N curled up next to the doctor in his hospital bed. She fixed the figurines she had set out earlier just to make sure they were perfect for him, before sitting down in her seat again, patiently waiting for him to wake up so she could smother him in hugs and affection, grateful he was alive.

Spencer awoke for the second time just before four o’clock, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he looked around at the surprisingly bright room considering the hour. Penelope rushed to his side, checking over his face and his injury to make sure he was alright. Y/N was forced to get off the bed as Penelope called for the nurse, who took his vitals quickly so he could get some more rest.

Once she was sure that Spencer was alright, Penelope insisted that Blake head back to the team to help them catch the people who had done this. Now that Spencer was involved, it was personal, and the BAU wouldn’t stop until they caught whoever had done this.

Penelope had flipped open her laptop so she could help the team from the hospital, and Y/N had left to get some snacks for Spencer, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible.

It wasn’t supposed to take long, five minutes max, but when the fire alarm went off, she was ushered out of the building, her arms full of Jell-O and banana pudding.

She tried to look around for Penelope and Spencer, but she grossly underestimated how many people a Texas hospital housed. She tapped her foot anxiously against the concrete as she waited for them to be in the clear to head back inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looked at the other patients and families waiting.

She worried her husband was cold and uncomfortable, just wanting to rest a little more and have a snack. She worried that they weren’t able to get out of the hospital, that something had happened to them (despite her not being able to see any smoke or fire coming from the large building.)

The second they were permitted back into the building, Y/N ran to the elevators, pressing the button for the fourth floor quickly and repeatedly until the large metal doors closed, her feet tapping against the metal flooring as she held tightly onto the food she had nearly forgotten about by that point.

She snuck through the crack in the door once the elevator cart had come to a full stop, making her way through the halls as she searched for her husband's room. She could never understand why hospitals always seemed so hard to navigate. She had just made it down to the nurse’s station when she heard the sound that repulsed her, making her nearly lose her balance and her knees buckle.

Gunshots.

She dropped the little packages of food as she bolted down the hall, every last drop of adrenaline propelling her forward towards the sound that rang in her ears. She found herself in the doorway of Spencer’s room, letting out a heavy sigh as she saw Spencer safe and sat up in his hospital bed.

She looked down at her feet to see a nurse, a gun by his hand and a syringe by the other. When Y/N looked up again, she saw Garcia holding her husband’s revolver with shaking hands, Spencer carefully taking it from her before tossing it over towards his bag of clothes.

“...You saved my life,” Spencer breathed out to Penelope, hardly noticing his wife had entered the room. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard that. It makes it better. Thank you for saying that.”

“Thank you for doing it,” he said to her, giving her a soft smile before running a hand back through his tousled hair.

Penelope looked up as Y/N arrived at Spencer’s side, looking between the two of them as the doctor’s wife awaited an explanation as to why Reid had to be saved twice in less than twenty-four hours.

“That guy… he was disguised as a nurse. He tried to give me carbenicillin. We tried to tell him I’m allergic, but he didn’t listen,” he explained, still visibly out of breath. She couldn’t blame him; he’d been through too much for him to not feel drained. She grabbed a water bottle Penelope had gotten for them earlier when she had first arrived, twisting off the cap before handing it to Spencer and looking towards Garcia.

“Spencer hit it out of his hand, but then he drew his gun, and I didn’t know what to do so I just grabbed his gun and squeezed and now I feel like I can’t hear anything,” she explained in one breath, sitting down next to him as she tried to process the entire situation. Y/N looked down to Spencer, checking him over quickly to subconsciously make sure he was alright.

She wouldn’t have been able to take it if he had been shot again.

“Don’t worry about me,” he assured his wife, reaching out to hold her hand. She sat at the edge of his bed, lacing their fingers together as she let out a soft sigh when he gave her a smile.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” he teased her, doing his best to make light of the situation. Leave it to Dr. Spencer Reid to try and joke about his near-death experiences. She rolled her eyes, leaning over and kissing the top of his head softly.

“I’m never leaving your side again,” she told him, almost as a promise to herself. He grinned up at her, chuckling weakly as he laid back against the pillows.

“You say it like I would have a problem with that,” he smiled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite all he had been through that day, the bright glow of the LED lights in the room highlighted Spencer’s face perfectly, and if it weren’t with the large bandage on his neck with a maroon spot, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell he had gotten shot.

“C’mere,” he said to her, opening his arms out as he made room for her in the small bed yet again. She laughed a little bit, always loving how affectionate he would be when no one else was (or, in this case, very few people were) around. He was like a giant puppy that thrived off of cuddles and kisses. She could never complain, though.

She made her way into the spot he had made next to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before finding comfort against his warm, thin body. Her head rested on his chest once again, waiting a few moments to make sure she wasn’t hurting him before finally letting herself settle down. His arm wrapped around her to keep her close while her fingers traced abstract shapes on his clothed chest, letting out a deep sigh as they sat there in silence.

Garcia had since left the room with the nurses who had escorted the “nurse” out of the room and down to surgery, leaving it to just be the two of them in the hospital room, the only sounds being their soft, heavy breaths and the hum of the bright lights neither of them could be bothered to turn off.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall asleep. Maybe it was the fact that they were finally alone together. Maybe it was the fact that she finally really knew he was safe, that the people who were trying to hurt him were being locked away or in surgery, where they couldn’t get to him. Either way, she let the buzzing hum of the lights lull her to sleep, letting herself relax in his touch for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.

They both were as safe as they could be, and it was the most comforting feeling in the world.

@justkurotingz

443 notes · View notes

hopscotchandlemon · 4 years

Text

Cradle

TW:

Pregnancy

Words: 2701

Audience: General

You paced around the ground floor of the house, she’d be here any minute and you still didn’t know if you should tell her. A loud knock on the door shakes you from your self-made worry pit. She lets herself in as she always does.

(Y/N)! She exclaims, It’s been ages, great to see you,’ as she embrace you in a bear hug, some of that worry melts away. Jack was one of your oldest friends and someone you trusted implicitly. She holds you at arm’s length for a moment.

‘What’s wrong? She queried, studying your face. ‘I’m sensing something is not cool. Are you missing your cowboy?’

It had been Jack that had introduced you to Jethro over two years ago. He was that bit older than you, but you’d felt comfortable in his company straight away. He wasn’t an easy person to get to know, in fact he’s kept you at a distance for quite a long time, but if there was one thing you had in abundance, it was patience. It was that perseverance that had led to the two of you getting together and you moving in. Jethro had been on a mission for almost three months, a mission that was meant to be over in 2 weeks. You weren’t able to contact him and had to wait for him to arrive home. “Missing your cowboy” was understatement of the year.

‘Yeah, somethin’ like that,’ you replied.

You knew you didn’t respond to that properly. You knew Jack was going to question you further. Maybe you wanted her to. Maybe this secret was eating you up

‘Like *what* exactly though?’ she asked. You looked at the floor.

‘I’m pregnant,’ you blurted out.

Jack paused. ‘Wow, congratulations that’s great news, she celebrated before taking a moment to study you again. ‘It is great news, (Y/N), isn’t it?

‘Yeah it’s just…’

Jack hesitated, trying to read your face.

‘He doesn’t know,’ she realised, suddenly understanding your hesitation.

‘No,’

You sat down, Jack instinctively sat down next to you.

‘How many weeks are you?’ Jack asked.

’22,’

‘Woah,’ Jack was amazed you’d kept your secret so long.

‘I was already 12 weeks when I found out,’

‘How have you kept this quiet for so long? Jack was amazed.

‘Baggy clothes and avoiding social functions,’ you shrugged.

‘But Abby has been here, she can literally smell pregnancy hormones?’ Jack contested.

You chuckled. ‘Well I must have put plenty of deodorant that day.’

Jack looked at you. She notes the bags under your eyes, the worry lines etched on your face. She knows you’re struggling, not necessarily with being pregnant, although it is obviously taking it’s toll. You are not coping with the stress of keeping this a secret. This should be a happy time, but you can’t celebrate because you don’t feel you can tell anyone.

‘Do you think Jethro is going to be happy?’ you ask, wracked with the anxiety of not enough sleep and too much time to think. What if he gets back and is not impressed with your news. You didn’t think you could cope with that heartbreak.

‘Oh sweetheart, if I know one thing it is that he will be thrilled,’ she said softly, putting her arm around you. ‘I bet he has a crib built in no time.’

You smiled at the thought of a homemade crib. You’d not bought anything yet because you didn’t want to be found out and because it didn’t feel real yet, even though the fluttering you felt in your belly was most definitely there.

‘Let me make some discreet enquiries.’

‘You won’t…’

‘I won’t tell a soul and I will not allude to it either.’ Jack interrupted. ‘No one is going to know until you, or Jethro want them to.

‘OK.’

She smiled at you. ‘In the meantime, get some rest, you look rough.’

You rolled your eyes, ‘Thanks Jack, you’re such a comfort.’

***

Jack picked her moment to see the Director well. He’s just had some good news so was too distracted with that to ask too many questions.

‘Hey Leon,’ she smiled as she entered his office.

‘Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure,’

‘It’s about Gibbs…’

‘You don’t have the clear….’

I know. I don’t want to know where he is or what he’s doing, I went to see (y/n) at the weekend and she’s struggling.’

‘Jack, you know this is part of Gibbs’ job and if she can’t cope with it…

‘No, I don’t mean that. She’s physically struggling. She was reluctant to tell me anything but she looks ill.’

‘Maybe I should go see her…’

‘If you go, she is going to think the worst has happened. Don’t do that to her. All I’m asking is that if there is a juncture to pull him out, or for him to make contact, that you consider it. You know this is the happiest he’s been in years, if there is something wrong, he needs to know.’

Vance considered this. If anyone else had tried to suggest how he manage his agents, they’d get the hairdryer treatment. But Jack was right, Gibbs had been much easier to deal with since he met (Y/N). She seemed to have taken the abrasive edge of him.

‘I’ll see what I can do. Keep an eye on her Sloane,’

Jack nodded. ‘I will Leon.’

***

Jack was a regular visitor from then on. While you were too scared to buy baby stuff, she was not. She made you pack a baby go bag and bought cute outfits. She often turned up and you’d burst in to tears on her, full of panic about being pregnant and not being able to tell the one person you needed to. Also, you were having to see your obstetrician more regularly as you blood pressure was high and you were showing other signs of pre-eclampsia and that worried you too.

4 weeks later you still don’t have Jethro back. You’ve woken up feeling particularly grotty and with a sense that something really isn’t right. You call Jack but her phone goes straight to voicemail so you call a cab and make your way to the hospital.

***

Jack was in MTAC. Much to her relief, Gibbs was back in the U.S and being de-briefed. All being well, he would be back with (y/n) this afternoon. She’d seen a missed call from (y/n) but she figured she’d ring her back with the good news once it was all confirmed and she was given clearance. She was on her way to see Vance when she got a call from a number she didn’t recognise. She answered but stopped dead when she realised it was the hospital. She rushed in to the director’s office

‘Leon, you’re going to have get them to take Gibbs to the hospital now. (Y/N)’s in surgery and she’s really not well. I’m going there now, get him to ring me.’

Vance immediately got on the phone and Jack ran to her car. She arrived at the hospital and Gibbs called her as she got an update from the nurse.

‘Jack, what the hell is going on?’ he yelled over the noise of the vehicle he was travelling in.

‘How far away are you? I’ll meet you outside,’

Jack duly met a frantic Gibbs outside the hospital. She led him inside and found somewhere quiet to tell him the news. His face was a mixture of emotions, shock, worry and a tiny bit of joy at hearing he was going to be a dad again. That emotion was outweighed by his concern for (Y/N). Jack waited with him. It wasn’t too long before a nurse approached them. Jack took Gibbs hand.

‘Congratulations, you have a little girl and she weighs 1 pound 8 ounces. She’s going up to neonatal intensive care ask we speak but you will be able to see her once they’ve got her stable.’

Jack watched Gibbs face wash over with delight. He was rarely this easy to read but these were extreme circumstances.

‘What about (Y/N)?’ he asked.

‘She’s in recovery. You should be able to see her in about 45 minutes. She’s asked that you tell her if you have a son or a daughter.’

Jack smiled at (Y/N)’s gesture. She gave Gibbs hand a squeeze. He was trying to absorb all the information he’s received in the last hour. This morning was thinking about where to take (y/n) out for dinner. Now he was sat at the hospital waiting to meet his new daughter.

Eventually Gibbs was called through to see (y/n).

‘Surprise,’ you say, still groggy from the anaesthetic

He smiled at her as he took a seat. ‘We have a daughter.’

‘We do?’ Jethro nodded, intertwining his fingers with yours. ‘Have you seen her?’ you added.

‘Not yet. Wanted to make sure you were ok first,’

‘Go make sure she’s ok. She’s really early.’

‘Ok. I’ll be back soon. You want Jack?’ You nodded

He kissed your forehead and left to get Jack.

***

Gibbs was directed to his daughter’s crib and nurse beckoned him over. There was a plastic incubator surrounded by machines. He looked in and saw this tiny little bundle of pink. He figured she would fit snugly in to one of his hands. The nurse explained all the machines and what they were doing. Gibbs nodded as he took in all the information.

‘Touch is really important from premmies. If you want, you can put your hand through that gap there and touch her hand.’

Gibbs didn’t need to be asked twice although he was slighty hesitant because she was so fragile looking. With a single finger, he stroked her minute hand. The nurse took photos for him to take away and assured him once (y/n) was recovered from surgery, she would be able to spend some time with her. Grasping his precious photos , Gibbs thanked the nurse and went back to (y/n)

As she walked towards (Y/N)’s room, he met Jack.

‘She’s asleep, thought I’d leave you guys alone for a while,’ Jack mused.

Jethro handed her one of the pictures the nurse had given him.

‘Oh Gibbs, how precious,’ she gasped.

‘She’s about the size of my hand,’ he sighed.

‘Doing ok?’

‘Yeah so far to good. Keep the photo, I’m guessing you’ll need something to show the team,’

‘I will indeed. You happy for me to share the news?’

Gibbs nodded, putting his arms around Jack and giving her a hug.

‘Thanks for looking after (y/n),’ he whispered in her ear.

‘It was a pleasure. I’m away to blow everyone’s minds with this,’ she smiled, waving the photo as she walked towards the exit.

Jack walked into the squad room. Within seconds, Nick, Ellie and Tim had all asked how (y/n) was.

‘Right I’m not repeating this a million times, round everyone up,’ she stated. Within minutes the entire team, including Jimmy, Abby and Vance, were assembled.

‘Ok. (y/n) is doing well. She’s out of surgery and just about awake. I want to introduce you to this little bundle of joy,’ she passed the photo around. ‘A little girl who has arrived at 26 weeks weighing in a 1lb and 8oz. She’s in NICU and only Gibbs has seen her.

‘Wait, he didn’t tell us?’ Abby shrieked, staring lovingly at the photo.

‘Gibbs didn’t know until he was at the hospital,’

‘So, (y/n) didn’t tell anyone?’ Bishop queried.

‘She was waiting for Gibbs to get back. She’s had a really rough last few months and I happen to know she’s bought practically nothing so we have work to do.’

***

‘You got any names?’ Gibbs asked.

You shook your head. You hadn’t allowed yourself the luxury of thinking about names and given you were on pretty strong painkillers, you didn’t think you dare suggest anything now. Instead you looked at the photo Jethro had given you when he’d got back from seeing your daughter. You could barely have imagined you’d be able to make something so perfect. You’d been promised you could go and see her tomorrow, as long as you were sufficiently recovered. Yawning, you sank into your pillows a bit more.

‘I’m going to leave you to get some rest,’ Jehtro soothed, kissing your hair. I’ll be back later,’

You’d hummed in agreement and a drowsiness overtook you as you fell back into a chemically induced sleep.

***

After a shower, clean clothes and a nap, Gibbs felt refreshed, but he was still taken aback by everything that had happened that day. He grabbed some clothes and toiletries for (y/n) and headed back to the hospital. Before going to see (y/n), he popped up to NICU to see his girl again. He smiled at her because he couldn’t get over how perfect she was. The nurse told him she’d need help with her breathing for a little while and that she’d need to feed via a tube to start with but that was doing really well. He stayed for half an hour, stroking her tiny arm and talking to her. He thanked the nurse and went to see (Y/N)

***

You felt a bit more with it after your nap. You’d managed to eat something and get a wash. You were sat up in bed when Jethro arrived. He sat himself next to you on the bed, put his arm around you and kissed you.

‘I’ve missed you,’ you say, resting your head on his chest.

‘I know, missed you too. Wasn’t expecting this though.’

‘I wasn’t either,’ you sighed. ‘I’ve been thinking about names. What about Hannah?’

You watch Jethro think it though before nodding his head. ‘I like it, Hannah it is.’

***

You woke up with a nurse doing your obs. You wince as you try to reposition yourself. The nurse promises to come back with some painkillers. You notice Jethro asleep in the reclining chair next to you and you smile as you realise you are going to meet your daughter today. The nurse returns with breakfast and your meds. She also puts a take-away coffee in front of Gibbs. You give her a confused look.

‘Some one called Jack just dropped it off.’

You smiled as you nodded your head.

‘I’ll call up to NICU when you’re up and ready and arrange for you to see your daughter. You’ll need a hand getting to the shower, you might be a bit wobbly.

‘He’ll be able to help,’ you say, pointing your head towards Jethro. ‘Once he’s had his coffee.’

***

Jethro pushed your wheelchair up to the NICU you looked all around you, taking in the number of incubators in the room. You were introduced to the nurse who has been looking after Hannah. You stand up so you can finally see your little girl. The photo didn’t do her justice, she was beautiful. You gently rubbed her delicate skin. Her tiny hand grabbed your little finger.

‘Remember to breathe,’ Jethro whispered, his arms holding your shoulder, his chin resting on your shoulder. He was right, you had held your breath the moment you’d seen her.

‘She’s…’

‘Perfect. Just like her mom,’ Jethro whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek.

You were discharged from hospital after a week. You were at the hospital every day to be with Hannah. Jethro went back to work but he went to see her every day. Hannah stayed for another ten weeks, gradually passing milestones like breathing on her own and able to feed normally. She gave you some frights along the way, but when the day came to finally take her home you felt elated. Jethro went on personal leave so he could spend time with you both.

You cradled Hannah in your arms as you took the elevator. Jethro smiled at you. As you reached your floor, the doors opened, and you stepped out. There were the whole team waiting to see you and meet Hannah for the first time. You felt a sense of pride that Hannah didn’t just have you and her dad: she had a whole group of people who loved her and would move mountains for her.

#Leroy Jethro Gibbs #ncis fanfiction #ncis x reader #jacqueline sloane #leon vance #ellie bishop #nick torres #jimmy palmer #Tim McGee #angst and fluff #so much fluff #daddy gibbs

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ao3bronte · 4 years

Text

the skies belong to no one

[Chapter 2: Marinette]

[Chapter 3: Adrien]

The ride home from Marinette’s is quiet, with nothing but the sounds of Parisian traffic to keep him company. Nathalie isn’t in the vehicle today, not that she would have provided much of a distraction; she’s been off sick more often than not these days and Father has been keeping her primarily on office duty until she gets better. Adrien worries for her health sometimes, especially when she gets into one of her coughing fits, but he’s long learned not to interfere or ask questions. He used to make that mistake quite often when he was younger, but not anymore.

Adrien is sixteen and wears the weight of the world on his winged shoulders.

(He’d feel a lot lighter if he didn’t have wings at all.)

He finishes his homework mechanically and eats dinner in the dining room alone. Again, Nathalie doesn’t come around to watch or report on tomorrow’s schedule. He checks his calendar between bites of chicken and notices that he only has a fitting tomorrow. It’s a light week, which is nice. He enjoys them as the rarity that they are and tucks his mobile back into his pocket, wary of being surveilled.

Adrien doesn’t have anything better to do tonight but sit and stare blankly at the screen of his monitor. He tries to play a game but he can’t focus, his mind too wrapped up in the potential consequences of Marinette’s discovery. No one is allowed to know about the binding or the clipping; while wing binding — like plastic surgery and hair/fur pigmentation — is one of Hollywood’s worst kept secrets, having his wings physically clipped is completely illegal in the European Union. Only felons have their wings clipped and even then, not many felons are winged to begin with. The only other cases of wing clipping have happened to people who are victims of hate crimes and children who are abused by their parents.

Adrien doesn’t consider himself to be any of those things.

Or he didn’t, until this afternoon.

Marinette had looked like her soul had left her body when she noticed that half of his primaries were missing. He’d been getting them clipped every year since he was a toddler and he’d long gotten used to the painless, but still mentally exhausting, process. Marinette, however, certainly wasn’t. She’d pinned him with questions that Adrien had struggled to answer and suddenly his babbling, bashful friend had turned into a tempest right before his eyes, furious and vehement that she would find a way to “fix things”.

Adrien sincerely doubts that. There aren’t many people who could expose Father for doing something illegal and get away with it unscathed; in fact, he can only think of one. Maybe if he asks Ladybug kindly enough, she’ll whisk him off to a foreign island where he can live in peace for a year or two until all of his primaries grow back. Once he can fly with his civilian wings, he’ll be unstoppable!

Dubious, he laughs through his nose and flops belly first onto his bed. His foreign island would have to pave a postage address or else he’d run out of his allergy medication. It’s a pain in the ass, being allergic to his own feathers. It’s why he loves being Chat Noir instead.

Well, maybe Ladybug could drop him off at a nice vineyard in Corsica for a year or two. He could help prune the vines and get a great tan in the process...he’s never shied away from hard work before and after a few months, his Adrien hands would be just as strong as the ones encased within his Chat Noir gloves.

That, and once he turns eighteen, his trust fund will be released to him and Adrien will finally be able to stand up for himself about the wing clipping. Adrien’s no idiot; he could barter his modelling for his freedom if he really wants to right now, but with no cash in the bank, Father would surely make his life as miserable as he could under his formidable roof.

He doesn’t want Father to get in trouble with the law. In anything, Adrien would rather just...try and navigate that landmine on his own. He’d long learned that asking about being allowed to fly would lead to punishments — sometimes severe — but Marinette had been clear about one thing. Wing clipping is wrong in every sense of the word, especially if it’s done without consent, and Marinette seemed to even grow paler when he explained to her that he’d been clipped for as long as he can remember. Father was and always has been explicit about never using his wings for flying; his wings are for decoration only, property of Gabriel®.

Until Plagg came around, Adrien just thought that being grounded, quite literally, was normal.

And, as Plagg assured him, having no autonomy was not a very normal thing at all.

Speaking of which, Adrien spots his companion staring at him from across his bedroom, “What?”

"You're thinking too loud," Plagg grumbles around a mouthful of Camembert.

"Sorry to bother you," Adrien snarks back, taking comfort in their familiar song and dance, "But one of my best friends just learned the biggest secret of my entire life and if she says anything to anyone and word gets out..."

Plagg meanders over, his eyes just a little bit greener than usual, "Eh, so what if Pigtails found out that dear old dad is cutting off your feathers."

"Well, when you say it like that…"

"Just because you're famous, doesn't make it okay," Plagg spits, "You ever see someone being declawed before?"

Adrien pales, "What?"

"It's not the same thing exactly," the kwami of destruction shrugs, plopping down on Adrien's pillow, "But one of my former wielder's had her claws removed. Want to know why?"

Adrien shakes his head. He really doesn't.

"Because it was the trendy thing to do at the time. Just like chopping off half your feathers and stringing you up like a roast chicken is now."

"Is it really that bad though? I mean, I can’t be the only person who’s clipped..." Adrien murmurs, glancing away, "Marinette made it sound like I was...I don't know, repulsive or something."

Plagg sighs, "All your famous friends, the ones on your Instant Spam—”

“Instagram.”

“Whatever,” Plagg quips, his whiskers raised, “The fur removal, the snout reductions, the eye widening, the scale bleaching; it’s all the same thing. Everybody’s gotta look like something different. But do they really want it? Just like you, you don’t think they have someone else pulling their strings?"

"I'm...not a puppet."

"And I'm the kwami of bath tubs," Plagg rolls his eyes, "Look, your dad has control of you. You don't. It's that simple."

Adrien’s expression hardens, "I don't want him to control me anymore."

"Then don't, cause guess what? You’ve got something all your other puppet pals would kill for”

“And what’s that?”

“Me!” Plagg rubs his paws together, his fangs gleaming in the lamplight, "You wanna be free? Let’s make it happen. What do you have to lose?"

[Chapter 4: Chat Noir]

#miraculous ladybug #ml wing au #ml wings au #adrien agreste #bronte's wing au

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metaphorical-love-for-a-car · 4 years

Text

Sunshine After Rain-- Connor (RK800) x Reader (Part 1)

Summary; After the death of your little brother, Cole, your dad hated androids. He blamed them for Cole's death. Hank couldn't stand to be around them. How the hell are you supposed to tell him that your soulmate is an android?

Warnings; swearing

Word Count; 2.2k

Notes; Originally posted on AO3, this was the first ‘x-reader’ fic I had ever written. Since it’s finals/death season at my uni, I won’t be doing much original writing and figured that this would be a good time to re-upload this old thing to my current blog. It’s full of flaws, but it has a special place in my heart. ((will have minimal editing, so I mean it when I say full of flaws))

Soulmates aren't all the things the media makes them out to be. Some people have one, while others don't. Sometimes, people's soulmates can change. That's exactly what happened to your parents. Hank Anderson fell in love with a woman he met in during his first year at the Detroit Police Department. He just knew she was the one. Being the suave man that he is, Hank marched up to her, said some cheesy one-liner, and took her hand in his. The moment they made contact with each other, the world around them exploded into color. As soon as he let go, the world sank back into its grayish hues. Over time, whenever they touched, the world seemed less and less colorful. The colors finally faded away when your little brother, Cole, died.

There was a little theme park not far outside the city. Hank had taken the two of you for the evening because your mom drew the short straw for the graveyard shift at the station. As the sun began to set, the snow fell harder. Hank eventually tore the two of you away from the park and got everyone packed into the car. He muttered swears under his breath as the engine sputtered to life. “Can't see five feet in front of me with all this fucking snow,” Hank growled.

“Yeah, look at all of that shit in the road,” you commented. Hank snorted. A lopsided grin crossed his face.

“Don't let your mom hear you say that.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she'll kill me,” he said with a huff.

You and Cole played spotting games in the back seat to pass the time. He was only a few years younger than you, and the two of you usually got along fairly well. Cole was leaning forward to look out of the windshield in an attempt to find whatever blue object you were thinking of. He reached over to unbuckle in an attempt to move and see better. “Dad! Cole is trying to unbuckle!” you tattled. Hank peered up into the rearview mirror to see what was going on.

“Cole, sit down and buckle up. It's snowing too much for you to--” The car skid on a patch of ice. Time seemed to slow. The car spun as Hank struggled to control it. Without warning, the vehicle rammed itself into a nearby tree. The sudden impact caused you to hit your head on the car's interior. Your ears rang violently, and everything seemed out of focus. It didn't take long for the darkness to overtake your vision and consume you.

The first thing you noticed was the yelling of your parents. The second was the smothering smell of cleaning supplies. You started to open your eyes, but it felt like the lights were trying to blind you. A steady, hammering sensation radiated from the front of your head. You began to toss and turn in an attempt to get comfortable. Your parents noticed your movements and quieted. “I'll go tell the nurse that they're awake,” your mother sighed. There was no doubt that she just needed a moment to escape. Hank nodded, pulling a chair closer to the bed. He gently touched your shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo, how ya feelin'?” You turned your head to face him. It took a couple moments to process his words.

“Lights are...” You paused, taking a breath. “too bright.” Hank glanced up at the overhead lights as he stood from his seat. He switched them off before sitting next to the bed again. You slowly opened your eyes, squinting at him. “My head hurts.”

“Yeah, you hit your head pretty hard and got a bit of a concussion, but the doctor said you'll be fine.” You furrowed your brows, eyeing the few cuts across his own face. He shook his head with a scoff. “Don't worry about me. I just got a few little scratches. I'm fine.” You continued to survey your surroundings.

“Where's Cole?” Hank looked away. “Dad?”

“He was thrown from the car when we hit the tree. He's in surgery right now, but...” He sighed. “He's not in good condition. They've got one of those plastic bastards operating on him right now.” A heavy silence filled the room. Neither of you spoke for several minutes.

“That's why you and mom were fighting,” you whispered. Without you having to say anything else, he realized you had picked up on more than he would have liked. Your mom blamed him for what happened to Cole. After all, he was the one driving. Hank opened his mouth then closed it. He wanted to disagree and tell you that everything was okay, but he couldn't. You were right.

Cole didn't make it through the surgery. The android surgeons assured your parents that they did everything they could, but it was no use. Hank wrapped his arms around your mom as she wept. He'd be lying if he said he didn't weep alongside her. When he opened his eyes, the world had lost all its color. They knew the day was coming, but they never expected it to come at a time of such tragedy. They stayed together for a few more weeks, mainly for your sake. They wanted to tough it out at least until you got a little older, but things at home just got worse. They fought more often, which usually turned ugly. They would scream at each other until they lost their voices. Your mom would throw things at Hank, who would then turn and climb into a beer bottle and shut out the world around himself. Then, one day, she just left without a trace. She mailed in her letter of resignation to the DPD, and that was the last bit of contact anyone had from her. You and Hank never heard from her, but then again, you two never really tried to track her down either.

There's no doubt that life was rough after that. You and Hank had an unmeasurable amount of grief weighing down your hearts, but you two tried to tough it out. You had to be strong. You had to be strong for each other.

You always had a fascination with your dad's job as a detective. Every time you walked into the DPD, your eyes would fill with wonder. It didn’t take you long to decide you wanted to follow in his footsteps. As soon as you were able, you joined the department's K9 unit. You loved the dogs and spent most of your time training them. You were quickly able to get even the most stubborn dogs to listen to your commands, which earned the respect of a few of your peers. Several of them, however, still made you the butt of all jokes since you were one of the youngest in the department. The worst one was Gavin Reed. He loved to get under Hank's skin, which often led him to you. Unfortunately, that often left him with a bloody nose and you with bruised knuckles.

You sat at your desk, staring at the mountain of paperwork littering your desk. You groaned, running a hand through your hair. The german shepherd laying next to your feet lifted its head. A grin twitched at the corner of your lips as you reached down to pet it. A steady stream of officers trickled in to start the day. You noticed an android make its way over to Hank's desk. It poked around his desk, analyzing everything. Curiosity getting the better of you, you pushed yourself away from your paperwork and approached the android. You always found the bots intriguing. You thought it was interesting that they made them colorblind to be 'more relatable to humans.'

"Hey, you must be the android CyberLife sent to help investigate the deviant cases," you chirped before introducing yourself. The android looked at you and tilted its head slightly.

"Yes, I'm Connor. I have been assigned to help Lieutenant Anderson with the investigations." You couldn't help but laugh, which seemed to confuse the poor android. "I do not understand what is humorous."

"You're his partner? No wonder he's been so grumpy lately," you said with a grin. "He's not very fond of androids." Connor furrowed its brows with a nod. As you turned around, you spotted Hank walking into the bullpen. "Speaking of the son of a bitch, there he is." Hank rubbed his face.

"Give your old man a break. It was a rough night." He stopped in his tracks. Hank's face paled as his eyes widened. "God.. I saw you get shot in the head last night." You turned to face Connor. The android seemed unfazed.

"My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed. CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation." Hank looked disgusted, while you grinned.

"Interesting, so every time you get destroyed CyberLife produces another android that looks and sounds exactly like you as a replacement?" Connor nodded. You crossed your arms with a hum. "How many models have there been before you?" His LED indicator flashed a different color. He opened his mouth, but someone interrupted him.

"Hank! In my office!" Fowler boomed. You shot Hank a look.

"Well, he looked pissed."

"Yeah, wish me luck," Hank grumbled as he trudged into Fowler's office. You glanced back at Connor.

"I'm gonna get some coffee if you want to tag along. I know androids don't eat or whatever, but you might just want to explore the place a little bit," you said with a shrug. A small grin tugged at the corner of its lips.

"I believe it would be beneficial for me to be aware of my surroundings." You smiled and looked at your desk. You whistled, and the dog sat up in attention. You pointed to the floor beside your foot. The dog bounced up from its perch and quickly scurried up to you. As you continued to walk towards the break room, the dog paused to stare at Connor before following you once more.

Gavin sat at one of the small tables, talking to another officer. You nodded at the two in greeting. Gavin stared at you, while the other officer gave you a small wave. They continued their conversation, leaving you to fix your coffee in peace. Gavin stopped talking for a few seconds before going on about ghosts. You turn away from the coffee machine to see Connor standing in the middle of the small room. The android looked at you, and you just rolled your eyes with a shrug. "Hello, Detective Reed," Connor greeted. Gavin approached the android, asking what model it is. You decided to answer the question instead.

"It's clearly written on the front of the jacket, dipshit."

"Fuck you."

"Only if you ask nicely," you said with a wink. Gavin scoffed, returning his attention to the android. He ordered Connor to make him a coffee. No one said a word. They all watched Connor to see what it would do.

"I'm sorry, but I only take orders form Lieutenant Anderson."

"Oh!" Gavin looked around, feigning an apologetic look. Without warning, he punched Connor in the stomach. The android doubled over. Gavin kneeled down beside it, threatening it. You set your coffee down on the counter. Storming over to the two, you shoved Gavin away from Connor.

"Alright, Gavin, that's enough."

"Oh, come on, (y/n)! Don't tell me you're actually humanizing this thing. It's just a tin can!" Gavin raised his voice, pointing at the android.

"If it's just a tin can, then why do you feel the need to assert your masculine dominance over it?" You quipped. The other officer sniggered. "Why don't you go find a middle schooler to steal lunch money from?" Gavin glared at you. He looked over at the android and shoved its head downward. Your dog broke its silence and growled.

"Get control of your dog, (y/n)." With that, Gavin sauntered out of the break room, the other officer trailing behind.

You sighed, sticking your hand out towards Connor. "He's such a dick." Connor looked up at you and blinked. Androids didn't need help getting up, but you were offering assistance as a sign of camaraderie. Connor took your hand, and you helped him to his feet. Right after he stood, your breath got caught in your throat. His jacket was the first thing you noticed, then his eyes. There were bright colors all around you. Connor furrowed his brows. His LED briefly flash red before settling on a steady strum between blue and yellow. He stared at your eyes, then your hair. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in every feature.

You quickly snatched your hand away from his. The color slowly drained from your field of vision. Your eyes were wide and frantic. It felt like someone replaced your heart with a drum. You rushed out of the break room, calling for your dog to follow. Connor watched you retreat. A message clouded his vision.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY.

~*~*~

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amelialincoln · 3 years

Text

I’m Okay Now

“Sorry, I’m here,” Amelia huffed, sliding into the booth beside Meredith and spilling the contents of her bag over the table. “Shit.” Mer laughed as she took in Amelia’s catastrophic entrance which was nothing out of the ordinary. Maggie took in the exasperated neurosurgeon’s appearance, frowning slightly.

“Amelia you’re--”

“Spilling out of my shirt?” She finished for her sister. “Yeah, I’m aware.” She grabbed the medical booklet that had flown out of her bag and held it up for them both to see. “I stopped taking the pill cause I’m looking at IUD options and my hormones are fluctuating like crazy.” She tucked her sore chest back into her bra that had become two sizes too small. “Did you guys order?” Maggie and Meredith shared a look that Amelia couldn’t recognize.

“We just got a bunch of things for the table,” Mer explained. “Maggie’s been waiting for you to tell us.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” Amelia’s breathing was still heavy, as if she’d run all the way from the hospital. “But I am intrigued, it’s not often that the three of us go out for breakfast to reveal some big news--”

“Winston wants me to move,” Maggie blurted out, tired of Amelia’s rambling. “He’s already arranged a position for me at his hospital. He wants me to leave Grey Sloan.” Amelia choked on her glass of water.

“What?” She exclaimed.

“Is that what you want?” Meredith asked at the same time.

“I mean, I don’t know…” Maggie sighed. “He never really took into consideration the idea of moving here. I mean I’m probably more highly regarded at Grey Sloan than he is at his hospital.”

“Yeah you are. Girl power,” Amelia whooped, receiving a small smile from Maggie.

“I’ve just built a life here. I’m not sure I want to start over.”

“That’s your right,” Meredith added as their food arrived at the table. Amelia wrinkled her nose at the sight of bacon and pushed that specific plate away.

“You love bacon and eggs,” Mer narrowed her eyes at Amelia’s disgust.

“Uh yeah, not feeling it right now though. Trade plates with me, Maggie? I’ll take the fruit.” Maggie raised her eyebrows but passed her the plate all the same. “So are you gonna do it?”

Maggie sighed, “I mean I love Winston.” She spoke the words as if she were testing them out loud. “And that’s not something I say lightly.”

“We’d miss you,” Amelia interrupts with a mouthful full of fruit and receives a look of disapproval from Meredith.

“Well exactly.” Maggie smooths her braids. “I don’t think I could leave you guys behind.”

“Then you shouldn’t have to.” Meredith shakes her head.

“But then we’re stuck,” Maggie’s tone is exasperated, she’d run every possibility over in her head. “There’s no way to advance or grow in our relationship. Long distance is fine if it's temporary but what’s the point of all this if we don’t see an end goal together.”

“Where do you see you both ending up,” Amelia asks. “In your perfect world.”

“Well he’d be here,” Maggie spoons yogurt into her mouth. “In my perfect world we’d be in Seattle.”

“Then you need to tell him that.” Amelia sets her fork down and is surprised to find Meredith nodding in agreement. “Fuck, I don’t feel good,” she muttered under breath as she steadied herself by pressing a her fingertips on the side of the table.

“For god sakes, Amelia, it’s because you're pregnant,” Meredith rolled her eyes. “For a doctor you could not be more oblivious.” Amelia’s eyes flew open in shock.

“It’s not...I’m not.” The tone in her voice was wavering. Maggie couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

“Don’t sound so unaware,” Meredith teased, “I could name off five symptoms since you got here.” She expected the neurosurgeon to come back with a classic Amelia style response but instead she was lost in thought.

“Amelia,” Maggie’s voice was so quiet it was barely heard. “Is Link--”

“He’s away,” Amelia swallowed, hard, “in LA. Some pro athlete called him in cause he wanted the best. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“Well we can try and act as your big calm mountain until he gets back,” Maggie offered.

“Can we just get back to your thing right now?” Amelia pleaded, she avoided her sister’s looks of concern as she took a swig of her water and tried to ignore the fact that she wished it was the mimosa that Meredith was sipping on. Meredith’s phone buzzed on the table and the general surgeon glanced down before shoving the phone in her purse and gathering her wallet.

“That’s the hospital.” She looked at Maggie sympathetically. “We can finish this conversation tonight? Will breakfast on me make up for this?”

“Mer it’s fine,” Maggie assured her.

“Wouldn’t complain though,” Amelia mumbled, receiving a glare from Maggie. Meredith set her card on the table and scooted past Amelia before heading hurriedly out of the restaurant.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maggie asked immediately after her departure, watching Amelia swirl her spoon around in her coffee. She’d already had three cups today and doubted the amount of caffeine was good for the situation she might’ve gotten herself in. “Cause I know you and Mer’s relationship is...complicated and if you didn’t want to talk about it with her I’m here.”

“I haven’t taken a test, Maggie,” Amelia snapped, her tone harsher than she’d intended. Maggie sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Sorry, I’m just overwhelmed. I wish Link were here.”

“I know how that feels,” Maggie shrugged, handing Mer’s credit card to the waiter as she came to their table.

“That was insensitive of me--” Amelia began as Maggie held up her hand to quiet her.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

Meredith’s emergency surgery ended up being a twelve hour one. Amelia pulled off Ellis’ snow boots and smiled as the little girl ran off into the living room to play with her siblings.

“Hey Elle belle,” she whispered and motioned for the child to come back. “Since your teacher said you did such a great job on your math homework, you can pick what’s for dinner.” Ellis’ eyes lit up and she shrieked with excitement. Amelia winced as she felt her head begin to pound.

“Mac n cheese?” She asked.

“Sure, baby.” Amelia was relieved that she’d picked something so simple. Ellie wrapped her arms around Amelia’s legs in response, whispering that Amelia was her favourite aunt and to not tell aunt Maggie. To which Amelia rolled her eyes. “Nice try, you told her that she was your favourite aunt yesterday.” Ellis pressed a finger to her lips as if Maggie wasn’t at work and was listening in the other room.

“You’re my favourite aunt today,” she promised before running off once again. Amelia’s phone buzzed and Link’s face illuminated the screen.

“Hey,” she mumbled softly, “you just get off the plane?”

“Yep!” She winced at Link’s loud and cheery voice, wondering how he could always be so full of energy. “I was thinking of picking up some food on the way home. Do you have any requests?”

“Oh.” She realized she’d completely forgotten to update him on the last minute change of plans. “I’m not at the apartment. Meredith got pulled into a surgery and Maggie’s working the night shift so I’m watching the kids.”

“Okay, no worries.” He quieted down to match her tone. “Do you want me to pick up something and bring it there? We can put the kids down early and watch a movie.”

Amelia’s stomach turned at the idea of food. “I’m not really hungry but I’m up for a movie.”

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, not remembering a time where Amelia hadn’t been ‘up for food’. “I could pick up soup or something?” Amelia ran a nervous hand through her hair.

“Yeah, actually I need you to go to the store.”

“Okay, just send me a list, you know I’m no good at grocery shopping.” She could hear Link asking for a cab.

“No, Link, I need a--” she turned to see Bailey hovering over Ellis’ head with a pair of scissors. “Bailey! Don’t you dare cut your sister’s hair!” Bailey’s eyes widened, dropping the scissors guiltily. “I need a pregnancy test,” she practically yelled into the phone. Zola glanced up in confusion as her siblings carried on playing, completely unfazed. The other end of the phone was silent almost long enough for Amelia to check if they’d lost connection.

“Pregnancy test?” Link confirmed.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he swallowed. “See you soon.” He hung up quickly. Amelia tossed her phone away in annoyance and angrily filled a pot with water setting it on the stove. She didn’t know she’d begun to cry until hot tears were clouding her vision.

“Auntie Amelia?” Zola’s voice rang out beside her and Amelia jumped. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Amelia forced a smile, rubbing her eyes with her shirt sleeve. “Yeah, I’m all good.” Zola didn’t seem to take that as an answer, crossing her arms in front of her and staring up at her aunt patiently. Amelia sighed, pouring the box of Annie’s into the boiling water.

“Are you having a baby?”

“I don’t know,” she responded truthfully. “I’m not sure if your uncle and I are ready for that.” Despite her and Link not being married the kids referred to him as uncle so much that the title had stuck.

“Whenever Uncle Link braids Ellis’ hair he always says it’s because he’s practicing for when you and him have a kid,” Zola says this simply, as if it’s common knowledge. Amelia almost drops the plastic bowls she’d been retrieving from the cupboard.

“He said that?”

“Like every time.” Zola rolls her eyes. “Are you making Annie’s?”

“Yes,” Amelia sighed, not wanting to hear any complaints from her niece.

“Good,” she wrinkled her nose. “Bailey likes Kraft Dinner but Annie’s is way better.”

“I hear nothing but facts.” Link’s voice surprises them. Amelia turns to meet his gaze. “Hey.” He holds a plastic bag in one hand and a duffle bag in the other.

“Uncle Link!” Zola runs to hug him, her squeal alerting the other two from their game in the living room. Bailey is throwing a bouncy ball at Link seconds later and Ellis follows him giggling. Link bent down to greet the three of them, allowing Ellis to wrap her pudgy fingers around his neck and kiss his cheek affectionately. Once he’s greeted each one separately, he moves to wrap his arms around his girlfriend, staring over her shoulder as she stirs the pasta slowly.

“You okay?” He pressed some tentative kisses on her neck as she relaxed into his embrace.

“All good,” she moved to strain the noodles before stirring in the rest of the ingredients and spooning the pasta into bowls. “Want some?”

“I ended up picking up pizza,” he answered guiltily. “It was across from the CVS.” She ignored his attempt to bring up the test, instead calling out for the kids and handing each of them a bowl.

“You’re not hungry?”

“Nauseous.” She bit her lip worriedly, not wanting to meet his eyes. “If I eat I’ll throw up. Learned that this morning.” She glanced at the table instead. “Bailey, if I see you throw food at Ellis one more time I’m going to have a chat with your mother!”

“Annie’s mac and cheese sucks!” Bailey shot back with defiance.

“Well that’s unfortunate for you because tonight it’s your dinner.” Amelia shrugged.

“Irritable much?” Link had meant it as a joke but as he said it out loud he immediately regretted it. Amelia didn’t even look at him, no energy for a witty response. Instead she turned to the sink and started on the dishes. “I can do the dishes,” he offered.

“Can you just put them to bed?” She asked without glancing up from the soapy water. “I could use a minute alone.”

She finished the dishes as Link dragged the squealing group of children up the stairs, knowing immediately by the ruckus that they’d convinced him to build a fort and he wouldn’t be down for a while. She finally brought herself to peek into the plastic bag Link had brought home. As promised, there were two pregnancy tests inside along with her favourite chocolate bar and ginger tea. She suddenly felt the urge to take it but the feeling quickly passed and she was left terrified. Instead she turned the test over in her hands, reading the instructions over and over in an attempt to distract herself.

“I read that ginger tea is supposed to help with nausea.” Link’s voice brought her back to reality and she looked to find him leaning on the doorway. “Meredith told me that you were feeling sick at breakfast.” Amelia raised her eyebrows. “I called her while I was at the drugstore. I didn’t know which test to buy,” he confessed. “I felt like she would know.” Amelia nodded, staring at the test in her hands. With the both of them being doctors she’d never felt more clueless.

“I didn’t get morning sickness last time.” Link raised an eyebrow, allowing her the space to elaborate but she didn't. They’d talked about Christopher once before but he’d still been left with questions.

“Do you even want kids?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Do you want kids with me?”

“Yes,” she felt herself say immediately. They stared at each other for a while before she continued. “I was thinking more like adoption but here we are.” Tears burned at her eyes and Link closed the space between them immediately, wrapping his arms around her trembling body. They stood like that for a while until Amelia had straightened up and wiped her tears away, numbly making it towards the bathroom. Both tests confirmed their suspicion. To her surprise Link burst into happy tears, confessing how much he’d wanted this but had never wanted to push her and before she knew it they were both laughing and crying in each other's arms.

“Are we having a baby?” Meredith set her keys on the table as she pulled off her coat. Amelia was fast asleep on Link’s chest, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of a day.

“We’re having a baby.” Link’s beaming grin was illuminated by the tv and Meredith shook her head in amusement at the excitement he showed despite it being long past midnight.

sorry all I write is amelink pregnancy fics cause it makes me happy lol

#amelink #amelia shepherd #amelink fanfiction #amelinkfanfic #amelink fanfic #Atticus Lincoln #atticus link #atticuslincoln #greysanatomy #Meredith Grey #maggie pierce

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lucas-koh · 4 years

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XI

Parts 1-10 linked in bio!

Only somewhat canon compliant.

Song: sex (catching feelings) - EDEN

Rating: M; sexual content, swearing, mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: 4261

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Eleven: Tequila Flavoured Sutures

And ring in the New Year they did, for hours and hours and hours. There was little concern about the noise they were making due to the fact that everyone was passed out from alcohol by that point.

—-

It took almost the entire month of January until Suki had a day off, in fact, two days off. She skipped over her birthday on the 18th, opting for takeout and a movie (and not telling anyone it was her birthday so they wouldn’t make a fuss). Yay to twenty-eight. Her plans for her days off initially involved those chips and candy she didn’t get to indulge in before; but then she thought about Bryce’s words the last time ‘…and you didn’t even think to invite me?’ And immediately caved. She did want to see him after such a long time. Especially after how he was in bed at New Years…

Santa Fe: 👃yours?

Scalpel Jockey: i finish in a couple hours?

Santa Fe: cool, i’ll be there

Scalpel Jockey: 😈

So after a couple of hours Suki arrived at Bryce’s place. Pretty much as soon as she stepped through the door she was rushing Bryce’s shirt off.

“Woah, someone’s eager.”

“It’s been a little while.”

—-

A chunk of time and a few rounds later, Bryce and Suki caught their breath on his bed. Suki wasn’t ready for the night to end, she was pretty horny still, and she had the day off tomorrow, too.

“Hey,” she grinned with mischief and sudden inspiration in her eyes, she had missed out on birthday fun after all, “wanna get drunk and do body shots?”

“Absolutely,” Bryce bit his lip and his eyelids sunk with desire. Suki already knew this would be an interesting night.

They partially dressed and headed into the kitchen to grab Bryce’s alcohol. He crouched down to a little cupboard in the corner of his kitchen.

“Oh.” He pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard. There was barely anything left in it.

“Shit,” Suki laughed.

“I can grab something from the convenience store?”

“Eh, why not, I’ll come along.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Some fresh air might be nice after all that… exertion.”

So Bryce and Suki put on the rest of their clothes and headed out to walk to the store. The late January cold was biting but neither of them noticed much.

On the walk they talked about everything and nothing, like they were old friends catching up after too long away. Suki tried to ignore the fact that their hands brushed when they walked too close together. That the cold metal of his rings sent a jolt through the nerves in her fingers. She also tried to ignore the fact that made her think about holding that hand. Back on the first day, when they’d danced to The Stone Roses, when he’d asked if she wanted to be adored and made her scramble under his gaze. And then the many times she’d gripped his hand while he was fucking her into oblivion, letting it press her own into the mattress with pressure, his fingers fitting between her own desperately and needing like puzzle pieces. Her nails digging into the back of his hand and vice versa. She remembered how that first time and all the times since their hands had felt right, like an old key and lock with a very specific shape.

Once they reached the store, they picked up two bottles of tequila, and some fresh limes.

“I’ll pay,” Bryce rushed in front of her, “I’ll keep whatever’s left over.”

“Not if we drink it all,” she teased.

“That’s 70cl each, I think not,” Bryce chuckled as the cashier put the bottles in their over-used old plastic bag for them. Suki pulled the full bag from the counter once Bryce had paid.

“Can’t handle it?”

“Thanks man,” Bryce said to the cashier and they began to make their way outside. “As doctors I think we both know 70cl is like, death limits.”

“Long term, maybe,” she shrugged. When she saw the look Bryce was giving her, she added, “I’m joking, you dumbass! I’m not sure why you even bought two bottles.”

“Eh, saves coming down here again.”

“Lazy-ass.”

They pushed open the door to step into the cold outside. Bryce shook his head affectionately and laughed at Suki, despite the conversation being barely funny.

As he laughed, Bryce stumbled backwards off the step up to the shop and into a man drinking just outside the store.

“Oops, sorry man,” he grinned an apology. It was lighthearted and accidental and that should’ve been the end of it. But this dude did not look happy.

“Hey Buddy, are you looking for a fight?”

“No, not at all – just an accident, dude.”

“Are you fuckin’ sure?” The man signalled down to the ground where a vodka bottle was smashed into large pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another.”

Suki was beginning to feel very stressed. Confrontation was her least favourite thing ever. She pulled one of the tequila bottles from her bag.

“Here, sir. Have this. He really didn’t mean to break it.”

“Tell your boyfriend to be more careful,” he spat.

Suki didn’t want to provoke him any more by correcting him, but she also didn’t want him to keep talking smack. Hearing this guy get so worked up over Bryce’s mere mistake was enough to give Suki a major adrenaline and confidence boost.

“He tripped, and then apologised immediately. We offered to buy you another bottle, and even offered up our own. Maybe you need to calm down.” Her voice was slightly raised and she was starting to see red from anger.

“Suki-“ Bryce started, holding a hand out as though to shield her.

But this man was very intoxicated and clearly in the mood to be a dick, because he walked over to Suki and shoved her to the floor. It was like everything was moving in fast forward because it happened in just seconds. And then all of a sudden Suki was on the other side of the coin and in slow motion, stumbling down to the concrete. In the process the tequila in the dishevelled bag in her hand also smashed through the worn plastic and to the floor and Suki, in trying to break her fall, stumbled back on her hands. She winced as her hand dug right into one particularly sharp shard of glass.

“Shit.”

The man’s eyes widened as he noticed what he’d done and the absolute rage and contempt on Bryce’s face. Bryce was furious. Suki had never seen him so mad. Not even that day he’d lost the surgery. And it wasn’t cartoon smoke-out-the-ears fury either, it was scary. Pure. The drunkard was clearly terrified by Bryce’s expression and his tightly clenching fists and he scarpered.

“HEY! ASSHOLE!” Bryce shouted after him, running down the road after him a bit. Suki was surprised at how fast he was running. He got a little ways down the sidewalk when the other man crossed a traffic-filled road. Bryce looked back and saw Suki on the floor - he knew his priority was her.

He returned to where she was now sat on the floor, examining the glass shoved into her hand and crumbs of concrete around the area, too. The aroma of tequila mixed with blood was overwhelming. Suki was honestly feeling a mixture of shell-shock and dizzy headiness.

“Fuck,” Bryce said, crouching beside her and taking her hand in his like the very limb was made of glass. “I’ll fucking kill him. Does anywhere else hurt? Are you okay emotionally?”

His deep brown eyes searched hers, desperate concern clouding them. All traces of the absolute anger of before were gone, only solicitude and tunnelled focus on the woman before him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a bruise on my butt but I’ve had worse. What a dick.”

Bryce held the underside of her hand in both of his, securing her wrist steady, and scrunched his face up as he inspected it. “We need to get the glass out of this.”

“Easy, it’s only the one piece.” Suki tried not to yelp as she pulled the shard from her palm.

“Suki!” Bryce chastised.

“It’s all good, see?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that after nine years of medical training.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, hoping her eyes were telling him so too. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make a big deal out of.

“You should let me take you to the emergency room.”

“Bryce. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

He winced as he looked at the blood still pouring from the gash in her hand. “I swear I’ll deck that guy if I ever see him again. It’ll heal much better if you go to the ER and get stitches. The last thing a doctor needs is nerve damage.”

“Bryce.”

“Fine, then you’re coming back to mine and letting me stitch it.”

“Bryce!” Suki was feeling like a broken record, but honestly at that moment, a combination of shock and the odd feeling Bryce’s eyes gave her was making it a little difficult to access her full word library.

“Don’t wear my name out,” he winked, keeping one hand on hers and placing the other round her waist as he helped pull her up from the ground. She was sure to grab the unaffected tequila bottle and limes with her functioning hand.

“I could’ve stood up by myself you know, my legs are fine.”

“I’m keeping this hand so you don’t do anything else to it,” he said, taking Suki’s wrist to hold her bleeding hand above her heart, and began to pull her along with him. She sighed but let him pull her along, anything to get him not to go after that guy. She didn’t need the further mortification.

The walk back had lost the vibe of the walk there; solemn and sober. Mostly filled with Bryce muttering things about the man and retained asking of Suki’s well-being.

Bryce held her wrist the entire way, catching most of the leftover dripping blood on his own hand.

They reached Bryce’s apartment and he unlocked the door for them, closed it behind him, and then led Suki over to the sofa.

“Stay there,” he instructed before disappearing into the kitchen. Seconds later he re-emerged with a sizeable first aid kit.

“That’s big,” Suki laughed, a little more colour in her cheeks now that they were inside, “I would say you’re compensating for something but...”

“But you know I’m not,” he grinned smugly as he perched beside her.

Bryce was ever so delicate as he held Suki’s hand and cleaned away the blood with an antiseptic wipe. She winced the first time the cool chemical wipe made contact with the gash which caused Bryce to immediately stop and look at her. She gave him a little nod to continue. He did his best to be careful as he moved the skin around a bit under his phone flashlight to see if any glass was lingering.

“I swear Suki if this heals and there’s still glass in there because you wouldn’t let me take you to the ER, you’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Fine, but I trust your 20/20 vision and steady scalpel hand.”

“As you should.”

Once the wound was clean and Bryce had checked multiple times for fragments of glass, he pulled his suture kit from the box.

Watching Bryce steady the curved needle end in some tweezers was artful. He was so practised, so sure. The way his pretty features furrowed together slightly in focus was magnetising. She was amazed at how steady his hands were, how such large appendages could look so fine and delicate. Each stitch pulled through was neat and even, Suki’s eyes flicking between the stitches and Bryce’s facial expression. It was piercing her skin but it was like she couldn’t feel it. His other hand remained beneath hers, holding it up and keeping it from shaking. Then Bryce secured the stitches and started to wrap some bandage around for extra protection.

Bryce finished off his bandaging by tucking it in at the back of her hand. He held her hand, still.

“It’s going to scar,” he sighed.

“What’s a doctor without a few scars?”

“Touché.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was no question.”

Suki couldn’t help but notice the way Bryce’s thumb soothed the back of the hand it was holding. She looked up to the clock. It had only been an hour since they’d left for drinks. Eventful hour.

Eventually Bryce seemed to notice his hand and removed it from hers.

“What about those body shots then?” She smirked.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s a cut on my hand, I was planning on doing these shots with my mouth…”

Bryce raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Well, we did manage to salvage one bottle.”

“Not to mention it has been secured by ‘the best surgical intern at Edenbrook’.”

“Oh you’re damn fucking right. Fine, you know how to convince a guy. We’re gonna take it careful though, okay?”

“Deal. On which I will not shake my hand.”

He laughed and got up to fetch the shot glasses from the kitchen, beckoning her over.

“The counter will be best.”

Suki laid down first, letting Bryce slip her top over her head (with which he was incredibly careful with her hand), and slide her pants down her legs until she was laying on his kitchen island in only her underwear.

“Now, this is a sight that could encourage me to be in the kitchen more,” Bryce laughed, trailing a finger up and down her arm and causing her to tremble.

“Still haven’t learned any recipes, huh?”

“No. But there’s no way in hell we’re talking about cooking right now.”

Bryce licked a finger and trailed it slowly between Suki’s breasts, then sprinkled some salt over that area. He rested the lime wedge on her stomach. Finally he filled a shot glass with the spirit and placed it in her mouth. She was trying not to laugh too hard so that she didn’t spill the tequila all over her face.

“Ready?” He smirked. She lifted her good hand in an ‘ok’ sign.

As Bryce leaned down towards Suki’s chest, his face was hungry, craving. That look was making Suki’s stomach flip all kinds of directions. He sensuously licked his tongue up between her breasts, catching each grain of salt. He laughed a little as he moved to collect the shot glass in his own mouth. Their lips touched briefly as he secured it in his mouth, then he threw his head back and downed the shot immediately. Then rather swiftly Bryce moved down to Suki’s stomach to suck all the juice from the lime and counter the sharp tequila flavour.

“Okay, that was a really good idea,” he exhaled in the way one does after a strong shot of alcohol. Bryce took another three shots from various parts of Suki’s body; for the last two she lay on her stomach and he used spots such as the nape of her neck, small of her back, and asscheek. The two of them were a messy mix of laughing the whole time, and really enjoying the whole thing.

“Right? My turn now.”

Bryce and Suki switched places, and he threw all his clothing bar underpants off towards the lounge.

Suki used her tongue to dampen the line in the middle of Bryce’s abs for the salt, balanced the shot glass precariously on the flat part of his chest, and placed the lime in his mouth.

She was slow and tantalising as she lapped up the salt, swift as she took the shot, and then there was the lime. She leant down to suck out the sour juice, but kept the lime in his mouth the entire time she drained it. It was an odd but exciting semi-kiss.

After a couple more shots Suki had a new idea.

“Wait, wait,” she laughed, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What?”

“What if… I poured a bit on your stomach and licked it up…” she was laughing a lot, but it was obvious the idea appealed a lot to her.

“Do it.”

She placed a hand on his stomach to steady him before she planned to carefully pour the liquid over him.

“Hey, careful with that hand,” Bryce nudged, noticing it pressed flat on his body.

“Yes, yes, Dr. Lahela,” she teased.

Time seemed to fly by as the pair took shot after shot, broken up by messy intoxicated kisses, neither realising that Suki’s tolerance was far lower than Bryce’s. After losing count, they wordlessly abandoned the game, relocating to dance around stupidly in their underwear in the living room. Suki may or may not have been swigging tequila directly from the bottle at that point.

A number of songs played and then:

“I’m… pretty drunk,” Suki laughed, closing her eyes and letting herself sway a bit.

“Same!” Bryce enthused, before Suki began to topple over towards the sofa, “woah! Okay, you’re more drunk than me.” He giggled as he caught her fall. Now he was sitting on the floor with Suki’s jelly-like body in his arms. He kept a weary eye on her bandaged hand.

Yes, Bryce was drunk, but the moment he needed to be sensible or protective it was like a switch went off in his brain.

Her eyes were still shut and a blissful smile spread over her face. “Kiss me.”

Bryce leaned in and gave her a chaste peck to the lips.

“I know you can kiss better than that,” she echoed his words from their epic kiss.

“Not when you’re drunker than me I can’t.”

“Boohoo.”

“We should get you home. I’ll come with, I’m not sure I’m comfortable putting you in an Uber alone.”

“I don’t think I can walk very far, Bryyyceee.”

“Okay, you can have my bed then. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Nooooo,” she brought up her limp hands to grab either side of his face, visibly wincing a bit when the bandaged one made contact with his face. “Sleep with me.”

“Clothed? Sure.” Bryce took her damaged hand in his own and held it away from any pain risks.

“Nopeeee,” Suki’s remaining clumsy hand began to slide down Bryce’s chest and fiddle with the band of his boxers. He laughed and grabbed them both with his free hand to stop her.

“I’m not having sex with you again tonight.”

“Meanie.”

“Okay.” He chuckled again.

“But will you sleep with me? Like, to make sure I don’t throw up in the night or something.”

“Sure, miss tequila.”

Bryce stood and pulled Suki up with him, her eyes fluttering open at the movement, and supported her in the walk to his bedroom.

“Are you cold? I have some pyjamas if you’d like,” he offered when they got there, still holding her tightly to his side.

She shook her head, but didn’t seem sure. She looked up to Bryce with wide eyes and a startled expression like she was only just really seeing him.

“Bathroom,” she choked out, and Bryce rushed her towards his en-suite. He supported her all the way to her eventually emptying the contents of her stomach into his toilet bowl.

He held her hair back from her face as she very inelegantly upchucked into Bryce’s toilet a few times.

“I’m sorry,�� she looked up at him, eyes wide and apologetic, “I didn’t mean to drink so much I’m just…” nervous around you. Stupidly feeling ways I shouldn’t for my fuck Buddy. Wanted you to see me as fun and free-spirited. Now I’m just embarrassing myself.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s okay.”

Once it was clear nothing else was coming out, Bryce helped Suki drink from a glass of water, and briefly left the room for her to pee.

Bryce was gentle as he ran a spare (unused) toothbrush around her mouth and directed her head to the sink each time to spit.

Suki wasn’t coherent enough to ramble all her apologies and thanks’, but she was so grateful. Could this man stop being so amazing, please? I’m trying to stop being weird, here.

Eventually Bryce was able to help Suki into some of his pyjamas, somehow without looking at all. Seeing a very drunk naked girl is not the same, even if he had seen said girl naked many times prior. Then he helped her into bed and she collapsed against his pillow like a rag doll. He climbed into bed beside her, careful to keep his distance.

“Bryce…” she slurred, the sleep clear in her voice. “You’re a really great guy. I’m glad we’re…” Suki was going to say friends, but it felt wrong coming out of her mouth at that moment. “I’m glad I know you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I know you too.” Bryce reached up a hand to stroke her cheek. She sighed into his hand, moving a bit cat-like.

“Since you wouldn’t fuck me, will you at least cuddle me?”

Bryce laughed. “Of course.”

“You are so great. So great. Great guy.” As she mumbled these words drunkenly it was clear the unconsciousness was taking over.

Bryce rolled towards her and cradled her into his chest, holding her tightly as though it had been a long time coming.

Bryce’s breaths came gently over Suki’s forehead. And after a few minutes, when he was sure she’d fallen asleep, he spoke ever so quietly.

“If only you knew what a screw up I was,” he muttered. Suki may have been drunk and spewing shit she wouldn’t sober, but her ears were working fine. And she would remember this in the morning. Despite the intoxication she knew such out of pocket words would be something she’d recall. She knew then to keep as still as she could, not alerting to him that she was awake or coherent.

—-

When Suki woke up, her pillow was hard. Her duvet was gripping her waist kind of tightly, too. As she nuzzled into the pillow her senses were invigorated with a sudden and familiar scent: suddenly most of the nights events clocked in her brain.

Sex with Bryce. Walk to convenience store. Accidental beef with drunk man. Damaged hand. Bryce stitching up said hand. Body shots. Lots of body shots. Random blank moment. Oh god - throwing up in Bryce’s toilet. Being dressed by a closed-eye Bryce. Finally falling into bed. Those words.

What the hell could he have meant by that last night? If only I knew what a screw up he was? As far as I’m concerned right now he’s an angel sent from above to deal with a problematically drunk Suki.

He was breathing gently beneath her, quiet noises at each exhale. She noticed as she listened to the rhythm of his heart, that her heart was beating in time with his.

Maybe she should’ve left. After all, she’d ended up causing a lot of trouble for Bryce. And, she’d stayed the night. Maybe if she left before he woke up it wouldn’t count that she’d broken the rule.

But before she could truly agonise over her decision, Bryce stirred, blinking awake and looking down at her.

“Hey,” he smiled. To Suki’s surprise his arm remained around her waist. Okay, I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me. Then again, he wouldn’t be the type to be open about hating someone.

“Hey,” she replied quietly, looking up at him from his chest. “So… I was pretty drunk last night.”

“Yeah. I thought I was too and then you fell over. The decline was pretty quick after that.”

“I’m so sorry. That you had to see me like that, look after me, and then I hijacked your bed too… it wasn’t appropriate of me and it was unfair on you.”

“It’s okay, Suki. You’d do the same for me. We’re friends and making sure you’re okay and looked after is important to me,” he nodded sincerely before grinning and adding, “plus, now I have plenty of blackmail material.”

“God I was awful wasn’t I?”

He chuckled.

Oh shit. “Did I say anything really bad? If I did please ignore it because I talk out of my ass when I’m drunk I’m sure it was utter nonsense.”

“If you did, I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

Ughhhhh. She groaned loudly and buried her face into his chest so that she didn’t have to see that stupid smirk. Now my mind will race about what I could’ve said for the rest of time.

Suki actually felt like hitting Bryce as his large hand slowly soothed her back.

He had to stop doing so much for her, being so exemplary, because it was adding to a problem that had been brewing in Suki for a while. He’d comforted her in the supply closet twice, he’d looked after Tommy, he’d held her hair back while she was sick and let her stay the night, and he’d stitched up her wound so carefully and precisely. He’d even nearly beat up that guy for her.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

She’d broken her promise, because it wasn’t just about sex anymore. Truthfully, maybe it never was.

There was absolutely no way she could swing it any longer. Suki Moore liked Bryce Lahela. As more than a friend, more than a body. She was enamoured by him, and had no clue what to do about it.

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gohyuck · 4 years

Note

4+4+17 with haechan

surgical resident!haechan and surgical resident!reader

i’ve been watching a lot of grey’s recently lol. the college is more “just out of med school” and the coming of age is more “feeling pain and coping” because that’s a life skill hard-learned and also because I had a VERY similar request to this one for renjun (found here) and I don’t wanna repeat that

warning: minor character death

4) college

4) coming of age

17) “It feels like I’m suffocating.”

donghyuck’s head is buried in his hands when you find him sitting on a spare gurney in one of the more empty hallways of the hospital. his lab coat is in a wrinkled pile on one side of him, while an empty - and totally crushed - plastic water bottle is on the other.

he doesn’t move at all when you move his lab coat aside to sit down next to him.

“bad day?” you ask, realizing that he isn’t going to tell you to leave like you’d been afraid he would. tentatively, you place a gentle hand on top of his hunched back. at feeling your touch, your boyfriend heaves a heavy sigh.

“dr. jung... let me scrub in on a ventricular restoration to treat heart failure in this heart attack victim today and it-it...” he chokes on his own words, and you find yourself running a hand up and down his back, doing your best to soothe him as he tries to find the words to continue. “the patient was so... young. he’d just had a second kid - a newborn - and he was fine one day and i was cutting into him to look at his heart the next, fuck!”

donghyuck quickly lifts his head out of his hands as he swears, his volume reaching a high out of nowhere as his shoulders stiffen. you pull your hand away from him immediately, as if stung, but you’re quick to place it back in the same place as he deflates in on himself once more.

“dr. jung had to tell the patient’s wife about her loss. maybe if she’d - it she’d cried, or screamed, it would feel less real, but she just stood there and-and-and stared right through jaehyun and right through me for the longest time until she just nodded, sat back down, and asked if she could be alone with her sons for a moment, please, and that she was grateful we’d done all we could. she was the one grieving but in that moment of her strength it... honestly, it felt like i had lost someone, too. she couldn’t cry in front of her boys but i wanted to cry for her it- god, this job fucking sucks. it sucks! it feels like i’m- like i’m suffocating, sometimes.”

you can’t say you aren’t taken aback by donghyuck’s outburst - after all, you’ve spent your entire internships and residencies together, and have been dating for about a year, and he’s never once sounded so distraught about the horrors that come with practicing medicine, specifically with practicing surgery. if anything, he’s one of the most enthusiastic residents you can think of, especially when it comes to traumas and sudden surgeries. while pretty much all surgeons are swift, you’ve never seen someone as quick on their feet as hyuck. he’s saved plenty of lives while having seen plenty of deaths. nothing he’s speaking of is new to him, but the way his tone shifts along the troughs and peaks of his story make you feel as if maybe even the most radiant people have breaking points.

“hyuck... babe...” you start, trailing off almost immediately as you try to think. after a moment - it hits you. you know exactly what to do.

you don’t try to say anything, knowing it’ll be to no avail. he’s justified in how he feels - patient deaths may happen often, but surgeons are expected to grieve them quietly. it’s only natural that everyone has a breaking point with them. hell, you’ve been there - for you, it was a young woman with muscular dystrophy.

you don’t try to say anything - you just stand up and reach your hand out, directly in his line of sight. donghyuck looks up at you, brows furrowed and eyes looking as if he’s drowning inside.

“put your coat on and take my hand,” you wiggle your fingers at him. “i want to show you something.”

he’s dumbfounded.

“this isn’t really the time-”

“i promise you that it is. trust me, yeah?”

donghyuck blinks slowly once, twice, thrice before he sighs and places on hand in yours, using the other to grab onto his lab coat. you smile at him and pull him up to stand beside you. he won’t feel this way forever, but if you can ease the process, you’ll do it.

♕ ♕ ♕

“are you sure we’re allowed in here?” hyuck’s voice is raspy as he whispers directly into your ear. one of his hands is situated on your lower back, though you aren’t sure whether it’s to keep you close or keep you away. you nod your head.

“i was on pediatric service today, it shouldn’t be a problem,” you respond, leading him into the newborn nursery. “besides, we’re doctors. we work here. anyways, most mothers will keep their newborns with them, but sometimes they’ll feel it’s safest for their baby to be in the newborn nursery.”

“some of them are also abandoned babies, right?” he murmurs, following you through the door.

“right. pretty much all of them get adopted reasonably quickly because the hospital is so accredited, and because babies are adopted fast in comparison, anyways. they’ve been given a life, and we give them the ability to live. sounds like a good deal to me, right?” your last sentence deteriorates into a form of baby speak as you talk at - though not to - the sleeping little boy in the crib closest to you.

donghyuck leans over the crib next to the one you’re at, smiling tentatively at the awake baby in it and allowing himself a small laugh when she gurgles back at him. neither of you dare to touch them, but you suspect just seeing them will put your boyfriend in better spirits.

he smiles down at the baby girl for a bit before looking up and slowly surveying the nursery. finally, donghyuck turns to look at you, his soft smile growing slightly.

“it’s kind of cliché to show me the ‘miracle of life’ after i’ve witnessed a death, isn’t it?” he teases, stepping towards you and resting his hands on your waist. you allow yourself a short laugh before responding.

“i was just thinking that babies are cute, to be honest,” you say, and hyuck chuckles softly before leaning and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“whatever the thought process was, it worked,” he assures you, and you grin at him before looping your arms around his neck for a hug. donghyuck can’t help but move his lips to rest by one of your ear’s before speaking again, his voice low this time.

“you know, these babies are kind of adorable. what say we make one of our own in an on call room some time?”

“you little-” you unwrap yourself from his arms, gently smacking his chest. he notes the blush and the smile on your face, though, and can’t help but place his lips on your forehead again. just as you let your eyes slide shut to savor the moment, a loud - or as loud as one can be around newborns - exclamation startles you.

“lee. (name). what the hell are you two doing?” the two of you find one of the attending pediatric doctors - dr. suh, actually - looking down at the two of you, though there’s no anger in his eyes. still, you and your boyfriend fly apart from each other, rushing to explain yourselves.

“we wanted to experience the miracle of life-” you start.

“babies are really, really, cute-” donghyuck speaks at the same time as you. you both stop abruptly to look at dr. suh, then at each other, then back to dr. suh again. he’s grinning at the two of you, thoroughly entertained. you can feel the gears start to grind in donghyuck’s head. before you can stop him from opening his mouth, he speaks, tone sly when he does.

“actually, (name) and i were thinking that we want to make one of our own-”

“donghyuck!”

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