#no bitch it’s that time of the month where your uterus drives you right up to the brink of something drastic

[sassmill]

Hm think I might go nuts for a bit

#me thinking ‘did I forget to take my meds why am I so anxious’ #no bitch it’s that time of the month where your uterus drives you right up to the brink of something drastic #as long as I keep reminding myself that my mental state is only altered because of hormones I’ll be fine #but holy SHIT #just #fuck #I don’t track my period with a calendar or an app I simply #become completely untethered from reality and feel like an open wound and worry I’m about to go into psychosis #and then after a couple days of that I go ‘oh I’m bloated it’s just pms’ #and before anybody comes in the notes saying that’s not normal talk to your doctor #listen #please listen #because I have and they’ve said ‘yeah that happens’ for every fucking thing #and the sheer thought of making a doctors appointment only to get told I’m overreacting again literally makes me physically ill #holy fuck man #I am so tense just thinking about it

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.16

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Flangst

WC: 2759

SERIES MASTERLIST

As soon as they’re back, Dean places the groceries into the kitchen and Y/N was right about her period because it starts to kick in as soon as the stress level wasn’t that high anymore. 

It’s not long before she finds herself cramping up a little so she uses her first tampon and plants herself on the couch, lays her head on the pillow and pulls the blanket up to her chin. 

Dean walks in, grins a little before he scoops her up and sits her on his lap, still with the blanket and all. She curls up above him, presses her face into the crook of his neck. 

“You need anything?”

“Nuh-uh,”

“Nuh-uh?” Dean kisses her temple, and then he whispers, “Okay, I know you’ve been dying to ask. Shoot, I’ll answer all your questions.”

Y/N actually doesn’t really know what she could ask, she doesn’t want to come across as jealous, when that’s actually what she is. 

“The boy looks like you,”

“Yeah, but I can guarantee you that I’m not the father.” Dean’s voice rumbles underneath her. 

“How do you know?” 

He shrugs, his one hand rubs along her thigh over the blanket, “I came back from an eight month deployment. And after two months she told me that she’s pregnant. Turns out she was already four months along, so no, I don’t really think it was possible that I’m the father. Unless she kept one of the condoms in the freezer and kind of houdinied the semen out and injected it into her uterus.”

“You used a condom?” She raises an eyebrow, she’s curious, not because it’s supposed to be a dig at him.

“She insisted we always use one. Because she didn’t trust me and according to her, I could technically be having sex with everyone while I’m over there.”

“Wow,”

Dean lets out a soft chuckle, “Yeah,”

“She wanted you to trust her but she didn’t give you her trust in return?” She looks up at him, his scruff rubs along her forehead before he tilts his head down to look back at her. From this angle, Dean’s has a double chin but he looks cute with it and that again, is not really fucking fair.

“Apparently, trust in a relationship is not a two way street for her.” Dean just shrugs, “It’s in the past. I don’t even know if it was love at that time or just the comfort of having somewhere to stay with, and someone to be comfortable around with without having to pretend and hide. It took a big chunk of burden off my shoulders too, because I couldn’t afford rent and paying for Sam’s education at the same time.”

“You two already lived together?” 

“With her parents,” He says with a chuckle.

“Oh my god,” 

“Her parents were nosy,” Dean’s laughing now, probably thinking back to the memories, “The thing was, we were young, I was maybe too comfortable with what I had, too tired from war to make a change, and that’s why I stayed with her and then when she said that she was pregnant, I kind of rolled with it. I didn’t even think that I ever wanted kids. We never really talked about it. Looking back, I don’t think I did love her and I’m glad that I could walk away from it. I don’t think that I was ever really truly happy with her. And I have proof that she wasn’t really happy with me either. We were two cowards who were too scared of what was out there, and we were afraid to leave our comfort zones.”

“Were you ever truly happy in your life?” It’s not meant as an offense but the more he tells her, the more she gets the impression that Dean’s life was hard. Full of responsibilities and making choices that he shouldn’t make from a young age on. 

“I am,” He smiles a little when he cradles her face with one hand and pushes his thumb under her chin to make her look up at him, “You don't see it, do you?”

“See what?” She frowns a little.

“Baby, you make me happy,” He kisses her nose, “Yeah, there are some minor inconveniences along the way but the truth is, I’m the happiest I’ve been in years when I’m with you.”

“Oh,” She really didn’t know.

Dean chuckles and kisses her and she grins against the kiss. She wonders if he feels it too, feels the butterflies fluttering around in his tummy, feels the stinging in his heart that hurts so good. 

Their kiss gets more heated, gets deeper, and she really wishes that she’s not on her period. But there’s something that pulls both of them back to reality. 

“I think that is really your phone in your pockets,” She jokes, mumbles the words against his lips and Dean chuckles while he pushes her off his lap playfully to take the phone out of his pants. 

He stops and frowns when he looks at the caller ID, shows it to her before he picks it up.

Chuck.

“Mr. Winchester, where the fuck are you?” Chuck’s so loud on the other end. 

“Uh, we moved,” There’s no sir at the end. She can tell that Dean’s sick of pretending.

“I know that. Where did you take my fucking wife?”

Oh, now she’s his fucking wife. 

Dean places a hand on her shoulder, somehow it soothes her. It would feel a lot better if he wouldn’t be shaking himself, though. He’s visibly upset and the crease on his forehead deepens. 

“I took her somewhere safe. Because that’s my job.”

Chuck laughs, it’s loud and mockery, “That’s not your fucking job anymore, is it? I haven’t paid you to do your work for over a week! Now tell me where she is or someone gets hurt.”

They hear someone whimpering, it’s a female voice. She realizes that she knows that voice. 

Oh god, no.

“Why do you want her? It was you wasn’t it? It was you who sent that hitman after us!” Dean growls, his voice is deep, he’s angry. She’s never seen him like this. 

He has Meg, She mouths to Dean and Dean’s frowns some more at that.

“I knew I shouldn’t have hired an ex-marine who left on his own will. I should have gone with an army outcast, someone who’s paid to do what they should and not fucking second guess everything I say!” Chuck snarls, “Look, Winchester, fair trade. You bring her to me and in return, I won’t kill off her best friend, how does that sound?”

“Yes,” Y/N whispers.

“No,” Dean’s voice is louder, it’s a deep growl, it makes her flinch. 

“A life for a life, sounds fair to me!” Chuck says and he must be doing something to Meg because she cries out. It’s a terrible sound. Something hurts inside of her when she hears it. 

“I’ll text you the address and I give you 12 hours, because I know that you’re far away and traffic is a bitch. Don’t even tell me that I don’t give you a fair chance.” Chuck sounds proud, “No police. Just you and me, Winchester. You pull something, she’s dead and I have friend in high places, Winchester, so don’t fucking play with me or I’ll send someone else, every fucking day.”

He hangs up before Dean can even answer.

“No,” Dean says and gets up to pace around in the room. She opens her mouth to say something but he holds out his finger, repeating himself, “Don't even start, the answer is no!”

“But—”

“—I’m not fucking losing you!”

“We have to! He’ll hurt Meg!” She argues and stands up too. 

Dean’s phone pings with a message. It has the address on it and a picture of Meg. She’s been beaten black and blue. 

Y/N feels nauseous and needs to sit down again after seeing that.

Dean moves over quickly to sit down on the chair, typing in the address into google maps, “Okay, we need about six hours to get there. We still have time to form a plan.”

“You’re going to help Meg?” She walks over to stand next to him and then he looks up to her.

“Of course I’ll help Meg,” He pushes his chair back, pulls her into his lap, “I’m not happy about it but I’m helping where I can. She’s important to you and you’re important to me, so.” 

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this.”

Dean sighs, “We’ve been over this, haven’t we?” He says, places his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her waist, “We’re in this together. And now we need to see how we can all get out of it, Meg included.”

 *

 They arrive at a record shop. It doesn’t look like anything impressive on the outside to be honest, but they found out through google, that it has a recording studio in the back. Of course it would. That’s Chuck for you. He knows that it’s soundproof, he probably rented it out under a false name, either. 

Y/N gets off the bike, takes off her helmet and waits for Dean to do the same. 

He’s standing before her, “Remember what we said, okay?”

She nods.

“And here’s your gun,” Dean hands it to her too, “Just, this time, if you shoot, try to hit what you’re aiming for, alright?” He chuckles but it’s not a light-hearted or funny chuckle, it’s more sinister. 

“Okay,” 

“Right,” Dean takes a step closer, weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her into him, “Try not to get shot at, alright?” 

“And you don’t get dead. Promise?” She stands on her tip toes, their noses touch. 

“Cross my heart,” Dean smiles a little, seals his words with a kiss. 

 *

 She watches Dean leave with a nod.

The plan’s for him to go in first and that they’ll improvise on the rest. 

There was no time to plan anything else ahead because they didn't know what would be waiting for them once they arrived. 

Of course they contacted Benny because Dean hasn’t heard from him yet. But since it’s now a pressing matter, Benny’s doing his best to inform the local authority, and even drives here himself. It would take him longer to get here from wherever he was, she never asked, but Dean’s phone is on standby with Benny and the call is recorded.

The plan was also for her to wait until Benny or the police is here but she can’t because she hears a dull thud and fuck—

—She runs in as fast as she can, almost trips over a stack of records but she keeps on going and pulls the heavy door open, her gun drawn. 

She sees Chuck, and Meg’s next to him on her knees.

“Oh, hey, wifey.” Chuck greets her with a fucking big smile on his face. 

The shot was only a bait to lure her in. Chuck has a gun in hand too and he waves it in her direction. 

“Let Meg go,” She says with the calmest of voice she can muster up. 

Chuck raises his eyebrow, pouts a little, “Where are your manners, Y/N! Say please,”

She looks at Dean and they exchange looks. He’s on edge, is ready to launch forward. There’s so much tension in the air and she doesn’t think that she’s breathing at all. 

With a sigh, she says, “Please,”

“Was that so hard?” Chuck mocks, “I only give Meg to Winchester and you’re coming to me.”

“No,” Dean whispers, it’s faint but she hears it nonetheless. 

Y/N knows that Dean doesn’t want that, but also she wants her friend safe. It’s the only other person in the world who she trusts next to Dean. She loves Meg. Meg was always here, even when she had a hard time herself with her failed business ventures. Y/N was always there for Meg and vise versa. 

Looking at Dean, she nods, and she sees that he doesn’t like it one bit but he nods back. 

“Lower your gun and I will, too.” She tells Chuck and that might be the first time in ages that they agree on something.

Chuck lowers his first, Dean follows and then her. 

“Now Meg,” Dean says, holds out his hands, beckons her over. 

Meg’s still blue in one eye and she walks over, she’s wearing an oversized sweater, something Y/N’s not used to seeing on her. Meg’s always dressed so good. She wonders what happened in the short time that she was away. 

Her friend nods at Y/N in passing, and goes to stand next to Dean who’s a couple of feet away from her. And Y/N turns to nod at Dean one last time, sees Dean nodding back, holding Meg up with an arm around her.

Y/N takes a step closer to Chuck, then another one. 

On her third step, a shot rings in her ear, it makes her jump. She turns around to see the source and sees Dean on the floor.

“Dean!” She calls out, wants to run back but Chuck’s voice interrupts her train of thought. 

“Ah-ah, you stay.” He says calmly and he draws his gun when she sees her drawing hers. 

She looks at Meg, sees that woman smiling. She can’t believe that she’s been played by her best friend, “Why, Meg? Why?” She starts to cry. 

Dean’s grunting, he’s clearly in pain, blood seeps out from his stomach wound. She knows that she has to stop the bleeding but she’s caught between a rock and a goddamn hard place. 

Meg’s smile dies down, “I’m sorry, I really am, Y/N.”

“Did he pressure you into doing this?”

“He offered me a million! Imagine, Y/N! A fucking million! I can start anew! I thought about it long and hard. I love you, I do, but I would also love a new start. You understand, right? I’m sorry but I gotta look out for mysel—”

Meg didn’t get to finish her sentence because Chuck shot her right in her face.

“I never liked her,” Chuck says, “She always talks too much. And she really thinks she’d get away with it.” He scoffs. 

Y/N’s full on sobbing, she can’t stop even if she wants to. “So, you’re going to kill everyone? What are you going to tell them, huh? Three dead people?” She knows that she should get going, that she should help Dean, she knows that time is fucking running out.

“I’ll tell them that I’m a hero. I tried to save you from your crazy friend who wanted to take away everything from you. Not even your bodyguard could help protect you. So it was me, the loving husband who has to rush in,” He pauses for the dramatic effect, “But it was already too late.”

Dean’s still grunting, he’s still alive. Oh thank god. She risks a glance. Dean’s visibly pale, the blood starts to pool. His eyes are on her. 

She nods at Dean and takes a deep breath before looking back to Chuck who has his gun cocked and ready. It’s really now a matter of who shoots first. His finger is tight around the trigger, but hers is, too. 

“Go to hell, Chuck,” She mumbles and pulls the trigger, sees Chuck staggering and losing balance. His gun is still tight in his hand and he pulls the trigger, shooting into the ground before he kneels on one knee. She has shot him in his thigh, right above the knee.

Ready to pull again, a sound of someone barging in stops her, and then, everything happens so fast. Someone’s pointing a gun at Chuck and she sees him raising his hands. Someone has an arm around her, asking her if she’s okay. She hears it faintly, “Ma’am, are you okay? Ma’am, can you hear me?” 

But she can’t, she can’t talk, she can’t hear, she can’t see. 

She needs to get to him. 

Y/N falls on her knees, crawls over the body of Meg to get to Dean. Someone’s already working on his wound. Dean’s face is the palest of pale she’s ever seen in her life. There’s sweat on his forehead and his eyes look empty. But he’s still looking at her. She’s crying, leans her head against his, kisses his cheek, his nose, “Please don’t leave me,” She begs with every fiber of her being. 

CH.17

#cross my heart #dean winchester #bodyguard!dean #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #nahtalie writes

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus-Size Reader: Epilogue Part 1

a/n: we back bitches! I just couldn’t let my babies go yet. I really wanted to see what a future could look like for them. I really wanted to allow them the room to grow and evolve and be deeper, more complex beings. Please let me know what you think. Like honestly. It would mean the world to me. I just wanna talk about them. I missed them. Ok bye. 

Trigger Warnings: Weight issues. Trouble conceiving. Smut. 

*5 years later*

You always thought that when the other shoe would drop you’d be in a little bit better of a position to handle it. Like at all even. But sometimes that’s not what you get. Sometimes you’re in a med gown with your feet up in sternups while someone is swabbing and poking away at your cervix because your body doesn’t work right. Sometimes that’s all you get.

You vaguely hear the doctor explain to you about the length of time the test would take, how relaxing could help things, that you shouldn’t get stressed out quite yet. It all sort of feels like you’ve got cotton in your ears though. Like she’s talking but you can’t hear and you don’t want to hear you just want to go to bed.

It doesn’t help that they lead you out to the waiting room and he’s sitting there just as nervous and smiley as ever. Somehow he’s gotten so good at keeping your spirits high that you don’t even know how he manages to make you smile in that moment. Really all you wanted to do was cry. You go to fill out the exit paperwork and he’s right there rubbing circles into your back soothingly. You really wanna cry.

“I called your assistant to let her know you wouldn’t be coming in. Figured we could spend the day together, aye?” He hummed against your temple.

You nod silently. Thank fucking god he’s there to drive you home too, because the second you leave that building your eyes glaze over. You can barely see.

He lets you hold his hand, lets you pretend that those aren’t tears spilling silently down your cheeks as you stare out the window.

It’d been a hell of a five years. From the moment Shawn went completely and totally public with your relationship to the moment you moved into his apartment. To the rest of the tour finishing out sort of perfectly. To the vacation to Portugal. To the meeting of his grandmother and Allyiah’s graduation. To this random night in Madeira when you missed a New Years Eve party to make love with the windows open and he had laid beside you and put a ring on your finger with some sappy ass question of allowing him to love you for the rest of your lives. Not marry you, just love you. Wild. To the house you bought together with the stainless steel kitchen and the island you’d always wanted. And then of course there was that day over a year ago when he’d given you the puppy dog face after making you cum before work and asked if he could put a whole ass child inside of you, which had landed you here.

You walked into the house and immediately crawled out of your pants and back into bed. And he’s there almost as fast. His fingers trace out the words, “ i love you” onto your back and he throws his leg over you to smother you the way that you needed. It doesn’t matter though. None of it matters. And his love for you only hurts you more in this moment. Because you don’t deserve it. Can’t return it equally the way the way he deserved.

“It doesn’t matter to me.” He murmured softly. “You gotta know that, y/n.”

You snort softly, tears soaking into your pillow as he lies to make you feel better.

“It’s all you wanted. It’s the only thing you’ve ever asked me for.” You sniffled.

“I--I know. But I’d rather just have you, healthy and happy. That’s the only thing in the world I want, my love. Please don’t be sad.”

“I’m not healthy. I’m morbidly obese and now my uterus doesn’t work because of it.”

The tears come a little harder then and you try to take a breath but it just sort of chokes you. So he rolls you over and settles all of his weight on top of you. His runs his thumb along your cheeks and down over your chin, lips pressing to your forehead.

“That’s not what they said. They just said they need to run more tests.”

“She said my weight was definitely a contributing factor.” You argued gently. “It’s the whole reason my periods weren’t regular growing up. My mom had the same problem.”

“And she had four kids. All your doctor said was that it could make it harder, not impossible. So let’s let them run the tests. I never in a million years want you to blame yourself for this. Either we’ll make a baby naturally or we can adopt or do a surrogate or any of the other million ways people have kids now. This is not a thing to add stress, sweetheart. I hate seeing you sad like this.”

You swallowed  heavily and look hesitantly up at him from beneath your lashes.

“If you just would’ve married one of those skinny model types, you’d probably already have a kid by now though.”

His eyebrow furrows and you notice an emotion on his face that he rarely ever shows towards you. It’s anger. He slips off of you and pulls the covers back taking all of the warmth away with him

“No. No, we’re not doing this. I’m not even going to entertain a discussion where I shouldn’t be with woman I asked to spend the rest of her life with me because of something so insignificant. I’m not going to let you sit in this house all day and blame yourself for a body that I’m so incredibly in love with. Get up we’re going out.”

He tugs at your hands until you’re sitting up and then disappears into your closet.

“Where are we going?” You mumbled reaching for the tissues on the bedside table.

“We’re going to go spend the day together.” He huffed pulling out one of his favorite dresses of yours. “We are going to go out to lunch. We’re gonna go see a movie. We’re going to do whatever the hell we want. We’re just not going to sit here all day. Understand?”

He steps between your legs and holds your face in his hands and it really is the most soothing thing in the world. You don’t know how he does it. How he makes it all better. Or, how he puts up with you all the time. How even when he’s clearly irritated he’s looking at you like you’re his whole world. Because you actually, genuinely are.

“Look at me.” He said softly. “You’re everything to me. Everything. And that could never change, no matter what. So never look at me like it could, or should. I love you and you’re it. Tell me you understand that.”

“Understand. I love you.” You whispered.

He smiled down at you. “I love you too. More than anything in the world. Let’s go.”

It doesn’t fix it. Not at all. But it also doesn’t let you stew for the moment. It’s okay. For now.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

His parents invite them over for dinner. It’s a known thing at this point that the struggle of getting pregnant is taking a toll on them. It definitely didn’t help that the press had gotten whiff of the Mendes’ trouble to conceive. She had only been harder on herself.. He’s afraid to touch her anymore if it means she’s only gonna think about whether her body will cooperate this time. He’s even more afraid to not touch her if it means she’s gonna spend a second thinking he’s not absolutely obsessed with her in every way. All he wants in the world is to make her happy, and he can’t help but think it’s his fault for ever bringing it up to begin with.

His dad pulls them both into a hug and his mum does the same. She’s in that jumpsuit he likes with the gold belt that makes him weak in the knees. There’s wine that’s been sitting in the freezer because they knew she was coming. He pours her a glass and grabs a beer for himself.

“Did I tell you how much I love this outfit on you?” He asked as he hands her her glass.

She smirks. “When I put it on in the house. And when we got in the car.”

His cheeks warm. “Sorry. I still mean it though. I think it’s my favorite. You’re beautiful.”

A giggle passes through her lips and she smiles at him over the rim of her glass.

“Look I know what tonight is about. And I know I’ve been...really difficult to be around lately.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Not even remotely.”

“I don’t believe you. But, I just….I’m gonna try and do better. So, what do you say we have dinner. Maybe drink a little. Maybe we can have a night like the ones we used to have? Before all of this?”

“Sweetheart that sounds amazing. I’d love nothing more than that.”

He reaches in to kiss her and it’s like the first time. She still makes his fucking toes go numb. She makes his heart flutter and his stomach tighten. He’s so in love with her. He’s never not been in love with her. She digs her fingers in his hair and pulls just slightly and it still gets him going like he’s twenty-three again. And when his fingers find her thighs and she bites at his lip, it’s the closest he’s felt to her in months.

“Shit. I cannot pop a boner in my parent’s kitchen.” He groaned pulling away.

“Like physically incapable or like…?”

“Not funny. Let’s go eat dinner.”

Dinner starts out smooth. It’s catch up and y/n telling his mum how great the food is before they start exchanging recipes at the dinner table. And it’s better. She holds his hand. She tries to let go. He can tell she’s trying, but it’s different than it usually is. Y/n is never not trying. Lately she had been trying so hard that it was painful for him to watch. This time is different because this time it actually works. He can see that she’s not in her head as much and she’s not worrying about everything. It’s exactly what they need.

“So Shawn what’s going on music wise? You working on anything?”

It’s a loaded question. And of course his dad couldn’t have known. At first he put the album on hold to make a baby, and then he kept it on hold when y/n started having trouble so he could be there for her. Every now and again she could hear him argue with Andrew over the phone, or refuse another meeting with the label. It wasn’t that he wasn’t making music. He just didn’t want to do anything that might take him away from her. But somehow that makes her stressed too. Tonight instead of completely falling in on herself she tries to stay in the moment. She takes a bigger sip of her drink.

He slides his hand onto her knee and squeezes gently.

“I’m always working on something.” He chuckled. “Nothing concrete though. Just creating to create. Cause it makes me happy.”

He peers over at her in hopes that it’ll click for her. That he’s happy the way things are. That she doesn’t need to be anything other than what she already is for him.

She smiles and takes another gulp from her glass. But she doesn’t shy away so maybe it’s okay.

Until it isn’t. She finishes her glass before anyone else, and then goes to fix another when his parents start talking about aaliyah and what she’s up to.The final straw is when she gets up to try and help clear the table and she stumbles and drops a plate. His parents stare on with concern, and she’s giggling up a storm. She goes to try and pick up the pieces, but the last thing he needs is for her to cut herself on the glass, so he politely intrudes. She’s not hammered enough to get angry at him yet.

“Hey, honey? Leave it alright. I’ll clean it up. Why don’t you lie down on the couch for a little while until it’s time to go.”

She stares up at him eyes completely innocent in that way that wine does for her. It’s kind of adorable.

“Why? What did I do?”

He smiles. “Nothing. Nothing. You’re perfect. Just don’t want you to hurt yourself. We can leave in a little bit okay?”

“O--Okay.”

Her eyes already heavy before she sits on the couch. He hands her a blanket and knows that she’ll be out like a light. His parents hadn’t really brought them there for dinner anyway. He really was just there to get advice from the only people he knew could make it make sense.

“What’s bothering you kiddo?” His mum asks before he can even take a breath.

He sighed and let his shoulder drop.

“I just feel like I’ve messed everything up. And I can’t really see anyway out of it. She’s--She’s blaming herself for all of this, and I can’t figure out how to get her to stop.”

“Well what have the doctors said? Anything?” his dad asked.

He groaned. “Just that her weight is playing a role in her hormonal imbalance and it’s leading to issues with her fertility. But nothing about her being infertile. It’s just gonna be harder for her, I guess. And I don’t know how to make her believe that I would rather have a beautiful happy life than put her through anything like what these past few months have been for her.”

“That must be so hard for her.” His mum murmured laying her hand on his shoulder. “And hard for you too, sweetheart. Is she talking to someone about it by chance?”

“I try. I don’t think she wants to talk to me because she’s afraid of hurting me. She talks to some of her girlfriends I guess, but we don’t really have any friends with kids. And it’s not like she’s gonna call her mom up and talk to her about it.”

“That’s okay. You can only be there for her and offer as much support as she needs.When’s the last time you two just...went on vacation or got out of Toronto for a little while. Sometimes it’s the environment. Babies can be tricky things.” His mum shrugged.

“Tricky, aye? Was I tricky?”

His dad chuckled. “You sure were. You showed up without even bothering to tell us you were coming!”

“And look at all the good it’s caused.” He grinned.

“Nothing but good, sweetheart.” She smiled.

He peered back into the living room where his person was dead to the world, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. And his heart just felt full and safe.

“I’ll figure it out.” He promised himself. “I’ll figure it out.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

You are in the middle of a meeting. A rather important meeting one might add. With like spreadsheets and projections and shit. You have a laser pointer for Christ’s sake! So when your assistant let’s your one and only dumbass enter into the conference room with nothing but a shit eating grin on his face and a suitcase, you are certainly at a loss for words. What in the hell?

“I--I...Shawn what are you doing here?” You blinked.

“Sorry ladies and gents I’ve kinda come to sweep you away. I already got the okay from your boss so….let’s go!”

“I’m sorry? I’m in the middle of a meeting babe.” You wave your arms around at the general meeting-ness of the room. “I can’t just leave.”

“Oh. Well that’s cool I guess. It’s just that I got a jet waiting for us, and although they technically can’t leave without us, I’d still like to be punctual. I’ll wait in your office.”

There’s a running joke about the jet. It’s not a joke at all actually. It’s extremely serious. He took you on a jet one time. When you had decided that the concept of marriage wasn’t nearly as important as just loving each other forever, you went on your “not-honeymoon”. On the flight to Italy, he ate you out in the bathroom right as take off happened. It was the best orgasm of your life. To this day every time he brought up that stupid ass jet, your thighs got tight and you got just a little wet. Bastard.

The rest of the presentation is a complete and total wash. Your dumbass is somewhere in your office waiting to whisk you away to God knows where and you’re sitting here talking about revenue? No thank you.

“Everyone have a lovely weekend. I will be back...whenever the hell he brings me back I suppose.” You sighed heading straight for the door.

He’s sitting at your desk with his legs propped up in those jeans that somehow had not changed size in five years with an ass that still made you wanna cry. Rude.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Well it’s lovely to see you too dear. I’m doing great!”

“Don’t get snooty with me. You know that I’m happy you’re here, although you could have texted. Where are we going?”

“Coachella!” He exclaimed. “You and I are going to coachella. We are going to live our best lives in the most ridiculous, boogie ass, VIP style that you can imagine. We’re gonna take pictures in flower crowns. We’re gonna be surrounded by people half our age and it’s gonna be awesome.”

Coachella. It was something you’d talked about once upon a time ago. Back when what you had was still new and expanding and you were making plans for the future without any thought of what might come later. Something had always gotten in the way. The tour. An album. A movie project. You hadn’t talked about it in years.

“Coachella? What in the hell made you think of Coachella?”

He got out of your chair and wrapped his whole body around you in that way that made your body feel more firmly rooted to the ground. His arms were warm and firm and he nuzzled his nose into yours.

“I thought we might be missing what makes us, us lately? Let’s just go to Coachella. Let’s have a fun fucking time. You don’t need to worry about anything in the world. We can just be us again ya know?”

You frowned softly. “You don’t think we’ve been us lately?”

He sighed. “I think we’ve both been under a ton of pressure, obviously you more than me. I just wanna take you away for a little, baby. I just want you to have fun.”

“Look I know that I’ve been--”

“No. Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to apologize. I don’t need you to make excuses for me. I don’t want you to try and make anything better. I just want you to go to Coachella with me. I’ve already packed your suitcase. Please will you go with me?”

His eyes are set firm in that way that they often times get when something means a lot to him. He’s not giving in, and more than that you can tell it would hurt him if you tried to fight in. Your emotions are a little all over the place in regards to why he felt the need to do this. But honestly, what was the worst that could happen? You weren’t getting pregnant in Toronto. How the hell was California gonna make a difference?

“Okay, okay!  I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

He kisses you until your breathless and your toes curl and you can’t remember anything other than kissing him ever. Asshole.

Sure enough he takes you a jet where your friends are already waiting for you. It’s Brian, Stu, Bryan, Connor, your friends Cynthia and Taylor, and...Priyanka. Priyanka had been very annoyed to find out that the friend she made had neglected to tell her when she was solving all her relationship problems that they were Shawn Mendes related. You managed to stay friends from halfway across the world. She had even made a visit to Canada once, and you and Shawn had visited her in Barcelona again. You were closer than close, especially for friends with such physical distance between the two of you. Shawn knew that. Of course he knew that.

After you’ve had enough screaming and squealing over your friends, you decide to actually board the plane. Shawn is always there and waiting with a mimosa and quite expertly rolled, but still fat as all hell, blunt.

“I should’ve married you.” You mumbled reaching for both.

Everyone gets comfy in their seats, and you’re enough passes into your blunt that Stu is making grabby hands for not sharing when Shawn begins to nuzzle into your neck. He knew how sensitive you were there, especially high. Ugh.

“Babe,” He whispered kissing at your throat. “Need you to come with me.”

You whined softly and took another hit.

“Mmm where are we going?”

“I wanna do the thing. Please let me do the thing.”

Your eyes pop open at what he’s implying, and you’re not sure if it’s more intoxicating or sobering. Oh you’d let him do the thing alright.

You practically throw your blunt at Stu before tugging Shawn back towards the bathroom. Giggles bubble up from your throat as he presses you into the sink that’s nicer and bigger than the one you had in your first apartment. You hadn’t felt like this in a while. Playful. Care-free. In the moment.

It feels good. It feels like maybe everything he’d been asking you to do for months. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the mimsoa, or if instead it’s that sheepish fucking smile he gives you when he goes to take your pants off and nearly trips in the small space. In the end it doesn’t matter. You feel yourself falling. Into complacency. Into calmness. Into an ecstasy that has your legs locked around his head once again the moment the plane lifts off. Coachella here you come. Literally.

***

“Americans and your festivals.” Priyanka sighed nestling a flower crown over her headscarf.

You snorted softly. “Still not American, Pri.”

“Yea, yea, you’re the kinder version. I know. What are you wearing to this hotbox?”

Your day one outfit is a white cotton dress that falls off your shoulders and brings attention to your collarbones. There’s a big floppy hat to keep the sun away and sneakers because who the fuck has time for heels? You felt like a fat Florence Welch or a woodland fairy. It was kind of adorable. The fact that Shawn had somehow managed to pack your suitcase to your liking was a standard that you had never thought to set, but it surely came in hand.

The second you step out he’s waiting for you in a floral button up left undone over a tanktop and those damn jeans.He’s got one of those little pens with the cannabis oil in them, and you’ve never loved him more then when he smiles wide and goofy at you as you jump into his arms. Sometimes in your most insecure of moments, you would imagine that look going away, or even dimming in the slightest. But, it never seemed to happen. In over six years together he seemed to only love you more. Wild.

“You look so pretty. Are you excited?” He hummed fingers curving under the swell of your ass beneath your dress.

You bit your lip and pressed a little firmer against him. “I’m excited for something.”

“Sweetheart we should probably at least make it to Coachella before we run off to hook up somewhere.”

You pouted, bottom lip jutting out. “Well who’s idea is that?”

“Weed really does make you horny, aye?” He chuckled. “I promise to keep you more than satisfied this weekend.”

“Yea?”

You licked your lips and made yourself busy with pressing kisses along his jaw and neck.

“You’re gonna be trouble this weekend.”

“You have no idea.”

Coachella is...hot. Mostly. You get the feeling that you’re not exactly experiencing it like a normal person, the second Shawn leads you by your hand past a roped gate. It reminds you of the time you snuck into the VIP section in college, except for now there’s not sneaking in. Your person just leads you right through the entrance. There are big tents set up with misting fans and bars and people in outfits that don’t look comfortable. You’re a pretty big group, but it matches the vast amount of entourages  walking around. You think you spot Kime Kardashian in a diamond encrusted tank top, but then you spot hot dogs and those are more important.

In reality there are only five things you needed to experience at Coachella. Weed. Alcohol. Food. Sex. and most importantly Lizzo.

“So is this little wristband of yours gonna get me to the front?” You asked waving your wrist in Shawn’s face.

You were nursing a long island in cup that looked more like a bucket and a hot dog in the other. Your priorities were perfectly in order.

“Not quite. My face should do it. I made a call ahead of time. Lizzo knows we’ll be in the crowd.”

You nearly choked. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t need to know that. I just want to shake my ass in peace, Shawn.”

“And shake it you will, my love. Preferably on me, but I’m open to negotiating.”

You were so crossed at that point your soul felt cross-eyed.

“No negotiating needed. You wanna bend me over, you just say the word Mr. Mendes.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I think that could definitely get me going. We should explore that at some point. Not in public. But we should explore it.”

“Boo. You’re so boring.” You snorted.

You go see one of the smaller acts where the crowd wasn’t large and no celebrities were there. Connor and Brian are on molly and jump into a mosh pit. Bryan and Stu start grinding to a techno beat immediately. Priyanka and the girls are jumping up and down in pleasure. It’s fun. It’s funner than maybe anything you’d ever done in your whole life. There’s something so freeing about being surrounded by people who are sweaty and drunk and just want to hear and feel the music. It’s incredible in every way. And you can’t get over the fact that he did it for you. That he plucked you out of your own head, out of everything that had been going on the past months for this. It spoke to the idea that maybe your happiness really was all that mattered to him. That as long as it was you and it was him, everything else would work itself out. You just had to get the two of you down. The rest would follow.

You’re sitting on a blanket between his too long legs. You flopped your hat on top of his head and stole the pen from him to take another hit. From where you’re lying he looks like the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. You fall a little deeper in love.

“Hi.” You murmured as he nodded his head to the music.

He smiled at you. “Hi. You feeling okay?”

“You’re so pretty.” You say instead. “The prettiest fucker I ever saw.”

“How high are you right now?” He asked caressing your jaw.

You shook your head softly and pouted.

“No. You’re pretty, honest! I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too. The love of my life, you are woman.”

“I wanna give you a baby so bad.” You sighed letting your head fall against his collarbones. “I never even thought I wanted to be a mom, ya know? Thought I’d live so happy on my own. But we’d be really fucking good at it.”

His arms were wrapped around you already and he intertwined his fingers against your stomach from behind

“We will be, baby.” He promised. “You can teach our baby to be a total bad ass, how to be strong and fearless and smart. And I’ll teach them out to play music, how to be stubborn. We can both teach them out to be stubborn. And we’ll love them more than anything. It will be perfect.”

“You think?” You grinned tilting your head up to look at him.

He peered down at you with your big ass hat on his head and suddenly the only thing that you could do was giggle your ass off. Definitely still high.

“Are you laughing at me?!”

You shook your head gasping for air. “No! No I’m not I just---that fucking hat, Shawn!”

This sends both of you into fits of laughter. Moment absolutely ruined.

***

“Hey…Everyone is heading to one of the house parties before we come back for Lizzo’s set.” Shawn murmured.

You were dehydrated and still drunk. Getting out of the sun sounded lovely.

“Okay.”

He frowned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Yea. I was thinking you and I might head back to the house instead for a little while. You know...to relax.”

“Oh. Oh! Yes. Let’s do that.”

“Yea? I thought we could maybe try something, ya know new? Like the other stuff?”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell did you have in mind?”

The past five years had seen many an explorations in the bedroom for the two of you. You dead ass Louis and Clark’d that shit. But like without the slavery and the general white supremacy. Once you discovered you liked having your ass slapped, you found out that there were some other things you liked. You liked when he was a little rough with you, liked being pressed up against something and taken for all you were worth. You liked being restrained, not so much with actual restraints which had taken a handcuff situation, panic attack, and an accidental black eye that meant Shawn couldn’t leave the house for a week, to find out. No need to go back there. Shawn liked praise. Endless amounts of praise. Good news was you liked praising, and he liked punishing. What a life.

Your friends are not even remotely convinced when you tell them you’re gonna stop at the house for a nap. Bryan offers to ride back with you both to grab his fanny pack and Stu very loudly explains to him that you’re going back to fuck. He’s not wrong though. So you skip over towards your car happily with your person because you were too secure in your relationship to get skittish about sex anymore. You were a sexual creature and you weren’t afraid to hide it dammit!

“God I have wanted to touch you all day.” Shawn groaned. Pushing you against the first wall he can find the second the door is closed.

You giggled. “That’s what I’ve been saying! You wouldn’t listen though.”

“You wanted to have sex in a very public VIP tent.” He snorted. “I want you all to myself.”

“Well you got me. Come take care of me, aye?”

“Of course. Anything for you. Come here.”

Did you have a bedroom? Yes. Were you staying in a mansion that probably cost a shit ton? Accurate. But you were a simple girl, with simple needs. And sometimes? Sometimes you just wanted to be fucked on a very sturdy, very expensive, mahogany desk instead.

You reached for the belt buckle on his black jeans already trying to pull him closer than close, already wanting his body on yours.

“Here?” He asked a little surprised but still pressing kisses to your throat.

You moaned. “Now. Need it right now.”

“Fuck.”

You both pull apart from each other just long enough for you to rid yourself of your underwear and Shawn to get his jeans and briefs far enough down his thighs for movement. It’s maybe the most needy that either of you have ever been. You and Shawn thrived in foreplay. Sometimes spent whole hours in foreplay wihtout ever even getting to the sex part. When he shoves his way between your thighs, holding his tanktop up with his hand to spit on his dick as he made his way within you, something animalistic occurs. Your body practically convulses around him. It’s dirty and hot and fast and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Holy fuck you’re so tight.” He groaned against your shoulder. “God, baby.”

“Harder! Just want it harder. Baby please.”

He’s got your thigh propped up on this desk and it’s just the perfect height to have him fucking into you with the stroke from the gods. Crossed y/n didn’t need much, she just kind of wanted to get railed in broad day light. What? Like it’s hard?

He finds a way to get your leg over his shoulder and you back hits the wall and he pushes so deep inside of you, you see stars. He’s rocking himself against that spot inside of you that only he could touch like that. Your back arched and you squeezed your eyes shut in complete and utter ecstasy.

“What’s the thing?!” You gasped fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Huh?!”

“The thing! What’s the thing you wanted to do I’m gonna fucking cum soon.” You whined.

“I read an article!” He panted hips still moving. “That choking makes the orgasm like more heightened. Don’t wanna hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good. Always.”

“That’s so hot. Now--do it now!”

“Just...hit me if it starts to hurt, okay?”

His fingers, long and roughly calloused, gripped experimentally at your throat. At first he’s just touching the skin, just familiarizing himself with what it could feel like. Meanwhile his hips are still slapping against the back of your thighs, the desk beginning to squeak and rattle on its feet. His grip tightens slightly and you start to feel the restriction. His other hand hand digs deep into the wood behind your back for leverage, and he takes you somewhere entirely new.

“Oh my god. I can feel your body fighting for it.” He grunted against your lips. “Shit!”

Your eyes roll entirely backwards and your legs come together in some weak attempt at a defense as your body just kind of explodes on his dick. Is it squirting? Is it just another orgasm? Is he ripping you apart from the inside? Who knows? Not you, that’s for damn sure. The last thing you’re even fully conscious for is your fingers grabbing at his waist to pull him desperately against you. Maybe he cums. Again. You’re not sure. By the time you come too, the entire world is lopsided, and you still can’t breathe.

“We’re gonna have to pay for that.” Shawn wheezed against your neck.

“Mmmm...what?”

“The desk, baby. The desk.”

You peer down at something that isn’t your person for the first time notice that the world had not gone lopsided. Instead some of the legs on the desk had just completely given up at being legs. Oh well.

“That’s hot.”

He chuckled. “Yea? Broken furniture get you going?”

“Mhm. You wanna try and break the bed too?”

“I just came in you not twenty seconds ago.” Shawn sighed running his thumb along your cheek. “But, you’re so fucking sexy. Yes. Yes let’s go.”

“Think you can still lift me?”  

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead just grabs you up and stumbles his way towards your room. Thank god for gyms and thank god for Coachella. What a hell of a woman.

****

September in Toronto was your favorite time of the year. The temperature dropped a little bit, all of the kids were back in school, just as the city was becoming it’s most beautiful. You thrived in September. And when you were at your happiest it tended to have really good effects on Shawn. He fed off whatever energy you put off, and he loved seeing you happy more than anything in the world. So when some asshole named Andrew decides that he’s going to take the love of your life away from you in PRIME apple picking season, excuse you for feeling like someone was trying to rain on your parade.

“Baby it is a three day trip. We can go apple picking the second I get off the plane.” Shawn assured you as you watched glumly while he packed his life away from you.

“It won’t be the same. The temperature on Saturday was going to be perfect. They have the adult hayrides with the spiked cider and everything.” You mumbled.

He dropped one of his shirts and came to crawl into bed with you, warm hands coming to cradle your face like always.

“And it will be just as perfect when I get back. Because I’ll be with you. It’s just a quick trip to New York to meet with the label. I’ll be back before you know it.”

You fist your fingers in his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to keep him there with you.

“That’s not true. I always know it when you’re gone. Always.”

He sighed softly. “I know. It gets a little harder every year to be away from you too. But three days, and then I’m yours. We can pick apples and make our own cider and bake your famous apple crisp and watch movies. You can not go into work. It’ll be perfect, aye?”

You frown but he kisses at your cheeks and your lips until you smile for him. It’s so annoying.

“Besides by the time I get back you’ll be in your ovulating window. I’ll be back just in time.”

You had drastically shifted your approach post Coachella. Shawn stopped making appointments with the gynecologists and the fertility specialists. You’d had a really vulnerable and honest conversation that hurting yourselves mentally and emotionally wasn’t going to be the way you became parents. So the plan became to just take the pressure out of it. You still had sex during your ovulation period every month, amongst a lot of non-ovulation sex as well, and if after a year you got nothing than it would be time to look into alternative options.

You scrunch your face up as he presses more kisses against your neck.

“You track my ovulation?” You asked.

“Yes. It’s incredibly easy on this little app I have. Now don’t be sad anymore, please?”

Your fingers scratch at his scalp and he practically purs still.

“Fine.”

“I love you, don’t ‘fine’ me.”

“I love you too.”

Shawn heads off to the airport leaving you home in a big ass house by your lonesome. You get the fireplace going and set about making yourself something for dinner. Nothing feels off at all. It’s just a normal day. You have to decide whether to do stir fry or tacos, but that’s about it. You set up the rice cooker before hopping into the shower for a much needed jam session with one of your favorite playlists. You figure a deep conditioning might do you some good since your person isn’t even around to play with your hair tonight.

You’re at the island chopping onions when your eyes trail up to the calendar on the fridge. It held random dates, usually when Shawn had business to attend to, so that you weren’t in the dark. You peered at the calendar and just noticed your ovulation dates and your period listed in pink marker. Shawn had taken to putting them up there for his own memory. And mostly because you were god awful with dates, which in hindsight was very telling.

You peered back down at the cutting board as you diced your onion before a little bell went off in your tummy. Your eyes moved back up to the board as your hand kept moving on the cutting board. There wasn’t time to question anything as you sliced your finger like an amateur.

“Shit.” You hissed as your finger pooled with a little droplet of blood.

You headed straight for the sink, letting the water turn red for a few seconds as you cleaned your wound. It was the visual of the blood that convinced you to count backwards. Again you were shit at time so you had to do it twice. But sure e-fucking-nough you might just be the dumbest fucker alive.

You ran straight for your phone dialing up the only number you could think to call in times of crisis, food and everything completely forgotten.

“Oh thank God you called.” Stu whimpered. “The in-laws are here and if I have to listen to Betty tell me one more time that my fucking crudite  is wrong I’m gonna fix her a crudi-taint and call it a day.”

“This is an emergency, bitch. Forget the crudite!”

*Forty-five minutes later*

“I got one of every color and kind! A gallon of apple juice and also a snickers bar because I am stressed and I don’t even have a uterus!”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He stopped at some really bougie ass boutique and bought them matching scarves on his way home. He thought it might be a good “honey I’m home, please don’t hate me” gift. The meeting with Andrew had been to discuss some soft releases the label was looking to him to put out. He had some friends who needed features and wanted him to get on them. It would be a build up to his first album in three years. Which meant he kind of needed to make an album. That was a problem for another day though. For now he just wanted to take his person apple picking.

“Babe?!” He called dropping his keys into the bowl and tugging his bag behind him. “I’m ready to pick apples!”

She’s not in the living room. Sometimes when he had to go away she would take to the couch instead of their bedroom in protest, but the blanket on the back of the couch is still folded. The dining room is immaculately clean, which throws him slightly for a loop. Then in the kitchen he comes across a massacre of treats. She’d really gone to town. There was a cake, brownies, and fudge at first glance. He peered into the freezer to see that she’d somehow found the time to make three different flavored ice-creams from scratch. Wild. He wasn’t concerned because she always did stress baking when he was away, even if this time was quite...intense.

“Honey we’re gonna have to start donating your stress baking! It’s gonna send us both to an early grave.”

He reached for a piece of fudge anyway and took to the stairs when his very lovely human neglected to meet him downstairs.

He finds her in their bathroom cleaning the tub. With a toothbrush.

“Y/n? What’s going on?”

Her head popped up, her eyes widening.

“You’re home.”

He nodded frowning at her. “I”m home. Come here.”

He reached for her hands, helping her off the floor. His arms snuck under her big t-shirt tracing at the soft skin of her hips. She was tense enough to burst, but she seemed to lean into his touch.

“What’s up? What’s going on with you?” He asked softly.

“Why would you think something’s going on? Nothing’s going on.” She lied.

“Since when do you clean the bathtub with a toothbrush? Or at all for that matter. I always clean the bathtub.”

“I don’t know. I just figured I’d get some stuff around the house done. No big deal.”

“Okay. And the bakery pop up shop you started in our kitchen?” He chuckled squeezing her tight. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? You know you can always talk to me.”

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around him as well.

“I’m okay, honest. Guess I just got a little anxious with you being away is all. I’m good now. I promise.”

He nuzzled their noses together and kissed her for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Okay. Maybe some apple picking would help? I hear they have adult hayrides with spiked apple cider.”

She smiled for him finally. “Yea. That would help.”

His favorite y/n was always y/n in the fall. Her soft, cozy sweaters, boots, and those leggings that mapped her thighs out perfectly. She was so beautiful it hurt. When he wraps her new scarf around her neck for her and she shimmies her shoulders a little, his heart soares. God he loved her. He loved date nights, he loved spending time with his best friend, and he loved showing her off to the world. It was his favorite thing in the world to do.

She loves apple picking. And so they drive out there armed with baskets and bags galore. Without fail every year by the third or fourth week, she will be pissed off at  how many apples he “let her buy”, as if he has a say in anything that is taking place. But, in the moment it’s the cutest shit ever. And he takes pictures of her leaning up into the trees to get the best choice. They feed each other apples and kiss under one of the trees. It’s sort of perfect.

He saw a family packing up their car as the sun began to set and the air got colder. He watched a mom lift her son up in the air and kiss and hold him close. It caused a painful squeeze in his chest, and he was thankful y/n wasn’t around to see them. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about family trips to the orchard. He had. He thought about chasing tiny legs through rows of trees, of stopping grabby fingers from digging gross apples out of the dirt. He knew y/n and him had had quite the different upbringings, but this was what he’d always wanted. But, he meant it wholeheartedly when he said he’d rather have her than anything else. He believed wholeheartedly that she was meant for him and he for her, that their energies had probably started as one once upon a time, and that he wasn't meant to be without her. Whatever his life was meant to look like, it had to revolve completely and totally around her. There was just a tiny, selfish part of him that would like to be able to have them both.

When the backseat is overloaded with apples, they walk hand in hand to the store they have set up. The sun sinks low in the sky and there’s a little folksy band playing by an open campfire. There are twinkly lights and tables set up all around. It’s kind of romantic as all hell. She smiles at him like she always has, like somehow he’s worth as much to her as she is to him. He’s so fucking in love with her, it’s insane.

“Do you want me to get us some of those hard ciders before the hayride?” He asked squeezing her fingers.

She shook her head. “Actually can I try one of the cider slushies instead? Wanna switch it up.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.”

They climb into the hayride just like all the other couples. Toronto is home and it really feels like home because no one shoves a camera in his face when he’s trying to cuddle with his person. And that feels really important to him. Her privacy, her happiness. It’s all he cares for.

“You happy?” He asked squeezing his arm around her.

She nodded and tucked her face into his neck. “So happy. Love you, ya know.”

“I love you too. So much.You’re the light of life.”

“Stop it.” She giggled.

“No. Never. You’re everything.”

“Yea...You are too.”

They order chinese food on the way home. She takes a shower with him and lets him run body wash over the parts of her that he cherishes the most. They climb into bed together, soft and warm and sated. He finds himself hopeful that every day will be this way, that every night could find him so lucky.

“Shawn?” She whispered, her fingers tangling in his necklace.

“Yes, my love?”

“I gotta tell you something...Or I guess maybe show you something.”

Her fingers trembled against his throat, and he knew they were finally getting to what must have caused her to bake everything they had in their home.

“Okay.” He murmured calmly. “You can always share anything with me. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Yes, I know.”

She leaned up out of bed and reached over to the nightstand on her side. She hid it behind her back and turned to him, the suspense slowly driving him insane.

“Baby, what is it?”

There are moments in life that you never forget. Moments that, on your deathbed you could recount with startling clarity, right down to the way the air felt. This was that moment for him. He remembered that her night shirt was black and white stripes. She was wearing black underwear that night with a lacy back. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she smelled like apples and cinnamon and lavender and smoke. Because even after a shower the campfire smell would stick around for days. Her eyes had a wicked glint to them. A happiness so vast and so deep that he wanted to cry just looking at her. And then she holds it out for him and it’s like his world explodes, or expands infinitely, because there it fucking is. Right there.

“But--what? Is….is it?...is it?” He mumbled like an idiot his heart picking up speed in his chest.

The glint turns to actual tears in her eyes and she nods softly at him.

“I took fifteen of them. And the doctor fit me in last minute to make sure. I’m a little over a month along.” She tells him.

“I’m--I’m gonna be a dad?” He whispered, his throat closing up. “You’re gonna be a mum?”

“I hate to burst your harry potter bubble, but our little bean is most certainly going to call me mom.” She giggled. “It’s real. I promise. I’m pregnant.”

And he just fucking falls apart. It’s the hardest he’s cried since he broke his ankle at age thirteen. And he has to keep blinking through every tear because he needs to see her, needs to never take his eyes off her again, because she’s everything. She’s giving him the greatest gift in the world. As if giving herself to him had not been too much, had not been more than he could ever deserve. She was going to create life with him, for him. She was going to be the mother to his baby.

He’s never hugged anyone in his life as hard as he hugs her then. Like tackles her down to the bed and squeezes the hell out of her. She laughs and they cry and they hug and they kiss. It’s the greatest happiest he’s ever known.

“ I love you so much.” He gasped. “We made a baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”

She nodded running her fingers through his head. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

There’s more laughter. There are a hell of a lot more tears. And he completely pulls her body into his own and refuses to let her go. Not that she’s asking. It’s his baby after all. His babies. Holy shit.

“There’s something I gotta do.” He whispered in her ear.

“Yea? What’s that?”

He crawled gently down her body nestling himself between her legs. The second he reaches for her t-shirt she giggles and squirms.

“Are you really gonna eat me out to celebrate me being pregnant?”

He stared up at her, mortified from between her legs.

“No! Oh my god, y/n. Our child can hear you! I simply came down here to kiss your belly and talk to my baby in there. Get your head out of the gutter.”

She rolled her eyes. “The baby doesn’t have ears yet jackass, but excuse me.”

“Don’t listen to her baby.” He grumbled rubbing his thumb into soothing circles along her belly button. “Daddy is gonna sing to you all the time. I’m gonna take such good care of you and mommy forever okay?”

She lets him talk to her belly for the rest of the night. It’s the most incredible thing he could ever ask for.

Permanent taglist 

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @lifeoftheparty74 @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @decewill @goldiean @bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven @shawnase @kamahriii @sinplisticshawn @simpledomain 

#shawn mendes #Shawn mendes fic #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes fanfiction #Shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #Shawn mendes angst #Shawn mendes au #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn mendes one shot #Shawn mendes series #Shawn mendes x you #Shawn mendes x y/n #Shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x fem #Shawn mendes x fat reader #Shawn mendes x thick reader #Shawn mendes x thic reader #neighbors fic

[love-mom17]

8/20/2020

****TRIGGER WARNING***

Please dont read if you cannot deal with reading bloody details or anything with a miscarriage.

Soooo here i am. I am feeling a lot better! I had a lot going on with my health and mental being and i just needed some time to myself. 

SOOOO lets go back a little to let you know what went down this month... ON monday aug. 3rd i was confirmed that i was going through another miscarriage. Even though i wanted to believe that this was all a mistake. I knew it wasnt. I didnt cry during my appointment. I was kind of expecting this to happen even though i wished it wasnt that way.  My sac had collapsed completely. THere was no sight of anything.  I was prescribed Misoprostol that same day and i decided to take it right after my appointment. I had 4 pills that i had to take every 6 hrs to help move the process along. 

I finished my last dose on Aug. 4th (tuesday) i had some clots come down and since i wasnt that far along i thought that was end of it. i was spotting off and on for the next few days. Friday night came along and i was just about to leave my parents house. I started to have some cramps. they werent bad but im a little bitch when it comes to cramps. 

My parents were just like stay here and let the pain pass through and i was like naaa I want to be at home. I wanted to cry all my emotions where everywhere at this point. I left and here i am on my way home. A 30 minute drive that felt like HELL!!!! The cramps became more intense and i was crying the whole way home. I had a maxi pad on and i was able to feel it the blood just gushing out of me. My son was asleep and i wanted to yell!!!!! In that drive home i had felt a good 4-5 blood gushes coming out of me... I took my son out and tried to carry him out but I was in so much pain I couldnt do it with out making too much noise. I layed him down and i layed with him a bit so that he wouldnt wake up... To my surprise i was not able to lay down with him. I felt so much pressure down there that i felt like my uterus was going to burst. Since i wasnt able to get him to go sleep again after i laid him down , I rushed to the restroom and here I am. Just bleeding like crazy. With every contraction i had i was squirting out blood and blood clots. The pain was unbearable. My husband was working and here i am home alone with my son.

All im thinking is im having a hemorrhage. I’m soaking through my maxi pads so fast that I didnt know what to do. I called my parents to rush over here to help me go to the ER. I was trying to remain calm because i didnt want to pass out on my son and for him to freak out. By the time my parents got there i had already changed my pad 4 times (IN 30 MINUTES). I went to the closest ER to me and they took me in. The guy that took my vitals and my intake pissed me off because he had the nerve to say that “Exactly thats what the medication does to you, Thats normal. Your going to have a lot of pain and pass blood clots. Its normal!” It was the way he said it that triggered me. Making me look like if i was just there to waste their time. So I said “So you are going to tell me that its normal to soak 4 Maxi pads in less than 30 minutes? You assuming before knowing doesnt make you look that bright” Apparently, the doctor was listening and as soon as he heard me say that he stepped in and took me with him and gathered the rest of my information. I was taken to do another ultrasound and blood work. I was feeling sooo dizzy after they took my blood. 

Im not one to faint after a blood draw. But i was soo weak. They confirmed with me that i had a small hemorrhage and that  I had not lost a lot of blood to need a transfusion. My bleeding at this point was starting to slow down. They stated that i had not passed that sac yet. It was still sitting in my cervix canal. I had to get another dose of the medication. through out that  week, i was bleeding normal and sure enough the weekend came again and its Aug. 9th 2am, having cramps. I was trying to sleep it off but when they got strong it would wake me up. Finally i took some pain meds after my pharmacy took forever to get my medication ready!!!! I ran some errands and i figured it would help me walk around to help me pass the sac. Its 5:30pm and im standing in line at Winco. When i feel this gush of blood come down and i felt something just sitting at the opening of my vagina. My pad kept it from coming out and my husband was outside dealing with my son because he was throwing his fit. I finish paying and it was so uncomfortable to walk. I tried to sit down in the car and i couldnt. It felt so weird and i told my husband to drive...I get home and walked as fast as i could to the restroom and i pull down my pants and there it was... the SAC!!!!  

With everything that went down i couldn't even process what was all happening emotionally. That whole week after i was a wreck. I was angry and sad. I wanted to cry and yell and punch shit. My friend Jenn reached out to me and it was a while since i reached out to anyone. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Since then, Ive been able to cope with it better. But i can feel it that it lingers on and im just trying avoid it. Im not planning on trying again any time soon. I dont want to think about it. Im too scared of all of this to happen again. My first miscarriage went a lot smoother than this time. This time was just so scary....

#update

[marowreck-archive]

T week 3

this time under a read more! i guess ill do these whenever i get a shot since my memory is shit.

tw for body talk, period talk and stuff? and me ranting. this is a diary and im giving you free access to it lmao

Ok so. Worth noting first of all that i have pcos and already had a quite high t count before i started and i dunno how that’d affect me? i might have faster results or not, i only know for sure that my body dislikes managing Girl Juice and doesn’t do it properly.

First of the first: im not scared of needles! i dont mind at all being poked by them. If anybody wants any assurance, it doesnt hurt when youre having it applied (im doing it on the butt) professionally if the person doing it isnt treating you like a dartboard (which is very much not fun). It feels like the area is getting hot but it doesnt actually HURT. It gets sore a few hours to a couple of days after instead of hurting at the moment. For me, right now it’s a bit sore but not all that much. A nice tip my doctor gave me is to avoid leaning on the side you took it for a few hours and everytime you take it, you go for a different side  If the comparative is of any worth, taking iron hurts about as much as taking T but id say that iron stings like a bitch sometimes and takes very long, while t hurts after and is really fast to take. taking anti tetanic shots hurts 10 times MORE than T and hurt much much much more afterwards. 

The things i noticed almost straight away (like in a WEEK) was that i got around 3 times more uh. hornier. im not gonna lie about it. i find it very weird since i had a very low sex drive to begin with. It’s not bad and i don’t mind it at all, it’s mostly funny in a way i can deal with. Bottom growth is a thing that is happening, also. I like it, won’t lie.

Second biggest change is that my voice is fucked. It sometimes takes a flight to the bermuda triangle and forgets to send me a postal card which is very rude, like “pls sir come back i neet that to communicate”. There was barely no change at all from the begining yet (im keeping records), of course, since im like barely a month in but it feels sorta like i have a mild cold that hasn’t fully recovered. I can measure it because i like singing (not that i sing well, i just have a decent range and i like playing my guitar badly for everybody to hear and thats enough for me to do it) and i can’t reach as high as i normally would, and im having to tone down the chords of some songs to be able to sing them, just like i would if i had a cold. I could say i can sorta reach lower, but sometimes i just have better voice days so i’m not counting that. im very happy i can sing cradles on the original tone now though :’)

On the other side, due to my pcos i have no idea how the whole Oh No Uterus Confused thing is reacting. i have a fucked up body cycle and normally it doest work work because t higher than the average but my e on the line to being too low so i basically never get periods unless they’re induced by outside hormones (which sucked a whole lot, i wish id never taken them to begin with) and weirdly enough??? im on my period right now, where i was told it usually STOPS after starting t. there is a blood flow, but much much lower than it normally would and im not bothering with pads right now. I can just free bleed this out and not give a fuck. Which is crazy because when i was on Girl Pills it literally made me anemic.

Boy juice has been treating me better than girl pills so far XD

#boy juice chronicles #transgender #ftm #im nb tho #hrt #this gave me an excuse to overshare lmao #and being stupid

[hennessystevens-udaku]

Oh Baby! (Baby Fever Pt. 2)

It had been five years since The Kompound first welcomed new life and Hennessy’s baby fever was back with a vengeance. With the birth of Angel and Erik’s third child, Henny couldn’t couldn’t contain the joy she felt whenever she was around the tiny beings. Watching them grow and develop and become her new favorite past time and she loved when the opportunity to teach them new things presented itself. Princess Nya had taken after her mother and Bastion, a little diva in the making with an eye for all things music and fashion, while N’Jadaka was smart and cunning like his father. N’Jada was chill like her mother with a passion for exploring and reading, while baby Adelaide, the youngest of the camp, was still figuring things out. It was a sight to behold and it brought Hennessy back to the conversation she and Erik had had following Charlie’s baby shower. Though she thought it was just a phase back then, she was sure that the universe was setting her up for a miniature version of herself or her husband that she could call her own. After a long day in the dispensary planning and budgeting for the line of edibles she and Kristina had been working on, she finally made it home. She made the short trip upstairs where she immediately stripped out of her clothes and slipping into a nice hot bath. She rolled herself a joint of the special goddess blend that she and Kennedi created, aptly named Aurelie, and washed away the day. Once she completed her bath, she made her way to Erik’s office to discuss what had been plaguing her in the last few weeks.

—

“A baby, huh?” he asked with an amused look on his face. She and Erik pair had had more than a few conversations about the topic and after suffering the miscarriage while they were in college, he was convinced that she didn’t want to try again.

“What made you change your mind, Princess?” he asked stroking her knuckles with his thumb.

“The twins,” she answered without hesitation. “I love being around them and caring for them and I thought that maybe it was time that we tried again.” Erik nodded, taking in his wife’s words with a smile.

“Yeah, I saw the search history on the iMac. You want a surrogate?” His eyes flashed with an emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Hurt? Sadness?

“I was looking into it, but I wanted to talk to you about it first. There would be so much to consider with me getting pregnant. I’d basically have to work from home because I can’t be around weed and all that. Not to mention, I’m still afraid of what happened. I don’t want us to go through all that work only for me to miscarry again.” She wrapped her arms around herself defensively as she continued her little spiel. In return, Erik grabbed her arms and placed them securely around his neck and his around her waist.

“Hennessy stop that. I know you’re scared because of what happened back then, but I honestly think that was just the universe telling us that we weren’t ready to be parents yet. We’ve both done a lot of growing and maturing since then. I think we’re ready, don’t you?” She nodded, slowly lifting her head to look him in the eye.

“Now back to this surrogate business.” He looked down at her with a stern look. “If I’m being totally honest, I don’t want some stranger carrying my baby. It’s too risky and some surrogates tend to get attached and I ain’t got time for some other bitch to be claiming my baby as hers.”

“But baby there are other --”

“Let me finish, baby. I know that there are other methods of surrogacy that allow the parents to choose who they want to carry the child, but there are so many moments in pregnancy that you’d miss. You wouldn’t get to feel the little flutters when the baby moves or kicks. You’d have to sit back and watch me shower some other woman with the love and attention that’s supposed to be yours while you carry my big head ass baby.” He poked her stomach playfully to further emphasize his point.

“You just wanna see my munchkin ass waddling around here barefoot and pregnant,” she said slapping his hands away from her belly.

“I will neither confirm nor deny those allegations,” he responded with a laugh. “But seriously, if you having a baby then I’m gonna be the one to put it in you and it’s gonna grow and be nurtured inside your belly. It’s only right.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll track my ovulation and we can try.” She placed a gentle kiss to his lips before attempting to walk away from him. His grip on her waist tightened as he held her close to him, deepening the kiss.

“Can we try even if you ain’t ovulating?” he asked against her lips, clearing space on his desk before lifting her and sitting her on top.

“You so damn nasty,” she giggled as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

“You knew this already,” he retorted from his position between her plus thighs. Soon the sounds of her wetness and slurps filled the air as he feasted on his wife, drinking from her body like his life depended on it.

“So, do we have a baby yet?” Bastion asked, bouncing on her toes like a child in a candy store.

“Not yet.”

“Damn, y’all been going at it like rabbits. At this point, I’m pregnant from listening,” Kennedi teased.

“I swear everybody in this family is a creep,” Hennessy replied, rolling her eyes. It was true, ever since she and Erik had the discussion about her adding to the family, they’d tried every chance they got, sometimes multiple times a day, but we're still having no luck.

“Maybe my uterus is broken,” Henny stated, looking down between her legs from her seated position on the kitchen counter.

“Bitch shut up!” Bastion screamed through her laughter. “You will get pregnant when Bast is good and ready for you to be. Maybe the universe still isn’t ready for a Mini Hennerik.”

“What the fuck is a Hennerik?” Aly’Sha asked.

“It’s a play on their names, kinda like Bennifer or Brangelina,” Bast explained.

“Bitch the door. And don’t ever say that corny ass shit again.” Bastion rolled her eyes and made her way back to her design studio.

“Y’all laughing, but I’m deadass. Maybe it’s not meant for me to give him a baby.”

“Hennessy, you’re worried about nothing. With the way y’all been going at it, you’ll have a bun in the oven before the week is out, mark my words.” With that, Kennedi grabbed an apple juice from the fridge and shuffled to her art studio, eager to finish a portrait of the twins that she had been working on. Hennessy was once again left alone with her thoughts and they were beginning to run wild with all the possibilities of ‘what if’. She decided to slip into something eye-catching and drop by the Outreach Center and pull a freaky deaky drive-by on her husband to quell her illicit thoughts.

--

Late. Exactly 2 weeks, 3 days, and 2 hours late according to her period tracker. Hennessy almost cursed Kennedi for being so damn accurate in her prediction that she would be pregnant sooner than she expected. Hennessy bit her bottom lip in anticipation as the timer on her phone wound down. She paced the bathroom floor for the entire 5 minutes until the alarm sounded, signaling that it was time to check the stick. Her eyes grew wide as she held it up and saw the two tiny pink lines indicating that there was indeed life growing inside of her. She ran out of the bathroom to the two people she knew would keep the secret until she was ready to reveal it to the rest of the house and to her husband.

“Es-tu enceinte?” Angel asked with a wide grin.

“Oui,” Hennessy replied, returning the grin. Angel squealed loudly, kicking her feet in the air like Charlotte from the Princess and the Frog.

“Can I get the English version of this news so I can share in the excitement?” Charlie called from the foot of Angel’s bed.

“Henny’s pregnant!” Angel squealed.

“Jesus, tell the whole house, why don’t you,” Henny said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Wait, so we’re the first to know?” Charlie asked, now grinning as well. Henny nodded her head, taking a seat beside her.

“Y’all are the only two I could trust not to say or do anything to give it away before I’m ready to tell fathead.”

“Then your secret is safe with us, Mommy Shark,” Charlie teased, rubbing her belly. “Welcome to the Mommy Gang. We have breast milk and cookies.”

“Organic breast milk?” Henny asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Only the best for our churn,” Angel replied, her New Orleans accent creeping out ever so slightly.

“Looks like I have another shower to plan,” Angel said with a smile. She loved the idea of their family growing and she’d been secretly hoping that Erik talked her out of the whole surrogate idea. She was just like Erik, finding the thought of the tiny woman pregnant comical.

“I’m gonna go figure out how I’m gonna announce this to the rest of the house.”

--

Four Months In

Hennessy was miserable. It was the middle of summer in California and her belly along with her appetite was growing every day. Though she had been successful in hiding her growing bump, choosing to wear more black pieces and pants suits, there were two entities in The Kompound that made keeping her pregnancy a secret a tad bit difficult.

“Ooh Hennessy, you’re glowing! Have you switched skincare products?” Davita called, causing all eyes to fall on the small woman.

“No, just the products I got from Kennedi,” she replied, giving Vita a death glare that only urged her to continue.

“Well, that top is nice. Got ya titties sitting all pretty and swollen. They look like they full of milk!” Angel and Charlie caught on and immediately came to Henny’s rescue.

“Nah, Henny and I went bra shopping and I turned her on to one of my favorites. It’s comfortable and makes the titties sit immaculately, no matter the top.”

“Yeah, what Charlie said.” It was now Josephine’s turn to chime in on the topic.

“Henny Hen, I haven’t seen you drink or smoke in a minute. Something you wanna tell us?”

“Nope,” she called, grabbing an apple juice from the fridge and heading towards the front door.

“Well I had a dream about fish last night,” Vita chirped. “Which one of the wives knocked up?” Hennessy’s heels clicked loudly against the marble floor of the house until the door slammed behind her. Erik only shook his head in amusement. Though he already knew she was pregnant, having picked up on it when she started wearing actual clothes and turned down her favorite meal of shrimp and grits, he wanted to wait until she was ready to tell him herself. He could help the smile that crossed his face as he watched her from the kitchen window, waddling to her truck like a little penguin. His little penguin. He made a point to have a bouquet of sunflowers delivered to the dispensary and set up a spa day for her later in the week so she could relax.

“When did you find out?” Angel asked looking over his shoulder once everyone had retired to do their own thing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Stevens,” he said as he placed a soft kiss to her forehead before walking away. If she, Henny, and Charlie wanted to play dumb, he would too. The following weeks went by the same way. Vita and Josie kept taunting, Hennessy kept denying, and Erik kept silently pampering her. Finally fed up with the charade and wanting the entire thing to be out in the open, she decided to send out a mass text to her family. The responses came almost instantly.

Sha Sha: Deadass? I’m gonna be an auntie? Yoooooo!

Baby Bast: Oh great, another tiny human.

Charlie: Finally! I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep the secret.

Everyone responded, sending well wishes and congratulations except Erik. She bit her lip, silently panicking in her office.

“Dr. Stevens? Mr. Stevens is here to see you.” Oh shit.

“Send him in Raven.” He appeared a few moments later, dressed in an all black Versace suit with matching loafers.

“Got something you wanna tell me, Mrs. Stevens?” he asked as he made his way to stand in front of her, his smile growing by the second. She returned his smile before unbuttoning her suit jacket and rubbing her belly.

“Shit just got real, Mr. Stevens.”

—————————————

TAGS: @vibranium-soul @imagine-mbaku @mareethequeen @greennightspider @jozigrrl @hearteyes-for-killmonger @alyshastevens-udaku @muse-of-mbaku @thehomierobbstark @wifeyofnjadaka @youreadthatright @tgigoldie @killmongersgurl @dameshaemonique @princessstevens @princesskillmonger @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @laketaj24 @bidibidibombaclaat @thereturnofbadazz @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @forbeautyandlife @yaachtynoboat711 @panthergoddessbast @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @dacreskars @thadelightfulone @drsunshine97 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @ayellepea @awkwardlyabstract @madamslayyy @blowmymbackout @vikkidc @champagnesugamama @sociallyawkward18 @trevantesbrat @supersizemeplz @itsangeludaku

#hennessy chiron #the kompound #my shit #erik x henny

[hayjeon]

Cut Me Open (ft. Yoongi) Part 02 [M]

�� marriedcouple!au, surgeon!au spin-off from CardioPalps → 15k words, rated for sex, possible triggers (talk of divorce/miscarriage/family issues), and medical jargon that took me 5ever to research 

→ part 1 | part 2 | story talk | fin.

Yoongi graduated top of his class at Harvard. He’d excelled so well that he was immediately recommended to Seoul Gen, where his parents lived, and was happily relocated to intern at the huge hospital. Under Do Kyungsoo, one of the scariest but smartest residents, he had excelled even more, learning so much and becoming one of the best interns Seoul Gen had ever seen. When Kyungsoo retired and appointed him as co-director of the neuro department, it was smooth sailing from these. 

Yoongi never really had too much trouble in his love life either. In high school and college, his passion and drive had always attracted a girl here and there, and he’d always gotten his fix. But then you came along, and you flipped it out of nowhere. 

Instead of girls just being the main reason to compliment him and fuel his ego, you made him a better person. You challenged him, and you even beat him sometimes at your tests. You were his fuel for everything. 

But somewhere along the way, Yoongi had lost it. He’d lost his grip on everything, his surgeries, his marriage, his superiority. 

It all started with the day he accidentally sprained his finger while he was looking for flowers. A mistake, was all it was. Feeling like the both of you had been a little out of loop, with your differing schedules, Yoongi had driven straight to the closest flower shop to catch the owner wrapping up the store, smiling apologetically as he ran inside to grab the first thing he saw. But then he wasn’t paying attention and had closed his car door on his index finger. 

Wincing, he’d cried out, and had gone back to the hospital, showing Ortho his finger and getting a cast for it. His surgeries after that were difficult, the junky silver metal wrapped around his finger awkward and too weird to handle flawlessly, especially when he was probing the sensitive brains of a patient. 

One by one, his surgeries started to become a bit more difficult to handle, and the stress of possibly messing it up began to take a toll on him physically, and mentally.

The flowers were forgotten in the car, and when he finally remembered them, they were already too wilted and gross to give to you. 

You deserved the best. 

Which is why when you got pregnant, fulfilling all of his wishes and dreams, he’d done his best to make sure that you were stress free. He was the one who bought the furniture and assembled it, coming way too close to accidentally hammering the healing finger, and taking surgeries off to spend time with you. 

The month after that was fine, and he’d enjoyed it. It was like you two were interns again, coming home to eat whatever you wanted, lounging on the couch in eachother’s arms watching and laughing at shows, and decorating the new room in your house. It felt wonderful. 

But one day, you woke him up with bleary eyes and a trembling lip as you told him about the miscarriage. He hugged you until you fell asleep and spent the day cleaning the room, de-assembling everything and packing it away neatly so you didn’t have to go through the stress of looking at all the reminders again. 

He heard, heard from Sehun that it wasn’t only because it was embedded in the fallopian tune instead of the uterus, but also because your blood sugar levels were incredibly low. You weren’t taking care of yourself. 

He knew you were keeping a strict diet to make sure your appearance on television was good enough to draw in a regular viewing audience, and it was important, professionally, to do so. But on top of all your hectic schedules, the tall heels you were always teetering on, and the irregular schedules and horrible morning sickness....”It all added up,” Sehun explains. “I didn’t tell her because I knew it would kill her. She loves this job, man.” 

“Thanks,” Yoongi mumbles, patting Sehun’s arm. “You did good, not telling her that part. I’ll make sure she’s eating okay.” 

And he did. Yoongi did his best. He took off more surgeries, more time to make sure he was home when you came home, cooking the healthiest and fullest meals that he’d ever taken care to do. But...what did it do? What good did it do when everytime you came home from work, you’d trudge over to the bedroom and just faceplant onto the bed? You pushed him off whenever he tried to talk, began sighing and mumbling about “alone time” whenever he tried to help, and fell asleep before he could initiate anything. 

Cold leftovers were one by one thrown out, while Yoongi’s reputation at the hospital began spiraling down. 

After the finger breaking spectacle, he was on thin ice. Already, three surgeries hadn’t gone well under his watch and Seoul Gen had to call for help from a neighboring specialist to come in and monitor his surgeries. A major professional disappointment for the hospital and him. 

But then he began taking more time off for the pregnancy, and then the miscarriage a month after, and then the whispers and wry looks started. Maybe it was just him, but was the Chief low-key scheduling him less than compared to the other doctors? His name appeared next to more low-risk surgeries, scheduled the day of and the bigger, most interesting cases were handed off to the other guys in his department. 

Frustrated, Yoongi couldn’t do anything. He felt as if his life was a scale: on one side was you, clinging onto a thread attached to his wrist. On the other, was his career and everything he’d worked for, the single reason he met you in the first place. It was also hanging from a thread. Whenever Yoongi reached for the other, one would fall, slipping away through his fingers and he was so scared, so afraid that he would lose it all. 

And...he lost you. 

The night you brought up the divorce...it was his fault. He’d forgotten about the anniversary. He’d gotten yelled at by the Chief, and had brazenly accepted a difficult 15-hour surgery without hesitation to try and prove that he was still in the game. Unfortunately, his phone was left in his office the whole time and he had missed everything, including his assistants reminders, his personal reminders, your calls, your texts, everything. 

That day, the surgery had gone impeccably well, but he’d come home to have the other half of life completely fall apart. 

When you laid it in front of him, explaining that you were sick and tired, so so tired of waiting for him, so tired of being “too busy” and so tired just of everything, Yoongi couldn’t say anything. 

He was weak. Weak, because he couldn’t hold onto you when you said you were leaving, but also weak, because he had let you believe that he’d stopped loving you. 

How could he stop loving you? You were his anchor, his rock, his meaning for everything. He worked hard so that you wouldn’t have to do surgeries. The reason why his mother had laid off of your back? Was because you weren’t doing surgeries anymore, but more “lady-like” things like brunches and television shows. It was because he’d taken on double the load when the both of you became co-leaders. 

And maybe his surgeries had gone not-so-well because he’d been busy fending off the new assistant who was obviously interested in him even though he’d told her off multiple times. 

“Break up with her,” Jooyoung purred into his ear, weeks before you brought up the divorce, as she and him whizzed through surgeries together. 

“I don’t talk about personal issues during surgeries,” Yoongi comments, not taking his eyes off of the tumor he was cauterizing. “And also,” he glances up, glaring at her behind his mouth mask and glasses, “Refrain from talking to me, outside of anything. Forever. Suction, please.” 

She rolls her eyes, expertly applying suction to where he instructed. He couldn’t deny, although she was such a meddlesome bitch, she was definitely one of the best surgeons he’d ever seen. Way after you though, of course. Huffing, she continues to hold the skin of the brain aside as he continues probing for the white mass. “You guys don’t even talk. I’ve heard gossip that your marriage has been rocky.” 

“Jooyoung.” He warns, glaring up at her again, and she finally shuts up. 

Yoongi finds the tumor with ease and finishes up the surgery with no problem at all. Hoseok, the nurse practitioner, follows him out as Yoongi removes his scrubs, eyeing his longtime friend as he sighs and begins cleaning himself. 

“You alright man?” 

Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know.” 

Hoseok joins him at the sink, running his hands and arms through the cold water. “Is it true? T-that you and Y/N have been having problems?” 

Sighing, Yoongi shuts off the tap, wiping clean the rest. “Yeah. Not sure how it got around though.” 

Hoseok follows him to his office, sitting on his couch as Yoongi collapses into his swivel chair. “Well, have you and Y/N talked about it? I mean, like after the miscarriage and all?” 

“I don’t know...” Yoongi sighs, running his hands over his face. “Hoseok...did you and your ex-wife ever have issues like that? Like I mean...it just feels like I don’t even know her anymore, you know?” 

Nodding, Hoseok falls back into the cushions, scrolling through something on his phone. “Yeah, we got married right out of nursing school. But our schedules...they just didn’t match. And at one point, it just became that fighting was the only thing keeping our marriage together. Arguing became our only way of communicating anything. And so...I let her go.” He raises his eyebrows, and Yoongi sighs. 

“We...don’t even fight. That’s the thing.” 

Hoseok shrugs. “I don’t know man, sometimes when the other person wants out, if you love her, letting her go is the best choice. It was for us,” he corrects, reminding Yoongi, “It doesn’t mean that’s what you have to do.” 

Yoongi groans, and leans back in his chair. 

His phone rings, and he leans forward and presses the receiver to his ear with his eyes still closed. “Hello?” 

“Ah, Yoongi, can you come to my office please?” 

He sits up, straightening up. “O-oh, Chief. What’s the issue?” 

Dr. Bang clears his throat. “Just come here, Yoongi. I’d like to talk to you in person.” 

Yoongi nods at Hoseok who leaves with a wave and an empathetic expression and sets the receiver down. He walks over to the office and pushes the nice doors open to find Dr. Bang reading something on his desk. When Yoongi enters, the chief smiles, setting his book down, and gestures for Yoongi to take a seat. 

“Yoongi,” he says, father-like and all warm, “I wanted to call you in here because I wanted to tell you in person.” He leans forward, smiling gently. “I’m retiring.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen, “Oh my g--chief, seriously?” 

Chief nods, sullenly and nostalgically looking around the office. “My time here has come to an end. I...I wanted to ask, if you were interested in taking my spot.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Ch-chief...I don’t understand...why me?” 

Dr. Bang shrugs. “I want to ask you and Y/N to do it together. She couldn’t make it here today, but I’d be most comfortable and at peace to leave it in your hands. You two have been interns, residents, and attendees here for 8 years, and all the other senior attendees have either left or retired early. You both know this hospital, inside and out. There’s no other person I’d be happy leaving this place in its hands.” 

Sighing, Yoongi leans back in his chair. “Sir...We....we’re having a lot of trouble lately. I...I can’t take this job. Our marriage...it’s becoming really hard to even be husband and wife together, but if we take this position...I’m sorry chief,” Yoongi says, standing. “I can’t take this. I don’t know how Y/N feels but I for sure can’t take this.” 

The chief nods, mulling it over. “And if Y/N wants to take it? You know it’s not going to look good with the Board if they find out your marriage isn’t going well. And...to be honest, the lot of them are old and still don’t believe in a woman being in a superior position than her husband.” 

Yoongi hovers by the doorway. “If it’s what she wants...give it to her. I’ll figure something out. I have a feeling our marriage won’t be an issue for long.” 

“Come, gather around,” Dr. Bang ushers the rest of the doctors into the meeting room, waiting impatiently for everyone to file in and get seated. “You all come running when there’s an interesting patient but gathering all of you for a meeting feels like I’m trying to run a government.” He rolls his eyes and you chuckle from your place. 

As he finishes, Yoongi comes sauntering in, hands stuffed in his gown pockets, collapsing in the leather chair next to yours. 

You roll your eyes, turning your chair to the other direction. You crinkle your nose at his attire, still clad in the scrubs he was wearing during his morning surgery. He catches your expression, internally groaning at the lecture he knows is coming. 

“Wanna stop glaring lasers at my outfit?” He quips, quirking an eyebrow at you. He’s chewing on a candy bar, just like you’d always nagged at him not to. He always had a habit of eating sweets after a surgery instead of actual meals and good nutritious balanced snacks. 

You grumble, as Dr. Bang dims the lights and begins his introduction. “You really couldn’t have taken 3 minutes to go to your office and change into your suit?” 

He sighs, finishing the lollipop with a crunch, and shattering it between his molars. “Don’t have time,” he grumbles. 

It’s because you were the one who always sent his stuff to the dry cleaners and had his assistant put it back in his closet. Min Yoongi was smart, but had absolutely no idea how to take care of himself. Even with an assistant. 

You’d stopped doing him favors once you had that....conversation. Seems like it was taking its toll. 

“You never had time for anything.” You mumble, scribbling on the document in front of you. “Also nice of you to actually show up.”

He sighs, “Oh god, stop before you start nagging again. Jeez, let’s just have a meeting where there’s some peace and quiet, yeah?” 

You blink, reading through the powerpoint, but not really processing it. “Just...just sign the papers Yoongi.” 

He doesn’t respond. 

Present

Yoongi walks into the meeting, Jooyoung trailing behind him. You grit your teeth as you squeeze the pen in your hands. Dr. Bang had called a final meeting, and all of you were forced to be here. But you particularly because he was about to announce the next Chief. Jungkook sees the action and gives you a small smile, taking the pen out of your hands and placing it gently out of your reach as you roll your eyes.

“I knew it,” you mutter, “They’re fucking.” 

Jungkook sighs, rubbing your shoulder. “Y/N,” he murmurs like you’re a small toddler. “You know Yoongi would never do something like that.” 

You sigh, turning to him. “You never know men Jungkook.” 

He puts his hands up to protect himself, “Woah woah, okay don’t turn this on me. I’m happily married and have a family.” 

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and turn back to the agenda as the lights dim and the Chief takes his place on stage. 

“I wanted to call this final meeting to finalize my retirement.” He smiles forlornly, glancing around the huge circular hall of doctors and residents that he’d raised literally from day 1. “It has been a pleasure, and an honor serving you all as Chief of surgery, and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Doctors,” he continues, “are workaholics with god-complexes, uncapable of truly separating emotions and work. That’s what they say,” he chuckles, “But as I have worked alongside the lot of you, I have never, ever met such a group of passionate young people as you all. You guys put your heart and soul into making this hospital the place that it is. And I am so honored to have been able to call Seoul Gen the place that I have placed all my work, blood, sweat, and tears into. You all have grown, so much. Thank you.

“Now join me in applause as I invite up the next Chief of Surgery to take my place. Y/N Min,” he smiles, holding out an arm to you, and you stand, bowing to the audience as you take your place up on the podium next to him. 

Everyone bursts out in applause, and you smile and take the mic, thanking the chief. “Thank you everyone for joining me here today for yet another boring meeting.” Everyone joins you in laughter, and you just smile and continue. “It...it has been an honor serving you as an intern, resident, and attendee, and now co-leader of the neurosurgery department. I can’t imagine spending my life elsewhere, and this has been a dream of mine, to become a Chief that cares about her peers and her patients. I will work incredibly hard, these next few years, alongside you all and will make my best efforts to fill the shoes that Chief Bang is leaving behind, and become someone who makes all of you proud.” 

You smile, tears brimming in your eyes as everyone stands in applause, and you see your friends, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and Jin, and even your nurses with Hoseok, and even the nervous scared intern Namjoon whoops in the back of the stadium for you. 

Taking the flowers from Suho, you grin and smile, as camera click away and step down from the podium. 

Once the meeting is over, you’re bombarded with congrats and hugs from friends and peers, but your eyes linger on Yoongi who hesitates by the doorway, but leaves eventually anyway. Plastering on a smile, you just grin and take pictures anyway, trying not to let your gaze stray towards the entry. 

Suho accompanies you to your office, agreeing to join you later to help you gather all your things into boxes and help you move into the Chief’s office. 

Setting down the flowers and cards, you pad over to your bookshelf, and begin packing away your old medical books. As you set each leather-bound book neatly into the box, you come across an old booklet and open it with a forlorn smile. 

Flipping through the pages, you grin as you read through all the tiny notes you scribbled in the margins during late nights studying. Also, little encouragements dot the corners, like, “Don’t give up!” “Keep going, only 4 more pages,” bring a smile to your face as you perch on the edge of your desk. 

Never did you realize, that you’d be acheiving your dream so quickly. All you wanted when you walked into this hospital 8 years ago with a huge smile on your face, was to ultimately become a Chief. And you’d done it, slowly working your way up from a measly intern into the next chief of Surgery. 

But as you flip to page 254, your finger stops as your smile falls. Nestled into the pages, is a polaroid of you and Yoongi, smiling up into the camera, and in the bottom, you’d sharpied in the date. 

It was from your third date, when you and he were still infatuated with each other. 

You run your fingers over the glossy material, feeling your heart twinge at the view of Yoongi’s gummy smile next to yours. You both were so young...so innocent and so ambitious. It was a fun date.

“What are your goals?” You ask him, at the diner near the hospital. 

“Huh?” He frowns at you, a fry hanging out of his mouth. “What do you mean?” 

You shrug, taking a thoughtful sip from your shake. “I don’t know, we’re interns, and then we’re gonna become residents and all...but like ultimately, you know? What do you wanna do?” 

He stares down at the burger in his hands, and chews slowly. “I...I don’t know.” He says. “I never really thought about it. I guess...just become an attending and just make enough money to retire early?” 

You laugh, and he looks up at you, wiping a bit of ketchup from the corner of your mouth. “Really? Yoongi! You’re so competitive, I never thought you’d have such normal dreams.” 

He snorts, “Normal? Fine then,” he says, leaning forward with a wicked grin, “What are your dreams?” 

You grin at him, answering immediately. “Chief.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “Ch-chief? Chief of Surgery?” 

You nod, grinning as he whistles. “Damn...that’s like...another decade or so.” 

Shrugging, you finish off your chicken strips. “Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to do that. To become...a chief who cares you know? I want it more than anything else.” 

He nods thoughtfully, “Well,” he agrees, “I’ll help you.” 

Your eyes widen. “Seriously?” 

Laughing, he sips his soda. “Damn right. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get that position.” 

Sighing down at the photo you set it aside on your desk. You’d achieved everything professionally. But you were also stuck in the middle of a divorce situation, and there was nothing else that would change that. You had everything, but your marriage and love life, was collectively one thing that you’d lost completely. 

Closing the book, you raise your chin to survey the shelves of your bookcase, reaching up to bring down a picture frame of you and Yoongi’s wedding day. You’re clad in a beautiful dress, although heavy and ultimately chosen by your mother-in-law, you remember Yoongi’s face when he saw you in it. 

“Yoongi, you gotta say something,” you giggle, grinning up at him. Spinning on your heel, you hold your arms out. “How do I look?” 

He just stares down at you, slackjawed, and then you realize his eyes are red and wet. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi, are you crying?!” You gasp, and the photographer snaps away at the sight as you laugh at him. “Oh babe,” you whisper, holding his cheeks in your hands. “Please don’t cry. Or else you’ll make me cry, and then I’ll be mad that you made me ruin my makeup. Don’t even mention what your mother would do if I did that.” 

The last part makes Yoongi chuckle, as he sniffles and wipes his eyes with his hands, holding you at arms length to take a good look at you. “You...” he hiccups, “Look so beautiful.” 

He leans in and kisses you, hands cradling your jaw and your fingers curl around his wrists as the photographer clicks away at the beautiful scene. “You’re perfect,” he coos against your lips. “So perfect, so beautiful. You’re everything I ever wanted. The dress is beautiful.” 

You laugh, grinning into his lips. “You know your mother chose it. It itches so much, and it’s so damn heavy.”

Grinning, he leans in closer to your ear so only you can hear what he says next. 

“Then it’ll feel much better when I rip it off of you later.” 

“Yoongi!” 

You set down the frame, closing the stand and setting it face down into a box with the rest of your things. You finish off most of the books, leaving behind a few folders and things for Suho to pass onto the filing department. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your door. “Come in,” you call out, and turn to see its Yoongi. 

Setting down the books you were holding, you watch him come in. “Busy?” he says nervously, ditching his usually sarcastic tone for a softer one. 

Still feeling a bit nostalgic, you reply similarly. “No,” you sigh, dusting your hands off. “Just...clearing a few things up.” 

He looks down at the books, nodding. “Oh, right.” 

A silence ensues, and you swallow heavily, not knowing what to say. 

He speaks up. “I...congrats. I came here to say congrats.” 

You smile a bit, clasping your hands together. “Thanks.” 

“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” 

You nod, perching on your desk. “Yeah...” you trail off, not knowing what else to say to him. He looks so tired. You want to reach out to his face and smooth back the wrinkles in between his eyebrows like you always did, but you can’t. Usually you would encourage him to take a nap before he tried driving home. When he looked like that...he just happened to always doze off on the wheel. 

But you can’t even move forward to reach for him. 

“Here,” he says, holding out a manila folder. “I....I signed them.” 

Your eyes widen as you reach out to take them from him. Your breath leaves your lungs, huffing out from your nose. “You...you’re going through with this huh?” You ask him, eyes stinging. 

He meets your gaze. “It’s what you wanted.” He says softly, “I promised. I promised to do whatever it took to get you here.” 

Frowning, you step towards him but he’s already leaving. “Wait, Yoongi, what?” 

The door closes shut behind him and you stop, lips trembling and tears already falling down your face. 

In just a few moments, your marriage had completely ended. He didn’t even try to hold on to you. He didn’t even try. 

“I...I want a divorce, Yoongi.” you’d said, perched on your vanity, form slumped forward as you delivered the words to him. 

He didn’t even flinch. “Is...is that what you want?” 

Your eyes lift up to him. Was that all he was going to say? “What?” You frown up at him. 

He sighs, running his hand over his face tiredly. “If that’s what you want...then I’ll do it.” 

You frown, rolling your eyes exasperatedly. “Seriously? That’s it?” 

“What...what do you want me to say, Y/N?” He says, throwing his hands up in the air. “All we do is fight. No, no. We don’t even fight,” he laughs bitterly. “We don’t even talk to each other dammit. And I can see how much it hurts you. If it makes you happier to just stop it here...then lets do it.” He says bitterly, staring up at you with red-rimmed eyes. 

You bite your lip, body trembling with anger and betrayal. “Fine,” you grit out, “Get out.” you point towards the door with a shaking arm, other hand clasped in a fist. 

He doesn’t even argue with you, hastily grabbing his keys and wallet from the nightstand before stalking out. Before the door slams, he bitterly calls out. “Just know that I tried. This is what you want!” 

The slam echoes throughout the house that you and he built and designed together.

You let the arm drop to your side as you collapse onto the ground, cries racking your entire body and shoulders shaking as you bury your head into your arms, rocking back and forth as you cry yourself to sleep on the carpet near the bed. 

Finishing the rest of the bookshelf is harder with the weight of the completed divorce papers on your desk, glaring back at you in its white glory. You’d opened it, and gazed at the scratch of Yoongi’s handwriting in the end, the date scribbled neatly next to his loopy signature. Alongside it, was your own version. You finish the rest of your room, emptying out your desk drawers and closets and packing them neatly into boxes. 

Suho comes in and takes away all the boxes, leaving you standing in the empty office with just the folder in your hand. You don’t know why you didn’t give it to him when he came by. 

But you realize now, sitting in the empty office that was once designed perfectly to be right next to your husbands, that Yoongi’s action of handing you the finalized papers was his way of letting you make a final decision. 

You laugh bitterly. It was always like that. He never fought for it. He just kept saying that he’d let you do what you wanted. You sigh, as you take slow steps outside, to where you know Suho is sitting in his office. All you had to do was hand the papers over to him...and it would be over. 8 years of marriage. It would just be over. 

When you turn the handle to your office, your phone buzzes in your white coat. Frowning, you tuck the papers under your arm as you open the call from an unknown number. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello? Is this Mrs. Min?” Someone says over the receiver. 

Frowning, you walk over to Suho’s desk, and lean on the counter as you answer. “Yes....what can I help you with?” 

The person says slowly. “Mrs. Min, your husband was in a four-way car collision. You’re gonna have to come to the emergency room.”

You ditch the heels, chucking them somewhere as you run from your office towards the elevators. 

Jamming your finger into the button, you cry hysterically as you push it over and over, but the elevator is on a totally different floor. Screaming in frustration, you throw open the door to the stairs and climb the six flights down to the emergency room, whipping around to see if Yoongi had gotten here yet. 

There, in the entrance, the sirens of an ambulance wail in the distance and you see a few gurneys being rolled in. Scampering up to them, you look at the faces until you see a familiar one. 

“YOONGI!” You yell, running up to the gurney being wheeled in. His face is pale, and his lip is busted, blood running down his brow and chin. 

“Miss!” The paramedic yells, trying to wrestle you away. “You can’t be here!” 

You realize you forgot your white coat and your heels, and look like a complete stranger. Suddenly, Taehyung comes up to the gurney, putting his stethsoscope into his ears. “She’s with me,” he breathes out, and you nod as you help wheel the gurney into the room. 

The paramedic reads out, “34 year old male, involved with a four-car collision in the freeway. Unconscious from head injury against the wheel and inherent malnutrition and exhaustion. Collarbone shattered on impact, and probably a few broken ribs.” 

You breathe out in relief, shoulders slumping as you watch him be transported onto the hospital gurney. “So...he’s ok?!”

The paramedic nods, “We’re sorry for the alarming phone call, but he wasn’t responding well to the painkillers.” 

You nod, wiping your face with your hand. “Yeah...he’s allergic to the usual one.” 

The paramedic nods, leaving silently and Taehyung cuts open Yoongi’s shirt to see bruises littering his torso. His shoulder is bruised nastily and you can see the odd disfiguration. Yoongi’s skin is absolutely pale and his cheeks look so ghaunt. 

“Jeez,” Taehyung whispers as nurses scurry around your husband, hooking him up to machines and such. “That’s a nasty break. He’s probably gonna have to go into surgery for the collarbone. But he’ll be alright. Don’t worry Y/N. We’ll schedule one right away.” 

You nod, collapsing into the chair, and scooting up to look at your husband. “Jesus,” you breathe, “You really scared me.” You whisper at him, reaching out to curl a hand over his calf. “You...you really scared me Yoongi.” 

You don’t even have anymore energy to cry as Yoongi is wheeled into surgery and Ortho begins to repair the ribs and the collarbone. Sitting, slumped in the waiting room, you spin the wedding ring around on your finger, a habit since you started wearing it. 

Kihyun exits the ward an hour later, removing his mask, and smiling at you. “He’s fine, Y/N. Don’t worry. He’ll just be confined to a bed for about 6 weeks, but he’ll be okay once he goes through PT and all.” 

You nod, biting your lip. “He’ll be off of the anesthesia soon right? How much did you give him?” 

Kihyun frowns at the clock. “Ah, it should be wearing off by now. He’s in the VIP ward.” 

You thank him and run to the room, throwing open the door and running up to him laying down on the huge bed. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, and he groans, eyebrows furrowing as he comes to. “Yoongi, can you hear me?” 

He blinks groggily, frowning up at you and squinting at the light. “W-what...what? What’s going on, Y/N?” 

You smile, breathing out exasperatedly, tears now flowing freely as you collapse onto the bed, burying your face in his hand as you cry. “Oh my god...” you wail, “Thank you...” you say to no one in particular. “Thank you...” 

“What’s going on?” He croaks, frowning at his surroundings.

You blink up at him, wiping away your tears. “Y-you fell asleep at the wheel, Yoongi. And then you hit your head on your wheel and lost consciousness immediately and broke your clavicle and four ribs. You just came out of surgery from ortho, but you’re gonna be alright.” 

He frowns down at the IV plugged into his hand and the thick cast wrapped around his torso. Blinking groggily at his surroundings, he zeroes in on you. His hand twitches but he doesn’t do or say anything as he observes your swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks. 

You both sit in silence for a while, just warily watching each other. 

You speak first. “You....you became unconscious because you’re malnourished. And they diagnosed you as extreme fatigue. Are you okay?” 

He just watches you, eye bags drooping down to his cheeks. Your hand twitches, wanting to reach out and smooth his cheek. But you just wait for him to respond. 

He chuckles a bit, and winces when it puts strain on his broken collarbone. You watch him calm down, and he just gives you a sad smile.  

You clear your throat, grabbing the files at the foot of his bed and reading through his documents with shaking hands. Taehyung had been pretty detailed in his reports, careful to make suggestions and little notes here and there for you. 

Flipping through the pages you wince at the amount of painkillers he’s gonna need, and walk over to lift his free hand that’s not wrapped up in his cast. Maneuvering it around a bit, you hum, adding a few more notes. 

“Your left hand is okay, but you’re gonna have to be careful with your right hand. Which means no heavy lifting for this week and even being careful when using it for menial tasks.” 

He groans, wincing as he tries to sit up. You rush over and help press the button for the bed to stay propped up. “Even that!” you nag, sighing at the way he groans at the movement. 

“Here, drink this first.” You grab him a cup of water and lift it to his lips, watching as he carefully obliges, taking huge gulps of water. Setting the cup down, you take a seat next to his bed, and as if on cue, the nurse comes in, wheeling the day’s meal. 

You thank her and accept the tray, and set it up on his bed tray. He takes the spoon, movements slow and groggy as he spoons a bit of soup into his mouth, nodding at the taste. 

But because he only has his left hand free, he fumbles a bit and struggles to cut the pieces of kimchi, unable to use chopsticks in his left. You sigh and grab them from him, splitting the cabbage with the chopsticks in your hand and placing it on his spoon. “Here,” you mutter. 

Yoongi watches you carefully, eyes lifting toward you in an odd expression before he eats the kimchi, spooning soup and rice into his mouth after. 

“You don’t have to...” He mutters, as you carefully choose side dishes to place onto his spoon. 

You just give him a blank look. “You can barely even take care of the clothes you wear, how am I supposed to trust that you can even take care of that arm? Don’t you know how important it is for a surgeon to take care of his limbs?” 

He stops, the spoon halfway between his bowl and mouth. “So...this is just because you’re the chief now, right? Because you need to take care of your surgeons?” 

Your eyes widen, dropping the piece of fish you’d picked up. You blink, catching yourself and grabbing the protein and putting it on his spoon. “Yes,” You whisper, focusing on watching the way his spoon moves slowly towards his mouth. “Yeah, I guess.” 

He nods, humming and the both of you fall into a comfortable silence. 

“Oh,” you comment, “also, I saw on your charts that you had a fracture in your finger not too long ago...” You trail off, and Yoongi looks up at you with a grimace. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice a bit hoarse. “Why?” 

You blink, uncomfortably shifting. “Um, what happened?” 

He sets down his spoon, washing down his food with a swig of water. Clearing his throat, he just sloshes the water around in his cup as he answers you. “I-I slammed it in the car door.” 

“Where?” You balk. 

“At the flower shop across the street.” 

“And why were you there? Why in such a rush? You’re usually not that clumsy.” You comment, frowning.

He shrugs, “I was getting you flowers.” 

Oh. 

“Oh,” you clear your throat, blinking a bit. “Um, and then you were in a rush?” 

He picks up the spoon again and begins eating. “Yeah, but by the time I got a cast for it, I had another surgery so I couldn’t go home that day. Flowers were dead since they were stuck in my car all day.” 

You fall into silence as he continues chewing. 

He frowns and frets at certain side dishes but you give him a glare that silences him and he finishes the entire thing with a burp and a content sigh. It was the first time you’d seen him finish any kind of meal in a long time. No wonder his weight was at such an all time low. He hadn’t even been taking care of his meals. 

The nurse enters again to pick up the meal. Yoongi calls out to her, “God, I feel gross. Can I wash up now?” 

“Oh!” she says, right before she leaves, “You can take baths now. Would you like for us to send a nurse later?” She turns to you with a smile. 

“Ye---” “No,” you butt in, cutting him off and smilling at the nurse. “I can do it for him, it’s fine.” 

She smiles and takes her leave, leaving Yoongi with a sour look on his face. “She could’ve just done it.” He mutters, leaning back into his pillows. 

You glare at him, stuffing your hands in your pockets and surveying the restroom that has a nice tub in it. “Well,” you sigh, “No one knows about the divorce yet and it’s not like I haven’t seen anything either. Also Chief Bang was able to cancel a lot of my appointments for this month so I can help take care of you. The Board and the panel understood it when they heard you were caught up in an accident.” 

Yoongi nods, letting you walk over and slowly help him up, onto a wheelchair. You push him right up against the sink, where he can tip his head back far as his collarbone allows, and then you use the hose from the bath to begin rinsing his hair. 

Careful not to get water or soap in his eye, you smooth back the strands on his forehead, running your fingers through his hair and cupping it on the back of his nape to make sure that area got wet too. Grabbing a handful of shampoo, you begin lathering, gently combing through the strands and rubbing at his scalp, massaging and washing with the pads of your fingertips. The only sounds in the restroom is of the running water and the sounds of your lathering, but it’s quite comforting, especially after all the craziness that happened today. 

As you massage, you recall all the events. You got position of chief, you moved out of your office, Yoongi signed the divorce papers finally, and then you’d received the call about the accident. It was a hell of a day, even for a surgeon. 

When his hair is relatively clean, you rinse it out, and then finish off with some conditioner before washing it out completely. Grabbing a towel, you wrap his head as he sits up, and you turn him around to look straight at the mirror as you begin to towel off his hair. 

Yoongi watches you through the mirror, watching through the strands of his wet hair the way you crinkle your brow a bit when you’re concentrated and thinking hard, and the softness of the way you towel off the strands at the base of his neck. 

This...this was a thing for the both of you. Sometimes, when either of you were on shift and the other wasn’t, you’d come home with an exhausted face and sometimes Yoongi would wash your hair for you. Not because you couldn’t, but it was...it was nice. And vice versa. 

He sighs as he watches you, drowned out by the way you click on the hair dryer and begin blasting through his strands, fingers carefully combing through his locks to make sure it dries evenly. When you finish, you smooth back the frizzy pieces, cocking your head at it. 

“Your hair got really long,” you comment, smoothing it down where it reaches past his earlobe. 

“Hm?” he looks at himself, turning his head slightly to see. “Oh, didn’t even notice.” 

You frown, walking around him to also do the same on the other side, frowning when the ends of his hair touch the edge of his jaw. “Jesus, Yoongi,” you breathe, “Do you seriously not have any time to get your hair cut?” 

He wants to shrug but he can’t. So instead he just chuckles a bit. “Yeah, unfortunately.” 

You groan. “Wait here.” You jog out of the ward, leaving Yoongi to stare at himself in the mirror. He sees the signs. His face is much more gaunt and thin, the stubble on his chin growing out and making a shadow on his grey skin. His lips are pale and the hollows of his eyes dark and deep. In addition, there’s quite a nasty cut on his brow bone. It was probably why you were being so careful when you were washing his hair. Yeah. It wasn’t anything more. 

You return, weilding a pair of surgical scissors. 

Yoongi balks. “What the hell?” He tries to turn in his chair but winces at the movement, unable to do much besides just warily watch you evilly snap the scissors open and shut with a smile. 

“I’m gonna cut it.” You announce, wrapping a new towel around his shoulders like a makeshift bib. Leaning down, you grip the sides of his head to make him sit straight, and lean down behind him to start snipping. Yoongi groans, “Don’t tell me you learned the whole hair cutting thing from Seokjin.” 

You laugh behind him, and he feels the warmth of your breath on his nape. “Actually, I did.” 

Yoongi groans. “Are you kidding me? I’ve seen the way he cuts his hair and I’m telling you that idiot has just wasted so much more money trying to get his hair fixed from the way he ruined it, rather than the way he was supposed to cut it.” 

You laugh, moving around him to do his sides. “Chill,” you coax, “Don’t be such a lil baby.” 

He glares at you from the side, as you oddly cheerily snip away at his hairs. The tense and silent, nice, atmosphere is lifted, where it was fake smiles and awkward touches. But now, you touch him with more familiarity, and although your touches are a bit more rough, they’re not any less gentle. Its almost like when you’d first started...dating. 

 But Yoongi pushes that memory to the back of his mind, instead honing in on the sound of the sharp scissors cutting away all of his precious hair. 

When you finish, you clean the rest of his hair and carefully wipe away any stray pieces of hair stuck to his neck and ears. When you look up to see his expression in the mirror, you see that he’s dozing off, eyes drooping heavily and head slowly beginning to fall down. 

You grin to yourself, finishing up cleaning and carefully wheeling him back towards the bed. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, gently patting his shoulder. “You should sleep on the bed if you’re feeling tired.” 

He just groggily nods at you, too tired to argue back as you help him up, his good arm wrapped around your shoulder as you support him to sit on the hospital bed. You move around the bed to tuck in the sheets around his body once he’s situated, and then take a seat next to him, just observing the way his lashes flutter against his cheeks and his head lolls to the side as his mouth falls slightly open. 

Yoongi’s a really quiet sleeper, you noticed during your years of knowing him. He barely snores or talks in his sleep, and even barely moves. His face always looks like he’s dead, no expression or strength in it. But today, Yoongi looks incredibly tired, not just because of his fatigue, but you can clearly see the signs of aging in the way his smile lines are carved deep into his jaw and the crease between his eyebrows that gets deeper with every frown he puts on. 

His skin is becoming much less glossy and now has a greyer hue to it while the skin under his eyes is becoming almost permanently tinted with a darker bluer shade from all his sleepless nights. 

You reach up, smoothing back a piece of hair that sits on his forehead and then curving down his jaw towards his chin, where you can feel a bit of stubble beginning to grow a bit too prickly. You make a mental note to do that for him tomorrow. 

Sighing, you sit back in your chair, and feel a crinkle in the pocket of your doctor gown. Frowning, you sit up and produce the manila folder, all crinkled up, from the pocket of your gown. The divorce papers. 

Smoothing down the edges and the wrinkles, you remove the inside contents and survey the loopy scrawl of Yoongi’s handwriting in the papers. His address, his phone number, his security information, are all written neatly into the columns and rows, and in the final page, his signature and date are written into the two lines that legally separate you and him from your marriage. 

You sigh as your eyes skim through the contents. 

One packet, 4 papers. 

One more visit to the lawyer’s office and then it would be final: 5 years of marriage, 2 years of dating, and 1 year of knowing eachother as interns and best friends and partners, all down the drain. All neatly filed away. All drawn behind a line. 

You fold the paper back into its tiny little crumpled state and stuff it back into your pocket.

Especially when Yoongi was in the hospital like this, you couldn’t do that to him now. 8 years of knowing eachother, it was the least you could do for him. Not now. 

Leaning forward in your chair, you lean a cheek on the bed mattress, eye-level with his hand that’s wrapped up in a cast from shoulder to elbow. You reach forward and lightly rest your fingertips on top of his, thumb smoothing over the taught skin on his knuckles. 

“Stay fucking still!” You hiss, as Yoongi grunts and glares as you lean forward to slide the blade carefully over his jawline. 

He winces as the razor scrapes a bit harshly against his sensitive skin, but you just glare at him when there’s no blood. “Oh hush, don’t be a little bitch about this, I didn’t even draw blood yet.” 

“Yet?” he frets, slumping as he leans against the sink. “I asked you to help me with only the left side! You didn’t have to go over this side again!” 

“Oh my god, you didn’t even do that side correctly, that’s why I’m doing it again! God, stop talking so I can finish here!” You carefully twist the razor against the ball of his adam’s apple, careful not to apply too much pressure against the uneven bumps and ridges under his skin. 

He just watches you, standing between his legs as he leans against the sink counter, eyes furrowed as you observe where any more hairs are straggling as you shave the rest of his neck. 

“You know,” he mutters, and you hum in response to let him know that you’re listening. “My...my mom asks about you a lot.” 

You pause in your shaving and your eyes flicker up to his hooded ones. His expression is one of confusion, eyes dark and moody as he stares at the opposite bathroom wall. “Oh really,” you comment, humming and resuming sliding the shaver over his chin. 

“Mhm,” his voice vibrates under the skin you’re shaving, and his adam’s apple bobs a bit as he swallows nervously. “She...she wants to see you.” 

You frown and stand up straight, staring up at Yoongi suspisciously. “Seriously? She wants to see me? I’d feel much better hearing that she wants to murder me.” 

He chuckles a bit, itching his nose. “She really likes you, Y/N...” he mumbles, watching your expression. You just shake your head and sigh, squirting a bit more shaving gel onto your finger to smooth it over the crook in his jaw where you missed a few hairs. 

“You know she drove me crazy...” you mutter, finishing the spot. “I seriously drove myself crazy trying to cater to her.” 

He clears his throat. “I know you’ve been doing a lot but...please go see her. She’s...she’s not doing well. My dad has been really absent lately and our divorce has gotten her into a weird mood and she keeps asking for you, saying some stuff how there’s no one in her life who listened to her as well as you did...and...” he trails off, eyes flickering up to yours in desperate but silent asks. 

You sigh, running the razor under water and cleaning up. “I...I don’t know Yoongi. I haven’t seen her since we told her about the divorce. I really don’t think she’d want to see the woman who dumped her precious son.” 

He trails after you into the room, settling down on the bed while you perch on the chair next to it. “I know, which was why I was careful about bringing it up to you. Just...” he breathes in through his nose. “Please. I...I lost a lot of things recently, please don’t let me lose her too. This is the best that I can do. She won’t talk to me.” 

You sigh, placing his meal on his bed tray. “Fine, but you owe me.” 

He smiles, gummy teeth appearing as he looks up at you appreciatively. “What do you want?” 

You laugh, helping him open the sealed yogurt. “I want the rights to the car you bought me. And the tapestry we bought in Egypt.” 

He grins, “Deal. Now feed me this yogurt.” 

“He’s gonna need two more surgeries,” Dr. Moon tells you, scanning through the charts. “One more to fix that horrible collarbone, and another to make sure that all the glass shards are out. Only the first one will require any heavy anesthesia. Just keep him hydrated and don’t let him eat anymore solids and we’ll be fine.” 

You nod, thanking him as he leaves, and you watch as Yoongi’s already-grumpy expression descends into absolute glowering. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He hisses, curling his lip in disgust. “No more solids? Do they fucking want to kill me?” 

You roll your eyes, crossing your legs as you review some documents and paperwork from Chief Bang. “Shut up,” you groan, “they only let you eat recently because you were so dehydrated they were scared to extend the operation. This is your fault. Since when did you stop taking care of yourself, geez. Yoongi, you’re literally almost ten pounds lighter than when I first met you. Don’t they say that thirtys bring on the most weight? What happened to you?” 

He sighs, slumping back in his pillows. “I don’t know. It was just...busy. I didn’t have time to even pee, with all those surgeries, so I guess I just stopped remembering to eat and drink too.” 

You roll your eyes again, tsking at him. “Stupid. Here, drink this.” You hand him a cup of water and he takes it gratefully, gulping it down as he watches you pour over the paperwork. “What’s that?” 

You hum, nibbling on your pen. “Some paperwork about the new back-up energy generator. We’re changing it on Friday to make sure that even in blackouts, the surgery ward is still supplied with enough energy. I have to sign off on it, and it’s my first important thing as the new chief.” You look up at him giddly, “Wanna see?” 

He nods, and you hand over the folder, and he scrunitizes the tiny print with a wrinkled brow. “God,” he hisses, handing it back to you. “This is what Chief is being about? Paperwork and having to read fine print? I hate that stuff.” 

You giggle, “Well, that’s why I have a law minor and you don’t. This stuff to me is better than any movie or drama. I love it.” 

You don’t see, because your eyes are back to scouring the page for any minute details that might end up becoming an issue later on, but Yoongi watches you warmly, eyes drooping eventually until he lapses into a deep sleep. 

You’re disturbed moments later when your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pick up, surprised to see it’s your mother in law. Or....ex-mother in law. 

“Hello?” You pick up, setting the paperwork down to exit Yoongi’s ward. “Mother, it’s...been a while.” 

“Yes, Y/N, it has...” she trails off, her voice sounding a bit less harsh and more frail than the last time you remembered it. 

“Can...can I help you with something, mother?” You ask carefully, leaning against the wall. She’s silent for a moment before chuckling a bit. “I...I don’t even know why I called you, dear.” She sighs, “I guess I have no one else to talk to, besides you.” 

You frown. “What do you mean? You have so many friends who love to listen to you.” 

She sighs, clucking her tongue. “I mean, I do!” She corrects, too prideful to admit the reality. “But...but sometimes there are things that I just need to talk to you about.” 

“Anything on your mind, mother? I can listen to you,” you offer, and she begins talking. 

“I-I...I realize now when I’m in and out of Yoongi’s ward to take care of him, that I barely got to know him. I need your help, he doesn’t really have much to say to him and same with me, I...I don’t even know my son anymore.” 

You hum, not knowing what to say. She asks, “What kind of food does he like?” 

You frown, “Wh-what food?” 

She sighs, “Yes, what food does he like to eat? I packed him some healthy ox-tail soup the other day but he only took a few bites out of it and left the rest. I don’t even know what he wants anymore.” 

You sigh, picking at your nails. “Yoongi doesn’t like soups that much, he prefers spicy and salty and savory things. Which is bad, I know,” you chuckle when she makes a sound of disgust, “But I balance out that unhealthy obsession of his by forcing him to eat his salad first before he gets to the meal. He also doesn’t really like anything that’s too hot. Prefers mildly warmed.” 

“Oh also,” you add with a smile, “Yoongi is on bed rest for the rest of the week because he has surgery soon. So don’t worry about bringing him food for the next few days, mother, because he’s also on a no-solids diet, and I’ve been taking a few shifts here and there to make sure he’s getting his nutrients and drinking his juice.” 

“Oh, Y/N...” she says, her voice trembling a bit. “I...I just wanted to say thank you.” 

“Oh, mother, you don’t have to--”

“No, Y/N. I do. After Yoongi’s father left the house last week, it’s been really hard and I got some time to think about how I treated those around me. And I realized that the only person who really put up completely with the worst of me was you. And still, here you are, assuring me that you’ll take care of my son and telling me about his preferences...I-I have nothing to say as your mother in law, and I’m just so, so sad that you two are parting ways and I--”

“Mother,” you cut her off before she goes into another tirade about your divorce. “It’s...it’s fine, really. Yoongi and I, we have so much history together that even though our marriage might not have worked, I still appreciate and love and support him very much. And I know he does the same. You don’t owe me anything for this, I chose this.” 

She agrees and continues to thank you, and you both end the call with closure, and you lean back against the wall, sighing as the tiredness of the day completely washes over you. You’re about to call it a day and go inside to gather your things, when Jungkook shows up, moments after the call. 

“Noona,” he calls out, walking up to you with a small smile, “Wanna go get drinks with me?” 

You sigh, smiling up at him. “Why?” 

He shrugs, scuffing at his feet. “Heard you on the phone with Mrs. Min, and assumed you’d need to just relax after that.” 

You smile, feeling content. “No...it was...it was a good talk. It wasn’t tiring at all.” His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “But I’m still down for a drink right about now though. Yoongi’s asleep.” You finish, and smile as you check your watch. 

Jungkook grins, and leads you to the bar across the street, taking a seat on the bar and waving at the familiar face bartending the counter. Shownu hands you both your regular drinks, and you sigh as you wash down the familiar taste of the margarita down. 

“So,” Jungkook begins, stirring his whiskey. “How’s it been?” 

You sigh, drumming your fingers against the countertop. “Hard. It’s been a while since I’ve had to do so many administration stuff, but hopefully it’s just temporary while I figure out how to get settled the fastest way possible.” 

He raises his brows. “That’s it?” 

Frowning, you take another sip. “What?” 

Avoiding your eye contact, he swirls the ice cube in his glass around, watching the dark liquid slosh around it absentmindedly. “I mean,” he tries, carefully choosing his words, “with Yoongi hyung being admitted and everything...” 

“Oh..” you say, having really nothing else to add to what he was implying. “It’s...different.” 

“Good different?” 

“Just...different.” You hesitate, blinking up at him. “I don’t know. It’s just weird...honestly it feels like nothing changed, like we’re married again and we didn’t get a divorce or anything but I know I shouldn’t be thinking like that.” 

“Why not?” Jungkook asks, finishing his drink and waving down another one. “You don’t still have feelings for him or anything do you?” 

You stare down at the pale yellow of the new cocktail that Shownu has given you, fingers stopping playing with the tiny mint leaf placed on the top. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut for a second to erase the momentary odd feeling. “No,” you say a little too loudly, “I’m the one who brought the divorce up. It wouldn’t be fair for me to feel that way. I don’t have that right.” 

Jungkook chuckles a bit into his drink, doe eyes crinkling at you. You frown, “What’you laughing about?” 

He grins, “Noona, don’t you remember what you told me when I was all scared about my own relationship? You told me that when two people are in love, they lose all their rights, because they give them up. For each other. You’re the one who said that when you told me to go get her.” 

You frown, “That was in a differen--” 

“No, noona,” he cuts you off, patting your shoulder. “Literally everyone in this damn hospital can see that you and Yoongi hyung still have feelings for each other. There...there were just a few bumps in the road, that’s all. I really, truly, believe that you and him can figure this out. You guys are the strongest people I know.” He says, eyes sparkling like the way they used to as an intern, a little measly punk who was placed under your own residency. 

“Just go tell him,” he whispers. 

“How do you even know he still has feelings for me?” You whisper, eyes blurring a bit at the tears that threaten to spill over. “He agreed to the divorce.”

“Noona,” he murmurs, “I...I just heard this in passing but the Board was gonna give Chief to Yoongi hyung only, just because he’s a guy and the man of the family and all that. But Yoongi hyung never wanted that. He knew you wanted that, more than anything. So when you brought the divorce up, he accepted it. All he wanted was for you to be happy, don’t you see? Him letting you go was the best way he knew at the moment to love you.” 

That night, later when you get back to the hospital, the hallways are quiet and still, save for the occasional family visit or the bustle of nurse’s feet down the hallway. You slowly make your way down the hall, strolling and tucking your cold hands in the pockets of your coat as you survey the brightly lit walls of the hospital you were practically born and raised in. 

In these halls was the place you first met Yoongi, where you fell in love with Yoongi, where you worked after marrying Yoongi, and where you had and lost your first child with Yoongi. Every inch of the hospital was a daily reminder of how much you had gone through together. 

But as you take one foot in front of the other, you really ponder about what exactly went wrong. It...was so hard to try and remember now. 

It was a culmination of things: the miscarriage, the forgotten anniversary, the busy schedules, the stress of his mother in law, and the mundane-ness of your marriage. They all happened and bombarded your lives so fast and so quickly and painfully that at one point, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

But now, as you walk the halls, a bit buzzed and thinking back to what Jungkook said, it’s odd that you thought you couldn’t handle it. 

You weren’t smart. Naturally, like the others. Throughout college and medical school, while others read a chapter once and understood it, you had to go home and re-read it three times, make flashcards, take notes, practice problems, and watch videos online to learn the same thing. You had to work your ass off to get where you were, and to be honest, your body and your psyche had seen worse during those years. 

You suffered through depression and anxiety as you watched your friends excel at things you fell behind on. You poured yourself into studying so much that it stressed you out and you became overweight, and then in an effort to lose the weight suffered from an eating disorder. You barely could handle relationships at all with guys because you were so emotionally unavailable and distracted. It was a miracle you still had friends who stuck with you and your messes throughout med school. 

You’d done it all. All by yourself. 

And Yoongi. He was such a breath of fresh air. He was someone who was smart, who was naturally good. But he also worked hard, and he never failed to encourage you throughout your internship together, and even in your relationship, always praised your for your talents, not your flaws. He made it easier. He explained things to you that you would have never understood. He tutored you on procedures on the exchange of you demonstrating your best stitches that ultimately caught the attention of the higher surgeons. He took care of you, even if it didn’t seem like it, and always put you first. 

So why had you, in the heat of the moment and the culmination of all the bad things that had gone in your life, given up so quickly on Yoongi? 

Maybe it was the way that your finally perfect life was crumbling to an end. Maybe it was the way that Yoongi agreed too quickly, not really trying too hard to convince you otherwise. Maybe it was the way that for once in your life, you felt accomplished when you saw the positive pregnancy test and had something other than Yoongi and work in your life to live for. And then you lost it. 

You don’t know. 

Finally rounding the corner to Yoongi’s ward, you stare up at the paper on the wall inscribed with Yoongi’s name and peer through the small door, watching Yoongi perched up on the bed, signing documents and probably going over his patient records with a keen eye. Turning against the wall beside the door, you lean against it and slide down, crouching down and sitting on the cold glossy floors. 

Putting your hand into your pocket, you produce the ring that he gave you and turn it over in your hands. It’s a gorgeous damn ring. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi, how much did you even pay for this?” You ask him, hand stretched out wide in front of the both of you as you nestle into his naked chest. He’d asked you to marry him with it, and you’d only ever noticed how heavy it was on your finger until now, after a couple hours of heavy love-making. 

He rolls his eyes. “Too damn much if you ask me,” he grumbles, and you giggle against his neck. 

“I love it,” you croon, arm sliding around his waist and nestling into his warmth, his smell. Everything is Yoongi right now. The bedsheets surrounding you smell like him, the dark and monochrome furniture and the cluttered books on the bookshelves against the farthest wall so indicative of Yoongi’s style. The moon shines through the crack between the blinds, dim enough not to illuminate everything, but bright enough on his 7th floor apartment to show you the beautiful lines of his face. 

The slope of his eyes downward that soften his always tired features. The flutter of his long eyelashes against his pale cheeks. The way his lips, although always turned down in a frown, curve slightly upwards at the ends, as if mischievously scheming a prank or a joke, and the pout of his lower lip that made him so much cuter. 

The way his fingers, long and knobby, wrapped around your shoulders and stroked the soft skin of your shoulder. His legs tangled within yours and skin slightly damp but warm from the sex earlier. The way the beautiful diamond ring sits perfectly fitted on your fourth finger, slotted around your hand as if to declare to the world that you’re his and only his. 

You once were his, you think to yourself as you slide the platinum onto your finger. It still fits perfectly, slotting around that odd spot where your ring had sat for 5 years, the permanent dent in your skin fading, but still present enough for the ring to nestle in exactly. You twirl it around your finger, relief flooding you at the old habit. 

It’s so stupid, you think to yourself, so stupid how Yoongi made all those decisions by himself. It was absolutely, annoyingly, dumb how he decided by himself that accepting your divorce was the best thing he could do. You hated how he was always like that. Never taking a step in front of you, but always a step behind, letting you go first and letting you lead and never getting in your way. You hated it, yet it was the single thing that made you fall in love with him. He respected you and honored you and encouraged you like no other. 

Suddenly, the ward door slides open, and Yoongi steps out, arm still in his sling and tired eyes blinking down at you. 

He doesn’t look too surprised, but when he catches the glimmer of tears in your eye, he just silently crouches down, and with his good arm, pulls you in for a hug. 

The dam breaks, and you begin sobbing, the regrets and overload of emotions and feelings and memories washing over you in a tsunami as you bury your face into his neck. He just silently holds you close, hand resting on your shaking shoulders as you blubber meaningless things into his skin. 

“I--I’m so stupid,” you sob, eyes squeezing shut. 

“So stupid, so dumb, everything is so stupid,” you cry, and Yoongi just hums as he continues holding you close. “I just can’t--” 

“Can’t what?” he murmurs. 

“I can’t just forget, and just leave everything behind. I can’t Yoongi,” you wail, and he just cooes and strokes your hair. “It’s just all so hard and I thought I was doing it for us, for you.” 

“But I was so selfish and dumb and arrogant to think I could do it by myself, I’m so sorry,” you cry, hiccuping and blubbering other meaningless things. 

But Yoongi just holds you tighter, sitting with you on the cold floor in just his hospital pajamas, letting you blubber all over his shoulder as he whispers back, “I don’t care. It’s okay,” He shushes you, blinking down at you gently, “It’s really okay. I know, I’m sorry too, shhh, it’s okay.” 

You continue to cry, all the pent-up frustrations of the last couple of months pouring out in waves and out in front of Yoongi. All your regrets, all the memories, all the things you went through alone. All the insecurities, all the pain and fear. All of you. You cried and vented and apologized until everything inside of you was out. 

You were naked and vulnerable, cards all on the table. 

You were literally almost like his patient, open and really up to his call. You’d cut yourself open, spilled everything out in front of him, and now it was his turn. 

He just holds you tight, never letting you detach from him. 

His voice is as clear as the day he asked you to marry him. 

“I love you.” 

You blink up at him through bleary eyes, confusedly. You were expecting him to say it was okay, to say either that he did or didn’t accept your apologies, or to give you an explanation or something. 

“I love you so much, Y/N.” 

He says again, pulling you even closer and burying his nose in your hair. 

“I would never, ever, try to hurt you on purpose.” 

His hand strokes your arm, like the night he asked you to marry him. Everything smells and feels like Yoongi, here in his arms. It’s like home. 

“And I’m the one who should be sorry. I hurt you, and I promised the day we got married that I would never hurt you. I love you so much, I love you Y/N. Everything’s okay. We can get through this, I’m sure of it. I love you so much,” he says, and the shakiness of his voice at the end tells you that maybe he too, is crying too. 

But he won’t let you pull away to look at him, so you just curl your arms around his waist, holding as tight as you can, not letting go. 

You were never gonna let go again. 

“Chief Bang,” you announce, walking into his office with purpose. It’s actually your old office, he’d moved in as soon as you’d moved into his. 

“God, Y/N,” he groans, a hand on his chest. “Please don’t scare an old man like that. Who knows what could’ve happened.” 

“Oh, hush,” you grin, strolling in and taking the seat across from him, “I’ve seen your diagnostic, you’re in almost perfect condition.” 

He rolls his eyes at you. “What brings you here?” 

You drop the file on his desk. “What you asked for.” 

He eyes you weirdly as he takes the manila folder, wrinkled all around the edges as he smooths it out and produces the stapled packet inside. As he flips the first cover page and sees the official lettering of the second, his eyes widen and he looks up at you with a start. “Your divorce papers?” 

You nod, smiling. 

His gaze softens, “Oh, Y/N...I’m so sorry. I...I really had hope for the both of you.” 

You blink, “Wait what?” 

He sighs, flipping through the rest and lying it down on his desk. “I know I asked you to reconsider, but I trust that you guys made the right decision.” 

You frown, “Wait, Chief, you don’t understand.” 

He continues, shaking his head. “Gosh, I’m so sorry to have you put you both in that position...I should have never brought up the gender discrimination for chief in the first place...It was all my fault I---” 

He’s cut off by you leaning forward and taking the packet in your hands and ripping it cleanly across the middle. His eyes widen, “Y/N--”

“Chief,” you declare, smiling at him. “I took your advice. We’re not separating. Actually, we’re quitting.” 

He balks at you, “Excuse me?” 

“Okay that was actually a joke, that last part,” you giggle, and he sighs, collapsing into his chair. “But on a serious note, we’re not giving up. We...we talked about it and it was just a lot of miscommunication. We want to try again. But...but before you retire, we wanted to say that we can’t continue this lifestyle if we want to make any changes to our marriage. I decided last week when we talked that I want to take the transition slowly, and I want to do it with Yoongi.”

“Okay....” Chief Bang murmurs, watching you warily. “And?” 

You straighten up. “We want equal surgeries. No more stupid meetings and events. I’ll hire someone who actually likes to do that.” 

“Mhm...” He muses, eyes narrowing in concentration. “Keep going.” 

“And--” “Chief Bang!” His office door swings open again, interrupting your list. The both of you turn to look at who it is, and his frazzled secretary apologizes profusely. 

“I-I’m so sorry, Chief but Mr. Jang, he--” 

“Shihyuck!” The elder man walks in proudly, cutting off the secretary and sauntering in. “What you up to ol’ man? Ah, Y/N!” He grins, sleazily walking up to you and clapping you on your shoulder. “What brings you here too?” 

You grin fakely up at him, “Good morning Mr. Jang.” 

Chief Bang crosses his arms. “What brings you here, Jang? Don’t you have a Board of Trustees to be running?” 

The other man grins, perching on the desk rudely. “Actually, good thing you’re here, Y/N, because I’m here to tell Chief Bang something. We want to liquidate the free clinic. It’s just too much money, and think about how much money we would make if we charged per visit and--” 

“No.” You state, firmly meeting his confused gaze with your steely one. Chief Bang’s head turns to you in surprise. 

“E-excuse me?” Jang narrows his eyes at you. “What did you just say, missy?” 

You stand, standing eye to eye with the man in your heels. Thank god the Chief job required you to have a few killer heels in your closet cause damn, you felt powerful. 

“No,” You repeat, facing him. “We are not liquidating the free clinic. Some doctors have worked their blood sweat and tears off for that service, and we are not going to stand by and let you liquidate for your own greed.” 

Jang sputters, “Wha- do you even hear yourself talking right now? As a woman--” 

“As a woman,” you sneer, “you should know that I’m very close with Mrs. Jang, and I’ve been hearing some things about you and your aesthetician. Do you want me to invite her out to lunch tomorrow?” 

He’s silenced immediately, mouth opening and closing like an idiot. You smirk, “I thought so.” 

“Chief Bang, let me finish with the other requirements I was saying before Mr. Jang barged in and interrupted our conversation.” You state, sitting down and crossing your legs. 

“One. I want Yoongi and I to share the Chief position. Two. No more stupid parties and meetings and meet and greets. I’ll hire someone to fill in. Three. I want you to move Jooyoung into a different surgery department. That girl keeps trying to flirt with my husband and I don’t like that.” You cross your arms. 

Chief Bang finally speaks. “Is that all?” 

You hum, mulling it over. “Yes.” 

He nods, “Its fair.” 

Jang sputters, “F-fair?! What are we going to do with two people as chief? That’s never even happened before!” 

You turn, eyeing him down with a cold stare. 

“Mr. Jang,” you ask, slowly facing him. “You’re the president of the Board of Trustees, correct?” 

He nods, frowning. “Yes, why?” He retorts rudely. 

You take a menacing step toward him as you speak. “Well, as the president of a hospital board of trustees, you must know that without the doctors, a hospital will absolutely disintegrate. Wouldn’t it?” 

“A-are you threatening me?” He rages, eyes blazing. 

You shrug, innocently looking at your nails as you step towards him. “Well, then you must also be aware that as the face of this hospital, you can’t get rid of me. That would be a total horrible public PR mess for you and hospital. I wonder,” you muse, “what the rest of your board of trustees would think if you tried to get rid of me, or if I said that I quit because you were being difficult.” 

You laugh a bit, “Think about that! The face plastered all over the building and over TV and bus ads that you thought would bring you more revenue, quitting, and stating on television that the board of trustees she worked for were money-hungry hyenas, all lead by a certain president who couldn’t even keep his promise to his wife? Wow, I wonder what would happen.” You smile sweetly at him, twirling a piece of hair around your finger. 

“Think about it a little!” You sing-song, as you pivot on your heel and move to walk out the door. 

You stop halfway, eyes falling into the figure leaning on the doorframe, grinning gummily at you. Smile widening, you walk up to him, arms sliding around his waist. 

“Hi,” you blush, and he grins down at you. 

“You’re so sexy when you take lead like that,” he murmurs, lips leaning towards yours, and you let him kiss you a tiny bit before you break away and give a last meaningful glance towards the red-faced Mr. Jang and the satisfied Chief, and give a tiny bow to the elders before exiting with your husband. 

As soon as the door shuts behind you, you slump a little, caving into his embrace. 

“God,” you breathe out, “I thought I was going to die of fear. I seriously hate everyone from the board. They scare the shit out of me.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I’m pretty sure you just scared the shit of him. So you’re good.” 

You smile, “Really?” 

“Yeah.” He grins down at you, tucking you under his arm. 

“How are you feeling,” you murmur as the both of you quietly make it down towards your office. 

He shrugs his arm a bit to show you. “Feelin’ good as new. I can go home by tonight.” 

You hug his waist a bit closer. “Good,” you murmur into his shirt. “It’s uncomfortable sleeping on your hospital bed. I wanna go home.” 

“Me too babe,” he whispers, hand stroking your cheek and resting on your shoulder. When his arm grazes your neck your cheeks heat up in a hot blush, and you blink up at him through your eyelashes. 

He recognizes the look right away. Glancing around, he chastises you, but with a shit-eaitng grin. “Y/N,” he hisses, “We can’t.” 

You pout, “Why not? No one even comes into your hospital room anymore anyway. Plus, I have a new office!” 

“Did you forget that’s now gonna be our office?” He hisses, eyes rolling. 

You huff, “C’mon! Just once, I don’t understand why you won’t just fuck me! We’re not even getting a divorce anymore anyway!” 

“Shhh!” He hushes you, pushing you into the office, and locking the door behind him. “Jeez, just yell it out for the entire hospital to hear, huh?” 

He takes off his coat and settles into your couch. “Why not? Dont you want me?” You whine, stomping your feet petulantly. 

He sighs, eyeing you levelly. “Trust me,” he says lowly, “I haven’t fucked you since 6 months ago, and I’m all pent up and annoyed and pissed and I’d give anything to be buried all the way deep inside you but I have my priorities and my first priority is not having our first time together be in an office. I’m going to take my time.” 

You roll your eyes, perching on your desk. “You said it yourself, you’re all pent up and frustrated. Why does it even matter? You’re not gonna last long anyway.” 

His eyes narrow at you, mouth twirking up in a grin. “Is that a challenge?” 

You jut your chin out at him. “Wanna bet? Whoever cums first loses.” 

He rolls his eyes. “I see what you’re doing. Whether or not whoever loses, you win anyway becuase you eventually get sex.” 

You grin, “Exactly. So are you down or not?” 

He stands up, hastily shrugging on his jacket. 

“Call Gina right now,” he commands, eyes darkening at you. “I need to be discharged now.” 

Love.

Neuroscience and Biology like to tell us that it’s a side-effect of a release of a hormone called Dopamine and oxytocin, the same two hormones released when the guy living under the bridge snorts up another line of coke, and when the horribly suffering and screaming woman holds the human she just pushed out of her vagina for the first time in her arms. 

And at first, you’d thought it was just that too. You never really believed in the powerful nature of love, just that it was a warm fuzzy feeling and something that made you happy. 

But now, you’d learned through the hard way that love, it made you do crazy things. It made you lay down your rights, lay down your priorities, and put the other first. It meant forgetting about all the hardships because the good times weighed them out. It meant working together. 

Sure, to be fair, after you and Yoongi had resolved your issues and decided to cancel the divorce, you still had to try. Love didn’t come that easily. If it was easy, then it wouldn’t be true love. 

You and Yoongi had to attend marriage counseling sessions, make an effort to start going on dates again, and had to have long talks in car rides home to resolve and sort out all the miscommunications. You had to give up some of your responsibilities as Chief so that it would be easier to focus on being Yoongi’s wife, and also designate some work for him. Yoongi had to give up a few surgeries so he’d have time to spend with you after work and dedicate some to share the responsibilities of chief. The both of you had to make a sacrifice. 

But it was worth it. True love, without sacrifice, you learned, meant nothing. 

Doctors are also professional line-drawers. 

Not the plastic surgeon, sharpie-a-line-over-your-boob kind of line, but a physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental line. And then, there’s the line you draw with those who you love. Whether or not they’re sitting on your table, brain flap open for you to probe, you must draw lines. You can’t operate on someone who’s close or related to you. You can’t offer to waive fees for someone who you once respected back in high school. You can’t be in relationships with your patients, friendly or sexual.

And you definitely shouldn’t be married to your partner, and co-leader of your department, and fellow co-Chief. 

But before you were a doctor, before you were a chief, and before being anyone else, you were you. Yoongi’s wife. 

And you were going to prioritize it. You were going to prioritize you, your time, your mental and physical health, and your emotional health, which meant prioritizing your relationship with Yoongi. He was your everything. 

So you realize, that sometimes breaking the rules is allowed. Sometimes, cutting yourself open and spilling out your emotions and true feelings as a doctor is okay, when its to the one who you know and trust will still love you after seeing how ugly things can be. And sometimes, drawing lines around you and someone else, instead of between you and them, is okay. 

Because you trusted that even though life cut you open, Yoongi was going to be there right along you, to help you stitch it all back up. 

fin. 

After finishing, please read my story talk here! Thank you for reading! :) 

also, thank you for all the support. I’m pretty sure I’m going to write one more tiny epilogue so that this couple gets their closure!

#bts fics #bts smut #yoongi fics #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts angst #cut me open #surgeon!au #doctor!au #spinoff #fics #writing #yoongi

[monicalorandavis]

periods

Weeks ago, maybe months ago, I was in an Uber XL because my friend is dj’ing and doing quite well for himself and also because I was with a group of six other adults and no one could even pretend to be sober enough to drive.

So there we are in the big SUV. I’m in the way back with my friend and every seat is accounted for - even the seat next to the driver. It was a packed ride and the back seat was where the party was at. My friend and I were quite literally bouncing off the walls. I think at one point I turned myself upside down and pressed my feet into the ceiling (I’m that girl) and gyrated my ass off my seat. I don’t know how I avoid hurting myself when I act this way. *Correction: I always, always hurt my pride the next morning when someone shows me the footage on their phone and my drunk voice is shrieking some vile obscenity.*

I remarked to the mixed group of men and women (to be specific, two men and four women) that “Being a girl is the fucking best”. I don’t know why then seemed like the perfect time to share that sentiment with boys, but, I said it and then I immediately regretted it.

Because of course they had to ruin it. I had barely finished the sentence before one of the guys said, “Yeah, except periods.”

And, of course.

Yes, facts.

Periods are bad. They are always, always bad. The four women in the car agreed that they are in fact so, so bad that it’s insane that men don’t get to have them. They at least should have to experience a couple somehow. I suggest some time before they have sex so they can fully understand the undertaking before them. Do they want to create a life in that place that produces the monthly blood mud or are they just horny?

But, it occurred to me in a drunken split-second (which in all fairness was probably closer to a drunken half of a minute), do men think that periods are really the worst thing about being a woman?

The thought burrowed its spiny legs into my beleaguered mind and stuck. What if they are?

Not right now they’re not, obviously. The world, at the moment, for women is bat-shit kookookachoo-Lollapalooza got pregnant by Fyre Festival-burning-down-the-house-no bueno-bad, bad, bad. But, if the world were to somehow heal its wounds of misogyny and close the wage gap and stop domestic violence, and rape, and stigmatizing reproductive health, and harassment, and catcalling, and victim blaming, and gaslighting, and intimidating, and talking over us, and sexualizing our bodies from the minute we sprout the insinuations of breasts, and sex trafficking... we wouldn’t solve the tricky business of getting our periods. It is an immutable fact. (Now, this is a ciswoman rant, I realize. It is admittedly the privilege of being a biological female. Trans women lament the fact they will never have periods. They don’t get the opportunity to bear children. This must be like actual nails on a chalkboard and I am sorry.)

However, periods are whack.

The conversation in the SUV was sort of a wonderful acknowledgement and...conference of sorts. We shared period horror stories and the men were adult enough to not squeal in disgust. Instead, they feigned outrage at the middle school teasing we endured when we bled through our jeans during P.E class. But the truth is, they were probably the same idiots laughing at us those twenty years ago. We all were. We’ve all been taught to hide our tampons in our hands, bras, tiny pockets and pass them to each other like drug paraphernalia. Our periods exist in the cracks of society. Dirty pads are wrapped and wrapped with tissue paper until the blood doesn’t seep out. It’s wasteful. It’s also disrespectful to our uteruses...to each other, really. We’re all pretending for each other. (Do not leave a trace of it anywhere!) But wouldn’t we all be doing better if we stopped pretending?

Every time we hide our periods it’s playing into the farce that women do not actually bleed out of their sex parts. Granted we also deliver babies from our sex parts. But there is a third purpose of the sex part, and you guessed it - the PERIOD.

The more I’m thinking about it, we should put some g.d. respect on her name. Blood is the life force. It is a sacrament. Sometimes we don’t know how badly we wanted a period until all of a sudden one’s missing and we are flippin’ tf out.  At least, I am. And most of my friends are. But I guess some of my friends are in a place where raising a family is a thing you could do.

And yet, in spite of the glory of our biological endowment, she is a messy bitch. We cannot deny this fact. (This is the reputation she will never live down.) She has ruined sheets, towels, underwear, leggings, chairs, sofas, pillows, sleep-overs, dates, car rides, vacations, bathing suits, swims with friends, sex with a new guy, waxes, make-out sessions, sporting events, camping. Also, the smell of blood attracts bears, sharks. We are vulnerable to wild animals. We can be eaten because our vaginas are bleeding and we can’t make them stop! I’m basically two weeks away from getting eaten by a bear at any moment. And people wonder why I don’t camp?!?! FOH.

Also, to the point about the bears, she is a (and I hate to say this) smelly bitch. I know that that is so gross but in the spirit of honoring the thing we cannot change, let’s just put it on Front Street. Periods are stinky. Makes sense. The lining from your uterus has been straight up chillin’ in your vagina cave for weeks and weeks so when it drops down it don’t smell fresh. That’s just how it goes. We don’t get to scrub out our uteruses and give ‘em a deep clean in between oil changes. 1) Because that’d be fucking crazy. Have you ever gotten a pap smear? You ain’t opting for those babies more often than is absolutely necessary. And 2) You’d probably screw up the natural balance of your cycle and your pH and whatever else is going on in that mysterious little cabinet.

So what’s the conclusion? Do we stop hiding tampons? Yes. Do we free bleed through our white jeans? I guess if you want to, sure. (I think free bleeding is very, very dope but I ain’t got it like that because I don’t want huge blood stains on my crotch.) But in terms of an artistic expression and a fuck you to the system, almost nothing makes me happier.

So, honor your period. Don’t hide your period for the sake of men. They know we bleed. They’re ok talking about it. They’ll buy you tampons. If they don’t, they are trash and must be gotten rid of. Now that that’s settled, we, the women of the human race must stop telling men that we don’t poop.

#womens issues #periods #girls #body positive #body posi af

[honestsycrets]

Red Little Shoes III

Masterlist

Warnings

Smut

Dub!Con

Gif credits: bonniebirdsgifcentre

A few days later, your phone was trilling along the hard wood of your desk. It prattles against the desktop, reverberating and though you hadn’t flipped it over, you knew who it would be. Ivar wouldn’t be off until at least six in the evening which meant this was…

Sigurd Lothbrok.

You glared at the photo of him in the cutest of floral crowns, budding with white and gold flowers. Christ you thought, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t done like other women. Put a sassy, bitchy name on his contact or even delete the number that was burned into your brain.

Zzz, zzz…

The first call hung up. Less than ten minutes later, another began to trill. At least once a day, he began to bother you since your final recital. You didn’t blame Ivar. He faced pressure from all sides to supply Sigurd with him with a way back into his wife’s life. After all, the white stack of divorce papers sat there on your desk. They were still crisp as they were the first day you filled them out. But they were married to the white wood of your desk.

Zzz… zzz… zzz… You were so going to regret this.

“Hello?” You pluck up your phone, bringing the cherry red case to your ear.

“Can I come over?” His voice-- shuddering.

“You don’t even know where I live. We should keep it that way.” You mumble, finding he would grunt.

“Considering you’re having a baby with Ivar, it might be important.” He remarks. A side sweep of his tongue leaves you without words. He must have overheard. You release another long sigh with a nod of your head. Fine, you had said. You gave him the directions to your new rental home and when the knock of the door came, you found yourself cursing yourself for letting him know where you lived. You open the door and stand aside, forcing yourself to ignore his adorable crazy mop of hair that was cropped short to the side of his face. Before with his braids-- you had threatened him with a straightener. Even now, he just had the wild boy hair.  

“How did you find out?” You say as you close the door.

“I overheard.” He explains, dropping his briefcase of sheet music and other knick knacks on your posh wooden floor. “What are you thinking? There are millions of men out there. Ivar? He is crazy.”

You heard this song and dance before. You had been crazy this time, however, because you had taken his sperm.

“It has nothing to do with you anymore, Sigurd. I trust Ivar.” You lean against the cream coloured walls of your home, glaring at the persistent click of a silvery clock.

“He could never be a good father.” Sigurd snaps. All too suddenly, you snap too.

“Ivar actually wants to be a father. He is giving me a baby without conditions. I’ll allow him around. What did you ever have to offer me but lies?” You turn your hands up, leaning out towards him when Sigurd groans. Of course, he couldn’t escape this.

“That was not all of our relationship.” Sigurd’s arms fold one over another.

Maybe so. Maybe one of those very pictures of the day he proposed still sat on your coffee table, unable to tuck it away. Maybe you kept a summer solstice photo in your wallet as well, when he took you to celebrate with others who shared your common belief. But those days were done. It was easy to latch onto those things because they were without hard feelings.

“Who would you have give me children, Sigurd?” You supply, pushing off the wall. You pass through your foyer and through the living room to your kitchen. You would hold the island’s granite countertop as you look for wine.

“Someone that isn’t psychotic.” He supplies as you pour him a glass and hand it to him. “They have sperm banks.”

“A designer baby?” You laugh, bringing your own glass to your plump lips. “Ivar has everything I want. Beautiful blue eyes and a killer smile.”

Sigurd stands quiet, throwing his drink back down his throat quicker than he intended. You lean over the island in one of those cute white spaggheti strap tops-- but he quickly notices your bra is sunshine yellow today, distracting him somewhat off his rage.

“Eyes up here, snake eyes.” You snap at him.

Sigurd stops. “You look beautiful.” He murmurs.

“So now you’re here for sex, Sigurd?” You grumble, much more grouchily than your usual, he makes a note of. That makes you stop at least, shaking your head as you set down your drink with a sharp crack.

“It’s the ovulation inducers they had me on before they injected me. I feel like shit, I’m bloated and my tits hurt.” You grumble about a headache-- but he’s stopped listening. He knows Ivar’s seed is swimming in your uterus, but he doesn’t care.

“You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?” He remarks.

“Why?” You say with your hands finding your hips.

“It is like when you’re hungry-- you get to be a bitch.” He teases as gently as he can and despite your growl at him not to call you that, you know he’s right. You’ve been aching to go out and have sex. But the whole act of having to dress up, drink, find a man, seduce the man and not even know if he would be a good fuck?

Exhausting.

“Shut up Sigurd…” You mumble, pushing your drink away. Slowly, Sigurd treds around the table as if to innocently approach you. You know better, but you can’t convince yourself to move when his arms encircle your waist. You’ve felt disgusting for months and as his jeans scratch against a black little skirt from your long day out, you can’t deny the urge to lean back against him. His cock has swelled to life under those pesky slender jeans.

“I don’t think you really want me to. Aren’t you lonely?” Sigurd suggests in your ear. Sure, you could call Ivar and ask him to fuck you into your mattress. But you hadn’t-- and Sigurd thinks there is a reason for that when his hands cup your hips, grinding his cock against the shortness of your dress. You lean forward over the island, trying just so hard to will away the excitement that moistens your cunt. Sigurd melds his body over your back, muscles melding against yours. You shudder-- knowing that his mop of blonde hair is what is tickling your nape.

“I know you are.” He whispers, beginning yo pull away altogether when your hand shoots out to his wrist, yanking him back.

“Just once.” You murmur in a low whisper, as if Ivar could hear you. “Do you have a condom?”

“Of course I have a condom.” Sigurd leans back, unbuckling his pants and sliding his wallet out from his back pocket. There’s a shuffling of plastic behind you before Sigurd’s tip is pushing in, filling your wet walls full of his cock. The condom feels as bizarre as it usually does deep within you, but the affectionate kissing against your neck rivals the pleasure from his fingers sliding between your legs to rub along your lips as he presses himself in completely.

“Did you miss it?” He husks out in your ear, withdrawing his hips agonizingly slow. He would thrust back in forcefully, a sole thrust filling you up completely. It had only been a year, but it felt so long since he had stretched your walls on his cock and filled you whole like this. With no answer, Sigurd’s rocking hips still.

“Tell me or I’ll take it from you.” Sigurd hisses in your ears, beginning to pull out when you grasp his slender hand massaging your outer lips.

“Please don’t.” You say with cheeks hot in embarrassment. “Of course… I… I want it.” You murmur, gasping when he chuckles, driving himself in with a stutter of his hips.

“Then beg for it like you mean it!” Sigurd teases you with an achingly slow drive forward and back, enough to tease you into the true pleasure he could give you. Like no other man could, not even Ivar, you were sure. If he could, it would be his fat cock you would be bouncing on.

“Please, fuck me Sigurd!” You shriek with a swallow of the pride that said-- fuck Sigurd Lothbrok. Fuck him because you didn’t need him. But you did, fuck you needed him to pound you into a mess against this island and leave you used. “Please, please Sigurd please!”

Not sparing another second of those achingly slow thrusts, Sigurd forced himself deep within your body, ramming thrust after thrust in just the right way. Your body felt hot with embarassment, knowing that just a few hours ago you were injected with Ivar’s spunk, and here you were, gripping and milking Sigurd’s cock. You couldn’t tell Ivar. You could only imagine how he might throw his hands up in irritation and--

“You don’t think of anyone else.” Sigurd shoved your neck forward to the granite tabletop. Your cheek would rub rawly against the granite. His hand shifted around to your front, finding your clit like a map that was cemented in his memory. He curled his fingers against it how he knew you liked and in seconds, you were a moaning mess. Your body ached to take more of his thrusts, but there was only so much you could take.

“Mmmm, Sigurd!” Thoughts whizzing, cunt pulsing Sigurd found your weakness when he gasped out your name in return into your ear in husky puffs. Sigurd’s eyebrows forced together when he felt it. Your velvety walls contracting around him as if they were tugging him off in completion. He knows that you’ve hit that peak-- if not from that, your wonderful screams that finish him off completely. His hips buckle, seed spilling into the condom that gripped him so tightly. Sigurd pants above you, forcing air into his lungs as he slows down a few remaining thrusts then pulls out altogether. Liquid remorse spills through you as you catch your breath feeling almost dirty-- sticky. Almost as if something was seeping out. Impossible, because Sigurd wouldn’t and you’ve never had a man do that to you anyway. He didn’t want babies.. The only other explanation was how much lube he must have used.

“Too much lube or… maybe its me, Sigurd. I’m going to go shower, you can text me.” You murmur while he tucks himself away, the condom disposed in the trash. He walks back to the foyer, picking up his bag. You hold the door open for him this time, and as he gives you a kiss to the cheek, you notice a trace smile beaming on his lips.

Of course, you chalk it up to being laid… but Sigurd knows far better than that.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @ateliefloresdaprimavera, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @concretewaywardangel, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @kirah34, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns  @float-autumn-leave, @huntingbears, @lisinfleur, @AzmentineDaWinters, @looneytunes20033,  @jtrstp, @rabeccablake,

#Sigurd #sigurd ragnarsson #sigurd snake in the eye #vikings sigurd #vikings #vikings/reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagines #viking imagine #Vikings imagine #sigurd snake in the eye ragnarsson #vikings sigurd snake in the eye #honestsycrets

[wyldwon]

For about 8 years, I have had a dull aching pain that got worse every menstrual cycle. The end of August, 2020, I repaired a torn abdominal wall by getting an umbilical hernia repair with mesh implant. I was rushed to the hospital and experienced a hyperventilated induced muscle atrophe effect in my hands. I was in excruciating pain. Sharp jabbing pains, nausea, fatigue etc continued post-op until I just had surgery 7/6/2021 to remove my uterus (you served me very well but then you tried to kill me after I put metal in you - sorry - but you had to go) and they removed 9 mesh screws that had adhesions and were stabbing my ribs and hips at muscle attachment sites. Needless to say, when I got to Spokane I was not worth dick. I got rid of 40% of mine and the kids stuff FOR THE FOURTH TIME and I am now in my 30s. The remainder of our belongs were split in half. 1 half stayed in AZ and the other came with us. We moved start of winter, so did not need half of our stuff. In pain and having just moved 2 times before this 3rd time in the span of 3 months kicked mine and the kids' asses. For 8-9 months - since arriving - I experinced more pain and nausea post surgery, had altitude and climate change sickness, and seasonal depression. It was not until these dual surgeries that I felt up to finishing unpacking and putting our temporary house together. This has meant a lot of really late or sleepless nights, because I am recovering and cannot work and wildlife is trying to get in!! Not to mention I now have a tremendous amount of energy from removing pain. Anxiety has been kicking in feeling like Dejavu from the guy I dated who accidentally moved in with a girl he met at the job I helped him get. Thinking he lived with an old military guy and lived in an unsafe part of town I was complacent with drive-bys but felt really alone after the second half of our 1 year relationship. For 9 months, I faithfully waited for counseling and help with his Army PTSDs. I was told we would buy a house together, he had taken my daughter to look at wedding rings for me... Just an absolute mess that got worse when he got the girl pregnant. My poor friends dating in their 30s. I have been through the ringer. Had one live under my roof when I was newly divorced and had just become a single mother at 20. He ate my food, drove my car, let me cook, clean and wash his clothes. Then had the audacity to call me a government leech, because my exhusband was not paying child support AND was not spending time with his kids. Then he drove my car right over to to another female's, cheated, broke my stuff etc. Needless to say I'm serious when I say I can't handle that shit again. Life is way too fucking short to date someone who lies, talks to other people romantically, waits for you to leave the house you pay for, for them just to fuck somebody else. No one wants to navigate this world the way it is now even. Who wants to come home to a lazy, cheating, miserable, no good fuck? Then you have no safe space. There are SO MANY dating apps, social media platforms etc. Where we can communicate and form new relationships etc. Life is just way too short for people who play games. There are people out there who will appreciate your flaws, because let's be real, we are ALL flawed in some way or another. It comes down to whose flaws fit into your life, free will, and personal goals you have. Put down the woman who only learned how to fuck and pick up the ones working their tales off to make a better life and know how to fuck as well. Meeting someone truly special is rare, so hold onto it when you can. It could mean the difference between building an amazing life with someone or just having a lazy fuck on your couch bitching at you, talking shit about your capabilities while you work your ass off and to top it off they probably fuck the other unemployed non-go getter who gave their insecure asses more attention than you while you were busy working to hold down the fort. What quality of life do you have? What kind do you want? And if you are seeking to share your life with anoth

[hopingforbabyblog]

The beginning of this week was really difficult for me. I had my surgery to remove some scar tissue from my uterus. Both my local doctor and my doctor in Seattle require my uterus be clear of all scar tissue before I can proceed with my FET in April. I’m hoping this will be the last surgery I need until then. I felt some really low lows this week, but I’m happy to say at least this week ended well.

Catch-up on Previous FET Prep Posts

FET Prep Week 1: 3.5 months until FET

FET Prep Week 2: Supplements, WTF Email, & Increased AMH Level

FET Prep Week 3: You say Future Tripping, I say Future Planning

FET Prep Week 4: Bad News from SIS Test

Countdown Until FET: 81 days (as of 02-03-2020)

Follow us on Instagram and Facebook for photos of our trip to Nevada and my other FET Prep photos. 

  Hysteroscopy Surgery

Bored Julie takes selfies before surgery. That teal hairnet though!

On Monday I had my hysteroscopy surgery, to clear the scar tissue from my uterus. My most recent miscarriage in September resulted in this third surgery. Three subsequent surgeries for only one miscarriage, and that doesn’t even count all the other surgeries I had before those three. When I woke up from surgery I remember saying to the nurse how painful it was, and it was more painful than the other ones. They gave me some oral pain medicine after the surgery but it didn’t kick in until I got home. Normally with my other surgeries I request hydrocodone, but this one I chose not to. My doctor said Ibuprofen should be good enough. 

Waiting for surgery in my snazzy surgery socks. 

I went to work the next day and did some physical work cleaning. But after one hour of cleaning I started to feel really wiped out and was hurting, I think I overdid it. Normally after my surgeries I take time off work, but I decided not to this time because with my SIS procedure and now this hysteroscopy, among other bills I just could not justify not working. I absolutely had to continue working to pay all the bills coming my way. I also had to clean up the house a bit before we left on vacation, and pack. I did a whole lot of bitching and crying this week from the intermittent pain. 

Kitty watches The Bachelor with me while I rest after surgery.

Kitty cuddles post-surgery.

I called my doctor’s office Thursday to ask for some hydrocodone but my doctor was out for the weekend. I could not get the medicine at all due to me needing to leave on Friday. I learned that narcotics can’t be called in to a pharmacy due to needing the paper copy to be brought in-person. So right now I only have ibuprofen to help with the occasional pain.

Kitty cheering me up after my surgery.

  Depression

I’ve been dealing with a low-grade depression since September, when I had my most recent miscarriage. But with this surgery I had this week and all of the stress that comes with this process, my depression really reared its ugly head. I haven’t felt that deep of a depression in almost a decade. I think it was just an accumulation of all the miscarriages, fertility treatments, and the large amount of debt that accumulated so quickly this previous week. 

I was stressed, angry, and not getting enough sleep. I was working every day of the week after my surgery, despite the pain. I was feeling so incredibly overwhelmed and really feeling like there was very little hope of pulling myself out of it. As much as I wanted to lie in bed for the next month, I decided to do the exact opposite of how I was feeling. I pulled myself out of bed and slowly got started cleaning. I cleaned the house during the hours that my ibuprofen was working the most. I made some progress and took a step back to look at the progress. It felt pretty good to get at least something accomplished even though I felt like garbage. That was the first little glimmer of hope I had.

My to-do list was still long but I was determined to knock out one thing at a time. One-by-one I completed most of the things on my list that I wanted to do before my trip. Instead of forcing myself to get everything done, I chose to put off certain things that could wait until later. I think for anyone that is feeling overwhelmed or depressed, start with one simple task. Then prioritize just a few other tasks. Don’t worry about doing it all, because if you don’t set realistic expectations you’re just setting yourself up for failure. In the end I was able to do about 90% of what I needed to before the trip, not too shabby. 

I also got the call back from my doctors office and my nurse explained to me that they found out it was simply scar tissue and not uterine cancer. I immediately felt a huge wave of relief. This is the second time they were concerned about me developing uterine cancer and I have gotten the all clear. I’m feeling very lucky and grateful right now.

  Trip to Nevada

I had a true turnaround with how my week was going. I went from feeling so depressed at the beginning of the week, to feeling so happy and centered by the end of the week. The timing of my trip could not have been any better. As soon as my butt was in the seat of that plane I breathed a sigh of relief. My only regret with planning this trip is I wish I would have planned it for about two or three weeks earlier, due to the weather we were experiencing in Alaska. 

January is notorious for being the worst month to live in Alaska. It’s one of the darkest and coldest times of year. We had a cold snap where it was -10 to -18 at times. Although December is the darkest month, with winter solstice having about 5.5 hours of sunlight, at least there are the  holiday festivities and it is not quite as cold. In addition to my good old fashioned depression, I might have some Seasonal Affective Disorder as well. As soon as I felt the Nevada sun warming my pale arms from the window of my plane, I felt like I was starting to come back to life. 

During our hike in Tecopa, California I found these stacked rocks. 

We are visiting Kurtis’ mom and step-dad in Pahrump, just outside of Las Vegas. We’ll be staying in Las Vegas near the end of our trip. Saturday we drove out to Tecopa, California, which is not that long of a drive from Pahrump. We visited a farm where they grow dates out in the middle of the desert. Kurtis and I hiked a trail right next to the date farm. It was out in the desert, surrounded by mountains and ancient riverbeds. I have always loved the desert. I feel like I am on Mars, it’s so drastically different from Alaska. I don’t think I’d last a second out here though if it was in the middle of the summer. But it was a comfortable 70 degrees on our hike, the perfect temperature I think. 

On our hike in the desert of California, near the Nevada border.

We finished up the week with Super Bowl Sunday. Kurtis & I are fans of the 49ers so it was a big deal that our team made it to the Super Bowl. Even though our team lost, it was still fun to watch. We wore our 49ers shirts and watched the game with his mom and her friends. Kurtis is a die-hard fan. He will yell and scream with excitement for every touchdown, field goal, and any gain of yardage. When his mom’s friends left a little before the end of the game Kurtis said to me, “I hope I didn’t scare them away with my yelling,” I just laughed and said “You probably did.” Back home he would watch the games every Sunday, Monday and Thursday and be yelling at his players, the other team, and the ref’s. Even when I wear my noise-cancelling headphones I can still hear him whooping and hollering. I’m not sure if they actually make noise-cancelling headphones that truly block out all the noises of a superfan. A week or so before the Superbowl I showed Kurtis some YouTube videos of sports fans losing their s**t. I told him, “I’m happy you aren’t like those crazy guys.” We thought those videos were hilarious and we had full-on belly laughs with tears watching these. Amazingly there is a treasure trove of many videos of fans going ballistic, I highly recommend checking those out if you need a good laugh.

Kurtis & I before the big game.

Mini Victories for the Week

I did not take any time off from work after my surgery. Gotta pay those bills!

I went from being emotionally overwhelmed, to feeling a lot better by the end of the week.

Got out hiking in the sun.

Chose not to have alcohol at all this week so I can stay on track with my FET prep.

Keeping up with most of my supplements.

  Work in Progress

I’ve been a little lax with how I’ve been eating this week. I’ll allow some wiggle room with how I’m eating, so as not to stress myself out while I’m on vacation.

Opt for veggies as much as possible while on vacation, including salads, and veggie side dishes. 

  This post may contain affiliate links. You can read the disclosure here. 

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PRL (Prolactin)

T (Testosterone)

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  FET Prep Week 5: Surgery, Depression & Trip to Nevada The beginning of this week was really difficult for me. I had my surgery to remove some scar tissue from my uterus.

[itsmatina864-blog]

The Baby 6

Nicole

This was our first visit to the doctor for IVF and I was so excited about it, Waverly had to all but sit in my lap to keep me from bouncing around.

“Waverly Haught?” The nurse called

We stood in made our way back to the room where they took her weight blood asked her questions and Had her slip into a paper gown for her to get her exam. I sat in the chair. next to the table and held Waverly’s hand.

“Why can’t we just do like we did before?”

“We can’t have babies popping up out of nowhere.” I say kissing her hand

“I’m a little scared.”

“It’s ok baby we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” I say

“No I do want to do it I’m just scared that I may not be able to take a baby of that I wouldn’t make a good mom.”

“Waverly have you not been watching yourself for the last almost 7 months? Brit Loves you you have her on the right track to becoming a great kid and all around great person. Your body will be the perfect place to have a baby and you will have beautiful babies.” I say.

“We will you still have to have your appointment next. Waverly said.

I rubbed my stomach wishing that I had ate before leaving the house, I was just too excited to think about doing any other then what we was doing at this moment. I was about to say we should go out for Lunch when there was a knock at the door.

“Hello ladies how are we doing today?” The doctor said walking in and taking a seat.

She had to be in her late 40’s  hair starting to gray at the temples.

“I’m Dr.Anna Lincoln and I see that you two are starting the IVF process.” She says putting the file down on the little table.

“I’m Waverly Haught and this is my wife Nicole Haught.” Waverly said shaking her hand.

She shook my hand.

“Ok will first things first the blood work came back good you’re at a healthy weight, the only thing we have to do right now is take a look at your uterus.” she said

I watched as she pulled out her things ready and she asked Waverly to lay back on the bed.

After a few test it was my turn and Dr. Lincoln left the room so I could change. 30 minutes later and last of prenatal vitamins later we was out the door with instructions on what to do next.

“So how about we stop and get something to eat before I have to drop you at home?” I ask.

“That sounds good what time do you get off to night?”

“I won't be home until 7 tomorrow but I will call you tonight and text when I can.” I say as we made our way to a local diner to get us something to eat.

I was already in uniform all I needed to do was pick up Shadow Walker and my dinner bag. Lunch was enough to keep me full for most the night So I spent the next 10 minutes kissing on Waverly at the front door.

“You’re going to be late stop.” She laughs.

“We do this almost everyday and I’m not late.”I say into the kiss.

I pulled back and smiled at her before making my way to the County issued SUV and let Shadow into the back.

________________________________________________________

I was hanging out around one of the larger neighborhoods where there big Ballers of Vegas stay when they still want that neighborhood feeling away from the lights and the city. I looked at my watch and let out a sigh. Only 2 am.and nothing has gone down that's not a bad thing at all its very good. But in Purgatory of all places taught me that if it was unearthly quiet then something is going to happen at some point.

A red honda and a marked car flew past me.

“That’s not it what’s bugging me but I will take it.”

I went to change gears.

“All available units report to the Piedmont Union Bank on Lewis.”

I changed direction and headed to the bank the closer I got The more Shadow started to bark as if she knew  something was going on.

I got there and jumped out and ran up to my Sargent.

“Nicolie I need you to take your dog west the suspects was last seen on foot heading west on Lewis.” He said

I ran over the the SUV and and opened the door and pulled Shadow out and we started to run west she pulled me sniffing along the way. I was pulled to a stop and Shadow started to bark at a car I pulled my gun.

“Come out with your hands up!” I yelled and backed away from the car

He jumped out the trunk and ran.

“Get em Shadow!”

I let her go and she took off  with him shooting behind him.

‘Son of a bitch!” I yell when I was hit in the arm.

“Get em off get em off!”

I ran up and put my knee in his back.

“Let go Shadow…..Done move!” I yelled my gone pointed at him

I could hear the sound of feet thundering to me.

“We got him Nicole get that dog on a leash.” Becks said.

I stood and clipped the leash on Shadow and we started to make our way back to the  bank.

“Haught you did a good job, I need you to reel out a report but you and Shadow did a great job.” Sargent said walking over to the EMS where I was having my arm wrapped.

“It was just a graze but it was deep enough to need a wrap but not deep enough for stitches.

“Yes mama.” I say

She gave me a pat on the back and walked off then turned back around.

“Take the next few days off I don’t want to see you until Monday.” She said then walked off.

I got up and made my way over to the SUV and got in I looked over at my phone to see that I had a text from Waverly. Picking it up I opened the text .

‘I hate when you work the night shift I can never sleep.’

I smiled and put the SUV in drive and made my way back to the station where I filled out my report and turned it in before I left to make my way home. It was after five at this time and I wondered where the time went. Turning into our Neighborhood I let out a sigh I wasn’t do back until Monday morning that gave me enough time to calm Waverly down.

“She is going to hit the roof.” I say to Shadow.

I pulled up just as Wynonna was coming out the house.

“What are you doing home?” She asked

“Some asshole thought it would be nice to shoot and run at the same time. It grazed me and the Sergeant wants me to take a few days off.” I say

“You got shot? Waverly is going to have a fit.” She said opening her jeep door.

“I have to go or I’ll be late.” She ways.

I opened the door to let shadow out and went around to get my bag out the back before locking up and heading for the house. I put my key in the door and open the door to see the kitchen light on.

“Waverly?” I called

She came out the kitchen and ran up to me.

“Oh my god you came home I just turned on the tv and saw that there was a robbery and  that a cop was shot and I just……”

I just kissed her and smiled at her.

“Waverly it was just a graze I’m fine I got the guy trying to hide in the trunk of his car, he tried to run and shoot  and it grazed me, I’m fine it’s all fine.” I say putting my things down.

I bent down and took off Shadow’s vest and she gave a shake I stood back up as she looked at my arm.

“All this makes me wish for a normal life in Purgatory, the most we’d have to worry about  is Tommy Luks getting drunk and yelling at the cows in Mr. Clovers fields.” Waverly said.

She ran her fingers softly over the bandage then up my arm to around my neck. I smiled at her and pulled her to me and kissed her head.

“IS that you want, a small town life?”I ask closing the door.

“It doesn’t matter what I want we have Brit and the other babies to worry about. There are things that are better for them in the city small towns are great and I’d love to have a place to vacation to. But being locked in a small town all your life doesn’t help when you go off to start your life.”

Something in her eyes made me worry.

“Waverly what’s wrong?” I asked.

“I went out because I needed to get potatoes for dinner and Everything was fine but when I got us into the store I just started to have trouble breathing everything started to close in on me. I was all sweaty and shaky and thank god for a nearby mom she sent her son to get me some water and she talked me down. She said she knew that small town look on my face because she use to have it. She gave me the name and number of a great therapist that can help me.” She said.

“This has happen before?” I ask

“Yeah when I’m alone and have to go to big places, it has never happened when I had Brit with but this time I was just terrified and I can’t do that I can’t be afraid to go out alone of with Brit……”

“Shhh ok we will go see the therapist and put everything on hold.”

“No I want to Stay on track with the baby.”

“Waverly the stress can make it worst.”

“No I’m not stopping my plans because of this  I can’t do to me or you.” She said

I gave a nod and sat down pulling her with me.

“Whatever you feel is best for you that's what we will do.” I say pulling her deeper into me.

_____________________________________________________

Waverly

She was just so amazing and strong and all the lovey dovey things you could come up with that was Nicole. Like now it was after 8 and she was fast to sleep with Calamity Jane and the kittens sleeping on her thighs and stomach. Shadow was following me through the house  as I cleaned up and started laundry. Brit was in her chair watching baby’s first opera or something like that.

It was on the baby’s first channel and she was enjoying it.

I rubbed my stomach and looked at Nicole soon her baby would be in my womb and we will be a growing little family.

“Oh that thought was a little on the stalker side.” I say then moved on.  

“Trust me I wouldn’t mind you stalking me.” Nicole said her brown eyes on me.

“Don’t say that too loud Luke will make me out to be a golddigger if he hears us say that.” I say

“I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry I’m just bitchy since yesterday.”

“It’s ok I’m not worried about that as long as I get my Waverly kisses I’m happy.” She say sitting up.

The kittens jumped down all but the one I liked to call Nico short for Nicole. The kittens fur matched Nicole’s hair perfect and her eyes was a deep green  the way nicole says she wished her eyes was.

The two was best friends Nico would climb up to Nicole’s shoulders and wrap herself around the and lay there as Nicole went about her housework. Now they was on there way to….

“I’m going to shower then I’m going to play with my favorite little girl.” She said stopping by me and kissing me.

“You know tonight I was thinking that I lay you out on the bed and lick every inch of that wonderful pussy.” She growled pulling me to her.

“You do know how to make  girls wet.” I say kissing her.

“Nope just you you’re the only one I care to make wet.”She said running her hand up and down my arm.

She gave me one other kiss before leaving the room, I walked over and picked up Brit

“Don’t look at me like that Britney Earp Haught when you turn 35 you will meet a person that will make you complete mush like your Mama does me.” I say smiling at her

_________________________________________________________________

The day was quiet very very quiet and it was like the type of quiet Purgatory had just before a week of complete hell happened. I find myself looking out the window of the doctor’s office I was lucky she had an opening today so I didn’t have to wait two week to see her.

“Waverly?” She called

“I don’t know I’m just not use to all this back in Purgatory when shorty’s closed that was it nothing else was going on the only thing that was open was the Police Fire and Rescue and the hospital. Things shut down it was quiet.” I say

“And now?”

“Now it’s always something people always moving around lights large masses of people everywhere you turn.”

“And you miss the small town life.”

“More than I thought I ever would, I have always wanted to see these cities of the world learn all about then and see new things. But it never bothered me because I could always go back, back to the Homestead and the wide open fields and the little old ladies that always would stop buy on sundays to drop off fresh baked cookies and the weekly chatter of the knitting club.”

“You want to go back?”

“Well I can’t since my hometown turned into Canada’s largest lake.” I say.

“Yes I heard about that I am so sorry.” Dr. Gadot said.

I gave a shrug and looked back out the window.

“Nicole is willing to give up everything to find a nice little town for us to live in just to make me feel better. She can’t stand to see me unhappy or in pain but I can’t let her do that because it wouldn’t be right, it’s time for me to make sacrifices for her.” I say

I wasn’t sad or upset I was just having a hard time controlling my fear that something was out there.

“What are you afraid of Waverly.” I wanted to say revenants but they couldn’t survive outside the ghost river triangle even now.

“I don’t know maybe I’m scared that Nicole may not come home or someone would try and take Brit. But with all that is scaring me I want more kids I want a big family I want 3 or 4 kids with Nicole. I never thought about that with Champ or any other my boyfriends.”

“Do you miss Champ?”

“God no!”

“You said that without thought what are you hiding?”

“Do I have to be hiding something because I don’t Miss someone.”I say.

“You have been With him for many years there should be some kind of love there.”

I was quiet for a moment.

“Yes you’re right there should be but there isn’t Champ was abusive in his way. He had a way of guilting you into doing what he wanted to do. There was a few times he got physical with me scared me a lot about working when he didn’t want me too or not being home on time but that’s my fault I stayed.”

“Waverly it is never your fault. No one really understands what really makes the brain work the way it does but fear will make you do a lot of things.”

“I didn’t feel that fear when I meant Nicole she made makes me feel safe and loved and all the amazing things that I have never felt before and it just gets better each day.” I say.

“Have you thought about going out on your own without Nicole?”

I looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

“No why would I leave something that is the best thing I have or will ever have.” I say.

“Waverly you need to know how to be on your own you was with Champ for so many years and you went from Champ to Nicole without having that alone time, it may be for the best.”

I shook my head.

“ I’m not leaving my Wife for nothing so if that’s part of your treatment plan than you better look for another way.” I say

Dr. Gadot let out a sigh.

“I’m not doing it I can learn to do things on my own but leaving my wife not going to happen.” I say.

“Ok well if that’s out the picture I want you to go somewhere new alone everyday or every other day. I will give you something for anxiety but you have to do things on your own. As you start to feel more at ease start taking Brit with you. They have great classes at the local colleges.” She said

I liked school that sound like a great plan.

“I will look into that, I have always done great in school.” I say

She made some notes and the pulled out her card and wrote down on it.

“Here is something for anxiety and here is your next appointment. I want to see you back here next month with an update on how things are going with school if you have signed up or started classes.” She said handing me the papers.

I stood and took them from her and said my goodbyes and headed out to the lobby. I watched Nicole play with Brit and read her a book, how this woman would even think about asking me to leave my family I will never know.

“ Hey how’d it go?” She asked putting Brit in her car seat.

“She wanted me to more or less get my own place and live away from you for a while.” I say as we left.

Nicole gave me a sad look.

“I said no, so she came up with the idea that I should go take classes at the college. That’s a much better idea.

“Yeah well you don’t have to I mean I understand I wouldn’t go anywhere I’m always yours Waverly.

“Do you think I should?” I asked as Nicole closed the back SUV door.

“Waverly I don't ever want you to miss out on anything because of me, If living on your own will help you better then you should do it, I’m not going to stop coming home to you and I’m not going to stop calling you my wife. Will I be sad yes because people  will see that as a feeding fest to go after you and that is enough to make me act like a rampaging dragon. I don’t want to be apart from you we spent enough time apart.” She said opening the driver’s door for me and putting the keys in my hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked

“This is something that you need to think about on you own I can’t be around while you do that I don’t to influence you in anyway, I will take a cab home you go out and spend some time with Brit  have lunch do some thinking.” She said kissing my lips softly.

I watched her walk away from the SUV on the do was shut and I felt the very unfamiliar familiar feeling in my chest as I watched her walk away.

I took a few deep breaths and started the SUV and just started to aimlessly drive around  thinking about what what was on the table.I was out here for 2 hours and the only thing that kept coming to mind was if I had to see Nicole walk away from me and have no contact with her the way Dr. Gadot wants I just couldn’t do that.

We made it home around sunset to see Vanessa and Wynonna unloading her jeep, I had forgotten that it was Wynonna’s day to buy groceries.

“Hey where you been?” Wynonna asked

I told her about my appointment and what was said and asked.

“ Well that sounds like  NIcole, She has always put others well being before her own.” Vanessa said holding Brit.

“No wonder she has been sitting alone on the back porch, poor Haught shot thinks you're going to leave.” Wynonna said.

“I can’t I know Dr. Gadot is going to try and talk me into it but I just can.” I say

I make my way into and through the house too the back porch where Nicole sat looking at nothing.

“Nicole I can't I can't live without you I can go through with that separation.” I say  as she stood.

“Waverly…..”

“No this isn't changing I will go to school I will do what I have to do but I will not leave you and Have no communication with you for however long she thinks is best.” I say  walking to her.

She pulled me into her and wrapped strong arms around me and I just melted into her and breathing her in.

“I could never give you up, I will do anything you want me to do but I could never give you up.” She says.

“You don’t have to do that ever.” I say into her chest.

_______________________________________________________________________

It was movie night and we let Wynonna pick the movie and she picked Gone With The Wind so the four of us settled in for the night to watch the movie. I looked over at Wynonna in the dark to see her with her face in Vanessa’s hair, I didn’t think I would see her this happy after Doc. She didn’t want to admit it but she loved that man more then she would say.

But to see her with Vanessa now and how she was so willing to openly show how she felt about the redhead that made me happy for her.

I curled into Nicole’s side and she wrapped her arm around me and kissed my head she was the love of my life and It was the little moments like these that made me feel it so much more.

“Waverly let’s go to bed.” I heard Nicole whisper

I felt my body being lifted and my arms went around her neck and she kissed my head. I felt the soft mattress under me and I let go and rolled on my side. I opened my eyes to watch her move about the room changing her clothes and petting the cats. She turned off the bedside light and climbed into bed.

“Come on.” She said holding open her arms and I climbed into her arms and put my face in her neck.

I stayed in her arms all night not once moving until the next morning when Nico jumped on the bed and started to purr in my face and lick my nose.I opened my eyes to see all the cats laying around the bed Jane seemed happy to be happy laying on Nicole’s hip.

“Every time I move she digs her nails in.” Nicole says with her eyes closed.

I sat up and picked Jane up and hugged her to me Nicoles phone rung and we sighed it was the ring tone for her job.

“Hello?”

I put jane down and I went to get up.

“On my way.” She said getting up and tossing the phone on the bed.

“You know they said I was off til Monday and now they want to call me. They really need to get more K9 units.” she said dressing and brushing her teeth.

I shook my head and started the shower she came back in the bathroom dressed in her uniform and she pulled me into a kiss.

“I will be home as soon as I can.” she says

“Don’t get hurt or kill anyone.” I say.

“I will try not to I promise.” She said as I followed her to the front door.

“Shadow work time.” She said and Shadow got up and walked over and at.

I watched as she clipped the vest on Shadow and stood and didn’t move for a long moment.

“Baby something is going to happen today and all I need you to do is say you trust what I’m about to do.”

“I do whats wrong?” I asked

“ I don’t have the time to go into what I just saw but just trust me ok.” She said kissing me.

“I got you stay safe.” I say.

The two walked out the door and and wrapped my arms around myself pictures started to flash across my mind and I just felt a shiver go down my spine.

“Please be careful Nicole.” I whisper

I look at the clock to see I have 15 minutes before Brit wakes up so I should get in the shower and ready for the day.I went to shower and dress and went to wake Brit for the morning.

“Hey cute little girl.” I said as she rolled over and sat up it her crib

Her eyes flashed a gold color the the blue turned gray. She wasn’t frowning or crying she just didn’t look happy in her eyes.

“You can’t make it rain or storm Mama is out there working.” I say picking her up.

“Baby girl is Brit ok I was just coming back from getting milk and the clouds just rolled in along with the breeze.” Wynonna asked walking into the room.

“She’s fine for now but she knows something that she can’t tell us. Nicole was the same way before she left this morning.” I say standing Brit up to look at her.

“Where she go anyway?”

“Work called her in.” I say  

I took Brit to the living room where her walker was and I sat her in it and she started to zoom around the room following me and Wynonna into the kitchen. I was in the middle of cooking when the doorbell sounded.

“I’m not getting that She already hates me and I’m not going to deal with that.” Wynonna said pushing me out the way and taking over my cooking. I looked around the corner to see Maeve at the door.

I walked up to the door and opened it.

“Maeve how have you been?”

She looked down at her hands then back at me.

“I was wondering if I could visit with Brit.” She said

I stepped aside to let her in I was very aware of why she hadn’t been over That was the reason Wynonna and Nicole went on a bender weeks ago.

“Maeve I will never stop you from seeing Brit but she is eating with Wynonna right now and I know you have it out for my sister.”

“Luke…”

“He can take a Piss.” I say angrily

The whole Haught clan has been treating Wynonna like shit and I wasn’t going to stand for it anymore.

“He lied and you knew it was a lie the moment it came from his mouth but you feed into it for whatever reason and now they all treat her like she is the one that busted up the margie when in fact it was him staying long nights in Vegas with that woman he is shacked up with now. But I’m not going to spend this time telling you what you already know…….”

“It’s not ok for Vanessa ok, Nicole she’s not mine but Vanessa is mine she can’t be gay.” Maeve said.

“What?”

“Nicole was the outcome of her father's infidelity I was just weeks after I had Mark and Matt that I learned that he had cheated on me, the kids was all so young they didn’t notice the timing. That woman gave birth right around the time I would have if Nicole was mine. I kept on a lot of the baby weight from Mark and Matt people swore I was pregnant so I ment with Lewis and that woman the night she gave birth and I told him I would not give him a divorce and she wasn’t allowed in our home. I talked her into letting us rase Nicole and in return I gave her what I had in my savings. She didn’t want it claimed she didn’t need it that she was well off that we could take the baby because her family would kill her if the found out that she had a baby out of wedlock with a man less than half her standing. That is the first time I saw anything anyone had said hurt Lewis that’s how I knew he loved her more than me.”

I tired to keep my words in but they just came flooding out.

“So you’re saying  you’re saying that because Nicole isn’t your child you don’t care what she does but because Vanessa is yours you have to a prove of everything.” I say

I knew the answer and my blood started to boil.

“You have to understand that Nicole was never going to be my child haven’t you notice other than the red hair she looks nothing like us, From a baby she pulled away when I pulled she was just  just  so like that damn woman! So I never cared what she did she never got hurt  alway running about into things talking about all the things she felt like she should be doing at some point I never approved of it but she never cared she still doesn’t now.” She said.

“So you don’t approve of me and Nicole being together?”

“No it’s a sin it’s wrong.” She said.

“And since Vanessa is you child she couldn’t possibly be gay you taught her all the right things.” I say

“Vanessa isn’t like Nicole she’s a good girl she knows that you just don’t do that you just don’t sleep with women you don’t have kids with them you don’t do this!” Maeve yelled then put her hands over her mouth.

It was quiet for a moment.

“I think you should leave.” I say going for the door.

“Waverly I’m sorry it came out all wrong it’s just that……”

“Leave Maeve you have said enough.” I say

She walked over to me and started to reach out to me but I pulled away. She dropped her hand and walked out the door. I closed it after her and stood for a moment thinking about what I should do. This was something Nicole Needed to know going into the room I picked up my phone and called her.

“Hey Waves I can’t talk.”

“Um I know but just before you come home have a long private talk with Lewis Ask him about your mom.” I say

“What’s wrong with mom?” she asked

“Nothing is wrong with Maeve just trust me when I tell you to ask him about your mom.”

It was quiet and I could hear the helicopters and other people running around.

“OK I will as long as you tell me what the hell you’re so cryptic about.”

“I will I promise….. I love you so much Nicole.”

“I love you too I have to go love yo..”

The line was cut off and I didn’t think anything much of it other then it bothered me that it happened. I put my phone in my pocket and went back into the kitchen

“Babygirl I’m sorry.” Wynonna said

“Some people are the same in the big city as they are in small towns.” I say running my hands through Brits hair.

“That’s true.”

“ I think I’m going to talk to Nicole about moving away somewhere away from here. I understand that you’re with Vanessa so I’m not going to ask you to come.” I say making me a plate to eat.

I started to eat but my stomach was just not having any of it.

“You ok Baby Girl?” Wynonna asked looking at me.

“No my stomach hurts really bad, You think you can watch Britt I’m going to lay down.” I say standing.

“Sure Everything is fine here go relax.” She said.

I went into the room and laid back down I rolled from one side of the bed to the other trying to find a position that would make the pain less or go away all together.At some point I fell to sleep because Wynonna shook me awake.

“What whats wrong?” I asked pushing my hair out my face.

“Nicole Is in the hospital they are waiting for you.” She said

I jumped up and ran out into the room to see two Men  in uniform standing in the living room.

“Waverly the Sergeant sent us to get you, Your Wife was ……”

“Don’t just take me to her.”  I say grabbing my bag.

I looked back at Wynonna

“I’m coming I’m coming just go I will be there.” She said

The ride was faster than it would have gone if I would have drove myself but It felt like the longest ride of my life. When we got there I was taken in and to the Doctor.

“You Mrs. Haught?” She asked

“Yes.”

“I’m Dr. Fuza.”

I shook my head.

“Nicole suffered multiple lacerations across her body but took a the largest Laceration is located on her upper right thigh causing her to lose a lot of blood. Her file says her blood type is AB…”

“I’m O negative that makes me universal take my blood.” I say looking at her.

“We can do that but she has lost a lot of blood and we are running low on blood types do you know if her mother father or siblings can donate?” Dr Fuza asked

“Um her father Lewis Haught he maybe a match I don’t know her biological mother.” I could care less about Maeve and what she felt now was about Nicole let them fight it out later.

“ Well if you will come with me we can let you see her and then get your blood.” Dr. Fuza said.

I followed her upstairs to where I opped to have them take my blood first before seeing her because the second I see her I know I’m not going to want to leave her side.

“Oh Nicole.” I whisper when the doctor left me at the door.

I walked into the room and put my things down before sitting in the chair and taking her hand. She was warm but pale I ran my fingers through her hair, I let my fingers glide over her cheek until my hand was cupping her cheek. I felt hot tears fall from my eyes and I took in a shaky breath.

“Oh Nicole I told you not to get hurt but I guess that’s a lot to ask someone who was born to save people.” I say

“She was always saving people.”

I didn’t know the voice and I turned to see who it was talking. There in the door stood a woman Maeve’s age dressed in a black dress blue eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry to interrupt I’m Meghan Richerson, Nicole’s Mo…. I’ve Known Nicole for a very long time.”

“I know all about you and I’m not going to judge you for your past just give blood if you can.” I say looking at Meghan.

“I have they say I’m a AB that I am a perfect match but they are going to hold on to it to see how your blood is going to do.” She says walking around to the other side of the bed.

I got a good look at her and Nicole they looked a lot alike just  Meghan had brown hair and blue eyes but the shape of her eyes nose and mouth was all the same she gave a little smile and I saw a dimple on the same cheek as Nicole’s

“Lewis kept me up to date on Nicole every year I’d get a new photo of her I passed it off to my husband and family as me keeping an eye on one of the promising kids that our foundation funds. She wanted to go to Harvard I got her the money to go to Harvard Lewis told me she was going into law enforcement I was proud of her because that was a good honest job, but god I got so scared because I know how dangerous this job could be I never wanted to get that call from Lewis telling me she was hurt. And it hurts even more having seen the picture of you two and my grand baby I just  I just wished I hadn’t given her up, but if I hadn’t she wouldn’t have meant you and be as happy as Lewis says she is.”

Nicole’s eyes popped open and she grabbed my arm in a very painful way. She looks around wildly

“Shhhh Nicole it's me baby it’s ok I promise you're in the hospital everything is ok.” I say getting her to look at me. Her grip was still painful but it was getting loose until she jusr let go and and just looked at me.

“What happen where is Shadow and the baby?” She asked.

“Let me find someone that can help you.” Meghan said

“Meghan please stay she is going to need you  in the coming days.” I say stopping her.    

She reached in her bag and grabbed her card and handed it to me.

“Call me and I will be here.” She said  before leaving the room.

“Who is that why does she look like me?” Nicole asked

“Not right now later I promise.” I say holding her hand.

__________________________________________________________________

NICOLE

I have been in this hospital for a week now I learned that the month old baby that I had in my arms is now missing the have upped TSA and had roadblocks on every major road leading out of Henderson and Las Vegas. The Parents and grandparents of the baby came to see me and thank me for giving the baby a friendly face before being taken.

Shadow had been brung in to see me with her front paw wrapped having had her leg crushed they had to remove it at the shoulder. Mom and Dad didn’t seem to talk to each other and the lady from the first night showed up a few times. I wasn’t a dumb girl I knew how to put the clues together. I picked up my phone and dialed the number off the card.

“Meghan Richerson.”

“You’re my mother or someone related to me because I don't look like any of my family members. Mom and dad talk about you when they think I’m sleeping and I heard her call you my birth mother so please tell me are you my mother?” I asked

Waverly tried to explain to me what happened between the two of them and why she wouldn’t be in the same room with her.

“Nicole have you talked to your father?”

“I try to but he won’t stay on topic, Come have lunch with me and Waverly talk to us I’m in no shape to walk out.” I say

I heard a sigh on the other end and a few things being moved around.

“I will see you in a hour and I will try to explain the best I can.” She says

“Ok see you then.” I say before hanging up and putting the phone on the table in front of me.

“What was you just up to?” Waverly asked walking in the room with Brit.

“I Called Meghan since Mom nor Dad will tell me what the hell is going on. So she agreed to come have lunch with us and tell us what happen.” I say

Waverly sat down next to me with Brit sitting on the bed with me.

“MMMMMMa” Brit said shaking her stuffed rabbit.

“MMmma.” I say back smiling

“So I signed up for classes at the local college I think I’m going for my RN.” Waverly said said showing me the papers.

I smiled and took them and looked over them.

“I’m proud of you babe you have great bedside manners.” I say smiling

“Love having you as my personal nurse.” I say pulling her into a kiss. Waverly laughed into the kiss then pulled away when we heard someone clear their throat.

We looked up to see Meghan standing in the door with a man in a crisp business suit.

“Hello Nicole Waverly I want you to meet my husband Clark Richerson.” She said.

He held out his hand and we both shook it.

“Clark this is my daughter Nicole her wife Waverly and their baby girl Brit.” She said while smiling at us.

Clark cleared his throat.

“Well it’s nice to meet the three of you, we got lunch, I hope you like Salad chicken and dressing on the side.” He said putting the bag on the table.

“ I suppose I should get to explaining to all of you what happen.” Meghan said

Clark handed everyone their plates and we all sat down.

“Clark I had Nicole months before we meant by that time me and Lewis had worked out a deal. He would keep me up to date with Nicole and I on the other hand would provide for her if there should ever be anything she needed. We had a love affair back in the late 80s yearly 90s then I became pregnant with Nicole and it was confusion I hid the pregnancy from my family,I don’t know how Maeve found out but the night I gave birth she came to me  saying she would take you and not say another word about it….. I had no choice My family would have never understood  that I was in love at the time. But as time went on and I would get yearly up dates on you I realized that I did the best thing for you that I could have, your father took good care of you you have loving siblings and now a beautiful family.” She said smiling.

Brit smiled at Clark and he smiled back.

“Do you mind if I hold her?” He asked pointing to Brit.

“Sure careful she just had lunch and I don’t want her to lose it on that nice suit.” Waverly said.

He picked Brit up and started to play with her.

“Nicole please understand that I thought I was doing what was best for you you have a loving family now I couldn’t just give you to some strangers and I also couldn’t let my family get their hands on you. They are money hungry and don't care about anyone other than themselves. Sometimes I wonder where I came from.” Meghan said.

I pushed my plate away.

“Well with how mother is acting now I don't blame you for not wanting to be around if you could. All I ask is you be around now you have a grandchild and more on the way soon I would like for you to get to know them.” I say looking at her.

“I would love to be around we can have holidays and dinners if you want.”

That sounds like a plan, but at this rate we won’t be staying here in Henderson too long. I can’t work as a cop anymore and big city life isn’t my thing anymore. If Waverly wants we could find a smaller place to live in a few months.” I say looking at Waverly.

She smiled

“That sounds like a nice plan.” She said.

“Well I can understand that, I’m mostly in New York but I do have a place in Stockbridge that I hardly stay at, you can Stay there it’s a good little town lots of land great schools I even have a horse or two.” Meghan said

“We will think about it but it does sound great.” Waverly said  closing her salad.

“She is just adorable.” Clark said sitting Brit down on the bed.

She moved up to lay next to me and started to slowly fall to sleep.

Meghan looked at her watch and stood.

“We must get going we have to be back in New York tonight and it's almost time to head to the airport. Call me when you make a decision on Stockbridge or any other place, I am great at house shopping.” She said walking over to the bed.

She gave us all hugs and kissed a sleeping Brit’s head before her and Clark left the room.

“You know if she’s any indication of what you are going to look like when you get older I am a lucky woman. Waverly said smiling.

“ How do you feel about going to a small town?” I asked

“I just looked up Stockbridge it’s not too small and it kind of reminds me of Purgatory with more trees. I think it would be a great move.” She said cleaning up.

“Wynonna can stay here with Vanessa  and we will have some place to go if the winter gets to bad.” Waverly said sitting down on the bed facing me.

“Ok then that’s it we move to Stockbridge as soon as I’m well enough to sit on a plane. I want to get away from here as fast as I can.” I say.

“ I think Wynonna may move into her own place soon.”

“I don’t blame her. I’m so upset over all this I don’t know what to do,I just want to move on with my life.” I say kissing Brit’s head.

“I talked to your boss and asked about Shadow and she said we are more than welcome to keep her. So I went and Picked her up last night” Waverly said smiled taking my hand.

There was a knock on the door, we looked up to see my dad holding a new vase of flowers.

“Your moving?” He asked

“Yes dad I’m moving all this I can’t deal with you lied to me all my life mom lied to me. She only pretended to be ok with Waverly and I for god knows why. And Now she’s treating Vanessa like shit because her perfect flesh and blood has fallen in love with a woman, It’s ok for me to be a sinner and seen as a horrible person in her eyes because I’m not her’s.” I say.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to leave me does it?” He asked.

“Dad no matter where I am your will be welcome to come visit but things was better for me when it was just me on my own. I have what makes me happy and we plan on making our family bigger    but being this close to the family is just too much work. I know understand why mom was never to concerned about me and that hurts. So I’m going to get to know Meghan my mother.” I say.

_______________________________________________________________

WAVERLY

I was had standing here saying goodbye to Wynonna, it’s always hard saying goodbye to her. She was the only family I had left I was holding on to her  like  life line.

“Don’t worry baby girl I will be there for Brit’s birthday and the fourth of july  and you can come here for Christmas and to get away from the snow.” She said kissing my head

“I know I’m just going to miss you.” I say

“You two will see us soon I want to see what kind of place Meghan has set you up in and it will be nice to get out of the heat every now and then.” Vanessa said

She handed me Brit and gave Nicole a hug.

“Be sure you two stay close you make each other happy.” Nicole said holding on to Shadow’s leash.

She picked up Brit’s bag as they started to call the rows for our flight. I gave Wynonna a kiss on the cheek and we headed on our way. We boarded the plane and got settled for the flight. Shadow laid on the floor and  I buckled Brit in where she started to play with her little book. Nicole started to run her thumb over the back of my hand.

“ We should have drove, I hate planes.” she says

I smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

“We will be in the air in no time then in Stockbridge.” I say

The plane started to move and we was soon in the air we had a four hour flight so I pulled out a book and started to read. Nicole put her head on my shoulder and Brit hummed to herself. I kissed Nicole’s head and smiled at my little family four hour til Logan Airport then another 155 miles on the road to Stockbridge we should be at the house around 3.

Shadow sat up and put her head on my knee and I started to rub her head and anf read from my book. I was so wrapped up in my book that I didn’t know we was was land I woke Nicole  and we sat up and snd checked on Shadow, I was hoping that the landing didn’t wake Brit but I was wrong the bump of the plane woke her and she looked around.

“It’s fine Brit we are almost home.” I say

“Yeah not looking to that drive right now .” Nicole said as everyone started to get off the plane.

We started to walk off the plane and out into the airport where we saw a man holding up a sign that had our name on it.

“Are you kidding?” Nicole asked him.

“No Ma’am, Mrs Richerson sent me to pick you up and take you to your new home.” He said.

Nicole looked at me and shrugged her shoulders and we started to follow after the man in the suit over to the baggage claim before going to get the cats.

“It’s going to be a little of a drive would you like to stop and pick something up to eat?” He asked.

“Um…”

“Andrew.”

“Ok Andrew that sounds like a plan we haven’t had a filling dinner.” I say as we loaded the SUV.

We stopped at the closest McDonald's and got a meal each, I don't normally eat meat but on the very few times I have it was because it was the only thing to eat. I tried their salads before and they was horrible wilted and brown that just turned me off from them.

“Baby you don’t have to eat that stay here?” Nicole said getting out the car.

I didn’t know where she was going until I was her make her way into a 24 hour store. I didn’t even notice the store I started to tear bites off the hamburger and feed it to Shadow.

“Here you go a salad with 100% dairy free ranch dress.” She says kissing me.

“Oh and a fork.” she added pulling the wrapped fork out her pocket.

We started on our 2 hour drive, we should reach home around 4:30 5 o’clock. Brit sat in her chair playing with the stuffed Panda that Wynonna gave her before leaving. It was dark in the SUV so I had to eat very careful.

“You know if I wasn't so damn tired I would want to explore in the in the dark.” Nicole said running her hands through her hai.

The ride was quiet Brit fell back to sleep  and Nicole put her face in my neck after I finished my salad. I was looking out Brit’s window when I felt Nicole start to kiss my neck, it felt really good and I put my hand in her hair pulling her closer. It's been so long since we made love that every time she touched me I'm set on fire.

“Baby you have to stop this isn't the place.” I say.

I pulled her head away and started to kiss her. I'm glad that it was completely dark in the SUV if not the diver was going to get a free show.

Nicole's eyes started to glow in the dark and  I smiled. She always had so much love in her eyes when she looked at me. I put my hand over her eyes.

“Behave.”

“Oh but I am I could do this”

Her hand cupped my center and she sent some kind of vibration through me. My hand flew to hers and I pulled it away and looked into her eyes.Nicole smiled and placed a soft kiss on my lips then took my hand.

“Wait til We have rested up and have some alone time.” She said.

She pulled me to her side and we was looking out into the dark, we started to drive through a town in no time.

“15 more minutes and we will arrive at the house.” the driver said.

I just looked out the window at the buildings and the lights coming from the shop windows. I let out a sigh an snuggle more into Nicole I could reel the stress of the past starting to leave my body. I don’t know what it is about having a city so big to live in that I couldn’t deal will, maybe it was the jump from such a small town to something a big as Henderson and Las Vegas.

We pulled into a driveway up to a two story house. The lights was on as we came to a stop in front of the door.

“ Welcome home.” Andrew said turned and looked at us. _________________________________________________________                                          

[oneandonlykysra]

Autobiographical:  It’s Like This

This was written about a year ago and is a pretty accurate account of my struggle with infertility and the end of it.  I’m posting this now because - due to a recent stint with cancer my doctors all agree I should not try for a second baby which was the plan for April before I found out about the cancer.

It’s Like This

by Kysra

Here’s how it is:

Ammonia cooling on fingers shaking in the lamplight.  A clear Solo cup on the vanity, half-full and leaking (Need to get the disinfectant and clean that) with a stick – a lackluster reminder of coffee spoons I’ve had to give up – rising from the foam.

I should have brought a book, the porcelain warming beneath my lower cheeks even as the decision is made to get my feet and flush the nothing in the bowl and wash my tainted hands. The rest of a small eternity is spent half-pacing forth and frantically looking for something to do, willfully forgetting the empty sink, folded laundry, and dusted furniture.  

The book shelf is full but the contents have been read at least once.  The waiting is the hardest part (After all, what is two years of trying?).

Trying to be nonchalant is more difficult.   I barely know the date anymore, don’t really keep track of the days of the week or months of the year.  My calendar is all about the day of my cycle – Is it a fertile day?  What is my temperature?  Oh, it’s day 12, I should be seeing a spike now.  Why is my mucus drying up when it’s day 9?  Maybe I should start doing the ovulation kits today . . .

There are highs of course – the build up to getting that phone call, “You can trigger tomorrow at 8 A.M. and be here the next morning first thing” (like fertility is some sort of gun and synthetic hormones are the bullet); the hellish two week wait where every symptom imaginable is . . . imagined; and finally, today, when all the chemicals, mood swings, barely there self-hatred, public scrutiny and untamable Hope (too important for a mere lowercase) come to a head.

Returning to the bathroom takes some effort.  My breath is ragged from taking the ten steps from the hall.  A glance tells me everything I already knew, the screaming silence of a single line echoed in my heavy sigh.

I get the disinfectant, clean the mess.  The stick is in the garbage first.  I don’t want to see it anymore.

***

There are times I want to stand up, deform my jaw, and scream until my uterus explodes.  

“Do you want to hold her?”  The baby is staring at me with a baleful look that says, ‘I don’t know you. I don’t like you.  I don’t like how mommy’s fingers are digging into my pits either.”

I shake my head and make some excuse about not holding kids under a year old.  (It’s true but not the truth.)  

Social gatherings are almost as hellish as the two week wait only somewhat shorter and somewhat missing the desperate itching of anticipation that WILL.NOT.DIE.  I weather them with a staid sort of semi-calm that just barely masks the sinking isolation that I actually feel.

Because, seriously, when you’re going through a fertility journey alone (and make no mistake, even partnered infertile people are alone in their suffering) it seems as if the entire fucking population is in some stage of successful procreation just to spite you.

And in some weird twist of crazy, despite the bellowing green monster behind my eyes, I still like seeing baby bumps and talking mommy-shop and playing peek-a-boo.  If I can’t be a mommy (yet), I guess being ‘doting auntie’ isn’t such a short change.

It doesn’t stop me from crying myself to sleep though.

***

The thing is, after you’ve been molested as a kid, you never think of your body as fully yours.   Infertility reinforces this.   Unexplained infertility twists it into a psychosis.  Because if your body isn’t yours and it’s defective anyway, who the fuck is in charge?   YOU.  So you become a little reckless, a little crazy because this body isn’t yours but you’re the one having to deal with it.

You’re willing to do things most sane people would never entertain.  You take drugs and supplements and drink strange drinks and eat strange food and it doesn’t matter how much money it all costs or how many doctors you see or how many hours of work you miss.  You will allow anyone to touch, poke, prod, and manhandle your lady parts even though you hate being touched in even innocent places and want to kick these people in the face until their eyes are gouged.

And you do it, because this body that isn’t fully yours is telling you it wants to be an incubator for a brand spanking new baby.

And even though you know that spanking new baby and your spanking new incubator body will be touched, poked, prodded, and manhandled even more, perversely, even as you would prefer drinking acid under normal circumstances . . . you want it more than anything on God’s green Earth and you will do the aforementioned things-most-sane-people-would-never-entertain for as long as you can stand it.

***

Driving an hour and a half and missing work time stinks in and of itself, but being escorted to a claustrophobic little office with a huge cherrywood desk (cheerily justaposed as it is to the sickly yellow wall paint) and told, “At your age, with your medical history, and how you’ve responded so far, I have to think something is wrong with you” is just the straw that breaks the weary, beaten down camel’s pack-laden back.

My doctor is a certifiable jackass of the first water.  I don’t trust him a wit and even if I did think he had my best interests at heart, I would still want to bitch slap the smirk off his face.

I attempt to breathe through my nose, a painful weight in my chest, and try to stem the prickling in my eyes, nose, and whine that’s bouncing around between my vocal cords.

Something is wrong with you.  Story of my life.

He goes on talking about my three options (another IUI, IVF or laparoscopy) and I do my best to pay attention through the ringing in my ears.  I can feel the heated wetness of tears brimming at my lower eyelids and my nose is starting to run.  I faintly recognize my voice – stronger than it has any right to be – saying I want to move on to IVF.  

Nevermind that the last two years have cost me more than $30,000 already, I will find a way to finance the procedure even if I have to sell (excuse me, I mean donate) my precious eggs.  Who cares if it will absolutely kill me if they work for some stranger and I never reap the benefits of my own gametes, at least I’ll be able to give myself that good old college try.

He leaves to find the financing information and I let the tears come.   It’s not hard wracking sobs.  It’s not a steady drip.  It’s not a satisfying cry.  

It’s a weak, shuddering cry that cools my red cheeks and staggers my breath and drains my energy. I feel frail sitting here in this room with its pomp and polish.  I’ve never felt so lonely and in need of a simple hug.  

But there’s no one around (despite wishing for a nurse) and I probably wouldn’t accept a hug anyway. It would be like an agreement on my colossal failure.

Something is wrong with you.

I end up crying all the way back to work, through the day, on the way home, and into a bottle of tequila until I fall asleep on my bedroom floor.

When I wake, I feel scummy and dirty and to-my-toes sad.

My three options are in the back of my mind.  The doctor told me to let him know what I decide as soon as my period comes; and wouldn’t you just know it – “The Red Flood begins,” even my voice sounds weighted and empty as I look down at my soiled underwear. . . like Eeyore on estrogen.

After work, I pass my house and find myself at the park.  The green grass and canopied trees are brimming – ironically – with life, but I bypass them to walk all the way to the back where I can see cars pass but they can’t see me.  

I lower myself slowly to a swing, grasp the suspension chains and begin to rock.  The rocking becomes a creak-pull, the creak-pull smooths out to a soft aerial glide.

The sobs are not unexpected nor is the conversation-like prayer that breaks from my lips.  I want God to know how angry I am, how sorry I am, how hopeful and trusting and thankful I am.  I want him to know I’ll accept whatever outcome I’m given but how I will never understand how he could give me this imperative for motherhood yet not allow me to conceive.

“I guess that’s something I’ll just have to live with, right?”

Something is wrong with you.

That evening I call the doctor to let him know I choose the laparoscopy.

***

Missing a cycle hurts but (a grudging but) it was most likely necessary to my sanity.  I feel a renewed sense of positive anticipation and it shows in the smile on my face and the spring in my step.

I’m not even snarky with the doctor as he pulls the bandages off my “bullet holes” and he goes over the surgical report.  

Endometriosis . . . weeds in my garden.  Burned out but bound to regrow.  Time is of the essence.  “You will never be more fertile than you are right now.”

So how do we proceed? “You can do another Clomid cycle or a monitored cycle with injectibles . . . “

“I want to do IVF.”

“Well, then you just wasted a surgery.”

“I want to do IVF.”

“IVF isn’t going to give you a better chance of conceiving.  I recommend injectibles.”

“I’ll need to think about this . . . “

“Let me know what you decide before your next period.”

In the bathroom at work, I look down at my underwear with something between exasperation, laughter, and horror on my face.   The blood there taunts me.  

“Well, shit.”

***

Ask a woman who’s gone through fertility struggles what drugs she took and they will always fall into three categories:  stimulation, trigger, or arrest; and all of them take your sanity and stomp on it . . . because apparently, being through the emotional ringer every month when you see that negative test isn’t enough.

That being said, I dealt with the daily injections with grace (and the occasional rage-filled mood swing).  I say my prayers morning, noon, and night focusing my inner eye on the space just between my hips and beneath my belly button (where most of the medicine is injected).  I don’t complain about the near daily monitoring visits or the amount of time I have to make up at work.  And I never tell anyone I have decided to quit after this cycle.

I’m tired, and more than that, I’m stressed to the point of nightly body tremors and hair falling out. If I don’t quit, I might just give myself a heart attack.

Monitoring only makes my feelings of failure and inadequacy worse.  All it takes is the transvaginal ultrasound to make the air in my lungs thin out and my stomach drop.  My follicles – despite the stim drugs  - are not growing.

The nurse doesn’t seem overly concerned, but after every visit, I go to work with the knowledge beating down the crown of my head that it isn’t happening this month either.

And then it happens . . . Day 11.  The wand is prepped and inserted.  I crane my head back to see the blown up screen.  And there it is:  Big Bertha.  

The follicle takes up the entire screen  - a morbidly obese cell at once Frankenstein-ish and terrifically beautiful.  I have an insane urge to shriek, “It’s ALIVE!!!” but settle for tittering impotently.  Nonplussed, the technician says, “Oh yeah, that one’s ready . . . 18 millimeters.  You’ll probably trigger tonight.”

My jaw is still dragging on the floor.  Yesterday, that thing was only a tiny speck of light on a gray board and now it was Follizilla.

Another day comes and I pack my trigger shot with all the care of a desperate woman at the mercy of her ovaries.  I cannot take it till 8 A.M. and tomorrow I will lay on the table one more time, open my legs for a stranger in a lab coat one more time, and submit to the rigors of the dreaded two week wait.  ONE. MORE.  TIME.

I am almost giddy at the idea of – what will most likely be – freedom from fertility-related insanity.  So giddy, I book a trip to Cedar Point Amusement Park because after two and a half years of frequent doctor visits, blood draws, fertility drugs, acupuncture, teas, supplements, injections, ultrasounds, fertility yoga, inseminations, and negative pregnancy tests (not to mention painful HSGs, laparoscopies, and hormone-induced mood swings), I was ready to get on a few roller coasters and scream my grief to the world without worrying about being committed.

The trigger shot is injected.  The work day is done.  I have trouble sleeping, think maybe I’m not ready to let it go just yet.

I ask God silently for guidance, for peace; and that night I dream of a baby in a gray jumpsuit and dancing with Batman.

Maybe I need to be committed after all.

***

It is the stupidest, most crazy thing ever but as I walk into the doctor’s office and say hello to the receptionist, “You should go get some breakfast down the street.  It’ll be about a half hour before they’re ready for you,”  I realize I chose this blouse and these shoes and this hair style and put on make up because I feel sexy and –WORSE- randy.

Grinding my teeth, I go down the street and have a light breakfast then make my way back to the office and promptly lock myself in the bathroom.  

After two and a half years of charting my cycles, I am an old pro at feeling myself up for cervical mucus and for the first time ever, I have buckets of the stuff.  My underwear is soaked.   It’s mystifying but also exciting (in more ways than one!); and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.

Failing any other ideas, I clean up as best I can, wash my hands three times, and step into the waiting room.  I have a book in my bag (along with an mp3 player with a new “insemination mix” and a few snacks, some water) but I can’t concentrate for all the involuntary rubbing of the thighs.

I am about to go absolutely batshit (in the most self-loving way) when my name is called.

The nurse is one I’ve never met before but I like her instantly.  She has long blonde hair in braids and reminds me of my mother. “We’ll take good care of you,” she says, and – for once – I believe her.

The doctor is also one I’ve never met before – an old lady with graying frizzed out hair and square-frame glasses.  She’s looking over my chart when she enters and looks me in the eye while shaking my hand. I am completely in love with her in an instant because after so many inseminations performed by so many doctors (never the same one twice), I finally feel safe.  She feels like a grand-mother.

It is done and over with in a seeming instant . . . I’m actually surprised because there was no pain, no discomfort, no violation and ask if maybe she forgot to do something.  She laughs and says she wishes me luck and just as she’s leaving, I remember to ask, “Can I have some progesterone suppositories, please?  I always have low progesterone . . . and this is my last shot.”

My main doctor – the one I want to slap – wouldn’t be happy with me right now; but I never did buy that the suppositories “wouldn’t fix my problem”.

Papers are ruffled as she looks through my lab reports, “I’ll get you some samples . . . Honestly, I don’t know why they haven’t given you this before.”

I want to scream, crow, beat my chest and poke Dr. Jerk in the shoulder and say, “BOO-YAH!!” Instead I say a quiet thank you and wait alone for the nurse to bring the samples.

As I move to get dressed, I can’t help but think, “Man, I hope I don’t leave a huge ass puddle on this table.”

***

It starts here:

Barely there, shuffling feet against carpet, heat radiating off skin like an invisible sunburn.  I haven’t seen or spoken to my family in a week (even though I live with them) because I wake up, eat, leave, work, get home before everyone, take a shower, cook a quick dinner (steak- rare- and macaroni and cheese), and then go to bed before 6 P.M.

Progesterone  - apparently – is a hard task master; and yet, I’m sort of relieved.  Being so tired means I can’t really think about the two week wait and all that entails.

I loyally take my temperature when I wake (yet another thing I will be SO happy to never worry about again) at around my 4 A.M. bathroom break, and a negative pregnancy test on day 20 revealed that the trigger shot medicine was out of my system.

All in all, I feel like I’m going through the motions rather than expecting anything to change.  Even when my temperature fails to begin falling around day 24 like it usually does, I know it’s most likely the progesterone. Nothing to do cartwheels over.

On day 25, I go to work (so tired I am caught dozing off in front of a spreadsheet that once had figures and now has a running commentary of ‘RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR”) and feel a stitch in my back that feels something like, “Damn cramps.”

I shift and stand and bend and stretch but the pain gets worse till I imagine a storm cloud rolling into my belly, all black and gray and shot with lightning.  I laugh a little at the visual even as I wince and try not to be disappointed.

Carol offers me some pain relievers but I refuse – there’s still a small, itsy-bitsy, microscopic chance and I don’t want to screw it up with chemicals.   I’ve come this far, I can bear the pain, thanks.

I’m bone tired when I get home but manage to see my mother before heading off to bed, the sunlight still filtering through my window.  

“I’ve been worried about you,” she says, “You should call the doctor.”  I tell her it’s just the progesterone and soon I’ll be off of it, don’t worry so much.

I sleep hard that night.  Dreamless and restful, interrupted only once at 4-ish A.M. with a full bladder and the bleary knowledge that – oh yeah, still have to take my temperature.  I get up when the stick beeps, carry it into the bathroom, don’t bother to turn the light on (I know where the toilet is well enough).

Sighing as I feel the cool porcelain, I vaguely remember to hold the nearby cup under the stream before my bladder erupts.  I don’t care that I get some on my hand, care even less that a little bit runs down the side to create a urine ring on the vanity.  

These things can be washed. The months of disappointment can’t.

I do this every night and always forgo testing after convincing myself it’s too early.  I’m testing tonight just to give myself closure. The blood hasn’t come yet, but the pain of the day promises a negative.

Squinting as hard as I can to see the numbers spelling out my temperature,  I add two degrees for every hour until I usually get up.  It takes a moment but I suddenly realize how high that number is.

My brain wakes up and my heart trips.  

No.  No.  It has to be a mistake.  I’m calculating wrong and I’m too tired to get my hopes up.  Resolved, I finish my business, wash my hands, dip the test applicator into the cup, cap it and set it aside.  

Going back to bed is hard, a not-to-be-ignored what if? whispering softly against my doubts.  Sleep doesn’t come, despite that ever-present progesterone induced exhaustion, and I get up to look at the damn test and put this whole wasted chapter of my life behind me.

In the dark, I find the test, see the digital readout spells the result.  

It’s one word.

That’s about all I can make out but it’s enough.  To make sure, I bring the stick close to my face (cursing myopic eyes), but there’s no mistake.

Pregnant.

Squeezing my eyes shut then opening them again . . . the letters do not change nor do their order or meaning.

I put on the light.

Pregnant.

I shuffle into my dark room, don my glasses and return to the light.

Still Pregnant.

My thoughts are jumbled and I can’t decide what to do.  I pace towards the family room – no – and turn to the hall, to my brother’s door – no – I try to lie down – need to move – and I’m up again, pacing and talking to myself – jibberish – and trying to contain the fireworks zooming just beneath my skin wanting to explode from my mouth in a squeal and whoop of joy!

I open my mouth, muscles tight and eyes squeezed shut, and scream silently.  Then I jump up and down like a monkey on a caffeine high.  Yes, yes, yes!!!!

Then, I’m down on my knees, face upturned to the ceiling.  Thank you.  Thank you God.  Thank you.

And my hand finds that place between my hips, just above where the storm was brewing yesterday.  I don’t know you yet, but you need to know  . . . I love you more than anything and I need you to be strong and scrappy and grow because my one soul-deep wish now is to meet you and hold you and care for you.  I know you won’t always be happy, but I will do my best to be the best mommy I can be. I love you so much.

I give a little laugh and whisper, “I think we’ll need to cancel that trip to Cedar Point.”

And here’s how it is:

Infertility sucks. Fertility treatment even moreso; but I would do it again for the pleasure of seeing that Big Fat Positive and seeing the little hatching egg on my fertility chart and watching my waistline grow and change into some alien pod with moving skin and being unable to sit down or stand up from sitting because there’s an entire new person with bones and joints and independent movements nestled somewhere in the vicinity of my lungs (I can’t breathe!)  . . .

I would do it again to feel the elation of hearing that first cry – at once so new and familiar, to hold that weight that my hips know so well in my arms, to introduce myself and child to the crazy learning/bonding experience that is nursing, to change that first diaper, to barely sleep during that first nerve-wracking night,  . . .

And to stare into my child’s face every day and know without a single doubt or regret that it was all worth it.

#nonfiction autobiographical angst infertility pregnancy hope

[ximenaresponsive-blog]

The poem from where the extracts on the tote bags was taken from

The period poem

So let me be very clear. I wrote this poem with a very specific intent. I have a 13 year old daughter. It is important to me that I throw every part of my experience, whatever wisdom I’ve gleaned from that, every part of my backbone, toward her, to sustain her, to offer her language that lifts her up and keeps her up.

That said, there is for me, a necessary conversation that seeks to undermine the shaming that happens to some girls around menstruation. I had that experience of starting my period in 7th grade, boys, finding out that I had started my period. And then it was some shit, like I’ve been to class with the frantic, “I’ve got to go to the bathroom now,” waved and they’re like, “You’re on your period, aren’t you?” You know, that dumb shit.

And so then my daughter, like she starts her period and she’s stricken and walks out the bathroom looking like she’s died or something, and I wanted to undermine that. So I threw her a period party, my home is red up, dressed in red, and there was red food and red drinks. It was great.

It was great. So all red, everything. I loved it. So, that’s what it was and it was wonderful. And then, when I was in Austin, Texas for Women of the World this year, she sent me a screenshot of a tweet and in 140 characters, this dummy, damn their, undermined my legacy. This is my response to the aforementioned today. You’re welcome.

The dude on Twitter says: “I was having sex with my girlfriend when she started her period, I dumped that bitch immediately.”

Dear nameless dummy on Twitter: You’re the reason my daughter cried funeral tears when she started her period. The sudden grief all young girls feel after the matriculation from childhood, and the induction into a reality that they don’t have to negotiate, you and your disdain for what a woman’s body can do. Herein begins an anatomy lesson infused with feminist politics because I hate you.

There is a thing called the uterus. It sheds itself every 28 days or so, or in my case every 23 days, I’ve always been a rule breaker. That’s the anatomy part of it, I digress.

The feminist politic part, is that women know how to let things go, how to let a dying thing leave the body, how to become new, how to regenerate, how to wax and wane, not unlike the moon and tides, both of which influence how you behave, I digress. [laughter]

Women have vaginas that can speak to each other and by this I mean, when we’re with our friends, our sisters, our mothers, our menstrual cycles will actually sync the fuck up. My own cervix is mad influential, everybody I love knows how to bleed with me. Hold on to that, there’s a metaphor in it. [applause]

Hold on to that. But when your mother carried you, the ocean in her belly is what made you buoyant, made you possible. You had it under your tongue when you burst through her skin, wet and panting from the heat of her body, the body whose machinery you now mock on social media, that body, wrapped you in everything that was miraculous about, and then sung you lullabies laced in platelets, without which you wouldn’t have no Twitter account at all motherfucker. I digress.

See, it’s possible that we know the world better because of the blood that visits some of us. It interrupts our favorite white skirts, and shows up at dinner parties unannounced, blood will do that, period. It will come when you are not prepared for it; blood does that, period. Blood is the biggest siren, and we understand that blood misbehaves, it does not wait for a hand signal, or a welcome sign above the door. And when you deal in blood over and over again like we do, when it keeps returning to you, well, that makes you a warrior.

And while all good generals know not to discuss battle plans with the enemy, let me say this to you, dummy on Twitter, If there’s any balance in the universe at all, you’re going to be blessed with daughters. Blessed.

Etymologically, bless means to make bleed. See, now it’s a lesson in linguistics. In other words, blood speaks, that’s the message, stay with me. See, your daughters will teach you what all men must one day come to know, that women, made of moonlight magic and macabre, will make you know the blood. We’re going to get it all over the sheets and car seats, we’re going to do that. We’re going to introduce you to our insides, period and if you are as unprepared as we sometimes are, it will get all over you and leave a forever stain.

So to my daughter: Should any fool mishandle that wild geography of your body, how it rides a red running current like any good wolf or witch, well then just bleed, boo. Get that blood a biblical name, something of stone and mortar. Name it after Eve’s first rebellion in that garden, name it after the last little girl to have her genitals mutilated in Kinshasa, that was this morning. Give it as many syllables as there are unreported rape cases.

Name the blood something holy, something mighty, something unlanguageable, something in hieroglyphs, something that sounds like the end of the world. Name it for the war between your legs, and for the women who will not be nameless here. Just bleed anyhow, spill your impossible scripture all over the good furniture. Bleed, and bleed, and bleed on everything he loves, period.

Sky’s thoughts:

To be honest, I just got done watching this for the first time, and I’m a mess.

I never really realized how much shame I feel about my cycle, how I feel embarrassed when I ask for someone to grab me a pad or when I bleed on my favorite pair of shorts. But it’s real and it is there.

And it makes me angry.

How dare we be thought of as the inferior sex when we bleed every month for days at a time? I swear, that’s hardcore. Most times when people bleed for seven days straight, they die. We don’t.

There’s something in that, I think. We don’t die. We continue to live. Women know how to rise and rise again. We should be down, but we. are. not. We are resilient.

A while ago, after watching the first season of Teen Wolf, I commented to myself that women are like werewolves. Every month we turn into a monster and act in unnatural ways. I said it negatively, feeling shame over my cycle, but now this video has flipped that idea on its head. We do not turn into monsters. We turn into wolves. Wild, strong, and brave.

My favorite line of her video is this: “And when you deal in blood over and over again like we do, when it keeps returning to you, well, that makes you a warrior.”

I’ve always wanted to be a warrior, brave and strong. But every month, now I can be reminded: I am. You are, too. Remember it. Claim it and drive your stake into the ground. Mark your territory and roar as loud as you can. Be a lioness. Make up your own battle cry.

And sometimes, bleeding means being vulnerable. Asking for help, appreciating feminine things, crying, and not being unbreakable 100% of the time is absolutely okay, as much as the world may tell us they are not. Doing these things does not make you less of a woman.Nothing should.

You are whole. You are not broken, you are not a screw-up, you are not a burden, you are not less: you are a woman, and I am proud of you, I am proud of us. The world can tell us there is something wrong in the way we were born, because of the fact that we don’t have a penis. Frankly, that is bullshit. You are enough, and there is NO SHAME in who you are. Accept and be proud of the fact that you have a vagina, you have curves, you have a period, you have hormones; you are a woman. Be proud of yourself. Don’t be afraid to bleed, whatever that looks like for you.

And if you are afraid to bleed, that’s okay. We’re here right alongside you.

- Dominique Christina

[nightmare-angel11]

Women's march

So yesterday I kept seeing things about these women's marches happening all over the country, and you think oh this great right? Wrong after seeing what all the bitching was about it made me so mad I wanted to throat punch every female in attendance to these stupid thing's. I'm only going to cover women's rights because I'm not gay or transgender so I can't really have an opinion either way. The reason the march made me so mad because one we talk about equality. Okay well we still have the right to vote, drive,work and get an education so why are we bitching about equality men get to do the same shit and have the same rights we do, we aren't just home makers anymore. And another thing Trump is not getting rid of these rights why are we separating ourselves? This makes us look like we lost something as far as I know I still have all my rights and freedoms given to me made possible by the men and women who gave their lives for this country we call America! My body my choice? Okay let's take out the obvious scenarios such as actual rape, cases where the baby and mother will die and incest. I personally don't agree or believe in abortion I'm an atheist so it's not religious. While I do believe it's your body you have the right to do what you want to YOURSELF, once your uterus is occupied by a living thing growing inside you then it is no longer your body but a space you share with your child who has no choice they didn't ask to be born. So we come to the argument of but I don't want, kid's I'm not ready or because I don't want to raise this child alone. Don't want kid's? There are many forms of birth control that are available and I'm not just talking about the pills, patches, implants or shots there are such things today we call condoms no it's not just a man's job to buy condoms women can buy them as well if your man don't have them or don't want to get them the responsibility then falls on you to have them. I'm not ready, again see above rant and if your not ready to be responsible enough to take some form or buy some form of birth control your not ready or responsible enough to have sex so just don't. Don't want children with a man who left? I was in the middle of a divorce when I found out I was pregnant I didn't love the man I conceived a child with the thought of him doing this and then leaving was alarming to say the least but I also made a choice to have sex with no protection the baby had nothing to do with that decision, had I had more common sense I would have used a condom or not had sex because our relationship was falling to pieces and me being young and dumb I thought a baby would help our relationship, I'm here to tell you it does not help. But there again all my decisions which lead to me bringing a beautiful baby girl into the world and while our relationship fell apart I could not see ending her life based on my horrible decisions. So you say Trump is taking away your birth control? Actually he didn't say he was making birth control illigal not once did I ever hear him say that. All I'm hearing is I can't afford it, well I have a solution for you! It's called a job you go there every day and every week, month or every two weeks depending on your employer you get a paycheck amazing right? Now I will say of you take the pills it can get expensive there are places like project ruby that offers affordable birth control sent right to your door I'm talking 20-30$ a month who can't afford that? Condoms well depending on what you buy can run you between 5-20$ a pack personally that's cheaper than the cost of having children or making the tax payers that actually work pay for your abortion. One last thing I am going to touch on before I come to my closing thoughts is this a woman can go have an abortion with tax payer dollars you honestly don't even have to have a good reason to have one and killing this living thing growing inside you is perfectly legal, on the other hand we have some or who kills a pregnant woman or even causes the woman to have a miscarriage and this in the case of my first senerio is called a double homicide which is prison time or in senerio number two we have a case of fetal homicide which again is prison time. So I sit here wondering to myself if you have an abortion shouldn't that be considered fetal homicide as well? Shouldn't you get prison time? In my personal opinion I see no difference in the three so you should get prison time for killing your baby. And there are alternatives where you don't have to keep the baby you could always put it up for adoption there's plenty of women who want children and can't have any of their own babies are like puppies everyone wants a baby they don't want older children. And the fact that you are having a perfect and healthy baby makes it even more special because I have seen babies that have been taken away from a mother who's done drugs or alcohol it is a sad situation. But that's an entirely different subject there. So in closing thoughts, honestly in this day in age I am so fucking embarrassed to be a woman because we stand for nothing men look at us and think wow look at these stupid bitches they lose respect for us other women such as myself look at you and think the same thing and I hate to be lumped in with this stupid feminist movement. This is not what feminism is about we have made it out to be we are superior to men. I will make a blog about the true meaning of feminism one day. So if we want respect we need to earn it not go around showing how stupid we are actions speak louder than words and I don't mean by protesting. This is all I have to say everyone have a wonderful day and please share your thoughts either way, I don't have to agree with them but it's called freedom of speech let's start discussions without getting butt hurt or needing safe spaces.