#it literally takes place already in the clinics!! why do they need to go through it twice?!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sukirichi · 3 years

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reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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talesofstyles · 3 years

Text

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain.

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder.

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment.

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car.

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.”

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later.

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald.

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.”

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later.

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks.

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off.

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.”

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors.

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve.

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING.

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head.

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her.

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals.

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom.

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife.

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process.

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop.

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache.

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink.

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers.

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest.

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room.

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward.

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket.

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages.

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side.

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door.

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.”

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going.

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him.

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear.

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat.

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes.

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt.

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige.

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down.

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.”

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching.

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

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emily-smx · 3 years

Text

Lies of Omission

I know that this scene has been discussed hundreds of times already, and there are probably posts out there that are very similar to this one. However, I saw this being brought up again on Instagram, and I feel the need to say my bit about it.

The question brought up over and over again is “Why did Scott believe Theo over Stiles?”.

He didn’t.

In the entire scene, there’s never once the question of whose story he should believe – as far as the boys are concerned, there is only one story. That’s what causes the miscommunication.

I also noticed something else while watching the scene: nothing that Stiles said actually contradicted Theo’s story.

To go into more depth, I’m going to go through each bit of the dialogue and explain what’s basically being said from each character’s point of view.

[Scott holds out the bloody wrench]

Stiles: Where did you get that?

Scott: This is yours? Why didn't you tell me?

Stiles: I was going to...

Scott: No, but why didn't you tell me when it happened?

Stiles: I couldn't.

So far, it’s pretty straightforward.

Scott shows Stiles the wrench, who immediately reacts in a guilty manner. It’s important to note that Scott’s “This is yours?” holds quite a bit of surprise in it, so he clearly hadn’t already made up his mind about what happened.

Stiles takes the wrench and looks at it, while Scott asks him “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I know that, to some people, his question implies that he’s already leapt to a conclusion about what happened, but this isn’t necessarily the case. He hasn’t specified what it is he believes Stiles has done; all this shows is that he knows something big has happened.

Stiles’ response sounds incredibly guilty, and he struggles to look Scott in the eye. It’s clear at this point that he’s done something bad.

Scott: You killed him? You killed Donovan?

Stiles: Well, he was going to kill my dad. Huh? Was I supposed to just let him?

Scott: You weren't supposed to do this. None of us are.

This is where it starts to get more confusing.

Scott asks whether Stiles killed Donovan, and again the surprise and disbelief in his voice shows that he hadn’t already made up his mind prior to this conversation.

Stiles responds by telling him “he was going to kill my dad [...] was I supposed to just let him?” (i.e. “I killed Donovan because he was going to kill my dad”).

The worst thing about this is that it essentially confirms what Theo was saying. Theo said “maybe it was because he threatened to kill his dad”.

It also implies to Scott that this was not self-defense, because Stiles’ dad wasn’t there. Instead, it tells Scott that Stiles chose to kill Donovan because he couldn’t risk Donovan hurting his father.

Also, Stiles is asking Scott “Was I supposed to just let him [kill my father]?” (i.e. “was I supposed to let him go free and risk him killing my father?”)

If Stiles had explained how much he regretted it, Scott (despite still not knowing the whole story) would likely have reacted differently. Instead, it sounds to Scott as though Stiles has done something terrible and is now defending it.

Hence, he replies by essentially saying that no, his response was not justified. “You weren't supposed to do this.”

Stiles: You think I had a choice?

Scott: There's always a choice.

This is where it’s important to look at the different viewpoints. Scott is still under the impression that Stiles killed Donovan to protect his father. So, from his point of view, Stiles did have a choice.

Stiles: Yeah, well, I can't do what you can, Scott. I know you wouldn't have done it. You probably would have just figured something out, right?

Scott: I'd try.

Stiles: Yeah, because you're Scott McCall! You're the True Alpha! Guess what? All of us can't be True Alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes. Some of us are human!

Once again, it’s clear that they’re talking about completely different things.

Stiles is talking about what he can do physically. He’s saying that he couldn’t easily fight off Donovan the way that Scott could have. He’s saying that Scott could have found a solution that didn’t end in one of them dying.

But Scott still doesn’t know that. He still thinks that Stiles killed Donovan by using disproportionate force, because he was scared that if Donovan survived then he’d harm his father. From his point of view, Stiles is saying that murder was the only option, and he couldn’t figure something else out.

So he responds by essentially saying that yes, he would try and figure out another solution to protect his father and also not kill Donovan.

It’s an entirely reasonable response, but obviously from Stiles’ point of view, Scott is being very unfair here. This, along with the fact that he’s being crushed under guilt and stress and anger, causes him to lash out.

Scott: So you had to kill him?

Stiles: Scott, he was going to kill my dad!

Scott: But the way that it happened... There's a point when it's... It's not self-defense anymore!

Stiles: What are you even talking about? I didn't have a choice, Scott!

Scott, to his credit, doesn’t get angry, and instead gets back to the main point. He’s clearly very desperate at this point, desperate for there to be something he’s missed.

So he asks whether Stiles had to kill him – note that this isn’t simply if Stiles killed Donovan, it’s more about whether it was the only choice. Keep in mind, that Scott cares a lot about Stiles. He doesn’t want to fall out with him.

Unfortunately, Stiles’ response only emphasised what he’d previously claimed, making it sound like that was his only reason.

This is where both characters should have paid more attention to each other’s words. Scott’s comment about “the way that it happened” should have driven Stiles to questioning what he thought had happened; and Stiles’ confusion should have again made Scott question whether he had the story right.

However, they’re both upset and stressed, and so it’s understandable that at this point they aren’t thinking clearly and rationally.

Stiles: You don't even believe me, do you?

Scott: I want to.

Stiles: Okay. All right, so... So, believe me, then. Scott, say you believe me. Say it. Say you believe me.

[Stiles steps forward brandishing the wrench and Scott flinches]

Scott: Stiles, we can't kill people that we're trying to save.

Stiles: Say you believe me!

Scott: We can't kill people. Do you believe that?

This is where everybody hates Scott, but again it’s taking everything out of context.

When Stiles says “believe me”, he means “believe me that there was no choice, I was about die and it was an accident”, but Scott hears “believe me that my only choice was to kill Donovan to protect my dad”.

Scott wants to believe that Stiles’ actions were necessary, but he knows that killing somebody to prevent the possibility of something else from happening in the future is not justified (especially when there are other ways they could have protected his dad).

Also, Theo was cunning and he told Scott “maybe Stiles thought he had to keep going to defend himself” – which feeds into Scott’s belief that Stiles might have thought it was his only choice, despite this not being the case.

I also want to point out that Scott flinching is likely due to the trauma of Void Stiles. In Letharia Vulpina (3x19), by the animal clinic in the pouring rain, Void Stiles tortured Scott. The similarities of the situation likely caused him to flinch (and then there’s obviously the fact that flinching when somebody steps forward with a weapon is a completely natural response, even without all the trauma).

Stiles: Well, what do I do about this? What do you want me to do? Okay, just be... Scott, just tell me how to fix this, all right? Please, just tell me-- what do you want me to do?

Scott: Don't worry about Malia or Lydia. We'll find them. Maybe... Maybe you should talk to your dad.

This is when Stiles essentially gives up. From his point of view, he’s tried defending himself, but Scott is still condemning him; he’s being blamed for something that was in no way his fault.

Instead of lashing out again, he accepts that he was at fault (although he wasn’t – it was his guilt that was persuading him that he was in the wrong), and begs Scott to tell him how he can fix his mistake.

Scott, who is also very overwhelmed, suggests he talk to his dad, who will be able to fix it and sort everything out.

I know some people equate this to Scott kicking Stiles out of the pack, but I really don’t think it is.

Scott saying “Don't worry about Malia or Lydia” is not him forbidding Stiles from speaking to them. It’s simply a callback to the beginning of the conversation, when Stiles informed Scott that he’d been unable to get in touch with Malia or Lydia.

And yes, he dismisses Stiles, but that’s because so many other things are going on. Hayden is directly behind them, dying in the animal clinic. Scott needs to go and help her, and Stiles being there will probably just increase the tension and make things more difficult.

In Conclusion:

It was a miscommunication. Scott and Stiles both thought they were talking about the same thing, which led to them not understanding what the other was trying to say.

Scott did not come into the argument already believing Stiles was guilty. His reaction to Theo’s story was, literally, “that’s not possible”. It was Stiles’ accidental confirmation of Theo’s story that led Scott to believe it was true.

“believe me” does not mean “believe my story”, because to their knowledge there was only one story.

Scott did not kick Stiles out of the pack.

I firmly believe that the only mistake either character made (beyond hiding the whole secret in the first place) is not pushing further to make sure they were both talking about the same thing. Scott should have asked for Stiles’ full story of the events, and Stiles should have explained what happened when he had the chance. It can, however, be put down to their mindsets at the time: Theo chose a good time to tell Scott, when both of them were already overwhelmed with all the events going on.

#teen wolf #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #sciles #scott mccall defense squad #tw 5x09 #teen wolf meta #long post

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nnightskiess · 3 years

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝

₊° 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 (𝐲/𝐧), 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐜, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥...

𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

for my great friend lux @redhairedwolfwitch ♡ thank you for everything.

"Hey, you paged us?"

Cristina tilted her head, curious, while you stood behind her, wondering if you were in trouble if the Chief needed you.

"I know you're both most interested in cardio, so..." He motioned the two of you two follow him until your pager went off.

"Shit," You mumbled under your breath, staying slightly behind as you heard Cristina gush about the cardiac trauma Hunt showed her, "I gotta run, Robbins needs me, a complication in the NICU."

"Come on?! Cardiac trauma!" Cristina turned to you, the look on her face saying enough. But you had already started to walk away, putting a spanner in the works of the plan the universe had in store for you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Doctor Bailey!" You rushed after her, wanting to catch up with her and show her the results of the CT she needed, until Cristina appeared out of nowhere, seeming frustrated.

"The new attending doesn't even know how to put in a temporary pacemaker!"

They came to a halt at the nurse's station as you hovered next to Cristina, waiting your turn.

You tilted your head, "Wait- we have a new attending?"

"Did you or did you not ask this man for a new cardio attending?"

"Yes."

"And did he or did he not bring in attending after attending, none of them who seem to please you and all of whom you ran off?" Bailey gave Cristina a look, one that made you have to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh. Doctor Bailey had her cornered, and rightly so.

"That is not a fair assessment." Cristina bluntly replied.

"Doctor Yang, has it ever occurred to you that you might be the problem? Right, leave this man alone. Go torture the new attending. (Y/S/N), you got the results?"

You passed the results over, leaving as soon as Bailey waved you off, so you could go on your way to pester Cristina.

"So... why is the new cardio attending not to your liking this time?" Cristina rolled her eyes and groaned as she heard the teasing in your voice. You followed her, ignoring the annoyed look on her face, "Let me guess... weird hairdo that keeps distracting you? Bad breath? Silly walk? Or are they just not at your level?" You air quoted, making Cristina stop to stare at you before she continued her walk, but you knew she would talk after that.

"She might have been it once, but oh no, not anymore. She made me put in a temporary transvenous pacemaker because she hadn't done it in ages."

You grimace, having to admit how bad it sounded that a cardio attending didn't know how to., "At least she admitted it?"

Your comment went completely over Cristina's head, who was still fed up with the situation, "She's inexperienced, inadequate and is definitely not a cardio goddess. She's a desert storm barbie, who hasn't seen the inside of an OR in like 10 years. Owen was wrong to bring her here."

"Well... you've used up your three wishes and Webber and Bailey are done with your complaints... so I think you're gonna be stuck with her."

Cristina let her head fall back and let out the biggest groan before turning into another hallway, leaving you to shake your head as you walked to the lifts.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"So, what do you think of the new cardio attending? Excited to learn from her?" Arizona draped her stethoscope around her neck, following you out of the room.

"I can't say, haven't met her yet... but Cristina seems to be really happy with her."

Arizona raised an eyebrow before she saw the look on your face.

"Oh, yeah, I heard. Wait-" Arizona looked at her pager, "Hm... speaking of the devil, Yang paged me. Walk with me?" She squeezed your arm, hoping you'd follow her.

You briefly caught up with your friend as you walked through the hospital. Jackson and Cristina were standing around a hospital bed, but before the two of you could approach, Arizona's pager went off once more,

"Hm... can you inform the parents of one of our preemie babies of his vitals? They're going home and would like to hear everything's still alright before they leave. Check his vitals with them in the room or they're not going to want to leave. They're persistent, but they're good parents. " Arizona gave you a soft smile as you nodded and grinned, doing as she told, not seeing the other blonde approaching Arizona behind you as you walked away.

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You were leaning against the wall, waiting for Arizona to finish up since she was your ride home, when a happy Cristina all but skidded out of the resident's lounge.

"You're being weird. What's gotten you so happy?" You noted as Cristina's frown from that morning had turned into a wide grin.

"Guess who did a Takeuchi repair today?"

"You did not!?" You gasped and stood up straight, your full attention now on Cristina.

"Uh, not all by myself. But she did let me do the coronary artery anastomosis."

You raised your eyebrows, still surprised. Cristina was a great resident, but that was a big shot surgery, even for her. "Damn, are you taking back your words about her now?"

"Yeah, probably. Which means-" She turned serious again, pointing a finger at you, "The games have begun." She let out another ecstatic laugh before walking off, letting you know you would have to step up and fight to get hours on cardio with the new attending.

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You walked into the lifts the next morning, the coffee Arizona had gotten you in one hand, the charts of the nightshift in the other. You only had five minutes to read them all and then inform your attending of the day of any changes. But with the coffee in your system, you knew you could do this.

You skimmed the first few pages of one of the charts as other people hurried into the lift right as the doors closed. A few floors later, you knew it was your turn to step out when the doors opened. Not wanting to waste any time, you kept your head low to read the charts, but you had to look up and stop when someone crossed your path- quite literally.

A woman hurried by, apologising to people left and right as she rushed through them. Though she had been fast, you had not failed to catch a glimpse of the face that you once so adored.

Teddy Altman.

She hadn't seen you, probably because your nose had been buried in the charts, or because she had been in a rush. You watched her disappear through the double doors towards the OR's and that's when it clicked. Teddy, your old friend from back in New York, the same Teddy that was in love with cardio, was the new cardio attending Cristina suddenly seemed to be gushing about.

You ditched your coffee somewhere, your body suddenly being filled with nerves and stress. It had been years seen you'd seen her. Ever since your mutual friend Allison had passed away on that damned day, you had lost contact with Teddy. Almost as if she had disappeared. Just like that. No note, no phone call, no goodbye. Maybe it had been for the best. The abrupt ending to your friendship had helped you get rid of the wish that it would ever become something more. Teddy was gone, and so were the feelings you had secretly been harbouring inside. But seeing her now... It overwhelmed you how only a glimpse of her could bring back the crapload of memories the two of you had shared. You slipped into one of the vacant seats in the waiting room, clutching the charts against your chest.

"No sitting, (Y/S/N), you've only just started your day. Let's go! We've got jobs to do. Chop-chop!" Bailey walked by, gesturing for you to get up and go.

You stood up, took the deepest breath and made a promise to yourself-

It's been years. You changed. You were no longer the EMT Teddy used to know. You took great pride in the fact you had grown, as a person and as a doctor. You were a resident now. Besides, for all you knew, Teddy didn't want anything to do with you anymore. She must have changed too. Besides, who knows what happened to her after you lost each other.

Teddy might be back, but your feelings were long gone.

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You walked into the cafeteria, talking with some of the Mercy West residents as you grabbed your lunch, placing it on the tray in front of you. You rolled your eyes as they started to gossip, happy you had your food so you could walk away from that. Shaking your head, you turned around to scan the cafeteria, your eyes landing on Arizona's, who waved you over. You froze in your spot as you saw the back of Teddy's head, who was seated at the same table. Without thinking, you turned around and left the cafeteria in a hurry, the tray still in your hands. You hoped you had been fast enough before Teddy could have seen who Arizona had waved to.

Facing Teddy was not on your to-do list any time soon.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You had successfully managed to avoid running into your old friend all day, rather doing scut or helping out in the clinic than scrubbing in or helping with consults. Anything to stay out of Teddy's way.

"So, will you tell me why you ran like a chicken earlier today?" Arizona wore a playful smile as she from the doorway how you were grabbing your things.

"Um-" You shuffled some things around in your locker, trying to stall coming up with an answer. Arizona was one of your best friends and already knew whatever you would say would be a complete lie, "Stomach ache. Needed a toilet."

Arizona nodded her head, her playful grin not disappearing, "Yeah... I usually like my lunch with some nice sound effects and extra stench too."

"Wha-," You stopped to turn around, "I did not eat my lunch in a toilet."

Arizona shrugged noncommittally, going to the next topic, "Had fun removing haemorrhoids at the clinic today?"

You sighed defeatedly and pushed your jacket in your bag, glaring at Arizona, who was having way too much fun with this.

"Fine. I ate lunch in a toilet cubicle and helped out at the clinic today. What's wrong with that? They need all the help they can get."

"Meanwhile you could've scrubbed in with Doctor Altman and I. She let Yang fix the kid's Alcapa. Could've been you." She shrugged.

She patted your back as you passed her out of the lounge, letting out a groan at the missed opportunity. You clung your bag over your shoulder, greeting colleagues left and right, trying to play it off, but knowing Arizona was following close behind.

"Nice try," Arizona whispered in your ear as you waited for the lifts to arrive.

You sighed and turned around, about to shoot back a witty reply to wash the grin away from your friend's face, until you saw Teddy round the corner into the hallway, coming your way while she talked to an intern. The lifts dinged behind you, but you quickly pulled Arizona away, pushing her into the door that led to the staircases.

"Okay- wait, what just happened?" Arizona let out a breathy chuckle, her eyebrows raised as she tried to decipher what was going on in your head.

"We're taking the stairs down today! Let's go, I haven't reached my 10k steps yet!" You were already walking down, leaving Arizona to look back, thinking she might have missed something, until she eventually followed.

"Okay, tell me what's going on because you've been incredibly weird, all day long." Arizona stopped you when you were about to walk out of the hospital. You looked her in the eyes, seeing the genuine concern.

"Doctor Robbins!" You shut your eyes at the familiar voice and quickly turned around, slipping into the gift store unnoticed, still in hearing distance,

"I wanted to give you this for the follow-up surgery but you left so quickly." Teddy smiled softly, watching how Arizona looked around, noticing you had dipped, "Just read through it at home and we can discuss tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Thanks." Arizona's eyes fell on the back of your head as you tried to distract yourself by looking at the many different postcards of Seattle.

Teddy furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "Um... okay, well, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Sure thing!"

You waited until Teddy had disappeared into the lift again before stepping out from behind the rack, Arizona immediately pulling you out of the gift shop, her mouth agape as she watched with excitement, "You are crushing on Doctor Altman!"

"What? No!"

"What else can it be? That's why you've been avoiding every place she's at like the plague. I knew you would like her, but I didn't know you would like her this much." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, the grin on her face only widening as you sighed and walked out of the hospital.

"I'm not crushing on her. I haven't even met her yet. I'm just... shy... to meet new people. I need more time."

Arizona snorted as she followed you to her car, "Yeah, sure, that's it." But she grew serious when she saw the conflict in your eyes, "You know you can tell me, right? Anything. I don't judge."

You turned in your seat, it was clear you were battling thoughts in your head. You let yourself fall back against the seat as you sighed,

"I don't want Teddy to see me. Not yet, at least."

Arizona rose an eyebrow, silently telling you she needed more information if you wanted her to understand.

"We knew each other. Back in New York."

Arizona nodded slowly, knowing about your life as an EMT in the Big Apple, "Did you fall out? Did you fight? What happened?"

"That's the thing- I don't know. One day we were friends, the next... she was gone? This is the first time I've seen her since 2001 and... I don't know, it threw me off. I don't know what to do or say now."

"She hasn't seen you yet?"

You shrugged, "No, I don't think so. Not that I know."

"Well, were you great friends before she left?"

"You could say that. I just-" You stopped yourself, sneaking a glance at Arizona, who looked back at you with an encouraging smile, "Oh God- okay... I just always feared I might have scared her away?"

Arizona pursed her lips before hearing what you rambled out next, "I had like, the biggest crush on her and for a while, I thought she had one on me too until I realised she was like that with our mutual friend Allison too and-"

"Doctor Altman likes girls?!" Arizona gasped, intrigue written on her face. You quickly shut her down, not wanting to start the spread of another rumour in the hospital,

"No?! I don't know! I don't think so. No."

You sat in silence for a while until Arizona opened her mouth, "Well, I think it would be best if you just rip the band-aid off tomorrow. I don't think she'd appreciate finding out you avoided her for as long as you could. It's probably going to be awkward either way."

You nodded softly, knowing Arizona was right, "Will you help me?"

"Pfff, of course! I got your back." She smiled at you as she drove out of the car park.

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You kept yourself busy by alternating between buttoning and unbuttoning your lab coat and fixing your hair, wanting to look presentable since Teddy hadn't seen you in years. It was silly, how you hadn't been able to let go of the nervous habits you had whenever you'd be around her. But the worry Teddy would be disappointed to see you again made it worse this time.

"Stop that, you look great." Arizona smiled encouragingly and fixed your collar as you started to play with your fingers instead, needing something to try and keep your nerves under control.

"Ready?" She asked you as she stopped in front of the room Teddy had paged her to. You gave her a curt nod and took in a breath as she opened the door, revealing Teddy who was looking at the whiteboard in front of her.

"Doctor Altman, I brought a resident who's gonna help me with this case. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I went ahead and-" She stopped midsentence when she turned around, her eyes locking with yours. Sure, you had changed over the years, but you knew Teddy would recognize you in an instant.

"(Y/N)?" She breathed out, her face going from confusion to shock to excitement in just a few seconds.

"Oh my God, it's really you?" She walked up to you, her arms open to welcome you in a hug. Teddy let out an awkward chuckle as she noticed you didn't move a muscle, but she slowly and unsurely wrapped her arms around you when you took a hesitant step forward.

"It's so good to see you again! How- I- What?!" She smiled and rubbed her cheeks, trying to wrap her head around the fact you were standing in front of her, and trying to stop herself from panicking. "You left New York? When? You're a resident now!?"

"It's been years, a lot can happen." You squeezed your fingers behind your back, realising how harsh it sounded, no matter how much she deserved the cold shoulder. You just wanted to get this over with.

Teddy's smile faltered, but only momentarily, before her eyes filled with glee again, "So- what's happening? What's new? How did you get here? Are you.... third year? Or-"

"I love this little reunion but maybe it's best we focus on the surgery now...We've got little time." Arizona butted in with an apologetic smile, seeing you needed a breather.

"Yes! Of course, apologies." Teddy turned back to you, her face unreadable, but her gut wrenched with the guilt she suddenly felt. Your eyes said it all.

"We...um, should catch up later." She spoke before she quickly turned to face the whiteboard again, muttering something under her breath, hoping to be able to mask her panic in the next few hours of you two working together.

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"Go!" Arizona mumbled out, bumping your hip when you stopped, seeing she was gesturing to Teddy waiting in line. "Go break the ice!"

"I thought I already did that this morning?!" You whisper-yelled back but was pushed forward by your friend.

"Oh- hi!" You shot her a wry smile, albeit awkwardly, as Teddy turned around. "Want to...um... eat lunch outside with me? Catch up? It snowed last night and uh, I know you used to love-"

But you stopped as you saw Teddy nod and smile, "I'd like that."

"So, Seattle, huh?" Teddy started once you had found a vacant bench outside the hospital. "I thought you said you could never see yourself leaving New York?"

"Yeah, well, I got the opportunity to do my residency here... I wanted to start fresh, and New York isn't what it's been after-" You stopped, noticing how Teddy tensed. She took her time eating her sandwich, stalling an answer before she eventually had to speak.

"It's good to see you ended up where you wanted to be. Seems like all those times I helped you study for med school weren't in vain." She smiled with her eyes as she took another quick bite of her lunch. She tried so hard to read your energy, but you seemed closed off.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved being an EMT, but this is good. This is great. I'm happy now. This is the right path for me."

Teddy gave you a soft smile as she truly took you in for the first time, daring to stare at your side profile now that you were focused on your own lunch. You wore your hair differently now, your face looked a bit more mature and you also seemed more reserved, but maybe that just had to do with the awkward tension still floating between you two. Your eyes though, still gave her the same comfort, even if she had lost the ability to read them, apparently.

"What's it going to be? You got your eyes set on a specialty already?"

You nodded while taking a sip of your drink, "Cardio or peds... though I sometimes like to dabble in neuro."

Teddy let out a breathy chuckle, "Ha! Knew it! I recognized the light in your eyes every time I helped you study cardio cases."

"Well, you made it fun. It was hard not to like it by the way you explained it. You seemed passionate about it so of course, I would try to feel the same way."

She nodded to herself, the corner of her lip curling up slightly before she changed the subject, "Where were you on Monday? Doctor Robbins and I did an alcapa surgery together, you would have loved that. Would have been the perfect match for you."

"Oh, um, I don't know, I think I was helping in the pit all day? It was a busy day." Deciding to change the subject once more, you opened your mouth again, "Where did you end up? You left but never said anything, I was worried for weeks until I eventually had to let it go."

Teddy stopped and put her lunch down, "I joined the army..." she watched closely as you raised your eyebrows in surprise, "Almost immediately after... That's were I met Hunt and that's how I got here."

You nodded softly, trying to put it all into place in your head. She obviously gave you the short explanation, as she had left out years of details. But you figured she did so for a reason, and you respected her decision.

"Wasn't I worth a goodbye though?" You chuckled dryly, half joking, half serious.

"God- no, I mean yes! Of course! You deserved an explanation, that's on me, I just... had to go. I couldn't breathe. I hadn't been in a right state of mind for a while, especially after my parents passed away... and then Allison..."

You put your hand on her leg, "Teddy, it's alright, you don't have to explain further. Sorry... I just- All I actually needed to know was if you were still alive. I was dying inside not knowing if you were alright-" You bit the insides of your cheek as Teddy's hand was placed over yours. She sighed and looked out in front of her, her fingers tangling with yours as she squeezed your hand.

"I am so sorry. You deserved a proper farewell."

You nodded, agreeing, but decided to stay silent, sensing that Teddy already knew how bad she had messed up.

"So um, are you staying here? This is not a temporary thing?"

She squeezed your hand again, just to reassure you, even if she felt tortured by all the lost memories and feelings resurfacing,

"Yeah, I plan on staying." She cleared her throat, "Which is why I'm glad we worked this out right now? I mean, we're good, right?"

Thoughts circled through your head while you felt your chest tighten. Having to be around Teddy again would be a challenge, especially seeing how you left things. But you could manage. You were a surgical resident, for heaven's sake, and you were not going to let an old friend from the past ruin anything.

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#teddy altman imagine #teddy altman x reader #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy one shot #greys anatomy imagine #arizona robbins x reader

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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Text

I wish for you to feel as I do

summary: Spencer Reid has been dating his boyfriend for six years, but what happens when he finds out you’re killing to make him happy?

pairing: Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

details: Unsub Reader

category: Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

word count: 8488

warnings: Reader as Unsub, rapey reader, controlling and manipulative reader, unhealthy relationship

a/n: This literally starts with smut so be warned. This was suuuuper fun to write! It’s an addition to this very short oneshot with an unsub reader, but I wanted to expand it because I just had so many ideas! @luvofyourlifeliv this is for your 500 follow contest so I hope you like it! As always, this is edited by @mystic-writes and I will upload it to Ao3 :) Enjoy!

Moodboard by Me

You kiss Spencer, leaning over him, over his book, pushing it down. You smirk into the kiss, but Spencer turns away from you.

"Hey! Hey!" he exclaims, trying to push you away, but you take the book from his hands and drop it onto the floor, before latching your lips to his neck. "I have work to do!"

"You read… 20,000 words a minute…" you say between kisses. "You can… read it… later…"

Spencer moans into your mouth, and reaches his hands up, placing them on your cheeks and pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You bracket his legs with yours, and he gasps as you rub up against his growing erection. You reach down and take his half hard cock from his pants, stroking it until it becomes fully hard.

When Spencer goes to do the same for you, he stops. Because you're not hard at all.

You push off him and clear your throat, tucking yourself back into your pants and zipping them up.

"[Y/N], it's okay!" Spencer exclaims, but you ignore him, and the hand he puts on your shoulder. "It's totally normal!"

"It's not though!" you exclaim, turning to face Spencer and shrugging his hand off your arm. "We've been together for six years and I've never once had trouble… getting it up."

You huff and stand up, walking to grab your keys and your wallet, shoving them into your pockets as Spencer says from the couch, "The Cleveland Clinic estimates that it’s normal to have trouble getting or keeping an erection for up to 20 percent of sexual encounters. Having trouble getting an erection more than 50 percent of the time can indicate a medical issue." You stop and look at him, and he stands up, walking over to you, taking your hand, and kissing the knuckles. "It's too early to know if anything really is wrong. Just… take a breath."

You nod and take a deep breath in, kissing his own knuckles back, before saying, "Okay. I just… I need a drink." Spencer nods and you pull away. "I'll probably be back after midnight, so just go to sleep without me."

Spencer nods again and you exit your shared apartment.

You don't really know where you're going, your feet are just taking you somewhere. You walk past a bus station and nearly knock into a young blonde woman. You just stumble out of the way of her.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, but you smile and shake your head.

"It was my fault," you say, putting your hands up. She smiles at you. "I wasn't looking where I was going." She smiles and nods, and you stick your hand out, saying, "I'm [Y/N]. What's your name?"

"Haley," she says with a smile, gripping your hand and shaking it.

You smile at her. "You should be careful, Haley. A pretty woman, all alone. You could get hurt," you say, and she frowns.

"That sounds like something my husband would say…" she trails off, but you're already walking away from her, a spring in your step as you walk into the first open bar you come across.

It's dingy and musty, but it'll do the trick of getting you drunk enough to forget everything that happened with Spencer tonight.

"I don't think I've seen you around here before," someone says next to you, and you turn and see a thin, pale man with curly brown hair and deep brown eyes.

You gasp slightly at how much he looks like Spencer. "No, no I just kinda found my way here. I don't even know where I am," you admit as the bartender comes over. You order a beer and the Bartender nods and walks off.

"I come here a lot. It's my local, really," the man says and you nod, grabbing your freshly poured beer, and taking a long gulp, draining half of it before putting it down. "Maybe I could… show you why I like it so much?"

The man trails a finger along the lapel of your shirt, and you look over at him, eyebrows raised. You take out your wallet and pay for the beer, before being led out a back door, into an even dirtier alley.

You could never hurt Spencer. You love him. You've loved him for years, and while you have no plans on getting married any time soon, you could see yourself being with him for the rest of your life. But, old habits are hard to break.

The man pushes you into the brick wall and starts kissing you, but before anything can happen, you take out your knife from your pocket, flick it open, and stab it into the man currently trying to tongue fuck you. He gasps and steps back, and you stab him again, and again, and again, until you're sure he's dead. You step back, panting, your knife clenched in your hand, and you grin, flicking the knife closed and stuffing it back into your pants. You're very thankful, in that moment, that you're wearing all black.

It is also at this point that it starts to rain.

You grin as you walk away from the unknown man, and when you look down, you see there's a tent in your pants, and you start playing with it, moaning as you think of the body back there, of Spencer, your perfect little Spencer just waiting at home for you.

You eventually find your way back to your apartment and step inside, taking off your soaked clothing and throwing it in a nearby hamper. You see your right thigh, where your knife was, and your chest, are stained slightly red. You take your wallet and phone out of your pockets and go into the bathroom to take a quick shower. Once you have the red scrubbed away, you dry off but don't put anything on.

You're still fully hard, the images of the body and Spencer filling your head as you showered, and you stroked yourself languidly.

When you get into bed, you smile at Spencer sleeping soundly, and you press yourself to his back, slotting your cock in between his ass cheeks, that are covered by TARDIS pajamas that you gave him for his twenty-eighth birthday. He moans and pushes back into you, not even fully awake yet, and you kiss the back of his neck, moving to his shoulder, where you suck a hickey into.

Spencer moves his hands to your head as you buck up into his ass, and you know he's awake. He turns around in your hold and kisses you as you run your fingers through his long, wavy brown hair. You remember the way the man's brown hair looked splayed out on the stone floor of the alleyway, and you almost cum right there, groaning loudly into Spencer's open mouth.

"What- what happened?" Spencer asks, reaching his hand down and grabbing your throbbing erection. You grunt and buck up into his hand, your hips moving of their own accord.

You kiss him and say, "Just… needed to clear my head. Fuck, Spencer you're so hot."

Spencer moans and grabs his own erection, slotting the two of yours together, and he pumps both of them in his fist. You kiss him, swallowing every grunt and moan that he makes, as well as his scream when he cums. You cum only seconds after him, but you're still hard in his grip.

"I am going to fuck you all night, Spencer Reid."

He only moans at that.

–

"Hey, hey! Pretty Boy! Have a late night?" Morgan asks as he walks into the small office kitchen for the BAU. Spencer looks up at him, frowning as he adds more sugar to his coffee.

"Yeah," Spencer says, his cheeks turning slightly pink, but he doesn't say anything more.

"Let me guess, Star Trek marathon?" Morgan asks with a laugh and Spencer ducks his head as he goes even more red, remembering exactly what you marathoned with him last night.

"Uh, ahem, something like that," Spencer says, clearing his throat, before stirring his sugary coffee and going back to his desk.

"Hey- wait a minute!" Morgan exclaims, and Spencer tenses, getting ready for his friend's grilling, when JJ interrupts.

"Hey! We have a case up in Syracuse. Hotch wants everyone in the Round Table Room in five," she says and Spencer lets out a breath of relief as he gets up and walks into said room, leaving a very confused Morgan behind.

–

You groan as you get home, shedding your bloody, black clothes, and you smirk at your erection. You've had no problem getting it up for Spencer the last few months, just thinking about the man you killed making you hard on the spot. Recently though, it hasn't been enough. You found yourself having to imagine Spencer dead and that just won't do. You would never hurt the love of your life. Ever.

You walk into the master bathroom and slip into the already-on shower, wrapping your arms around your lover, pressing your erection against his hole.

"You're back," you say, rubbing yourself against him.

Spencer hums and leans his head back onto your shoulder. "We just got in. I wanted to take a shower and see my amazing boyfriend," he says and you kiss him, on his neck, his shoulder, and all down his arm. You kiss his palm and the pads of each of his fingers. "Everyone else wanted to go out for drinks, but I told them I had to get home. I wanted to see you."

You moan into his skin as you suck on his shoulder, biting slightly. Spencer gasps and jumps and you lick over the wound, kissing it. You didn't break the skin, just bit gently. You would never hurt your baby.

You pull back, looking at Spencer's back, the back of his head, his lithe body, his pert ass, and you think of the man you killed tonight. He also had brown hair and pale skin, but that's about where the similarities ended. He was shorter than Spencer, his hair shorter as well and less curly, but when you plunged your knife into his back, and felt his sides tighten, it felt like Spencer when he came.

Your cock jumps against your boyfriend's ass, and you take the lube you have in your shower, sticking your fingers into his tight hole, pushing them in and scissoring him open. He pushes back onto your fingers and you hook them. He jumps and you have to hold his hip with your free hand so he doesn't slip and fall in the shower.

You slick up your own cock and slam it in, causing Spencer to cry out in ecstasy as you pull out almost all the way, and slam back into him over and over. Spencer braces his arms on the shower wall, and the feeling of water cascading down your chest just makes it all even hotter. You think back to the first man you killed, how it rained right after you killed him, and how it's almost like it's raining now. Cleaning away your sins. Making you the perfect man for Spencer once again.

You cum at that thought, shooting your load into Spencer's ass, who comes only seconds after, not having touched his cock once.

You pull out of him and turn him around, kissing him, and he's practically melting into you.

"I love you," you say and he smiles, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

"I love you too," he says back.

–

"Another long night?" Morgan asks, and Spencer frowns. He already got his coffee and Morgan didn't even see him make it this time.

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asks, and Morgan points to Spencer's neck. He takes out the small, two inch mirror from his top desk drawer and almost drops it when he sees the large, purple and black bruise on his neck. You told him to forego the tie, and to leave his shirt unbuttoned since it was going to be another hot summer day today, but now he knows why you really did it.

Spencer yelps and slaps a hand over the bruise, turning a deep shade of red as Morgan cackles.

He comes home that night and you laugh at Morgan's reaction, before soothing Spencer, kissing his temple and telling him that you just want people to know you're his. He blushes, admitting that he'd like that too, and you ask to mark him again, this time right underneath his jaw.

Spencer doesn't hesitate when he says yes.

"Woah, Pretty Boy. You okay?" Morgan asks the next morning when Spencer walks in. "Did you get mugged or something?"

Spencer frowns and touches the dark purple mark under his chin. "What? No."

"Did your girl do this to you? Because I swear to God if she hurts you…" Morgan says and Spencer's eyes go wide.

"No! No one hit me. My boyfriend gave me what I believe is called a 'hickey'," he says.

Morgan frowns before asking, "Boyfriend?" Spencer nods. "I didn't know you were gay."

"You never asked, and I didn't have a reason to tell you," Spencer says casually, shrugging as he gets some files out and starts working on them.

"How long have you two been together?" Morgan asks.

"Today's the 16th so 6 years, 9 months, 3 weeks and 6 days," Spencer says, and Morgan's jaw drops.

"Six years?!" he exclaims and Spencer nods. "And you haven't told anyone?"

Spencer shrugs. "We never felt the need."

Morgan stares at Reid, dumbfounded, the rest of the day.

–

"Hey, baby?" you call out into the apartment from the entryway.

"In here!" you hear Spencer call back.

You walk to the back of the apartment and open the door to Spencer's study. He's sitting at his desk, writing something down on a legal pad, before looking back at a book next to him. You walk over and start kissing the side of his neck, mouthing up and down, and he shivers underneath your touch.

"I'm going to go out and grab something," you say, kissing right behind his ear, making Spencer moan. "I'll be back tonight. I expect you to be in bed, naked."

Spencer shivers, and when you come back an hour later, you see he followed your instructions perfectly.

–

There's no witty remark from Morgan this morning. No quip about having a good time or marathoning or whatever. Just a smirk that makes Spencer beet red.

Spencer's about to say something when JJ calls out to the team, "We have a case!"

They all file into the round table room and sit down, getting handed files. JJ stands at the front of the room and the television turns on.

"Last night, Riley Heartwood was found stabbed to death in downtown DC," JJ says.

Spencer's breath leaves him. The man looks almost exactly like him.

"When was he killed?" Morgan asks, not noticing Spencer.

"It says here around 10pm last night," Rossi interjects.

Spencer feels his heart stop as he looks over the files.

Fred Giles, killed three months ago on the 28th, the day you couldn't get hard, and left, is the exact day and time that Giles was murdered. Then there's Terrance Lake, murdered the day you joined him in the shower, cumming at your normal time instead of taking longer than normal like you had been the last few days. And now Riley Heartwood, murdered last night right before you came home from grabbing something at the grocery store, hard and aching, and fucking Spencer until he screamed and forgot his own name for six minutes and twelve seconds.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he grabs it, seeing it's a text from you.

To; Spencie 😘

From; [Y/N] 😍

I can't wait until you get home!

There's a picture attached with you sitting at his desk, shirtless and winking.

Once is a happening. Twice is a coincidence. Thrice is a pattern.

Spencer sits up suddenly, standing and grabbing the folder. "I-I have to go. Family Emergency," he mutters before sprinting out of the room. He grabs his messenger bag and makes sure his gun is still on his hip.

–

You're sitting at home when you hear a gun cocking.

"Please tell me you didn't kill that man last night?" Spencer asks.

You sigh and turn around slowly, standing up from your couch. "You don't like it when I lie to you, Spencer."

You see his hand tighten on the gun, but he doesn't put his finger on the trigger. You take a step forward, but he doesn't move back.

"You're-you're impotent, aren't you?" Spencer asks.

You smirk. "I wasn't last night when I was fucking you into the mattress and had you screaming out my name as my hands touched you."

Spencer gasps, and his grip falters slightly. You dash forward and grab the gun from his grip, before pulling your body against his. You groan as your groin brushes against his, leaning down to nip at the hickey you put on him last night.

"I-I have to arrest you. Take you in," he says, stuttering and nervous.

You smirk and kiss him behind his ear, making him moan. "You would never. Besides, you could never catch me before I got to your mom…"

Spencer freezes, but doesn't say anything.

You lean down and press a kiss to his cheek, saying, "Please don't hate me." Spencer sucks in a breath as you kiss his cheek again. "I did this for you. I couldn't stop imagining myself hurting you, and I can't do that to you. Ever. I love you, Spencer Reid, and I just wanted to be the perfect boyfriend for you."

Spencer nods slowly. "They- they looked like me. The men you killed."

You nod and turn Spencer around so he's facing you. "I don't want to ever hurt you, Spencer. I love you too much."

"You-you're a psychopath. How- you can't love me!" Spencer exclaims and you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"If I can't, how did I fool you, a seasoned profiler, for six years?" you ask.

Spencer stops as he thinks about it. If you were faking it, Spencer would have known. He would have seen it. He's seen psychopaths fake love before. Frank comes to mind when he first thinks of it. But, you aren't killing these men for yourself. You're doing it for Spencer. For the man you love.

And as much as Spencer wants to turn you in, he can't deny the adrenaline that courses through him when he thinks about how all of this is for him. To make him happy. To keep him satisfied.

Spencer leans up and kisses you, feeling himself get hard against your thigh, and you are equally as hard. You set Spencer's gun down on his desk and wrap your arms around his waist, dipping your hands down to grab at his ass. He gasps and you take that opportunity to slip your tongue in his mouth.

Just as you're about to push him onto the comfortable sofa that's in the room for you to use when Spencer's working and you want to be near him, Spencer's phone rings.

Spencer groans and pulls away, taking out his phone and answering it. He puts it on speaker but presses a finger to your lips to quiet you. You kiss his finger, but nod.

"Reid? Everything okay?" Morgan asks on the other side of the phone.

Spencer nods. "Yeah. My uh… my boyfriend… fell down the stairs at our apartment!" Spencer exclaims and you nod, silently telling him it was a good cover story. "He sprained his ankle and I had to help him back up the stairs and into bed."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Morgan says and Spencer lets out a silent sigh. You kiss him quietly. "You ran out of there so fast. I'll tell the others you'll be back in tomorrow," he says and Spencer nods.

"Okay. I gotta go, but I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and he hangs up. He throws his phone onto the sofa and pulls you to him again, kissing you loudly, moaning and gasping at every swipe of your tongue, every tug of his hair.

"I love you, Spencer Reid," you say.

"I love you too, [Y/N] [L/N]."

–

"How long?" Spencer asks, tracing what seems like random shapes into your skin, but you know they have meaning to him.

You shrug. "Ever since I was younger. I would purposefully get into fights with other kids so I could hit them. I never killed any animals, and I was never really a bedwetter. I did like to start fires. My parents would always let me light the candles at dinner," you say. "The first person I ever killed was my babysitter. I was nine and she was seventeen. She kept touching me, kissing me, trying to take my clothes off. I got her onto the third floor balcony and pushed her off. I called my parents crying and told them she fell when I was playing in the yard when I wasn't supposed to."

"Wow," Spencer says, his hands stilling for a moment before continuing.

"The second person I killed was the first time I killed with a knife. It was my next door neighbor. He would bully me at school, shove me into lockers, take my clothes when I was changing so I'd have to run through the school naked after him to get my clothes back, hit me, things like that. He cornered me in my backyard one day, jumping our shared fence. He was going to kill me. I ran inside and grabbed a knife and when I ran back out, I crashed into him, stabbing him. I cut my side with the blade to make it look like self defense, and told the police he attacked me. I ran inside and got a kitchen knife, and he took it from me. I managed to get it back and he ran at me. I told them it was an accident. It was, but it felt so good, I didn't want to stop," you say.

"So you didn't," Spencer says, and you shake your head. "But, you haven't killed anyone for over six years.

You nod. "I met you," you say, running your hands through Spencer's hair and bringing his head up to kiss you. "I found everything I needed. But, those urges came back. And I wanted everything to be perfect for you. I wanted you to have everything you could ever want. And for you, that meant sex. I know how much you like it." Spencer nods and blushes, looking away, but you move his face so he's looking at you again, and you kiss him. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I need it to. And I would never, ever hurt you. But, I kept thinking about it. And it scared me."

Spencer nods and curls up against you so his head is on your chest. You kiss his hair as he mutters, "I love you."

You smile. "I love you too, baby. Now, let's get some sleep."

–

Spencer wakes with a start, shaking and crying. You feel the bed moving and slowly wake up, only to see Spencer in distress. You sit up as well and hold him to your chest as he cries.

"What have I done? What will everyone think of me? Why do I want to- I want- why-"

"Spencer, Spencer," you say, and almost as if he forgot you lived with him, his head snaps to look at you. "Baby, what's going on?"

"I shouldn't like it. I should take you in. I shouldn't want to know what it feels like, but I do. I want to know," he mutters, almost to himself, but he's still looking directly at you.

"You want to know what it feels like to kill someone?" you ask. Spencer nods. You smile and kiss him. "I can help arrange that."

Spencer nods. "I know I shouldn't like you… killing people for me, but I can't help it. It makes me happy to know you want me to be happy."

"Oh, baby," you say, holding him even closer to your bare chest. Spencer wraps his arms around you. "I would do anything to make you happy."

Spencer hums, contentedly.

–

"Everything okay, Reid?" Hotch asks as the youngest profiler walks into the Round Table Room that morning, his bag still on his hip.

Spencer smiles and nods. "Everything is fine."

"Morgan told us you had a family emergency, but wouldn't say anything else," Rossi says and Spencer nods again, throwing a grateful look to Morgan.

He sighs and takes his messenger bag off, setting it at the ground by his desk before he begins to talk. "My boyfriend fell down the stairs in our apartment yesterday. I had to go home and help him."

JJ just nods and Garcia "Aw’s” as Hotch, Prentiss, and Rossi all narrow their eyes at him.

"You've never mentioned having a boyfriend," Prentiss says and Spencer sighs.

"It was my business and neither he nor I wanted to share it. But, we want to now," Spencer says.

"How long! How long!" Garcia asks, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Baby girl, they've been together for over six years now," Morgan says.

Garcia's jaw drops, as does everyone else's in the room.

"Six years?" JJ asks and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Spencer shrugs. "Because we weren't ready. Can we get started on the briefing now?"

The team nods and JJ turns back to the screen.

"Spence, we weren't able to get to the briefing yesterday, so we know about as much as you do," JJ explains. Spencer nods.

"I think the unsub might be impotent," Morgan says, looking at the files. "The stabbing could indicate that."

"But, there was no semen found on the body. Usually, men who are impotent get off on the dead body as well as the killing," Spencer explains. A few of his co-workers nod.

"I want to find out more about where these men were before they were murdered," Hotch says. "Reid and Morgan, go to the bar where Giles was last seen, Rossi and Prentiss, Lake, and JJ and I will go to where Heartwood was last seen. We'll meet back here and discuss what we learned."

–

Spencer walks into the bar you were in only six months before, where you killed Fred Giles.

"Hey! What can I get you boys?" the bartender asks from behind the bar.

Morgan walks over and takes out his badge, saying, "I'm Agent Morgan and this is Doctor Reid. We're here to ask about Fred Giles, the man who was murdered behind your bar six months ago."

The bartender nods and sighs. "Yeah. I knew him. Said he was a regular to all the attractive men who walked in. He never bought anything though," he says. "Always just came in for sex. When I confronted him about it, he said he needed it, that he couldn't live without it, and he was a nice enough guy so I let him. He never deterred people from coming back."

The bartender shrugs and Spencer steps up, asking, "Did anyone talk to him that night?"

"Uh, yeah. Some bloke. Don't know his name. He's never come back, but we get a lot of that here. Had a beer and they left out the back. Never saw him again."

"Sir, can you describe him for us?" Morgan asks, taking off his sunglasses.

"No, sorry," the bartender says, picking up some glasses and putting them away underneath the bar. "It was busy and we don't usually have a lot of lights on in here. I know he was handsome. Fred wouldn't've gone with him if he weren't. Sorry, boys."

Spencer nods and smiles and Morgan walks off, going towards the back door that leads out into the alley. As soon as Spencer steps out of the bar, he can feel himself getting hard.

Spencer's never gotten hard at the thought of a dead body, except when he first started. He was young and beautiful sitting in the slab in the morgue, naked and displayed for him to assess. He had never seen a body so beautiful, so peaceful, and he had gotten an erection while looking at it.

Now though, just the thought that you had killed this man to make Spencer feel good has his heart racing and adrenaline coursing through his stomach. He shifts his messenger bag over his groin to hide his growing erection. He flushes and looks down at the ground, trying to will away the thoughts of you murdering someone, and him finding it erotic.

"Hey," Morgan says, and Spencer looks up at him, eyes wide. "Do you know if Garcia got the footage from the camera here?" Spencer shakes his head and Morgan pulls out his phone, pressing a button before holding it up to his ear. "Hey pretty mama, there's a CCTV camera in the alley behind the bar where Fred Giles was murdered. Can you see if that footage is anywhere?"

There's a few moments of silence, and Spencer looks around, trying to see if there's anything the CSI missed, but it doesn't look like it.

"Are you sure? Damn. Okay, thanks mama." Morgan flips the phone shut and sighs. "CCTV's fake, used to deter thieves most likely," he says and Spencer nods. "We should head back."

–

"Reid. Morgan. Find anything?" Rossi asks as the two step into the bullpen.

Morgan scoffs. "Nah. Nothing. He's handsome, but we figured that out already. Bartender didn't see anything and the CCTV in the back was fake so we got nothing."

Rossi nods. "Us as well. Maybe we should wait for Hotch. Maybe he found someone."

The rest of the team nods and Spencer takes out his phone, texting you.

To: [Y/N] 😍

From: Spencie 😘

Team hasn't found anything. Keep you updated.

You message back just as quickly.

To: Spencie 😘

From: [Y/N] 😍

Okay! I love you. Hurry back home quickly! I want to show you something!

Spencer grins as he looks at his phone, before Morgan clears his throat. He quickly shuts it off and slides it into his back pocket, before following Morgan into the round table room.

"Why are you so happy?" Prentiss asks, and Spencer schools his expression, clearing his throat.

"My, uh, ahem, my boyfriend texted me," Spencer says and Prentiss nods, seeming to accept that answer. Spencer lets out a sigh of relief.

–

"[Y/N]? Are you home?" Spencer calls out into the apartment, and you walk out of the study in a pair of black skinny jeans and a black button down, heavy black work boots already on your feet. You walk over to your boyfriend and put your arms around him, leaning your forehead against his.

"Go get dressed. We're going out tonight," you say, but Spencer groans.

"Do we have to?" he whines and you frown.

"You wanted to know what it was like, Spence. So, I'm going to show you," you say, and that gets Spencer's attention.

He looks at you, wide eyed, and asks, "Really?"

You nod and kiss him. "Really. Now, get dressed. We don't want you to ruin your good clothes," you say and he nods, giving you one, last, chaste, kiss before running into the bedroom.

He comes out a few minutes later, and you almost take him right there. He's wearing a pair of black skinny jeans you bought him years ago, and a tight black t-shirt.

You walk over and take him in a searing kiss, putting your hand down his pants and groping him. You realize then that he's not wearing underwear and you have to restrain yourself from fucking him on the floor.

"You have no idea what you do to me," you mutter against his lips before pulling away. Spencer whines but you just pay his ass and motion for him to grab his stuff.

Thirty minutes later you find yourself and Spencer in a club. When asked why you were coming here instead of a bar, you answer that no one would suspect him being here.

He admits that it's actually very smart.

You sit down in a booth and pull him onto your lap, making sure everyone around you knows who this gorgeous man belongs to. He tilts his head to the side to give you access to his neck, to kiss and lick and nip to your heart's desire.

"I want to dance," you say to Spencer after a few minutes of indulging in your boyfriend.

Spencer nods and gets up off your lap before grabbing your hand and letting you lead him out onto the busy dance floor. You can feel Spencer shaking underneath you, and you pull him towards you, putting your hands in his back pockets. You kiss him deeply, letting your bodies sway to the music, your groins rubbing against each other. You can feel eyes on the two of you, but you don't care.

Spencer moans into your mouth and you pull away, nipping at Spencer's bottom lip. The man moans deliciously and you kiss him again, trying to drink every sound. You pull away again and Spencer is staring at you with a goofy smile on his face.

"See?" you ask, loudly, over the music. "That wasn't so bad."

Spencer nods and places his head in your neck, swaying to the music that you should be jumping to, but you don't care. You lock eyes with a young man with curly brown hair and pale white skin, and the man sitting next to him. You nod at them before turning to look down at Spencer, who still has his face buried in your neck.

"Baby," you say to him, nudging him with your shoulder. He looks up at you so innocently, and you have to lean down and kiss him again, showing all your love in the single kiss, prying open his lips with yours and letting your tongues explore each other for the millionth time. Well, you know it's probably not the millionth, and Spencer could absolutely tell you the accurate number, but you're too distracted by his mouth to ask.

You pull away again and say, "Let's go sit down. I want to find someone."

Spencer nods and you lead him back to the booth you were at before, sitting down before Spencer settles on your lap. You shift your hand from his hip to underneath his button up, resting it on his stomach. Spencer gasps and you feel his stomach flatten even more. You grind your hips up into his ass, already half hard at the thought of killing a pretty little brunette. He groans as that pretty brunette from before sits across from you with his friend next to him.

"Hi!" the brunette says, grinning wildly, and you're struck by how much he looks like Spencer. Even more than the first. "I'm Daniel! This is my boyfriend, Gary!"

The man next to him raises a hand, but doesn't say anything. You raise an eyebrow at that, but don't say anything about it.

You smile at them. "It's nice to meet you both. My boyfriend and I were looking to meet some couples around here."

"You were magnetic! I couldn't take my eyes off you! I think Gary here was a little jealous…" Daniel says, and Gary glares at him, but doesn't say anything.

You smirk and nuzzle Spencer's neck, who tilts his head to give you a better angle. "Isn't he just?"

You lock eyes Daniel, who shudders. "Come join us out back. We've been looking for some fun…"

Daniel grins, turning to look at Gary, who nods, before the two get up. "We're going to go to the bathroom, but I know that no one will bother us out back…" Daniel says and you nod, watching the two walk away.

You kiss Spencer's cheek, who hasn't said anything for a few minutes. "What do you think?"

"Daniel looks like me," Spencer whispers and you nod against his throat. "Is he yours?"

"If I could," you say, and Spencer nods. "He looks so much like you baby. But no one could ever be you." You kiss his cheek before leaning back and grabbing something from your back pocket, before placing it in Spencer's hand, underneath the table. "Gary's big, but he'll squeal like a stuck pig if you stab him. You need strength, but once the blade gets past the epidermis, it'll be easy."

Spencer whines, grinding down onto your lap, and you lick right under his jaw. "I know."

You smirk. "Reading about it and doing it are two very different things. Don't be afraid to ask for help."

Spencer nods again and you squeeze his thigh, before pushing him up and making him pocket the knife. You grab him by the hand and lead him out back, where Daniel and Gary are already waiting. You grin and let go of Spencer, walking over to Daniel before pinning him to the wall of the alley. He moans underneath you, and you reach into your back pocket, grabbing your knife. You tilt your head and Daniel latches his lips to your neck, and you look over at Spencer.

He's also pressed against the wall behind him, and he's being petted by Gary ever so gently. When the man turns to look at his partner, you lock eyes with Spencer and nod miniscule-y, before turning back to Daniel. You wait until Gary's eyes are off you, before grabbing your knife, and flicking it open, before stabbing it right underneath the young man's solar plexus.

You feel that rush and shiver as you look over, and see Spencer doing the same thing. Gary looks like he's about to cry as he looks over at Daniel, but you grin, your cock starting to harden in your pants. You pull the knife out and drive it in again, and again, and again, and soon, Daniel can't hold himself up anymore, and you let him fall to the ground.

Looking at Spencer, you see he still hasn't moved, has kept his knife right where he first stabbed it, and you notice Gary starting to get angry. You walk over and lean in so your lips are right next to Spencer's ear, and you whisper, "What do you think?"

That seems to break Spencer from his spell and he moans beautifully, before pulling the knife out and plunging it in again. You reach down and grab his already hard cock through his pants, groping him through the thick jeans, and Spencer bucks up into your hand, stabbing Gary again.

After three, the man is dead weight and he falls to the ground. You step around his body and put your knife away, before pressing Spencer into the wall and kissing him, flicking your tongue into his mouth as he ruts up against you. You slip your hand into his pants and start stroking his cock, he groans, but pushes you away.

"We- oh yes! We can't leave any evidence," he says and you sigh, taking your hand from his pants.

You kiss him before saying, "You're right. You're so smart. I love you so much."

"I love you too," Spencer says and you grin, holding out your hand.

He puts his knife away and takes yours before you lead him out of the alley, leaving two dead bodies behind.

–

"He's accelerating," Morgan says the next morning at the debrief.

There was no talk from Morgan this morning about Spencer getting some. As much as you wanted to mark his neck, Spencer talked you down, stating that if he caught onto what you were doing, the others would notice by the hickeys alone. You conceded and just marked him below the collar.

As Spencer thinks about this he presses his fingers into one of the bruises and has to bite his lip to keep from crying out in ecstasy.

"Yeah, he is," Rossi says. "Could be he's devolving."

Hotch shakes his head. "If that were the case, the bodies would probably be more roughed up. Gary Jenkins and Daniel Espinoza knew each other. They were dating. If one saw the other go down, there would be a lot of defensive wounds."

"What are you sayin', Hotch?" Morgan asks.

Before Hotch can reply, Spencer interrupts and says, "He's saying he thinks the unsub has a partner."

Hotch nods and Rossi and Prentiss look at each other. "I can see that being a possibility, but we can't rule out that he's just that good," Prentiss says and everyone nods.

"Here's a thought," Spencer says, and everyone looks over at him. "The unsub could be a woman. Usually stabbing creates a sexual response in men who can't normally get an erection, being able to penetrate a body without using the penis, but there's been no semen found at any of the crime scenes. The first one it rained after, but the others it didn't, and there should have been some evidence."

Morgan and Rossi nod but Hotch frowns. "Could be, but we shouldn't scrap what we have now for that," Hotch says and Spencer sighs.

"I think I have something!" Garcia exclaims, running into the conference room.

–

"I want to kill my father," Spencer says that night as you are making dinner for him.

You freeze in your movements before continuing, asking hesitantly, "Are you sure? If you do, you probably won't be able to go back to the BAU. We may have to run."

You hear Spencer get up and walk over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

"Garcia found something, a surveillance camera at the end of the alley, the end we didn't walk through. But, they know there's two unsubs, and that one's Caucasian. They couldn't get a good read on you, but it's only a matter of time before you're found- before we're found out," Spencer explains and you nod, turning to lock your arms around his waist and kiss him deeply.

"Okay, baby," you say, kissing him again. "Whatever you want, I'll provide. Anything."

Spencer grins and kisses you again.You feel him shiver as you move a hand from his hip to his lower back and you pull him in closer. "We'll get on the first flight out of here if that's what you want. Just you and me."

Spencer nods. "We should do some planning, but I want that. I want to see the country, and not because some murder happened there."

You grin. "I've always wanted to do a road trip of the country!" you exclaim and Spencer grins back, kissing you.

"Me too."

–

A week later sees you and Spencer on a cross country flight to Las Vegas, your apartment, car, and stuff all sold and liquidated into cash. You took as much money as you possibly could from your accounts and Spencer did the same. You both took your vacation time off from work.

The rest of the BAU had been angry at Spencer, but understood his need to have his boyfriend meet his mother. There also haven't been any more murders in DC, which means their current back alley ripper case was currently cold. Hotch had approved it before he told the rest of the team. Spencer just didn't tell Hotch that you had already met his mother five years ago.

The flight is long and cramped, but you and Spencer have each other, and that makes it worth it. You get to Vegas and as soon as you check into your motel, you fuck Spencer every way you can, wanting to feel every part of him, and needing to stretch after the long flight. Spencer wasn't complaining.

But today was the day.

Spencer's leg wouldn't stop bouncing in the taxi as you both made your way to his father's law firm. You don't know exactly what he did to Spencer as a child, but you know it was bad enough that he's still with you, willing to kill his own father to stay with you forever. You place a hand on his thigh and he looks over at you, nervousness written across his face like the headline of a newspaper.

You lean in and kiss his cheek. "It will be okay. You can do this. And if you can't, I'll do it for you."

He nods and you grin, kissing his cheek again before leaning back over into your seat, but you don't remove your hand from his leg.

You arrive in front of the building and thank the cabbie, paying the fare and giving a tip before exiting the vehicle. You grab Spencer's hand and drag him into the brown brick building before he can turn around. You squeeze his hand and walk in, looking at the receptionist with a smile.

He smiles at you, a large, fake smile that you know he practiced. "Hi! What can I do for you today?"

You pull Spencer forward so he's standing next to you, and you ask sweetly, "Can you please tell Mr. William Reid that Doctor Spencer Reid, his son, is here to see him?"

The man's eyes widen and he nods, picking up his phone and telling the man exactly that. You smile as he tells you what floor and room to go to, and Spencer is the one to drag you this time, going to the elevators. As soon as the door closes, you push him against the wall and kiss him.

"We're so close, baby," you say, kissing him.

He nods against your mouth before pulling back. "I love you."

You grin. "I love you."

You give him a chaste kiss before pulling away right as the doors open, showing a long stretch of doors along a brown hallway. You and Spencer walk side by side to his father's door, and you knock. You grab Spencer's hand once more and the man squeezes your fingers, making you smile.

The door opens, and William Reid is standing in front of you, eyes wide and mouth open. "So, you're the one who fucked up my baby for life," you say, and William blinks at you. It's just enough time for Spencer to draw his knife, and plunge it into his father's stomach, pushing him back into his office. The man lets out a strangled groan, and you walk into the office after Spencer, closing the door behind you. You look around and when you don't see a camera, you walk over to the desk, turning the laptop so it's pointing at Spencer and his father, and you hit record.

Spencer brings both his hands up and slams them back down, plunging the knife into his father over and over, screaming out, "That's for telling me it's normal! That's for telling me to deal with it! That's for locking me in that dark room with nothing!"

You flinch at that. Spencer can't be alone in the dark. You used to have a night light in every room so he wouldn't be scared. That makes your own anger flare up, and you walk over to the two men. Spencer is kneeling beside his father's chest, plunging the knife into him over and over again, drawing more and more blood. When he finally stops, panting heavily and leaning back on his feet, you grab his shirt and pull him to you, kissing him soundly, not caring about your pants being soaked through by the blood pooling around Spencer's father.

You pull back before getting up, dragging Spencer with you, and you push everything but the laptop off the desk. You push Spencer face first onto it, freeing his cock from his pants and stroking him. It doesn't take long for Spencer to go from half hard to fully hard, and you pull down his pants, fishing a bottle of lube out of your coat. You make eye contact with the computer, and you coat your fingers in lube. You lean in and kiss Spencer's neck, still not breaking contact, as you insert one finger inside of Spencer, quickly adding another. Spencer moans loudly as you bite down on his pulse point, adding a third finger. You scissor him open, before opening your pants and taking out your cock, and slicking it up as well. You pull him to the edge of the desk, and slam into him in one go.

He throws his head back and screams loudly, before leaning in and kissing you soundly. You move your eyes from the computer and close them, moaning at the feeling of Spencer's tight heat enveloped around your hard cock, and your hips stutter as you get closer to your release.

"Touch me! [Y/N] I need you to touch me," Spencer exclaims and you do as asked, using your already lubed hand to wrap it around Spencer's prick and start stroking him. He gasps and moans loudly into your mouth.

"Spencer, baby I love you. So much," you say, and Spencer cries out, his body tightening, and his cum splashes on your hand and his shirt.

When you feel Spencer clench around you, you cry out as well, making eye contact once again with the computer camera before you cum, filling Spencer with your seed.

You pant and kiss him before slowly pulling out, your dick over sensitive and aching. You lean over Spencer, give the computer a wink, and end the recording, saving it to the desktop.

"Baby," you pant, putting yourself back in your pants. "I want to see the Grand Canyon."

Spencer grins. "Have you never been?" he asks and you shake your head. His grin gets wider and he stands up, situating himself as well, before grabbing your hand. "Come on! We can take William's car!" You look in his desk drawer and grin, holding up his keys when you find them.

That night, on a blanket next to the grand canyon, you and Spencer make love.

–

Morgan and Prentiss walk into the crime scene, cringing at the amount of blood that has soaked into the white carpet. They walk over to the desk and look at the open laptop, clicking on the file in the middle of the screen.

"😘.mov"

Prentiss throws up into the bin by the desk, and honestly, Derek wants to throw up too.

#Spencer reid #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x unsub reader #spencer reid x male unsub reader #unsub reader #luvofyourlifelivsficchallenge #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds reader insert #my work #My writing

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Text

oh, how we’ve grown.

prompted by an anon from my ask here!

notes: this was probably the fic that stumped me on so many occasions, since it was really bittersweet. editing, grammar and other mistakes will be taken responsible by me! it took me longer than expected and i’m not sure if everyone would be able to catch on how i interpreted the group’s futures and personalities! if anyone would like to know more, do dm me! as always, enjoy and thank you for the support and love!

original prompt: I think Joon Hwi and Sol A was already dating during their 3L (since Sol A looked so comfortable acting flirty and cute aroud Joon Hwi on their way to the old man's trial). Now I wonder what happen with them during time skip and by the ending, what stage of relationship they are in. Can you write a fic or headcanon ab that? Thank you! 🥰

words: 4373 words

it was finally the day of graduation.

joon hwi was beyond excited. he was nostalgic, sad and emotional, for sure. but after crying so many tears yesterday and the past week, he found it useless to cry any further. he lets the adrenaline set in for his new chapter lying ahead.

joon hwi was finally going to be a prosecutor.

his letter came in a few weeks after the bar exam. he counts himself lucky, being one of the students that helped to capture assemblyman ko, solve his uncle's murder, prove his professor's and his own innocence. all in his first year. it was no surprise that when he applied, they immediately wanted him. his grades were just the cherry on top to his stack of achievements. he was certainly overqualified for a guy who just passed the bar.

(well, he did pass the second round judicial exam.)

further than that, he was crowned valedictorian and was tasked to give a speech to his fellow batch mates. he had practiced his speech countless times, and he could recite it in his sleep by now. but he can’t quite place the feeling that he feels. his thoughts are all over and he can’t seem to keep his heart rate constant.

a knock on the door of his now empty dorm room distracts him from his thoughts. there, dressed in similar graduation robes, with long wavy brown hair is kang sol a, or to him, his kang sol. she walks in with a small smile on her face, but her smile fades away to a face of concern after studying his face. her eyes dart to the door, and she strides back to shut the door, giving him and her the privacy that he needs.

"what's troubling you?" she asks gently, taking his hand into hers. a quiet, simple gesture done by sol could soothe him so much. joon hwi is silent, not knowing why he’s so nervous. he’s done speeches and talked to crowds bigger than this. heck, he has testified for court. yet, the knot in his stomach refuses to cease.

“i don’t know… it’s nothing new, yet…” he trails off, avoiding his eyes with his girlfriend. his thoughts race through his head, but it leads back to his uncle, his samchoon, the man that brought him up: seo byungju.

“joon. joon, look at me.” sol brings a hand up to his cheek, gently raising it so it meets her eyes rather than the floor. joon hwi promised he wouldn’t be emotional today, yet he found his eyes glassy when he met sol’s eyes. as a tear slips, her fingers wipe it away gently.

“your uncle… he would be so proud of you to see the boy he raised achieve his dream.” sol says, a voice so quiet and soft, it seems to echo to joon hwi. she always knew what to say and always knew what was troubling him deep down, even if he denied it.

samchoon… are you proud of me?

“i’ll always be supporting you, like how your uncle did. when you’re on stage, if you feel intimidated, just look at my eyes, alright?” sol says, rubbing his cheek. he gives a small smile and nods slowly. taking his hand, sol intertwines it between her fingers, an action that he knows she only does when they are alone. an act so simple, yet his heart was so soothed by then.

joon hwi’s free hand reaches to the back of her head, as he lowers his slightly, so their forehead rest against each other. he breathes her perfume in, the one he bought for her a few months into their relationship, the one that she always wanted but could never buy. he takes slow breathes with her, her thumb rubbing his knuckle gently.

sol pulls away, much to joon hwi’s disappointment. he wanted her skin ship even more, just savouring her touch under his skin. sol notices his disappointment and only gives him a smile.

“they’re waiting for us. come, let’s go.” sol says softly, letting go of his hand after giving him a squeeze. he knows she hates being affectionate in public, even in front of their close friends. he gives her a quick peck on the top of her head before following behind her, walking to the lobby where they were.

“yah, hyung!” bokgi waved with enthusiasm, gathering the attention of the group. joonhwi maintains his composure and lets out a deep breath.

“nervous, hyung?” yebeom asks, his fingers fiddling.

“tch, it’s me. i’ll be fine.” joon hwi replies. it’s a half truth, now that sol is by his side.

“that’s why sol-noona had to find you, right?” bokgi teases, earning a nudge from yeseul. bokgi looks in mocked offence, but he recovers. everyone eyes at sol with prying eyes, the look of teasing on their faces. she takes this moment to shut her eyes, bring her hands up to face and shakes her head while sighing. these kids have literally nothing better to do than to just tease her and joon hwi.

“it’s time. you should go.” jiho says as he nods towards the lecture hall. the ceremony doesn’t start till half an hour later, but being valedictorian, he had preparations to do. they send joon hwi their last words of encouragement, but joon hwi was not going to leave unless he embarrassed his girlfriend a little longer.

his hand reaches up to sol’s hair, sweeping the curls behind her and cutely arranging her fringe the way she likes it. sol blushes as the group ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ in front of them. joon hwi knows she hates being so affectionate in front of her friends, but it’s always fun to tease. sol’s bright red and her face forms the smallest pout. joon hwi knows he’s achieved his mission.

“i’ll see you later.” he says with a wink and walks away, hearing the tease from yebeom and sol squeaking back.

when he’s on stage later, giving his speech, the words fall out of his mouth effortlessly. but the only thing that changes is that his eyes are fixed on the warm brown eyes of sol. as he addresses his late uncle at the end, he pauses and takes a deep breath. sol looks at him and gives him an encouraging nod. he ends his speech, eyes never once leaving her gaze, as the student body claps for him and he takes a bow.

one by one, the students are told to line up and take their certificates on stage from dean oh. she gives the seven graduates a knowing smile when they step on stage, knowing how much they’ve been through, after being swept up by their problems in their first and second years. even after all that, they managed to graduate with excellent results.

when they gather to take their photos (taken by seungjae, who decided to attend their graduation. it was the least he could do to show his support.), joon hwi swears he sees his uncle standing at the rock by the entrance of the school. he swears he sees the knowing silhouette of the tall man, grey hair and his metal spectacles. but what warms him the most is the smile of seo byung ju’s face and the slight nod.

yes, my boy. i’m so proud of you.

with that, joon hwi lets himself smile as seungjae snaps the camera.

(he doesn’t notice his blurred vision from his tears, but rather blames it on the sun hurting his eyes.)

-----

the group takes individual shots of themselves, even jiho and sol b are smiling when their photos are taken. sol doesn’t lose a chance to tease her roomie about her cute smile, one she only reserved for limited situations.

joon hwi watches as his friends spread out across the field to meet their family, sharing the good news of graduation and their new starting jobs. the smiles on the parent’s faces warms his heart deeply, somehow, even though he’s standing alone.

jiho was going to be a prosecutor with joon hwi in their new office. jiho could care less about joon hwi, but he can’t help but admit that it comforted him knowing a familiar face to be in his office in about two weeks. after all, they did share a room for three years.

sol b, against her mother’s wishes, has decided to take a gap year. her mother initially planned for her to continue her training, securing her route to being a judge. but sol b has had enough of her mother’s toxicity. as they went through therapy as a family, sol b had expressed as best as she could her need to discover what she wants for herself, not what her mother wants for her. what she will be doing in her gap year is still undecided, but she has chosen to move out for the time being.

yeseul was going to be in a firm that mostly did cases of women rights. while she initially was hesitant, bokgi encouraged her to take this opportunity, using her experience and her trial as a voice to the other victims. from time to time, she promised professor kim that she would come back to help at the legal clinic.

bokgi, on the other hand, had finally achieved his dream of being a human rights lawyer. while he was upset that he couldn’t work near yeseul, his spirits were immediately lifted when he heard that yebeom was going to be working just at the building across from him, another big law firm. (it was settled that as much as they went through, the bok-beom duo was never to be separated.)

sol, on the other hand, accepted her first job at attorney park’s firm, ironically. just when she had her first internship, she remembers screaming that she would never work with crooked lawyers like him. sol chose to work with him, as a return of the many favours she owes professor yang, starting with the one from high school. it was the most she could do for her role model.

joon hwi observes as he notices the proud faces of mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, and spots the few sightings of grandparents. somehow, he can’t help but feel a little lonely. his parents, the two individuals he had a short-lived relationship with had long passed. his uncle, the closest thing he had to a father had too passed. he can’t even guess where his aunts or other distant relatives are. his distant relatives probably don’t remember him, and neither does joon hwi.

a small body crashing into him breaks his flow of thoughts, as he looks down to see who it is. byeol wraps her arms around joon hwi’s waist happily and joon hwi breaks into laughter, realising who it is and lifting her before spinning her. she’s giggling in a mess as joon hwi spots sol’s mother and her walking to them.

“ah, hello, mrs kang.” joon hoi greets with formality. sol’s mother playfully smacks his arm with a smile, clearly embarrassed from such formality.

“ah! how many times have i said to not call me that, joon hwi-ah! at this point, you should just call me halmeoni!” she says, earning a big laugh from joon hwi and sol’s face burning with embarrassment.

“umma! don’t say things like this!” sol squeaks back. joon hwi only smiles and insists to call her ‘mrs kang’. byeol is getting introduced to their friends as bokgi and yebeom play a game of tag with her. sol’s mother stands by sol, her hand on her back and her other rubbing joon hwi’s back.

“joon hwi-ah, i hope you know how proud i am of you. sol has told me your own fair share of troubles. i know... you don’t have much of a mother figure in your life, but as your girlfriend’s mother, i hope you know i treat you like my own.” sol’s mother comments to him, holding both his hands in her warm ones. “more than just tutoring my daughter and helping her, you got through your troubles on your own.” joon hwi can only smile as he suppresses the emotions.

“your parents must be so glad to have such a righteous son.”

joon hwi, for a moment, is reminded of his limited memories with his parents. he doesn't remember much, being so young when they died. but how his mother would teach him the importance of kindness and compassion. his father would teach him to be strong, to stand up for the bullies that picked on the poorer kids in his preschool.

hearing his girlfriend’s mother tell him that, he couldn’t help but just pull her into a warm hug. sol joins in from behind, enveloping them with a warm that joon hwi was unable to explain. burying his face into the older woman’s hair, he lets himself be a child, as she rubs his back and holds him lovingly.

for the first time in his life, he finally experiences the warmth of a mother’s hug.

-----

as the field starts clearing out, the seven graduates and seungjae are left behind. their families have gone home, leaving them on the field, laid down in a circle, heads together. there was just silence, as they breathed in the air of hankuk university once more.

once more, as students.

once more, as graduates.

once more, before they step into their next phase.

“i’ll really miss you guys.” sol says quietly. yeseul, lying next to her, nods, although no one can see.

“we’ll meet up. especially you, seungjae-hyung! don’t be shy to ask for babysitters!” bokgi announces, earning a smile from seungjae. they slowly got up from the grass, dusting off the dirt and making their way back once more to the university lobby.

this was the place where these eight students met, all with different objectives and from all walks of life. yet, as different as they are, they got along and went through hell together, for each other. the short lived three years were filled with so many troubles, yet they pulled through together.

truly, they were more than friends. they were family.

seungjae took his leave first, being the family man he was. yebeom had to rush to a family event, and yeseul was going to catch a meal with bokgi. (yeseul promised bokgi to give him a chance once they graduated, and so she kept her promise.) jiho and solb were silently headed off in the same direction with their only conversation being “i’ll drop you off” by jiho and solb nodding. (joon hwi and sol only eye them, making mental notes to tease their ex-roommates.)

“are you going home?” joon hwi asks as sol grabs her bag. after graduating, sol made the decision to move home for the time being, to pay off her loans and support her family and ease her mother of some financial burden. joon hwi has opted many times to help, even wanting to pay off her loans. he had no loans, and after he sold his uncle’s mansion, he had a huge sum of money along with the inheritance. but sol couldn’t do it, she needed to work for this herself.

“yeah. i promised byeol i’ll help her with her work and catch a movie with her too. it’s been long since i could just spend time with her.” sol says. the lobby was now empty, with a few students walking in and out. sol looks at the lady justice statue, almost reminded of the many times she stared at it to remind herself of why she chose law. why she chose this profession.

together, they walk out, holding hands for the first time openly in their school. they were no longer students, and there was no point hiding from others anymore. she was just kang sol; he was just han joon hwi. no more ‘second round judicial pass’, no more ‘uncle killing nephew’, no more ‘klutz’, no more ‘twin failure’. just them.

joon hwi takes the bus to sol’s home, still in the ground floor apartment by an alley. sol’s mother invites him in, but he quickly declines, saying he needs to run some errands back at his own apartment. well, it wasn’t a lie. he just shifted in and he certainly had to clean and unpack.

when the apartment is packed with law books stacked neatly in his bookcase, the floor dusted and mopped, furniture clean and the fridge stocked with fresh groceries, he picks his phone to find seungjae sending the group their photos. there’s numerous comments on how yebeom is already missing us, and even jiho gives a ‘tch’ as a reply in the chat. he notices an unread text from his professor and opens the chat box.

you’re on my speed dial for cases. don’t ignore me.

joon hwi scoffs. he sets his phone aside as he flops back on his bed, for the first time processing all that has happened.

he can’t wait for the future.

(on his wall, he hangs a childhood photo of him and his uncle. on the frame, it has a tag with his daily reminder to judge fairly, and to make sure no one suffers unjustly.)

-----

the next few years for joonhwi are an adventure. his experience in the prosecution office is busy and stressful, but with jiho working just next door, he finds comfort in having him by his side. he battles many cases, slowly but surely, making a name for himself. instead of being known as the man that solved his uncle’s murder, he was now known as the prosecutor that never loses.

the study group kept in touch, meeting every two weeks for dinner at a barbecue place. somedays, they drank. on others, they just chatted and kept the plates of pork coming. seungjae did his best to join, but with his toddler kid, things were difficult.

seungjae took a year after his hearing to be with his wife, and take care of her during her pregnancy. he then decided to work as a forensic examiner. if he couldn't practice law and help people with it, the least he could was to uphold it and enforce it. his job was new and interesting, but he humbled himself to push through his training. he meets the group when they are dealing with criminal cases and helps them out as best he can.

the study group also took turns meeting his kid, and would always love babysitting. sol, as expected, was the best with chaotic duo bokgi and yebeom. instead of dinners some nights, they met at his house to catch up with him and spoil his kid. (seungjae couldn’t stop it. when the kid was born, he immediately gained 7 new aunts and uncles, ready to spoil and pamper him.)

his relationship with sol grew as well. working such long working days was tough, but they tried their best. sol would sometimes deliver homemade stews to his apartment and joon hwi would deliver jjajamyeon with her extra pickles on some nights. they met on the weekends, where they would just go to the park and take strolls or hole up in joon hwi’s apartment to work on their cases together.

sol was doing exceptionally well as a new attorney, almost successfully appealing to all her clients. her clients love her, not only for winning, but for always being so caring to them. many say she still keeps in contact with some clients, even after the case has been closed. while she thinks it is no big deal, sol’s career was climbing up. her loans were fully paid, and she has begun looking into apartments for her family and her to shift out of. that alley brought too much danger, especially with byeol growing into a teenager and her mother’s joints weakening.

sol b took that gap year to work at an administrative office at a law firm, before deciding to continue her law career to gain experience before moving forward to be a judge. throughout the gap year, she split her time on herself and therapy, as well as on her study group. she found herself wanting to be a judge, not for her mother, but for herself.

jiho and sol b also started dating each other shortly after they graduated, when joon hwi spotted sol b and jiho holding hands when he was leaving his office. they only told the group a few months later. but of course, everyone knew by then. ever since then, they caught sol b and jiho smiling a bit more, even if their smiles were just the slight curl at the corner of the lips.

yebeom was doing well in his law firm, handling mostly small cases, but he was content since he had a fun time handling the many cases and making visits to meet clients instead of being stuck in the office. bokgi was a human rights lawyer, with most of his cases about the discrimination of citizens in any aspect. he fought for the rights of those of different sexual orientations, races and religions and was extremely happy being able to do that.

yeseul was defending women of all walks of life, from their unequal treatment to domestic abuse. she was passionate and has made headlines a few times over the years when she chose to speak out about her story. she was well known in this area, being the first few lawyers to be a victim of domestic abuse and defending them. she also kept in contact with professor kim and made regular visits at the legal clinic.

bokgi and her only started dating a year after the graduated. bokgi respected the reasons and her space and yeseul found herself falling in love with him. after all, he stood by her all this while for the whole three years and have seen her at her worst. more than that, he treated her with respect and loved her equally, even after all that.

one day, as joon hwi and sol spent their day on the sofa at joon hwi’s apartment, joon hwi was nervous to ask this question. sol was busy looking at different apartment listings.

“sol, can i ask you something?” joon hwi asks, grabbing her hand. sol nodded, eyes still focussed on her screen.

“would you... would you want to move in with me?” sol’s hand stops scrolling as the words sink in and she slowly faces her boyfriend.

“i... i don’t know. i mean, byeol and umma will be left alone, right?” sol says, her voice quiet and soft.

“we can live near them. i think the lease of the apartment is ending soon, anyways.” joon squeezes her hand.

“but... i don’t know if i have enough money to get an apartment for them and us. joon, i really want to, i really do. but...” sol’s eyes are uncertain, and joon hwi sees her eyes guilty, almost like she feels bad for saying that.

“we can get the apartment in instalments. you can buy one for your mom and byeol first and we will slowly pay for ours.” he says. placing a finger under her chin, he raises it so her eyes meet hers. “sol, they are going to be alright on their own.”

sol nods her head and reaches up to pull her boyfriend’s face to hers, letting their lips connect. his lips are soft against hers, as she taste the slight coffee taste from his mug. it’s almost frenzy, from what started as a simple kiss lead to a fight for dominance. without knowing, sol is straddling joon hwi, as his hands pull back her long hair.

when they pull away, he feels her hot breath on his face, and her face burning red, embarrassed at how she acted.

“should we get back to looking at apartments?” joon hwi asks, a small smile on his face, ultimately an act of tease to her. she quickly nods and climbs off of him as they look at apartments together. joon hwi gives her a knowing smirk, before sol swats his arm and they resume scrolling.

and it was true, when professor yang had him on speed dial.

he was just about to leave for a coffee and bother jiho for a bit at his office one day, when a call came in from professor yang.

“han joon hwi.”

“professor.”

“you’re needed, now. meet me at hankuk university in thirty minutes.” and the call disengages. it was a habit of his professor’s, to give blunt replies and just cut off without saying goodbye. he slips on his blazer and grabs his briefcase before picking up the call from sol instinctively. so much for listening to orders, even though he wasn’t a student anymore.

“called you too?” he asks once he picks up, scribbling on a post it note, noting his early leave from the office.

“what else? gosh, i really hate it when he hangs up like that.” sol replies, a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

“i’ll pick you.” joon hwi says, as he leaves his office, then knocks on jiho’s door. jiho’s head pops up from his laptop, before nodding in acknowledgement.

“no, don’t bother. i’ve already caught the train.” sol replies and joon hwi hears the familiar beeping of train doors. sol knows she’s got to hang up soon, if she doesn’t want to irritate other commenters on the train.

“love you.” he says back. sol’s face is blushing red, but she’s lucky everyone on the train was busy on their phone.

“i love you too.” she whispers before hanging up and storing her phone away in her handbag.

when they meet at the doors of hankuk university each time they are called in for a case, they can’t help but to think of how far they’ve come. sol, the girl with bad grades and on a scholarship. joon hwi, the top student with a hidden secret. yet in a matter of years, they blossomed together with their friends on their routes.

professor yang is by the lady justice statue, and when he looks up to see his students stroll in with authority and confidence, he gives a knowing smile.

shall we start?

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