#with doctors and nurses either not caring enough to try and find an answer
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Call the Doctor, I'm in Love
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->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader
->Words: 2.9k
->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds
->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.
->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!
Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man.
But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:
The 1st Time: Your Introduction
Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.
“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”
Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.
“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”
He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.
“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”
You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.
“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”
He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.
“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”
He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.
“You like bars doctor?”
“Not particularly..”
“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”
You smile, amused.
“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”
You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.
“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”
You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.
“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”
He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.
—
The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident
Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.
“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.”
An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.
“Troubled patient?”
Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.
“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?”
“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.”
Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.
“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”
The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.
“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”
“You’re a real saint hen.”
You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.
“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”
He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.
You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown,
“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”
He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.
“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”
“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”
He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.
“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”
You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.
You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.
You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.
“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”
You glance over and frown.
“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”
He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.
“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”
He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.
“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”
You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.
“Johnny, I-”
“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”
You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.
“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”
He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder.
The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.
—
The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball
Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.
Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.
“Well don’t you look nice.”
He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.
Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.
“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”
“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.”
The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.
“You wanna head back to the table?”
You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.
“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”
You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.
You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.
“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”
“Always.”
Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.
“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.
“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”
“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”
You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.
“I got ya bonnie.”
He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.
“Johnny. Can you hear me?”
He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.
“Yea?”
“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”
“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”
You laugh and agree.
“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”
His eyes sparkle at your admiration.
“I’m always happy to help.”
—
The 4th Time: Yes
This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline.
The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team.
An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.
Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.
And Soap is shot.
He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic.
“Fuck Johnny, shit.”
He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.
“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”
You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.
“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”
Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.
“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”
A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.
“You think that’s all of them?”
“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”
He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him.
Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now.
“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”
“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”
Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.
He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.
“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”
His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles.
He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around.
He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.
The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.
“I’m so sorry Johnny.”
You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him.
You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now.
Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.
You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.
Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.
“Johnny?”
You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.
You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell.
You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through.
Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.
The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.
“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet.
You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.
“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”
He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some.
“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.
“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.
“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”
“Anything for you bonnie.”
—
He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.
#cod fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii#john soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap cod#mw2#141#cod#soap x fem reader#soap x y/n#john mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish x you#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#cod angst#soap angst
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tuna you have nooo idea how many ideas i have about yans falling for their doctors but i will give u something simple: port mafia; ie: chuuya, akutagawa, pm dazai, etc. x good-natured hospital doctor. one day theres a major clamor about how someone turned up outside the hospital with grievous injuries. at first its all hands on deck to help them, but eventually someone figures out that theyre mafia and everyone jumps ship. darling’s colleagues try to persuade them away from the dying mafioso, telling them how getting involved with the mafia in ANY way will turn out bad for them and to just leave them to their fate, but darling keeps to their oath and decides to take over their care.
its tiring work, working round the clock alone to keep this bastard alive, but it’ll all be worth it in the end, right? wrong. yan’s FIRST order of business when waking up and finding themselves in a hospital is to flip out. threats, attacks, the whole shebang. big tantrum. eventually darling reasons with them that theyre far too injured to go anywhere for the time being without like. dying. (this wouldnt work on dazai that well lol) and if they wanted to turn them in or kill them they wouldve done it like 2 days ago. they even agree to submit to the mafia’s retaliation if they find their care insufficient. their patient agrees, albeit very angrily, and darling sets off on the worlds most thankless job.
any of these fuckers will give darling a run for their money. dazai would spend a lot of time trying to intimidate them into letting him out early or goad them into killing him, stealing things to hurt himself with, harassing the nurses, faking symptoms, anything he can think of to make their life harder. chuuya is just NASTY, nothing to say to the person Saving His Life besides threats and insults. can never leave a check up on akutagawa without at least one bruise. so on and so forth. no support from colleagues either, darlings decision to Do Their Job making them a pariah. even so, they offer their testy patient their care and kindness without falter. as soon as theyre well enough to get up and walk out, thats exactly what they do, and darling would be lying if they said they werent glad to wash their hands of the whole thing. they’re, of course, back the next week with a new injury that they INSIST that DARLING SPECIFICALLY must look at and suddenly acting like they’re besties. darling lets them, of course, even as the injuries they come in with are more and more ridiculous, all the while trying to gently steer them away from ever coming back before they get them arrested.
well, if you didnt want them hanging around you maybe you shouldnt have been so sweet. are they supposed to forget about you holding their hand through shockwaves of pain? your soothing voice? the way you stayed up all night to watch over them while they slept? do you think they get THAT at the mafia infirmary? say, why dont you come and work there! they see how your colleagues spurn you, how ungrateful your other patients are for you. doctors are VERY highly regarded among the mafia, itd be a great fit for you! itd also let them personally make it up to you for being so awful before. win-win, right?
- 🩹
i am terribly sorry about how long it took for me to answer this 😭😭😭 i did consider a similar idea but w/ darling doing the underground doctor job for extra money (we need to start raising funds for darling) as well if you're interested!!
im gonna use dazai as a placeholder for this if u want one w chuuya and aku lmk :>
cw: yandere characters, obsessive behavior, jealousy, obsession, injuries, harassment, taking advantage, implied coercion.
injuries aren't uncommon in this line of work, and bleeding out with a terrifyingly gaping wound is not a new sight for port mafioso. usually, though, mori already arranges for other people to come in and take care of the injured, and they steer clear of hospitals and clinics. it's not smart to get civilian doctors involved in this.
usually, things go as planned.
today, it didn't. dazai's subordinates were strewn somewhere else, leaving him wounded and isolated. to make things worse, he was positioned awkwardly close to a busy street. he should have anticipated that the enemy would have some other trick up their sleeve. now what? was he going to die here, like a disgraced dog? he would prefer something less painful and embarrassing, but beggars couldn't be choosers...
maybe he should have accepted mori's offer of even more backup.
he couldn't reach for his phone, and even if it didn't hurt so bad and he could get it, his fingers were trembling so much that he knew he couldn't type out anything. god, how pathetic. death was death. he couldn't be too picky about it, could he? he would welcome the end.
to his surprise, he woke up.
he was sure he was in a hospital. the plain walls, the simple bed. the papers nearby and the person in a white coat gave it away. this was bad news, terrible news. he wasn't supposed to go to any hospitals or clinics unless mori said so, and now he was here, getting treated by any regular civilian doctor.
obviously, dazai decides the best course of action is to kick up a fuss. they wouldn't hold him here against his will, right? he screams and kicks and threatens everyone until he's exhausted and the staff is ready to throw him out themselves, but you stop them. he recognizes you as the person in his room when he woke up, and watches as you defend his behavior by telling everyone how confused and frightened he would have been after waking up with no recollection of what happened in between. confused, frightened? he was mortified by your choice of words, and worse yet, it was working. everyone backed down, turned their backs and went on with their day.
and you have the audacity to turn back and smile at him like you hadn't just embarrassed him, telling him that it was expected he would have reacted so negatively, promising to help make sure his stay was as comfortable as possible. what stay? he wants to get out, but when he voiced this demand with a hoarse throat, you look more shocked and rush off to get him something for his voice instead. you sit down beside him with a hand on his and carefully explain why he has to stay and why it's important he works with you for a speedy recovery. you ask him for who you should contact since he didn't seem to have any existing identity, but he only turns away and tells you he wants to leave.
he does this for as long as he's hospitalized, complaining about everything, reminding you he doesn't have cash and that killing him would be your best course of action, since he couldn't afford the bill anyway. he tries to run away and pull off stupid stunts, but nothing works. it's infuriating how calm you are about everything. you leave and go back to your usual routine, stopping by to check up on him occasionally. the other staff, however, look terrified of him, and he relishes in the trembling hands and rushed exits. during one of their visits to sort out his room, dazai pretends to sleep so they can actually get things done without fearing he will kick them all out the window, and overhears a particularly interesting conversation.
he learns that you were the one who insisted they treat him despite everyone else noticing the signs that he was probably part of some underground organization. some determined line about how it's your job and you need to help everyone regardless of personal feelings. he thinks it's all bullshit, but your determination...is kind of cute. it's only a matter of time before you end up as soulless and exhausted as everyone else in the city, though.
then the long awaited day comes, and you announce that he can leave. he doesn't care to ask for a bill or thank you, running out and disappearing to talk to mori again, but he would be lying if he said he didn't think about you even after that day. for some reason, something about you really stuck with him. it might have had something to do with your relentless insistence to help, your unwavering patience, your calm conduct, or maybe your...voice. your sympathetic tone, your firm hold...your presence.
a week later, dazai shows up to your workplace and demands he get his hand checked out. he whines until they drag you down and then he exaggerates his terrible condition, how important and urgent it was and how he needed to be kept inside the hospital for a few weeks at least this time. it's very serious, you know. you saw through his lie, but you don't bat an eyelid, immediately complying to his outrageous demands. he was a little happy that you hadn't changed. so despite how often he showed up, with a new but small injury, you took it in stride and treated him with all the concern and seriousness he expected. could you blame him if he liked to be fussed over like this?
what he didn't like was the knowledge that you treated all your patients like this. none of them deserved the same meticulous inspections, soothing touches, dedicated service, and warm smiles you gave. it wasn't fair that he came in all beaten up and you could only come in for a quick greeting before rushing out after another patient. and for what? your meager pay? well, if he could talk to mori and get you brought over as a personal doctor for some of the high-ranking members, you'd get paid well and you could be with him all the time while doing what you loved. it was the best of both worlds, wasn't it?
#yandere bsd#yandere x reader#yandere bungo stray dogs#yandere bungou stray dogs#yandere bungo stray dogs x reader#yandere bsd x reader#yandere bungou stray dogs x reader#yandere dazai x reader#yandere dazai#yandere dazai x reader#yandere dazai osamu#dazai x reader#dazai osamu x reader#doctor reader 🐟
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Heartbeat - McCoy x Reader
Prompt: Hear my Heartbeat? Just focus on that.
TW: Readers friend dies during labor, leaving the couple with a child to take in.
“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.”
Your face is pressed against Leonard’s chest as you force yourself to breathe in tune with him.
His heartbeat seems to sound through you, the only thing in the world that matters.
Five hours earlier your best friend has gone into childbirth. And you had not been there with her.
Four hours earlier there had been complications. And you had not been there with her.
Two hours earlier your best friend had given birth to a healthy boy. But she had not been conscious, had not been able to meet her son.
One hour earlier the doctors had fought for her life. But they had not won the fight.
“Two to beam up,” Mr. Scott calls from his place behind the glass wall, sending you an encouraging smile when the transporter room vanishes from your sight.
You appear in a transporter room that looks almost perfectly alike. Only Mr. Scott is not there, in his place sits a dark-skinned woman that sends you a comforting smile.
“Welcome to the USS Bradbury. Dr. Hagen is awaiting you in med-bay.”
You’re unable to speak, unable to walk until a warm hand finds a place on the small of your back.
“Come on, darling,” Leonard tells you, before thanking the woman working the transporter.
-
It takes you fifteen minutes to get to med-bay. You want to turn around and bolt every single one of those fifteen minutes, but you can’t. This is about your friend.
“Did she tell you that she was pregnant?” The elderly CMO asks and you force a nod.
“Of course.”
“I assume you’ve been informed that the father died in an ion storm three weeks after the child was conceived.”
“Yes,” you croak, thankful for Leonard’s arms holding you upright.
“Are you aware that you are the noted as next of kin and therefore the first to be asked to take the newborn?”
“What?” You whisper in shock. Your body moves and just moments later you fall into a chair, your own weight pulling you down until you’re unable to get back up.
Leonard’s the one speaking now.
You look at his lips, trying to read from their movement.
He’s not angry, but he looks like he cares about whatever the answer to his questions will be.
The doctor raises his hands and you still wonder who he is waving too when a nurse appears on your side, handing you a bundle.
The boy looks just like her. Her skin tone, the color of her hair, the curve of her lips are all the things you see at first.
You hold the baby close.
-
“What are we going to do?” You ask hours later, you head resting against Leonard’s chest, “They want us to decide..”
“Darling, she was your best friend. You were like sisters. I don’t think you would ever be able not to keep the boy.”
“I’m sorry. You said you did not want another kid.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he tells you, kissing the crown of your head, “I wasn’t planning one, not wishing for one either, but he needs us.”
“I’m scared,” you whisper, unable to tell him how thankful you are. That he is here. That he loves you. That he is who he is.
“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that,” he tells you and you do as he asks.
-
Days later you step into the room that is now the nursery only to find him holding the little boy.
You stop to lean against the doorway, watching him stand there in old sweatpants and a grey shirt that has been washed exactly the right amount of times to be comfortable and unsightly.
“And your last name’s going to be McCoy, which is a good name, I can tell you. As soon as you’re old enough, I’m going to tell you about your grandpa, the man I got my last name from. And look,” he reaches out one hand to pick up the holo picture you’ve placed close to the crib, holding it out for the baby to see, “That’s your mom and your mama. Both in one picture. As soon as you’ve gotten your naptime, I will tell you a few things about those two.”
He carefully lays the boy down, before turning around, freezing for the tiniest moment when he sees you standing there.
“You were watching?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation,” you answer and get on your tiptoes to kiss him.
“Wasn’t a conversation,” he tell you, guiding you out of the room, “He didn’t seem very interested in what I had to say.”
“And what did you say?”
“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.” He whispers in your hair.
#my writing#Star Trek AOS#Star Trek McCoy#McCoy AOS#Bones AOS#McCoy x Reader#Bones x reader#Star Trek AOS angst to fluff#angst to fluff#tw: death
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Touch Starved
Series Masterlist
Chapter 4: Take a Breath (In Joon We Trust)
Most people would be surprised to wake up in a hospital, but it didn’t really surprise you anymore. It wasn’t the first time that you woke up with the familiar weight of a blood pressure cuff attached to your bicep or the crinkle of medical bedsheets beneath you. Luckily, you had enough awareness to keep your eyes closed for a minute and open them slowly so that you could adjust more easily.
What did surprise you was how quiet it was; usually, waking up in a hospital meant being either in the ER or in a shared room, and neither were particularly peaceful most days. You knew you were wearing your own clothes, which meant it had to be an emergency room, as no nurses had changed you into a gown yet. It was good news. No gown meant minimal touching while you were unconscious and that was better, it was more tolerable considering you probably wouldn’t be able to home to shower for at least a few hours.
As your eyes finally opened fully, you realized you didn’t know where you were at all. The bed was typical of a hospital, but the doctor and his nurse were more dressed up than the usual scrubs. The walls and cupboards were neutral cupboards, but instead of plain paintings on the walls, there were music posters in sleek frames, and they even had signatures on them. You recognized some of the groups as being pretty popular, but it still struck you as odd that a doctor would choose to customize an exam room like this.
It was when the nurse gasped and slapped distractedly at the doctor’s shoulder, your eyes tracking the movement, that you remembered why you passed out.
You could tell your breathing was becoming erratic, but you were overwhelmed with anxiety over the interaction and of its implications. There had been a dog at the park, his owner had crashed into you while trying to grab it, and when he’d touched your hand, you’d felt warm. You had tried to move on, and he’d followed, and then he had helped you realize what had happened: the two of you had a first touch and that meant he was your soulmate.
Soulmates were rare, they were exciting, and they touched all the time because if they didn’t then they’d die. You had been one of the many kids who romanticized the idea, until you got sick, until you developed your disorder. Your therapist had been helping you two interact more with the world, physically, but you had numerous talks of your fears about finding a soulmate and if you would be able to cope: you both agreed that the answer was no, and you hoped that your touch avoidance would prevent it from ever happening. You hadn’t been careful enough in your mission to enjoy a day at the park, it was only supposed to be thirty minutes as she suggested, and it had almost been too much on its own, but then the dog and the man had tipped the scales too far.
You couldn’t breathe with the weight of your worries compressing your lungs. You didn’t want to have to touch a stranger all the time, soulmate or not, but you didn’t really want to starve, and you definitely didn’t want to starve him. You needed to shower, call your therapist, and then start figuring out how you would be able to touch someone on a regular basis, to keep you both alive, in what was likely not even a month.
The only thing able to draw you out of your head was the opening of the door, you dreaded having to face your excitable soulmate so soon, and you were relieved to see another face.
---------- ----------
“Y/n?” Namjoon could tell things were not going well, as he checked the door was fully shut behind him. The doctor and nurse seemed flustered by her heaving breaths, he hoped it wasn’t a panic attack, because that couldn’t be good for her health or a good sign for Taehyung. He couldn’t tell if she didn’t hear him or if she just couldn’t respond so he shuffled forward and onto a rolling stool off to the side, trying to appear as calm and friendly as he could.
“Y/n. I’m Namjoon. We’ve met a few times: the MET, that gallery show in Florence, the opening night of your exhibit in Paris. We talked about Seurat during the event at the MET, I had questions about pointillism, and you answered them even though it’s not your favorite style. I heard you were working on a new collection, that your next show will be in the next few months, could you tell me about the theme or what style you’re doing this time? I promise I won’t tell anyone spoilers.” He had to keep reminding himself that she was not one to derive comfort from touch, and that where he might pat one of the members on the shoulder or offer his hand for them to squeeze, he couldn’t do those things for her.
“I--“ She choked off a little bit as she tried to start, and he could understand how hard it was to speak when your chest still felt like it was wrapped in a vice from panic. “I remember you. It’s been two years or so. You had to go to the military, right?” He nodded but didn’t speak for fear of her stopping. “You were always nice to me. Never expected more than I could handle, so you were one of my favorites to see at events. You bought two of my pieces from the Florence show. My new collection might not be your style. I noticed you liked my more abstract pieces. My new ones are much more realistic and the subjects less interpretative?”
“I can appreciate realism. Is it too much to ask for a hint of the subjects? I’m wondering if I should start making space on my wall.” He could feel that he’d started blushing as she revealed that she not only remembers him by name, but that he was nice. Being perceived was weird, so he tried to fluster her back a little by boldly saying he’d buy from the next collection without having seen it at all. He could tell was successful because she laughed awkwardly and ducked her head. He needed to not commit to big purchases to distract from his embarrassment, but if things were going well with her and Taehyung then he assumed he’d see her next collection up close and be able to find a piece or two. Not that he’d only buy because of Taehyung’s connection to her, but because she really was talented, he already had three of her pieces, so he might as well start a mini collection.
“No hints. I’m sure I can find an invite for the early access event though, so you know what to bid on before opening night. I’d much prefer my work be in your collection than some others.”
Namjoon mentally gave himself a pat on the back for putting her at ease enough to have laughed and now be smiling shyly. Unfortunately, he needed to start the more difficult conversation next, since her and Taehyung’s wellbeing depended on them figuring things out. He just needed to find the most tactful way to start things.
“So, you’re probably wondering where you are?” He paused as she nodded. “This is HYBE, my company’s building. Some of my members brought you here, to see our personal doctor. They figured it would be more private, safer.” He expected questions but she was just staring at him, so he continued. “You met someone at the park? Yeah, so that was one of my members. I’m not sure how familiar you are with BTS, so I’m not sure if his stage name would mean anything to you, but he’s called V. His real name is Taehyung. I know we don’t each other that well, but I hope you can trust me enough when I say that he’s a good guy. If any of our members were going to get a soulmate, then I’m glad it’s him.” The ‘S’ word was a gamble, but even though she’d involuntarily flinched at it, she hadn’t otherwise seemed upset by his words, so he counted it as a win so far. “He wants to come in, see you. I told him a little about you, and the doctor and I thought you might be more comfortable talking to me first, but if you’re ready, then he’s probably waiting to spring through that door as soon as you say it’s okay.”
“I don’t--“ She looked down at her fingernails, rubbing at dirt that wasn’t there. “I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t want him to think it’s him, because it’s definitely me that’s the problem but, it’s intimidating.”
“Is there anything you want to know or that I can do to help you feel ready? I know it’s scary considering everything, but you two probably need to start talking at least. Realistically, and the doctor can interrupt if I’m wrong, but you two have maybe a month before you’ll need frequent contact. I know that physical contact is hard for you, and I told him, so he won’t do anything you don’t want him to, but you two won’t really have a choice eventually. I don’t know everything about your OCD, but I hope that knowing the person helps some?”
“It does, kind of. I can handle touching people I’m comfortable with sometimes, mostly if I know that I can go shower and change afterwards, but I’ve never really—” She paused. “You know how soulmates are? The touch all the time and they’re romantic and se—well, they just touch a lot and everywhere. I can deal with hugs and sitting together on the couch, but I don’t do anything more than that, those are too much sometimes. Is he going to be okay with that? That we might never touch as much as regular soulmates?”
“I’m not going to lie to you. Taehyung is a very touchy-feely person, he cuddles with everyone, and he has an idea of soulmates that he’s romanticized since forever. But I know him well enough that I can say confidently that he would never touch you in any ways you weren’t comfortable with. He might be disappointed that things aren’t exactly what he imagined, but I know he will work to adjust. He’s always wanted a soulmate, thought it was beautiful to find the person you’ll be happiest with, and now that he knows that it’s you, you two can figure things out.”
“I don’t want to give him too much hope because I don’t know how I will feel in the future. I know I’m asking a lot, but could you explain things to him before you send him in? I’ve been getting better with therapy, though it’s slow going, and I want to be able to be like a real soulmate someday, but it might take me a long time and I might have setbacks. It sounds like he wants the romance and everything, and I did when I was a kid, I think I still do, but I don’t when I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll talk to him. It will give you a few minutes alone as well.” He stood and motioned to the doctor and then the nurse, who paused to unstrap the blood pressure cuff to set it aside. They exited first and before he followed them, he turned. “I realize I can’t speak for him, but I think you should know that I don’t think there are any criteria to be a ‘real’ soulmate, just that being soulmates and together is ‘real’ enough. Finding your soulmate, it’s rare enough as it is. Don’t box yourself as not enough before you two have even started, okay?” He saw her nod and that was enough for him to open and shut the door behind him quickly.
---------- ----------
Taehyung shot up from his seat and towards Namjoon as soon he stepped out. He’d stopped the doctor and nurse before, but they’d just said she was okay, and that Namjoon would be out in a minute.
“Joon. Is she okay? Can I go in and--?” He was speaking rapidly, causing Namjoon to hold up a hand to stop him for a minute.
“She’s fine. I think she’s feeling better, anxious but better. She wanted me to talk to you before you go in.” Namjoon looked serious, but Tae knew him well enough to see that he wasn’t nearly as stressed coming out as he’d been going in. He had to take it as a good sign.
“Let’s sit down, you can talk, and I’ll listen. Then, I can go, right?” Tae perched himself on the edge of his seat as Namjoon took his own and started.
Namjoon was their leader for a reason, and situations like this made Tae appreciate the calm he exuded more. Taehyung felt a little scandalized that his soulmate thought he’d care about her having boundaries about how their relationship would be. Sure, when he was a kid, he’d naively assumed that soulmates went from strangers to perfectly in love immediately, but he was old enough to know better now. He knew plenty of idols who had dated around and some who’d even found soulmates, he knew that some relationships moved fast, and others were more gradual. He’d dated some, but the romantic in him had always held him back from getting too attached, because he held out hope that his soulmate would find their way to him. He'd been wrong of course, he didn’t find her, and she didn’t find him; Yeontan was the only one able to follow their red thread apparently, so Tae supposed he owed him lots of treats later. Things may not be exactly as he’d expected or wished, but she was his soulmate for a reason, and he’d just need to trust the universe while they went at her pace.
#fanfic#fanfiction#bts#reader#bts fic#bts fanfic#fic#bts fanfiction#taehyung x y/n#taehyung x reader#taehyung x you#taehyung x oc#taehyung#bts v
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In response with the challenge to kinda give u an idea which u can make a story out of that’ll make u cry ,
A critically ill Nico trying to contact Lewis, but since the number is unregistered, Lewis refused to pick up. Nico thought that was Lewis response, thought he hadn’t forgiven him yet, and just settled for a written letter, forbidding anyone from telling him (since it’s clear that he was not interested). It took some friends (their former grid mates) hounding and screaming at Lewis for him to go and visit, but once he went, it’s already too late, Nico is gone. And Lewis can only fall to his knees, beg Nico to answer, and upon reading the letter, he can only cry, he came too late, he was too late.
Ah nonnie, you really took my challenge to heart and I absolutely love you for that!
Y'all better be ready....
Warning: character death
Nico just stares at the doctor when he shows him his test results.
They're not good. Not good at all.
A month. Maybe two. That's all they're giving him.
It's not fair. It's not fair at all.
What has he ever done wrong to deserve this.
There's no cure, so Nico refuses any kind of treatment.
It might give him a longer lifespan, but he doesn't care if it's not a lifelong cure.
He has a month to say goodbye to his loved ones.
His parents, his kids, his ex-wife, his friends.
And that one person who's always in the back of his mind.
The person he ends up calling first when he walks out of the doctor's cabinet at the hospital.
His phone's dead, he forgot to charge it, so he manages to ask a nurse where he can make a call.
How he actually manages to do that is all a blur to him.
It's a damn pay phone. He didn't even know they still existed.
Luckily he doesn't need his phone to get the number. He memorized it by heart.
It goes to voicemail. Of course it does.
Why did he even call him?
He hangs the phone back up with a sigh, not leaving a message.
He's gonna go say goodbye to the people who do still care about him.
He was just a fool to believe that mister 7 time world champion was still one of those people.
~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~
He decides to gather all of them all together, so he only has to explain himself and do this once.
And with them he doesn't mean his family and closest friends, because they already know.
'Them' are past and current f1 drivers Nico's always liked and vice versa.
He explains what's going on and does his personal goodbyes. But before he lets them leave his apartment, he forces them to do one last thing for him.....
"You can't tell Lewis." As expected, some of them are ready to argue (especially Sebastian), so he holds up his hand and continues. "He didn't pick up his phone when I called him. I don't think he'll care. Please. Swear to me that none of you will tell him."
They eventually assure him that they won't tell his long lost childhood friend that he's dying.
But he doesn't trust them. He knows them.
Nico leaves the next day to Greece.
It's the one place he knows he can find peace at before he dies.
Covered in memories.
~~~~~~~**********~~~~~~~~~~
"You need to talk to Nico."
Lewis frowns at Daniel, who's pulled him aside.
As if Seb's bombardment of texts weren't enough, now Daniel started too?
"Why would I do that?" it's not like Nico had been trying to talk to him either.
"Because.... I just think you guys need to talk. It's important, Lewis."
And okay, being told a million times in texts by someone is one thing, but getting the message in person hits differently.
Daniel's facial expressions and whole body language are very worrying.
"Okay, what's going on here? First cryptic texts from Seb. Now you." Lewis crosses his arms over his chest. "What is this about Nico that's so important?"
Daniel shakes his head, "I can't tell you. You need to hear it from him."
"Daniel - - -"
"He's in Greece. You probably know where." Daniel puts his hand on Lewis' arm and gives it a squeeze. "Don't wait too long."
That last sentence was so ominous, it gave him the shivers.
Greece.
He had to get there as soon as he could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~****************~~~~~~~~~~
Watching the sunset one last time on his balcony really was beautiful.
It was time. He knew it was.
The nurse who cared for him at the house he bought had brought him to the balcony in his wheelchair.
He was too weak to walk anymore. He was too weak to do anything that was really physical.
He could still write a little, so, writing his name at the end of the letter he spend too much time on writing.
His hands were shaking as he folded the letter so it would fit into the envelope.
'Lewis' was written on the front of the envelope.
He gave the envelope to his house nurse.
"Make sure he gets this."
He doesn't know how she would do it, but, she promised him she'd deliver the letter and he has a feeling she'd do anything to make that happen.
"You may leave now."
He can feel her hands on his shoulders. The soft kiss dropped into his hair. Footsteps walking away.
He stares out into the sunset and smiles.
It's time.
'Goodbye Lew....'
~~~~~~~~~~***************~~~~~~~~~~
Lewis doesn't have to go searching where Nico is when he arrives in Greece.
He still knows the address and the way to it like the back of his hand.
The building still looks the same as when he was young.
Except for now - - - Now there's an ambulance parked in front of the door.
Two men riding a stretcher come out of the door. There's a body on the stretcher.
A very still body. Covered with a sheet.
There's some blond hair sticking out at the top---
No.
No no no no.....
This can't be happening.
It can't be him.
But it is him.
As the stretcher rattles on the stones in the driveway, the sheet drops a little and Lewis can see the beautiful face of his once called best friend.
Lewis can't move. All he can do is stare at the lifeless face.
He jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. It's a feminine hand and for a second he's scared to be faced with Vivian, but as he turns around, it's not her.
It's a woman with a nurse badge pinned to her skirt.
"Sir Lewis Hamilton?"
All he can do is nod. It's not rare that people recognize him of course.
He looks surprised when she holds out an envelope, eyes widening when he recognizes the handwriting.
"I've been mister Rosberg's nurse up until his last day. He asked me to give you this letter. Everything is explained inside it."
His hand is shaking as he takes the envelope from her hand and opens up the envelope.
"I'll leave you to it," the nurse says softly, resting her hand on his back for a moment before walking back inside.
Lewis unfolds the letter, holding it in one shaking hand as he reads.
*-*
Lew, (I refuse to write dear)
If you're reading this letter, it means I'm not here anymore.
Truth is, I've been sick for some time now and it's taken its toll.
About 2 months ago I found out I was terminally ill.
Weirdly enough, you were the first one I called. You didn't pick up.
Now that I think back on it, I think it's maybe because I called with a payphone at the hospital.
Back then I thought you still hadn't forgiven me.
And after that, I just didn't want to bother you, because I didn't think you'd care.
I told some of our old friends of the grid and made them promise not to tell you anything.
If you're reading this, it means they kept their promise.
Or you couldn't come sooner.
Or....
You just didn't care.
I really hope it's not the latter.
I want you to know that this house is yours now.
You can do with it what you want.
The paperwork is ready for you to be signed. Then it's not the Rosberg vacation home anymore.
Whatever you do, I hope you still cherish the memories.
Oh.... I changed the house number. Had to pull some strings, but I did it. And it's worth it.
If you haven't already seen it, just look on the door.
I hope you think it was worth it too.
If there's one thing that I usually wasn't, it's a coward.
But one thing I regret not telling you is - - -
I love you, Lewis.
I finally found the balls to say it.
Now when it's too late.
Please don't hate me.
Live your life to the fullest.
Make me even prouder than I already was, am, and always will be.
Goodbye, Pu.
Yours,
Nico
P.S. I came to Greece to spend my last days at the place I always felt closest to you. It helped me. I hope it'll help you too. If you decide to keep the house.
*-*
He's shaking.
His whole body is trembling as one hand is clutching the letter, the oher clasped to his mouth.
He looks up at the door and he almost drops the letter.
On the door, painted in need black lettering, is the number '644'.
It's too much.
Lewis drops to his knees, biting into his own hand as a devastating sob rips through his throat.
He wants to scream but he can't.
All he can do is clutch on to the letter and cry.
Cry until he has no more tears left.
He was too late.......
Too late to even say goodbye.
~~~~~~~~~~~~***********~~~~~~~~~
Newsflash: F1's 2016 world champion Nico Rosberg passed away at his family's vacation house in Greece. His family hopes their privacy will be respected as they mourn their loved one.
~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~
Newsflash: F1's 7 times world champion Lewis Hamilton has announced his retirement from the sport. Rumors say he's moving to Greece but the former driver has given no comments on it yet. What definitely is the truth is that this man will be sorely missed on the grid.
~~~~~~~~~**********~~~~~~~
Newsflash: Sir Lewis Hamilton spotted in Greece, brandishing his new clothing line; 'Pu 644'. Where it comes from, our guess is as good as yours. We're thinking a certain childhood friendship definitely needed to be honored in style.
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Dear dear writer friend I hope this message finds you well. I am a simple person and all I come to request is an extra part for your 'Daddy Baxter' series whatever you like but if youre looking for an idea maybe their little girl is older and they have a second child?
Dad Baxter is my favorite, bless you for this!!!
It was a Friday night, and you and Baxter were tired from a long week. You lounged on the couch together, snuggled cozily under a quilt, half watching tv and half chatting.
Your daughter, Penny, was out at a sleepover, so you had the house to yourselves.
You both had lapsed into a stretch of silence, and your eyelids were drooping as Baxter lazily stroked your hair.
Then he started talking.
"Would you like to know what I've been thinking about?" he asked.
"What's that?"
"Let me give you a hint," he said, bringing the hand that had been on your head down to your side.
He worked his warm fingers under the hem of your shirt and touched your stomach. You waited for him to go either further up or further down, sure he was trying to put the moves on you, but he didn't. His hand remained planted in the same spot.
Before you could guess, he started rubbing small circles on your belly, and in a lower voice he said, "I've been thinking about something growing right here."
You moved your head as best you could without actually moving, getting a glimpse of his face out of the corner of your eye. He was smirking, but he was serious.
"You want to have another baby."
"I think it would be enjoyable, yes."
You'd talked about having another kid one day after having Penny, but obviously there had never been any concrete plans. For him to put it out there so plainly and so suddenly had you reeling a bit.
Reading your expression correctly, he explained, "I find myself missing some of the moments from when Penny was younger, and in my humble opinion, we do make beautiful children together. But most importantly, and you may find this a tad surprising, is that I do find myself having more love to give."
You sat up for real at that point, facing him completely.
"That's not surprising at all."
Sometimes, every once in a while, the old Baxter popped up again. The self-deprecation that he tried to play off as a joke but that had a little too much bite. At this point in your relationship, you shut it down immediately when it reared its ugly head.
He smiled at you, aware of what you were doing. He moved his hand from your stomach up to your face, which he cupped lovingly. Then he kissed you, long and deep.
Pulling back just a bit, he said, "I understand completely if you don't want to have another child. I know it's a lot to ask, in many different ways. But if you do think you might want to --"
Before he could finish, you met his lips again. There was more passion this time, enough that it was an answer: yes, you would like to have another baby.
"Just by the way," you told him as you started undressing, "it might take a little longer to happen this time. We're not quite as young as we used to be."
As fate would have it, you'd already done enough waiting in your relationship.
Two months later, you were back in a bathroom with Cove, a line of pregnancy tests on the counter. This time, it wasn't in his old apartment in town -- he and Xavier had moved into a house down the block from the one you shared with Baxter. The door was cracked so he could listen for his son who was napping in his bedroom nearby.
"Well?" Cove asked, smiling down at you.
"Looks like you're going to be an uncle again."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Baxter was a wonderful father. He was there, ready and willing and eager to take care of you throughout your pregnancy, and the first time he held Penny, you saw his entire world change. He put so much love and care into being a parent, so it didn't surprise you at all to see how tender he was in the delivery room after you'd given birth to your son.
As the doctors and nurses were finishing up, you held the baby to your chest, and Baxter was leaned down close, openly crying. He planted a gentle kiss on his forehead, then gave you one as well.
Later, when you were moved to a regular room, you were holding the baby again, but this time Baxter was lying in bed with you, his arms around you and one hand stroking your son's back.
"I've got my names, have you got yours?" he asked quietly.
When Penny was born, you'd been the one to come up with her first name, and he insisted on giving her two middle names -- your mothers' names. After you got pregnant again, he suggested doing the same thing, but you'd waited to find out the baby's sex until the birth, so nothing was set in stone.
"I think so," you whispered, glancing up at him. "How do you feel about James?"
It was Cove's middle name, but it was also nice and solid. You thought Baxter would appreciate both, and he did.
"I was wondering, and let me know if you disagree, but I thought it might be nice if one of his middle names was Alexander?" he said.
"Of course," you said quickly, knowing how found he was of his own middle name. "But you've got one left."
He looked down at the baby, thinking for a moment, then said, "If we gave Penny your mothers' names, then I see no reason to break with tradition now."
You looked at him again, not understanding where he was going with that. He smiled back at you.
"James Alexander Clifford Ward," he said. "What do you think?"
You could have blamed the tears on hormones, but they would have come regardless.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Nearly a year later, you had certainly gotten back into the routine of having a baby. It helped that this time around you had a third family member who was all too eager to help -- Penny was obsessed with her little brother, and the feeling was definitely mutual.
One day you came home from work, utterly spent, and as you were walking down the hallway to your bedroom you saw Baxter standing in the doorway to your daughter's room. He heard you coming, held a finger to his lips and smiled.
When you got closer, he pulled you to his side, snaking an arm around your waist. You looked inside and saw both of your children asleep on Penny's bed.
You watched them together for a moment before Baxter let you go, walking softly into the room and putting a blanket from the bed over them. As he walked out, he gave you a wink.
"We make cute kids, huh?" you asked, taking another look at them.
"Care to go for three?"
"Not on your life."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
With Penny, things had been easy for Baxter, in terms of her interests. When she was little she liked playing dress up and having tea parties -- he was good at that. When she'd gotten older, she turned into a reader, and that was something they shared too. In general, they had similar tastes.
James, however, was different. That's why you were standing in Derek's yard on a Saturday morning, watching your old friend teach your husband the ins and outs of football.
Your son was 11, he'd just entered middle school, and he was desperate to try out for the team. He'd asked Baxter to help him, and of course he would, it's just that he had absolutely no idea about any of it. But Uncle Derek did. He was teaching them both as you stood close by the house with Derek's wife, Tamarack.
"I think he'll get it," she said, a little too much forced optimism in her voice.
"Baxter or James?" you asked.
"Yeah."
The two of you laughed -- you were too far away to hear what the guys were saying, but based on the look of confusion that hadn't left Baxter's face since they'd stepped out together, you couldn't imagine it was going very well.
Eventually, Derek took the ball and ran off a ways with it. You watched him lift it, then throw it to James, who caught it easily. Derek cheered him on, then jogged back over and made a gesture to Baxter, who turned and walked off. There was a little more coaching, then James took the ball in his hands carefully, then sent it soaring towards his father.
Baxter had grace and agility, a born dancer, but he was not quite an athlete. He couldn't catch the ball, and instead, it hit him in the face. He stumbled and brought his hands up to his face, and a few seconds later you saw blood seeping out between his fingers.
"Oh no!" Tamarack said, already moving for the back door. "I'll go get the first aid kit!"
You ran out to where Baxter stood, sheepishly holding his bloody nose. James and Derek were there already, looking concerned.
"I'm all right," Baxter said. His voice came out a little stuffy, but he offered a thumbs up to drive his words home.
"I'm sorry," James said, his brown eyes locked on the ground. "I didn't think about you not being able to catch it."
Derek snorted, then started coughing to cover up his laughter. That set you off, and you tried clearing your throat as a cover.
"Amused by my suffering, hmm?" Baxter asked, cocking an eyebrow at you both. "Go ahead, don't hold back on my account."
When Tamarack came back with supplies to patch up Baxter, she got him cleaned up quickly. His nose was busted, not broken, so you and Derek felt free to continue giggling at his expense.
"I'll tell you what," Baxter told Derek after the bleeding stopped. "You help me not injure myself around a football, and I'll be there for all your children's dancing and formalwear needs."
Derek was about to respond, but Tamarack cut in with "And plan their weddings for free."
Baxter glared at her for a moment, then looked over at James, who had gone off by himself for this boring part of the morning. He was practicing his hold on the football, miming throwing it until someone was free to play with him again.
"It's a deal."
#our life beginnings and always#our life#olba#baxter ward#cove holden#derek suarez#our life baxter#baxter x reader#baxter x mc#baxter x you#baxter ward x reader#baxter ward x mc#baxter ward x you#cove x xavier#derek x tamarack#daddy baxter
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I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but I can’t help but feel that so many of the problems in treatment and healthcare come from how our society totally misrepresents what medicine is and how it works. So, let’s clarify some misconceptions:
1. No one can give you a “clean bill of health”. There are not tests for every condition, and no doctor under the sun is going to order every single test possible.
2. No category is perfect. Practically every single condition has its abnormal presentations, it’s uniquenesses, it’s fuzzies around the edges. The vast majority of people with any condition do not present 100% with all the signs of that condition and absolutely nothing else.
3. No person fits perfectly into one category. Very rarely are you going to find out “what is wrong with you”. The answer is usually that there are several things. Some of them wrong, some of them just hurting because of the context, and they are all interplaying to create a unique circumstance inside of you
3. No treatment is perfect. Some of them are very close, and rarely hurt anyone. But some of them rarely work at all. Medicine isn’t the process of knowing how to fix things, it’s the process of trying the best you can with the information you have at the time, and trying to make sure you do more good than harm in each case. The best doctors are the ones who are honest with you about this, and tell you the odds, and let you make informed decisions.
4. Doctors and nurses do not have the time, energy, or ability to properly care for all of their patients. There are simply not enough of them. They work long hours, they are exhausted, they are trained on often flawed and contradictory information, and by the time they graduate half of it is out of date, and they don’t have the time to keep up. The best of them try, and often end up completely burned out by it. A lot of them just get tired, and petty. And oftentimes, the only people they can take it out on is the patients. This sucks. But it is understandable. Navigating healthcare is dealing with a bunch of hurt people who are hurting each other, even when trying their best. And you are navigating it at the worst moments in your life. There is no easy solution to this for either you or the doctor.
5. If something feels wrong in your body, or something isn’t working how it should, no test can tell you that’s not true. They can rule out a ton of things, and that’s really good. But if you are in pain, they cannot “rule out” that you are in pain. There may be nothing they can do for you. The issue may not be a sign of some big underlying issue. It may resolve on its own. But that does not negate what is happening inside of your body. Medicine has not described every single way the human body can be, and every single way it can be in distress. Medicine focuses on the things that are easiest to help, the things that will help the most people, the things that will make the most money, and the things that they stumble into some treatment for. The system as it is cannot bear the weight of knowing and treating everything.
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The dear priestess
A khonshu x reader fanfic PT 1 (warning for swear words)
PT 2 here PT3 here
You went out to the terrace of the hospital for the third time that night. And for the third time you did nothing more that to smoke and complain to the moon, as if the huge space rock cared about the patient that tried to attack you or your constant struggles to keep the hospital you worked at afloat.
This time you just complained about the latter, about how the funding was never enough for a hospital so needed. The hospital that you worked at was in the middle of a rough area of London, so on average you stitched up to 20 people every shift. And yet with how important it was to keep it open it was extremely hard to do so, so many doctors, nurses and personnel had been laid off but nothing.
Hearing the timer on your phone woke you up from the trance that you normally fell on while complaining. You turned it off along with your cigarette and after saying goodbye you went inside again to deal with the next set of patients until the end of your shift. But once inside you found nothing but silence, there was no one on the hall and the line of patients on the entrance was suddenly empty, at least it would be if it weren't for the group of men and women standing next to a middle-aged man, the feeling that you got from him was so off, you felt sick to your stomach and the feeling of eyes burning holes on your back only worsened it.
—Good evening Dr (l/n), wonderful night isn't it?—asked the man while approaching you—I hope we can talk a little?
—My shift is almost over, make it quick please—you said trying to look calm.
He only smiled and sat on one of the dirty seats, which reminded you to find a replacement for Isabella if the budget permitted it, and looked at you signaling you to seat next to him. Yet you stood there with your arms crossed waiting and transforming the sickness you felt into anger.
—There is no need to be so tense, my team and I already helped everyone here—he exclaimed trying to calm you down—My name is Arthur Harrow and I would like to found your hospital, in exchange I just have a small favor to ask of you.
You widened your eyes in disbelief, who was this man? Not only did he take care of the patients, and the staff as well, but he was also offering to found a whole ass hospital? Either he was a millioner who wanted to laundry money or he belong to some weird mafia or cult, whatever it was, it was definitely for something bad.
—And may I ask why you want to do that, and also what you want from me?—you answered a bit more calm but fuming at the thought that this might be a joke.
—I know that this is going to sound ridiculous, but I serve Ammit, do you know who that is?—you answered yes recalling what you learned in your youth after a small obsession over the Egyptian Pantheon—Then, I would like to use this hospital and employ you doctor to treat the people—if you weren't confused before now you definitely were, who in their right mind would do that?—I also know that this sounds even more ridiculous, but believe me when I tell that once Ammit is back she would be very pleased with your help.
Once he stopped talking the lights started blinking, you would normally think nothing of it as it was a normal occurrence, if it wasn't for the deep voice you heard behind you telling you to not trust him, for some reason you trusted this body less voice over the man infront of you.
—Don't mind the light—you inquired to the man and his company—I am delighted to hear that you want to help the hospital, but I have to deny, this place is agnostic—you just spoke the worst lie you could ever think of, even you cringed at how bad it was.
Your answer clearly only made his people mad, yet all Harrow did was get close to you and grab your hands, you were frozen on the spot the moment you saw the tattoo on his arm move and stop to light up in green.
—Even if you are a good person you still deny it?—you definitely didn't like the tone on his voice and the overall attitude that he had been giving you made you see red, in a second you removed your hand from his and gave him the strongest sucker punch you could.
You were ready to be killed by his people yet the sudden apearence of a man dressed in white slashing them up like nothing made you back up, and as if that night couldn't go worse you felt yourself hit something, the moment you looked up you saw the underside of a skeletal bird head. You looked back down hopping and praying to every god you knew of to help you.
—There is nothing to fear—spoke the same voice from before from above you, in other words, you had just listened to a dead pigeon who is twice as tall as you and carries a staff that you just noticed, gods, you could only hope to either be dreaming or high on drugs.
The steps coming closer to you scared you awake and made you look at who was making them, that vigilante-looking-guy stayed away from you and the thing behind you disappeared.
—Let me walk you home—said the man—there is a lot for us to talk about.
Completely mentally exhausted you just did what he said even though you knew that the relationship between a healthcare worker and a vigilante was the worst nightmare for anyone, but you still complied. You went around the hospital looking for anyone and since you found no one you just turned off all of the light, locked all of the doors and left feeling absolutely defeated by everything that transpired in no more than an hour.
#khonshu#khonshu x reader#khonshu-x-reader#moon knight#marvel moon knight#why am I attracted to a bird?#maybe because he is a god?
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Weedboiii Void | 3. Clever Little Fox*
Summary: Royal is a patient at Eichen House. Colin happens to be, too. But this mysterious boy is more than just fake blonde hair and weed.
He's also the voice in his head.
Word Count: 3.1k
He doesn’t see her walk in.
To be fair, she hadn’t expected him to, her cat-like footsteps easy to miss.
His arm is strewn across his eyes, his back pressed firmly into the cushions, and his breathing light and wispy.
He could be asleep, Royal reckons. After all, she imagines he didn’t get much rest the night before.
After Lawson talked her back to reality, the two had snuck back to their rooms, where not much later, they heard the alarm go off.
Guards and nurses alike swept each floor, each room, and each corner of the asylum in hunt of Colin, but to no avail.
He had disappeared.
Royal had wondered if she’d ever see him again.
But the eerie fog encasing her mind never faltered for a moment, indicating that Void had to be somewhere in the building. Somewhere close.
Turns out, her hunch had been correct, and she feels a wave of relief follow her through the door the moment her eyes land on him.
She assumes, then, that he’s here for one reason and one reason only.
Hiding.
Once morning hit, the alarm was silenced, and the asylum returned to its natural state of insanity, with not one word of Colin’s disappearance.
The doctors and nurses carried on about their duties as usual, and the guards were back to their posts.
Either they knew Colin was still in the building and didn’t want to raise suspicion and upset the other patients, or they had assumed he escaped, therefore rendering the hunt moot.
She’s not sure which version of Colin she’ll find today, but after dreaming about him all night, she realizes…she doesn’t exactly care.
Because both Colin and Void hold the answers she’s looking for.
And she’ll get her answers.
“You shouldn’t be here,” his deep voice grumbles from behind his arm, the words causing a slight startle.
Surprised he knew she was even in the room, her hand lands over her heart. “I’m…I wanted to check on you.”
He scoffs, although he remains in his spot, eyes still covered. “Yeah? And why is that?”
A step forward. “Well…after last night. I wasn’t sure…”
She can’t exactly figure out what she’s trying to say. Mostly because she isn’t sure what he remembers.
Luckily, he catches onto her hesitancy, lowering his arm as he sits up on his elbows to look over towards her.
Her breath gets caught in her throat when she takes in his appearance. Bloodshot eyes, dark circles below his lashes, and the angry scars now further up his neck than before.
“I’m fine,” he grunts, frowning some at the worried expression on her face. “But you shouldn’t be here.”
Her lips roll into her mouth as she begins to nervously pick at her fingernails. “Colin, I—”
“Did you not fucking hear me?” he snaps, sitting up a bit higher until she leans back. “Go.”
But she plants her feet firmly to their spot, forcing the coil of anxiety in her stomach to unwind. “No.”
His eyes linger on hers for a moment before he scoffs bitterly, glancing away as if he can’t bear the sight of her face.
He’s scared.
Lawson’s comment from the night before rings in her ears as she glances over Colin’s face.
He is scared. She imagines she would be, too.
But how can she help him?
Gently, she begins to make her way toward the couch, taking note of the tense in his muscles when he realizes she’s approaching him.
But she isn’t deterred, instead gingerly sitting on the couch beside him, leaving just enough space between their bodies to ease his discomfort.
Without a word, her fingers reach for the marks on his neck, the soft brush of her fingertips causing him to flinch.
“They’re worse,” she tells him, to which he snorts.
“They’re fine.”
“Do they hurt?”
He pauses, conflicted. “Sometimes.”
Her heart aches in her chest for the poor boy, her hand lowering back down to her lap. “I want to help you.”
“I don’t fucking need your help,” he responds instantly, shooting an outraged glare her way. “And you shouldn’t even want to help me after last night.”
“You remember?” she questions, brows raising slightly.
His jaw tenses as he lets his eyes fall over her face, expression softening slightly, although his frown remains put. “Yeah. Bits and pieces.”
“You remember me?” she reiterates, and again, he’s silent.
“Yeah.” He leans back against the cushions. “You had clothes on.”
Her mouth twitches into a grin. “Good, you do remember.”
He fights a smirk of his own as he glances down at his grey sweatpants. “You really shouldn’t be here,” he repeats before eyeing her closely. “I don’t choose when he takes control, and if he wants something from you, then—”
“I don’t care what he wants,” she tells him, although deep down, she knows that’s not exactly the truth. “But I know how…isolating this can be. So, I want to help.”
“Well, unless you have a joint on you, I don’t think you can,” he informs her, glancing over her body as if looking for something. “…you don’t, do you?”
She laughs, shaking her head, to which he sighs. “No, but…I do have an idea.”
“Okay…?”
Now a tad nervous, she leans closer to him, softening her voice to a tempo she hopes will be a bit more convincing. “What if we played his game?”
Colin’s eyes narrow as he spreads his legs a bit further apart, adjusting his position. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…he won’t leave until we agree, right?” she explains, returning to the habit of picking at her fingernails. “That’s why he keeps coming back? So we’ll play? And he can get whatever it is he wants?”
“Yeah…”
“So…let’s play,” she declares. “Let’s play his game. Let’s beat him.”
Colin’s eyelids lower into a look of disappointment. “You really don’t know how this works, do you?”
“I know his hold is killing you,” she retorts quickly, nodding her chin at the aggravated veins. “I know you’re scared of him. Scared of what he can do.”
An exasperated scoff. “I’m not—”
“And I know you won’t ever get to leave here as long as he’s in control of you,” she finishes, and his lips purse shut. “What more do you have to lose, Colin?”
The question he’s surely been asking himself since the moment he first heard the voice, and as she watches the realization pass over his face, she feels her heart leap into her throat.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees as his eyes flicker between hers. “And how exactly do you think we’d beat him?”
“Well…we have to know what he wants first,” she admits, glancing towards the marks as her lids narrow. “And find his weakness.”
“Right, and how do you propose we do that?”
Now, she leans forward as well, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “We talk to him.”
For a moment, they don’t move, the silence feeding into Colin’s decision as she waits with bated breath.
“You want to talk to him?” he asks, brows furrowing. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I mean, it’s kind of the only idea we have,” she corrects but attempts to shrug nonchalantly. “If we lure him out, then maybe I can get a sense of how to play him.”
He eyes her for a moment before letting his head drop, a scoff of indifference slipping past his lips. “This is a really shitty idea—”
“I won’t let him hurt you,” she argues quickly, and he looks over. “I’ll keep him calm and if…if something happens…I’ll pull you back.”
“How?” he snorts, straightening up. “You can’t pull me back. Not when he’s in control—”
“I’ll find a way,” she reiterates, placing a hand on his knee as his eyes fall to her touch. “I won’t let him hurt you, okay? I’ll find a way. Whatever it takes.”
He seems to contemplate the decision for a moment longer before nodding once. “Fine, just…do it fast.”
She offers a small smile of encouragement before she leans closer to him, hands reaching up to cup his face as she murmurs, “Void?”
For a moment, he merely blinks at her, but as the seconds pass, she notices the veins crawling up his jaw darkening in color.
The soft brown of his eyes melts into a golden yellow, similar to the color she saw the night before as the blood around his iris begins to deepen.
“I need to talk to you,” she continues, fingers still grazing his cheeks as his head begins to tilt. “Are you there?”
The Colin she sat down next to disappears before her very eyes, the eerie sensation trickling along her spine intensifying with each second.
“Hi, Little Fox.”
She’d know that devious purr anywhere, and her hands quickly drop from his face as he begins to smile mischievously.
“Something wrong?” he asks when he notices her hesitation, surely pleased with himself for causing her confidence to falter.
“No,” she murmurs, before clearing her throat. “No, I’m just…I wanted to talk to you.”
The smile grows. “Did you?”
He almost seems…ecstatic. Which Royal doesn’t doubt for a moment to be true, although she can’t deny it creates an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes, I…I thought about what you said,” she continues, straightening her posture as his eyes follow her up. “And…I have a few questions.”
“You do?”
“I do.” Her heart is hammering inside her chest as she takes a soft breath. “What…what do you want from him?”
Void leans forward, invading the little bit of space she has, and her eyes widen. “Why would you like to know, Little Fox?”
Another gulp. “I…because I think he needs help.”
“Help?” he repeats, rather incredulously, and she nods. “And what makes you think he needs help?”
“You’re killing him,” she replies, and he lets out a soft, borderline maniacal laugh. “You’re killing him, and I want to know why.”
A moment of silence, his eyes falling to her lips before flicking back up. “He let me in.”
She mulls over his answer for a moment, attempting to decipher its meaning. “Why did you need him to let you in?”
“Why do you think?” he retorts, leaning even closer until his voice drops to a gentle mumble. “So I could talk to you.”
Her back meets the arm of the sofa, her heart in her throat as she sucks in a sharp breath. “Well…you’re talking to me.”
“I am,” he hums, hand coming to rest on the cushion beside her thigh. “You’ve been hiding from me.”
“No, I…I don’t—”
“You have,” he repeats, head cocking to the side in warning. “Why were you hiding from me, Little Fox?”
Why the fuck do you think, she wants to snort, but instead, simply shrugs. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.”
He pulls his lip between his teeth, fighting another grin. “Do you think you can trust me now?”
He’s closer yet, the smell of Colin’s cologne enveloping her senses as the dark yellow in his eyes practically seeps into her subconscious.
She feels distracted. Fuzzy. Her mind growing hazy the closer he gets to her and it’s familiar to the fog she feels when she closes her eyes.
It’s like he’s luring her into a state of ease and reliance, her body growing heavy as her lashes begin to flutter.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, vaguely aware of the feel of his fingertips along her outer thigh. “Maybe I need a reason.”
A low rumbling resembling a chuckle reverberates from his chest as he dips his head down, a smirk apparent on his face. “Would you like me to give you a reason?”
She supposes she would like a reason if only to make this conversation a bit more bearable, and her head lifts and falls in a slow nod.
He’s pleased with her answer, head tilting as his nose brushes momentarily against hers. “What about now?”
Her lids are falling shut, her breath hitching in her throat as she anticipates the contact. Something that, despite herself, she’s been thinking about since the other day in the hall.
If she were in her right mind, she’d recognize the red flags the moment he waved them. She’d know what a terrible idea this is and remind herself that leaving is the best option.
But…she’s never been in her right mind.
And as Void dips his head a bit lower just to watch her inhale a soft breath, she decides…it can’t be that bad, right?
Whatever it takes.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks her now, the deep lilt in his voice tempting her further into a state of bliss. “Wanted to see if my intentions were true?”
She swallows, eyeing his lips for a moment. “Maybe.”
His other hand comes up to rest on her cheek, cupping her face firmly as he lifts her head. “Clever girl.”
His touch sends sparks through her nervous system, the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers stroking her skin enough to have her melting into his palm.
“I thought I was off limits?” she finds the strength to question, and she notices the muscles in his jaw tense.
“You’re off limits to him,” Void corrects quickly, his tone an ominous warning. “But never to me, Sugar.”
Her chest tightens as he pauses, moving in even closer until all she knows is him.
And then, he whispers, “You’re my clever little fox.”
Before she can fully wrap her mind around his declaration, he’s pulling at her chin until their lips connect, firm but desperate.
She doesn’t know much of anything, but she knows he’s as frantic as she is.
She hadn’t expected herself to give in so quickly. Hadn’t expected it to feel so…right. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to yearn for her the way he seems to be.
Although to be fair, she’s not quite sure if what she feels from him is yearning, per se.
It could be a number of things, and while she’s sure his motivations are much more deceitful than he’s letting on, she can’t quite find it in herself to care.
One hand moves to her hip, tugging her back down onto the sofa as he moves to hover over her, asserting his dominance in more ways than one.
She lets herself be pulled, suddenly drawn to the handsome face above her, despite who’s really behind it.
She can’t deny she has…needs. Fantasies in her head that her own hand can’t suffice. And it’s not like the men in Eichen House are all that appealing.
And if they are, it’s probably because they’re actually bat shit crazy.
The kiss deepens, his tongue slipping past her lips as he tastes her, exactly the way he had threatened to.
She’s reminded of what Colin said that night in the hallway. Of how Void taunted him with her feel. Her taste.
She hadn’t thought much of it, seeing as she wasn’t even sure she understood what he meant, but now…she wonders.
Wonders if the feeling in her mind was how Void knew in the first place. Knew how she felt. How she tasted. Or if it was merely an attempt at trickery in order to lure Colin into a trap.
She supposes it’s not really important, since now he’s getting exactly what he wanted, although she can’t deny she doesn’t feel a bit guilty.
This isn’t something she should want. Not with him. This thing that she’s not quite sure she fully understands.
And yet…his hands. Smoothing up her hip as he moves his kisses to her jaw, suckling a dark bruise into her skin until she’s panting erotically.
His fingers slip beneath her dark grey shirt, his cold fingertips meeting her rather heated skin as they travel upwards, finding her chest.
The lack of brassiere works in both their favor and she can feel him smirk into her neck as he lets his palm run over her chest before pulling her nipple between his fingers.
She arches off the cushions, body colliding into his as he tuts under his breath, forcing her back down with his knee until she sinks into the sofa.
“Relax, Little Fox,” he commands softly, nudging her head to the side with his nose so he has a bit more access to her throat. “I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
His words rumble like thunder, echoing repeatedly in her mind until she feels her blood run cold, reminding her of who he really is. What he really is.
Even if she’s not sure what that is.
She does know, it’s not Colin.
She’s not sure how aware he is of what happens when Void is in control. If he sees it in real-time or can only experience it through memories once Void slips back into the darkness of his subconscious.
But she is sure that he never agreed to this.
Her hands move to Void’s chest, shoving firmly until he leans back, his eyes darkening in color as he shoots her a glare.
“Stop,” she murmurs, wiggling her body until she can sit up. “I…I need to talk to Colin.”
He clicks his tongue as his head rolls to the side. “Sorry, Sugar. Colin can’t come to the phone right now.”
“I need to talk to him,” she repeats, resisting the urge to flinch as his hand brushes her hip to steady himself. “Just…for a moment.”
“’Fraid that’s not possible,” Void informs her, his volume lowering until that familiar chill reappears. “He’s unavailable.”
Her chest tightens as her eyes flicker over his face. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” he whispers, head dropping back down to hers as he moves in a second time. “I’ve made sure…he can’t get…in my fucking way.”
He’s going to kiss her again, his lips subtly grazing hers, and for a moment…her mind blanks. Exactly the way it had the first time.
But she promised.
“No,” she grits, leaning back as she shoves at his body once more. “No, I need to speak with Colin. Bring him back.”
He moves away from her, observing with narrowed eyes, and she can feel the air get caught in her throat. “Like I said…I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Her stomach flips, her heart beginning to race as she quickly stands to her feet. “Colin, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to get you back—”
“He can’t hear you, Sugar,” Void hisses, standing as well, although that doesn’t deter her.
“Tell me how to help you, tell me what to do—” she continues as she begins to back up toward the door.
“There is no helping him,” Void retorts as he follows her, his footsteps slow and deliberate. “You think you’re strong enough to keep him safe from me?”
“Colin, please, give me a sign—”
“You want a sign, Little Fox?” he laughs, reaching out to grab the band of her sweatpants before he yanks her closer. “I’ll give you a fucking sign—”
Her hands fly to his face as she cups his cheeks exactly the way she had before, pulling at his skin harshly as she whispers, “Colin…réveiller.”
For a moment, he does nothing but scoff, hateful eyes peering into hers until the sneer on his lips begins to fall.
She watches in awe and relief as the yellow swimming in his irises melts back into the gentle brown she’s used to, the dark veins receding back down his neck as his muscles relax.
His lashes flutter, his expression falling into one of confusion and exhaustion as her hands lower.
“Colin?” she murmurs cautiously, glancing over his face until his eyes find hers.
He swallows, looking down at his hands and body before returning his stare to her. “Yeah, I…I—”
Suddenly, his eyes roll back into his head, and his body lurches forward, collapsing onto hers.
And just like that…
...he’s out.
Next:
~ Weedboiii Void | 4. Horny Intentions
Previous:
~ Weedboiii Void | 2. The Cage
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#dylan#dylan o'brien#dylan o'brien imagine#dylan o'brien fanfiction#dylan o'brien smut#dylan o'brien short story#void#void colin#void stiles#teen wolf#stiles stilinski#void stiles smut#void stiles fan fiction
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your answer made me tear up too, i don't think anyone has cared enough to ask how i've been in so long. i feel like the bad days are permanent, they seem to appear so often i just can't bear it anymore. i try to hold out hope but maybe i'm just kidding myself. i've been so sad for so long, i don't even remember how to be happy. and that makes me so sad. that the thought of passing away seems so much more of a relief than to continue living. i know for a fact i failed my exams which means i'll either have to drop out or redo my exams. which also means i won't get to do placement. and if my family knows of this, i don't think i can go through that again. i can't. the pain was way too much last time, i suppressed those memories. i'm not stong enough to go through that again. i know death is the easy way out. and i'm a coward for wanting to take it but i'm so desperate. i don't want to feel the pain anymore. the numbness, the anger, the guilt, the sadness, i can't.
i'm sorry, you feel so much more comforting than my own big sisters. i don't think they even deserve that title truthfully. but thank you for letting me rant, you don't even have to post this. i don't mind. i truly hope your day today was much lighter than mine. i hope you experienced some form of happiness today. i hope you're well. love you more than words could ever say, thank you for letting me spill my words on here. please don't feel pressured to post this. i'm sorry for how weird this ask is. i'm sorry for unloading it all on to you 💕
Don't worry, you can always rant to me. Sometimes we just need to let it out, to get it off our chests because too often we don't have anyone trustworthy to talk to openly and many wouldn't understand it either. I wish I could help you through this, I'm having similar struggles too. I actually blew up my professional life a week ago because I panicked. They wanted to give me the residency I asked for after fighting with them for months and when they gave it to me I ended up not accepting (for reasons listed bellow but also because they bind you contractually for life). I just spent the last year not even living but surviving, working nights so often I didn't feel human at all and I barely saw my family (my younger niece barely knows who i am), I don't even have friends anymore because everyone kind of just gave up on me. They didn't understand how tired I was from work, I just didn't want to do anything after work. I went from a packed covid unit to urgent care back to infectious diseases and it's been so exhausting both mentally and physically and my chronic illnesses have all gone havoc in this time and I've come to realize that even though the pay is better when you work nights and on calls, my health and general well being have no price. So when my contract is up this March I'm going to be unemployed for a bit until I find a job as a GP and that's scary as hell and no one quite understands why I left a higher paying job in a hospital 20 mins away from me by foot that I lowkey dreamed about and wished for my entire life. Guess they were right when they said be careful what you wish for...I got my wish and it cost me everything else and I was miserable. If I had the option I'd leave healthcare altogether, but my background is basically a nursing degree and then a doctor's degree so I'm stuck with it...unless I marry a richy rich dude 🤣 (can I get Charles Leclerc pls) but yeah, I understand what you're going through. Life is so fucking hard all the time and most people just have to stay up float and that's it, but people like you and me are constantly swimming against the current with chains pulling us under. (There's a song by The Pretty reckless called Under the water, I recommend you listen to it, kind of like a soundtrack to this whole thing). I refuse to believe it won't get easier one day (despite my year starting with a firework going off in my face followed by a terrible case of chicken pox that made me miss a weekend trip to Austria, making my skin awful, and now a flare up in my condition), IT HAS TO GET EASIER. Until then, please reach out to me whenever you need it. It's not a burden. Hell it's like group therapy, we can commiserate together over shitshows of the day. Can even be fun? Either way, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere yet. I'll keep fighting and I really hope you will too so that one of these days we can talk about the good things we get to see and live. I'm hoping everything happens for a reason and one day that reason will be clear. 💕
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Writing hospitals
Experiences of someone recently been at an intensive care unit, having gone through the ER
About my situation: This happened in a European country with free healthcare, didn’t involve an ambulance ride and I’m a minor, so not everything will be applicable to everyone
Admission process
It’s not always easy to find the right entrance, sometimes it’s not even walking distance
Walk of shame to the desk to explain what’s wrong (especially if it’s late at night/it’s busy)
Having to wait in silence in a room for a nurse/doctor (and not knowing for how long you’ll have to wait, depends on how urgent it is)
Having to answer private questions and your answers being written down, if someone took you to the ER they may be asked to leave the room if you prefer
Talking to so many different people, having to repeat yourself a lot, many of them you’ll only see once
At the intensive care unit
IV pulling uncomfortably when you move your arm (not being able to sleep easily)
Regular (maybe one hourly) blood pressure taken (the device around your lower calve most of the time)
It’s never really silent (always beeping and moving)
Never being really dark (monitors and hallway lights)
Having to wait for (and not knowing exactly when you’re gonna see) a doctor or anything really, nothing is every really „scheduled“ if it’s not life threatening
Having to pee in a bed pan if you’re not allowed/able to stand up (and the whole process around it like calling for a nurse to bring the pan and take it away), most humbling experience
So many blood tests, they may not find a suitable vein on the first try
Puking in a plastic bag (and everyone hearing it)
Your vitals being tracked at the monitoring station (and alarms going off there alongside your monitor)
Your heart rate possibly outing your feelings (a raised one indicating stress for example, embarrassing)
Finger clipped in, not being able to use it
A remote with a red button to call a nurse (attached with a cord to the bed)
A remote to change the bed position
A TV may exists though channels are limited, if the remote falls it’s a pain
Possibly no socket in immediate reach
Probably no Wi-Fi (at least on the childrens’ ward)
Having to be clipped off and on to the machines after standing up (and how uncomfy it is for them to reach under the gown)
The gown being comfy but also open back so your whole ass hanging out while you move around (though you could possibly wear your own clothes but the tubes may interfere with them, I preferred to wear the hospital gown)
Feeling sticky (since you’re not really able to shower for however long, though you might get a disposable cloth and warm water to freshen up a bit and toothpaste and such)
Hospital food, not as bad as I thought though very plain and not always warm when it arrives
Maybe getting visited but spending most of your time by yourself
Visits being strange and feeling pitied
Only one visitor being allowed in at a time (COVID policies like that and a mandatory mask and current Covid test)
Having to share a room since there’s not enough space to have a private room (on childrens‘ ward possibly even with infants, their parents being there constantly and it being pretty awkward, especially when they have nap time)
Release and aftermath
Getting released even when you’re not totally recovered, they just don’t have enough space/people to keep you there
Paperwork to be signed when released (either by you or your guardian)
The hospital scent clinging to you, the relief of finally washing it off and the familiar scent of home
Taking the toothpaste (and toothbrush) with you since they gave it to you and it would’ve thrown it away if you left it there
Marks from the EKG on your chest not washing off immediately, being reminded of the experience every time you shower (for me it took over three showers to wash off)
IV mark not fading fast (very noticeable for up to a week, not totally faded even after two) + the marks from blood tests
Dealing with the missed time, possibly having to make excuses for your absence and dealing with indiscrete people (your doctors note indicates a hospital stay so you can’t hide it completely at your school or work place)
Choosing to keep your stay to yourself and almost forgetting you didn’t tell them, feeling alone in your experience since talking about it may be difficult and you don’t want pity so bottling it up may be your path of choice
That’s everything technical about the experience that I could come up with, there’s much mental stuff to talk about but that differs even more
#hospital#intensive care#intensive care unit#icu#writing#writing a hospital#personal experience#Hope this helps#fanfic#hospital au
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Jali
Johnny: What went on with your sister, the one who wouldn’t eat?
Ali: Do you mean what help did she get?
Johnny: I don’t know, maybe I mean that
Ali: Or how did she end up like that, I don’t want to waste time not answering the question you want answered, is all
Johnny: Did she get seen to or no?
Ali: Not properly, no
Ali: It’s like addiction, when the person don’t want it, it’s hard to make anything stick
Johnny: But she’s yet to go to her grave
Ali: She has times when she’s almost healthy, again, like she’s relapsed the other times but yeah, she’s alive
Ali: What’s happened?
Johnny: Too much for writing here
Ali: Are you okay, where you are, I mean?
Johnny: No
Ali: You don’t want to talk about it with anyone else in your life though
Ali: Say as much or as little as you want here, it’s not going anywhere
Johnny: I’m not to, he’s all but thrown me out for what I’m not to do, none of it’s my place, sure, where am I to go then?
Ali: Your parents?
Johnny: It’s for my sisters to busy themselves with and his word’s final, so
Ali: You’ve a right to know if something is wrong with your mammy, surely
Ali: making it hush-hush isn’t going to help anyone feel safe that it’s being handled
Johnny: I know that it is
Ali: but not what, and if more needs to be done
Johnny: There’s nothing to be done, only the caring for her
Ali: I’m so sorry
Johnny: She’s a want of me or she’d not ask [whichever sister is in charge], it’s not right I’m kept from where there’s need
Ali: Of course she does, you’re her son
Ali: You’re going to need to make your excuses when you’re at work, if your da finds out after so be it but you have to see her
Johnny: It’s not her deathbed, that’s how I’ve made it sound
Ali: You’re still allowed to care
Johnny: About her, not for
Ali: You trust your sisters, don’t you
Johnny: They’ve nursed more babies and elders than I’ll ever
Ali: You’re still worried, I would be too
Johnny: My mammy’s neither and she’s both
Ali: It’s like, head stuff only or head and physical?
Johnny: I haven’t school enough for how doctors speak and my sisters, they’ve less themselves
Johnny: How am I to be sure we’re handling this as it is to be?
Ali: Sorry for my ignorance but there has to be times where you go hospital and defer to the doctors, when you know you know when those times are, yeah?
Ali: Is it that your mammy can’t say or the call needs making for her?
Johnny: He thinks he can pray her back to herself
Ali: Right
Ali: They’re your parents and that’s your da but I think a part of growing up is having to step in
Ali: they can be like one person, if she’s not able to give say so then he might be just as incapable, even if he’s saying different now
Johnny: They’ve always been one, that’s what proper marriage makes of you
Ali: Mine are the same
Johnny: He’s a hand, she’s the other
Johnny: she was
Ali: People lash out when they’re scared, he’s the most to lose
Ali: but what if there’s a fix or at least something to help? You have to find out, don’t you
Johnny: He’s the law I follow
Johnny: He’ll take my head off or I’ll have to his to away her out from under his roof, she’s only to leave in a box, for the ground
Ali: What about your sisters?
Ali: Talk to them more, see what their thinking of it all is
Ali: they can talk to him in a way you can’t, man to man, father and daughter is different
Johnny: I’ve no uses even there then
Ali: That’s not what I meant
Ali: If I’m making you feel worse whilst trying to be helpful then I’ll stop
Johnny: It’s not you, you can’t be a help where none’s to be found
Ali: There isn’t a worse feeling, that much I do know
Johnny: All I’ve done and I’m still being punished
Ali: Is your mother a good woman?
Johnny: She’s practically sainted
Ali: There then, he isn’t going to get you through her
Johnny: He already has
Johnny: God or my daddy, I’m not son enough for either
Ali: Johnny
Johnny: People don’t need burying to be lost to you, you’re the last who needs telling that score
Ali: I know that people who do everything they’re meant, keep their heads down and work hard get overlooked
Ali: and more to do and less thanks for their troubles, it’s fucked, no one said it weren’t but
Johnny: What’s it for if he’s not proud and she’s not herself?
Ali: I don’t know
Ali: You have to be, on both counts
Johnny: She don’t know us now and I don’t want to
Ali: She’ll remember, she asked for you
Johnny: I can’t lose her yet
Ali: It’s not her deathbed, you said
Ali: there’s time, I’m not saying enough but you’re both still here
Johnny: It should be me if it’s anyone
Ali: None of us get the say
Johnny: I’ve memories I can’t rid myself of hard as I try and she’s none she’s allowed to keep, God’s had that say and he’s proper proud of himself
Ali: You taking on the blame for her illness, what is that going to do
Johnny: I used to say I’d a good head on good shoulders, least I can do is let them be weighed down as it’s shown itself to not be true
Ali: Awful things happen to good people every day
Ali: this world isn’t promised, only the next, isn’t that the point
Johnny: This world’s what I’ve made of it by breaking every promise, my word’s no good and nor am I
Ali: You are
Ali: you’re not bad, not all bad
Johnny: You would say that
Johnny: I’m of her and she’s of me, her oldest boy and I failed her, more than she’s to know of ‘cause I never owned up the way she’d have me do
Johnny: it’s important and it’s connected, it has to be so
Ali: There’s no deal to be made with the universe
Ali: does that terrify you more than the idea of you fucking up every turn
Johnny: If I’m not to fix this, it’s all dark
Ali: Of course
Ali: that’s your mammy
Johnny: I’d fuck up the rest of my days to give her more but nobody’ll let me
Ali: I know
Johnny: All you know of her is [the haircut story + the dancing story and whatever others came after, but the point being heartbreakingly few because y’all didn’t get to be introduced how he would’ve wanted]
Ali: I wish I knew more, she sounds great
Johnny: She’s the reason I’ve any good in us at all
Ali: That won’t go away, nothing can change all memories, they’re still there
Johnny: The boy feels the same about you, it was there in his speaking
Ali: I hope so
Ali: that’s all any of us want for anyone we care about, that they know it, they’re happy and healthy for as much of the time as we’re given
Johnny: How’s he?
Ali: She had a brother, few years younger, so he’s looking after him
Ali: I don’t know if it’s the same as being well but under the circumstances, and when I would do the same thing…
Johnny: Doing right’s near as well to some of us as we’re to get
Ali: If we’re wrong, I never learnt any different
Johnny: I’ve yet to myself either
Ali: We weren’t opposites, even if we came from different worlds
Johnny: I remember what we were
Ali: Yeah
Ali: This is shit, your ma is too young for this to happen
Johnny: Life is extremes, told you then
Ali: I don’t remember disagreeing but I wouldn’t now if I did then
Johnny: You didn’t
Ali: I’m sorry, that this low is so low
Johnny: I shouldn’t have come to you with it, it isn’t yours
Ali: No, it’s okay
Ali: I won’t say I’m glad or anything weird but you should be able to vent
Johnny: If I’d sense I’d be drinking the problem into another like my brother is
Ali: You could, 5 o’clock somewhere
Johnny: It’s never been how I handle trouble, only brings more
Ali: You’re not wrong
Ali: isn’t my preferred method either, everyone has the family members that have it down to too fine an art to want to replicate, I guess
Johnny: We’ve all of us our demons
Ali: I’ve never met a person who doesn’t
Ali: I don’t think you can get very far without
Johnny: Even my mammy must
Ali: Definitely
Ali: but she’s a good one so you don’t know
Johnny: Told myself you weren’t to know
Ali: Why?
Johnny: It isn’t your business
Ali: I’m not about to show up
Johnny: I mean, I was of the mind to leave you alone
Ali: You can go back to that when you’re ready
Johnny: I wasn’t ever ready to put you aside
Ali: You managed, we both did
Johnny: Managing for the now’s what I know
Ali: Survival mode
Johnny: Am I to?
Ali: Yes
Johnny: How?
Ali: You just will
Ali: because people will need you
Johnny: They always need and take, this’ll be no different
Ali: Who’s going to look after you
Johnny: I look after
Ali: I remember
Johnny: I only had peace with you, it’s as true as when first I said it
Ali: Couldn’t you replace me?
Johnny: No
Ali: I can’t be mad
Ali: It was never the same
Johnny: You didn’t marry, you said you wouldn’t anyone else
Ali: God, who would I
Johnny: By god, not my cousin or I’d have had to involve myself
Ali: Maybe if I’d dated him first but I stopped trying to get your attention a long time ago
Johnny: Always were a smart girl
Ali: I can take the hint [however many years] gives, there’s stubborn and then there’s that
Johnny: But you can’t a compliment [however many years] on, no?
Ali: Said like you didn’t think I thought myself the greatest thing since sliced bread
Johnny: A compliment from me
Ali: Do I remember what that looks like…
Johnny: You’re not to have memory loss, it isn’t catching
Ali: Ah, no, not for shit craic’s sake
Johnny: Thanks a million
Ali: If you’re going to say no, then just, don’t say anything
Ali: but you’ll talk to me, if you need to again?
Johnny: What’s left to be said?
Ali: Whatever you’d be slurring if you decided to fix it with a bottle
Johnny: I’m too old for carry on of that sort
Ali: What does that mean
Johnny: Once is to be ashamed of, what would twice be?
Ali: Heaven forbid you accept the bare minimum
Ali: it’s not as if anything can help, it’s just listening
Johnny: From you there’s no just anything
Ali: Rude
Johnny: You don’t do the bare minimum
Ali: I could remind myself of all the shit things you’ve done, if I feel myself getting carried away
Johnny: List’s longer than your arm
Ali: Your arm, maybe
Johnny: The length of you, even if that little girl grew some
Ali: I don’t think I have
Ali: When I did the kids’ height in the door jamb, they used to ask why I wasn’t growing
Johnny: [tell her that your tallest daughter, because I’m not gonna look up each of their heights but at least one of y’all has to be taller than Dakota I’m sure, was/is already the height of her depending on ages rn and heights, we know what I’m trying to say, their mother is tall]
Ali: It’s so unfair
Johnny: What have you the need to reach?
Ali: Shall I make you that list?
Johnny: The boy’s near my height, tell him he’s to help you
Ali: He does
Johnny: There’s your fairness then
Ali: At least the [however old Junior is rn] hasn’t overtaken me yet, yeah
Johnny: [me so beyond tempted to make your youngest roughly the same age just cos we can so tell her that]
Ali: I didn’t know you had any that young too
Johnny: Only the one, the rest are that bit older
Ali: Yeah, I thought so, timings-wise
Johnny: Yeah
Ali: Until you have more anyway
Johnny: Maybe
Ali: I’m done, almost definitely
Johnny: You could sound more definite, like
Ali: I shouldn’t need to tell you that when you say never again is when the man upstairs steps in
Johnny: Right, never say never
Ali: Who knows what life is going to throw at you, certainly not me, track record is anything to go by
Johnny: If I’d know it was to be my mammy not living to the old age hers did I’d have behaved different
Ali: Hey, she’s still here, different but not gone
Johnny: For the now
Ali: You don’t know different there either
Ali: People can live for years with things like this, you might be surprised
Johnny: But what life’s it?
Ali: I know
Ali: but, she might not know the difference, at that point, d’you know what I mean
Ali: it’ll be worse on yous
Johnny: It’s hard to reckon on worse, tempting my man Jesus there though I am
Ali: Thank fuck I didn’t promise I could cheer you up about this
Johnny: Tall order for somebody I’ve not seen for years
Ali: Old habits
Johnny: You should be old enough to have kicked it
Ali: Says you, having talked at length about how you’ve not changed at all
Johnny: You’re to be better than me
Ali: Sorry to disappoint
Johnny: Proves you’ve got yourself new habits to put with the old
Ali: Not how I remember it
Johnny: How I can
Ali: I won’t begrudge you remembering the good
Johnny: We only ended bad, what don’t?
Ali: Maybe there’s truth in that
Johnny: ‘Course there is
Ali: I can’t believe that only things that don’t end are good though
Ali: I’ve only a handful of those compared to all the things I’ve lost
Johnny: Everything ends
Ali: On earth, sure
Johnny: That’s where I am and needed, as you said
Ali: You and me both, boy
Johnny: The rest’s for him to know and us to find out
Ali: I can tell you have a [the age of his youngest because so childish of a phrase lol]
Johnny: She asks plenty of questions
Ali: Junior is a lot like Ronan
Ali: by which I mean he goes with the flow
Johnny: For the little lad’s sake I hope he’s more sense
Ali: Who needs sense at that age, there’s fun to be had
Johnny: You would say that
Ali: Come on, life is hard enough, isn’t it
Johnny: For those who don’t make it no easier on themselves
Ali: You think that’s Ro?
Johnny: He’s among ‘em, him and Moses both
Ali: Where is he now?
Johnny: [lord knows but fill her in on the basic deets]
Ali: Somehow surprising and unsurprising at the same time?
Johnny: [also give her some tea about their dad that’s come out since she’s been on the scene just for fun, because he was a wrong ‘un as well and that’s what we’re giving with this, like we’re very unsurprised]
Ali: Ah, [naming him as if he was a good friend]
Johnny: As da’s in law go, he’s sent to try us, like
Ali: I bet
Johnny: Helps not to be living [whatever the OG site was called because he definitely took his wife and moved to a different one that’s still nearby, you can’t tell me he didn’t flee the scene of the crime]
Ali: It’s a lot of new families now, most moved on
Johnny: We’ve talked of returning, be nearer my mammy
Ali: That makes sense
Ali: Pros and cons, like
Johnny: I’d have it so she comes to us but my da’ll not
Ali: They’re very settled, I do see his point there
Johnny: [Another of his sisters] reckons familiar surroundings are what’s needed if she’s to remember things
Ali: Having all her things around is possible anywhere but yeah, a big change could take time to adjust to
Ali: You might have to put up with your father-in-law, for time being
Johnny: Whatever’s best for her
Ali: Yeah, that’s your priority right now
Johnny: We’ll soon settle back ourselves
Ali: There’s a ‘van where yours used to be
Johnny: Yeah?
Ali: Last I saw, yep
Johnny: Go on, you can’t tell me there’s a ‘van and nothing about it
Ali: [tell him the deets you know because had such a normal reaction about it, clearly]
Johnny: [here asking questions etc like she’ll magically have more info to give because likewise not okay about this or the the idea of returning actually]
Ali: You don’t need a tour, it’s still mostly the same, the bare bones anyway
Johnny: How much are you there?
Ali: Oh, not enough to bother you
Ali: Just dropping and picking up the boy, that’s all
Johnny: I’ll be seeing him
Ali: Just Junior
Johnny: Unless you and his da have others
Ali: I meant, there’s no need for my Edie to be there
Johnny: If she’s need of anything, you’ll know where I am
Ali: Thanks
Ali: I shouldn’t need to bother you with anything
Johnny: She’s [however old she is now, because we’re saying basically grown in his gypsy eyes]
Ali: Yeah, she was close to Una too, the girl who passed
Ali: So Django keeps an eye on her as well
Johnny: I’ll have money for her, the same, tell her to come for it
Ali: That’s one thing that really isn’t your responsibility
Johnny: Moses isn’t responsible
Johnny: the girl’s family, I’ve a duty to her with the rest
Ali: I know how you feel, about it all
Ali: They’re provided for, I assure you
Johnny: Tell her to come, Ali
Ali: I will extend the offer, okay?
Johnny: Good
Ali: I appreciate it, whatever the outcome
Johnny: She’ll appreciate [the amount], she takes it, but as she’s yours she’ll not be told
Ali: As long as you won’t be put out if she takes it
Ali: She’s lots of projects and plans always
Johnny: I wouldn’t offer, it weren’t already hers put by
Ali: Joking, I know you
Ali: or, know that about you
Johnny: She wasn’t a girl she could have a car herself too
Ali: I’ll get her one, I’ve some birthdays before then
Johnny: You’re best to teach her to drive before Moses
Ali: No kidding, I’d not let him drive her anywhere, nevermind teach her his habits
Johnny: Might well be banned before she’s old enough, but when’s that stopped him?
Ali: Rules don’t apply, in fairness but no
Johnny: Living by nothing but his own shouldn’t at the age he is
Ali: You tried
Johnny: You said it, I’m not his daddy, I couldn’t be
Ali: Unfortunate his is who he is, not everyone is lucky
Johnny: Apple don’t fall far
Ali: None of us do
Johnny: Asked, he’d call himself fortunate
Johnny: maybe he’s the one who’s right and I’m in the wrong
Ali: Are you happy?
Johnny: I don’t know, I’ve things to be happy about
Ali: I’d say if you are majority of the time, then that’s something to be proud of
Johnny: And if you’re not?
Ali: Room for improvement?
Johnny: Something like that then
Ali: What do I know, right
Johnny: Are you no happy yourself?
Ali: I asked you like it was an easy question
Johnny: It’s yeah or a no, can’t get much easier than questions of that sort
Ali: Where was your yeah or no answer
Johnny: Where’s yours?
Ali: Sometimes not answering is answering, like
Johnny: True enough
Ali: Is it okay to say that talking to you has been
Johnny: Been what?
Ali: Okay
Ali: or, a more definite word, I don’t know
Johnny: It’s just us here
Ali: Until I say something to upset you and then it’s just me
Johnny: Come on, Ali
Ali: Sorry, sorry
Johnny: I came to you
Ali: I know
Ali: I’m glad you did
Johnny: It’s not ‘cause I didn’t know who else to, I wanted to
Ali: I want to talk to you too
Johnny: I’ve more deleted messages to you than sent ones to anybody
Ali: When was the last one you deleted?
Johnny: Last night
Ali: I’ve never had anyone I couldn’t talk to that was still here, it made me… I don’t even know how to describe what it did to me
Johnny: I weren’t still there, not for you
Ali: But
Ali: you weren’t gone enough
Johnny: I should’ve done more, one way or the other
Johnny: gone further or stayed closer
Ali: It’s been [however long, giving we’ve done well to last this long/also how has it been this long]
Johnny: Ask us when my first deleted message was
Ali: Tell me
Johnny: [I can’t be specific here because we don’t know the full tea but it’s giving IMMEDIATELY after y’all ended]
Ali: I never stopped
Ali: even when I really should, especially then
Johnny: We never did have the proper knowing how
Ali: I can’t pretend I wanted it
Johnny: Neither of us wanted what happened
Ali: Was it my fault, do you think that?
Johnny: It was mine, I’ve told you
Ali: You were better than me
Johnny: I weren’t nothing, you could’ve done better, you should
Ali: I can’t
Johnny: You would’ve, but you was a little girl and I fucked your life
Ali: I did that myself
Johnny: I did it to you first
Ali: A lot of things
Ali: but you didn’t screw me up any worse than I did you
Johnny: Don’t start none of that, there’s no worse than putting a baby in your pal and letting it kill her
Ali: She didn’t kill herself, I know that
Johnny: Her acting up lead to her death sure enough as gorja girls taking other pills
Johnny: not passing how your sister did don’t mean she’d no mind herself
Ali: She wouldn’t leave me, she knew I was there for her, we’re all each other had
Johnny: So then where’s she?
Ali: It was an accident
Johnny: Consequence, there’s no accidents
Ali: There are though
Johnny: We’re not to agree
Ali: It’s not important now
Johnny: It’s done, true
Ali: A long time done, whatever did or didn’t happen, it’s all over
Johnny: Yeah
Ali: You can’t take personal responsibility for every bad thing that befalls every person you ever know
Johnny: I take responsibility on when it’s mine to
Ali: And when it’s not
Johnny: I’ll not
Ali: Another time we’ll not agree
Johnny: Old habits
Ali: I don’t know how to be anyone else
Johnny: I’d never ask it of you
Ali: We did once
Johnny: No
Ali: I wanted to be who you needed, you know I believed I could be, don’t you
Johnny: We was our most ourselves with each other, that’s what I needed and you gave
Ali: I just didn’t want it to end, I guess
Johnny: It weren’t meant to
Ali: No, it wasn’t
Johnny: Blame you’ll let us take, will you?
Ali: I should have known better
Ali: Known you’d always go back
Johnny: It wasn’t say I had, I should’ve known
Ali: I made you feel differently
Johnny: You were an escape from the pressure I wanted one from
Johnny: I asked God for you
Ali: Must be why he’s angry, you threw me away
Johnny: I was after keeping you, that’s what fucked everything
Ali: Says you, you can’t suppose to know what he’s thinking or wanting
Johnny: It’s said by the elders too, a girl like you’s a rite of passage not a wife
Ali: And here you are all grown up, mission accomplished, right
Johnny: You’d have me grow up like Moses or Ronan, barely at all
Ali: So they’re my fault now?
Johnny: The fault’s their own, it’s their culture and traditions they’ve forsaken not yous, you’ve none
Ali: Not everyone in a culture lives as one being, there’s room for differences
Johnny: Loads of room being between difference and disgrace
Ali: Sure
Ali: Ronan isn’t
Johnny: In some ways he’s worse
Ali: Because he bothers to see his gorja child?
Johnny: For fathering a child with the same gorja his brother already had
Ali: I’d be his before I’d ever be Moses’
Johnny: He’d time enough for the learning you’d never be his
Ali: Never say never
Johnny: I’ll say it there
Ali: Well
Johnny: What’ve you to say?
Ali: It’s not your say, is it
Johnny: It’s not for you to lie you want him
Ali: We’re better friends, always have been
Johnny: We never could agree on how many you were to have
Ali: I didn’t have need for as many when I had you
Johnny: I had need for nothing
Ali: Yeah
Ali: It was good, wasn’t it
Johnny: What it was don’t matter any more
Ali: Maybe not to you
Johnny: You still take everything too far
Ali: If you’ve had enough, the trip down memory lane can stop
Johnny: Last I touched a drop of drink would be when you let Moses touch you
Johnny: [tell her about how your grandma who I’ve said before was like the medicine lady had to do a DIY gypsy stomach pump because you literally gave yourself alcohol poisoning basically about the baby Edie of it all, like girl if you want a trip down memory lane let’s fucking go]
Ali: But I had to just be okay with it
Ali: I had to just disappear without complaint whilst you married his sister
Johnny: You didn’t have to have his child, Ali
Ali: I did what I had to do, just like you
Ali: You can be happy with your choices, you don’t have to be of mine
Johnny: You did what’d hurt me
Johnny: he’s blood to me, they both are, what choice have I?
Ali: Do you think I wasn’t hurt? Is there a world that exists to you where every choice I made didn’t leave me with scars?
Johnny: There’s one where I didn’t rub mine in your face
Ali: You don’t know, how he got into my head
Johnny: I warned you about him, you don’t listen
Ali: He talked like you
Ali: but I could have him, so I did
Johnny: We’re not the 2, or 3, of us interchangeable
Ali: No shit
Ali: If either was even a close second, they’d still be with me now
Johnny: There you went collecting us all just as I said
Ali: I wasn’t giving you one-way loyalty, not then
Johnny: Did you have my brother?
Ali: No, I did not
Johnny: Did you try it on with him?
Ali: No, actually
Ali: Because he liked Carly and even with her gone, I wouldn’t do that
Johnny: You’ll give her loyalty but not us
Ali: You had say in breaking my heart
Ali: that’s how it felt, she didn’t mean to leave me
Johnny: She kept the baby, why’d that not?
Ali: That was an accident too, her life and head were a mess from day one
Johnny: And what of my head? But you’d punish me
Ali: Did I ever say I was proud of every decision I made? No, because I’m not
Johnny: It was the same accident
Ali: It makes me want to get in that state myself, hearing about you like that, even now
Johnny: I couldn’t let you, even now
Ali: I want to say sorry, like it can mean anything
Johnny: But you know there’s no use nor sense
Ali: Is it better to you if it was just to hurt you, or that I was so fucked mentally that I believed him
Ali: I don’t know, I go back and forth myself
Johnny: Either way I’m after killing him
Ali: Someone will, one of these days
Johnny: Am I to be comforted by that?
Ali: No, he’s still your family
Ali: it’s just that news of it wouldn’t surprise me
Johnny: It should be me or nobody at all
Ali: You’re not to ruin your life over him and what I did
Johnny: You reckon it isn’t?
Ali: You’ve a family, a wife, what you wanted
Johnny: I was told to marry her so’s one of ‘em could be respectable and live decent
Johnny: all it did was mean her brothers could do as they want, keep with the carry on held to no account and they have
Johnny: the only sacrifice is mine, always
Ali: You’re the scapegoat, they can’t be told, you can
Johnny: And now I can’t lay a hand on him neither, to this day still
Ali: I should have seen, that all he wanted was to hurt you
Johnny: A shared want of yous both
Ali: Not that much
Ali: I didn’t think he’d hurt family like that
Johnny: Moses cares for Moses
Ali: No one became more aware of that than me
Johnny: She’s a good girl despite the hole in him, I hear
Ali: A credit to herself
Johnny: And you
Ali: I should have picked better daddys for them, her especially
Ali: you weren’t wrong
Johnny: I’d have picked different myself, had I say
Ali: Having you play matchmaker would’ve sent me over the edge, fair to say
Johnny: Well, I meant for me but can’t say I wouldn’t for you
Ali: Oh, that does make slightly more sense
Johnny: Too late the now
Ali: Anything made different, all of us would be
Ali: some things really aren’t choices and if they were, I’d still choose my kids how they are
Johnny: There then, you must be happy enough
Ali: With them, of course, however it came about, I brought them here, what a complete evil bitch I’d be not to love them
Johnny: I’ve nothing to say of that, turning your back’s not meant to be an option of anyone but here Moses and I are
Ali: Men seem to do it all the time, yous aren’t alone
Johnny: You said I’d become a different man than him, little were you to know
Ali: It was meant to be different, we all were
Johnny: For you, for me it was meant to be how it is
Ali: You weren’t meant to do what you did to Carly
Johnny: And she weren’t to be living there, how far back are we to go?
Ali: I wasn’t making a point, I’m saying that you shouldn’t have no kid with a gorja girl, if we’re to be brutally honest
Johnny: I know that, I was talking of the rest being as it should, like
Ali: Are you waiting for me to say I’m happy for you?
Johnny: I stopped waiting for you a long while ago, don’t worry yourself
Ali: I’d be happy for you if you could say you were
Johnny: I’m not after you being happy for me, on you go
Ali: No, I’m not
Johnny: We’ve talked enough
Ali: That’s it then
Ali: See you in another, what, [again being so exact with when you last spoke]
Johnny: You was bang on when you said we’ve even less need to see each other
Ali: Right, fine
Ali: I hope you sort everything out with your mammy
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sick | nate jacobs imagine
author's note: i write a romanticized version of nate. in my fics, he has still a dick but waaaay different than the show. isn’t abusive / all the other things that make him really yucky, very non-cannon.
if you don't like that, find a different fic to read!
part 2
you hadn’t seen or heard from nate in 3 days. this wasn’t super uncommon as he would normally shut down after a fight with his dad, but normally by the second day he’d be climbing back in your window to take his mind off of everything.
you had sent a few texts just trying to make sure he was okay, but had received nothing back. nate wasn’t one to flat out ignore you. he was better than that. you were able to give him space when he needed it, but this was just weird.
you grabbed your keys and drove over to his house. his truck was in the driveway but the light in his room wasn’t on. your eyebrows furrowed together. you hadn’t texted him that you were coming over either.
you walked to the front door and knocked, not wanting to give him a warning if he was up to anything shady.
nate’s mom, marsha, opened the door, “hey sweetie, is everything okay?”
“yeah, i just haven’t heard from nate in a few days. i’m worried about him.” you said, attempting to look up the stairs as you shifted back and forth on your feet.
“oh, he said he told you. he’s sick. i think he has strep throat. i doubt you want to see him right now. he’s been locked away because of how sick he is.” she answered, frowning a little.
you frowned and sighed, “no it’s fine. i’d like to see him, if it’s okay with you?” she nodded and opened the door so you could come in.
you walked up stairs and carefully opened the door to find your boyfriend strewn across his bed in just some basketball shorts. you smiled a little bit. his hair was all over the place and his cheeks flushed.
you closed the door behind you, softly and gently got into the bed beside him, trying hard not to wake him up. almost as an instinct, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer.
he was burning up. you reached up to touch his forehead which was even hotter than his body. he no doubt had a fever, but you didn’t want to wake him up to get him medicine.
nate slept about 30 minutes before you had to shift because your hip was aching. “you shouldn’t be here” he said, not opening his eyes.
“and why not?” you said, moving away from him and sitting up. you put your hand on his forehead again and pushed his hair back.
“i’m sick. don’t wanna get you sick. don’t want you to take care of me. i’m fine.” his words were jumbled together.
you shook your head, “yeah you seem fine. you’re burning up, nate. just let me get some stuff for you, please?”
he opened his eyes to look up at you, “i don’t wanna take anything.”
“if your fever is high enough, you’re gonna melt your brain.” you joked and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips, “pretty please?”
“okay. fine, but only if you stay and play sexy nurse.” he smiled and grabbed your hips to pull you closer.
“of course. who do you think i am?” you kissed him again and got up, “i’ll be right back.”
he pouted a little bit as you walked out of his room to go downstairs. marsha was in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea, “everything okay hun” she asked, looking up.
you smiled, “yeah, i was just gonna grab some meds and stuff for nate. maybe make some soup if you have some?”
“he’s gonna take medicine?” her eyes widened, “and don’t worry about soup. i’ll make you both some and bring it up. he hasn’t even gone to the doctor. he refuses. if you could convince him, you will be my hero.” you could tell she was worried sick about her son.
you nodded, “of course, mrs. jacobs. i’ll see what i can do.” she stood up from her seat and walked over to you.
she pulled you into a hug, “you are so good for him, sweet girl. i don’t know what this family would do without you. thank you.”
you hugged her back, “of course. i love him. and i love you guys.” you smiled. she pulled away and pointed you towards the medicine cabinet.
you gathered your supplies of a thermometer, tylenol, and some general cold medicine, along with two waters. “i’ll bring the soup up as soon as it’s ready.“ she called after you as you started to walk up the stairs.
when you went into nate’s room, carrying your arsenal of medicine, he was sitting up in his bed.
you sat across from him and dumped the stuff out, he frowned. “your mom said you haven’t gone to the doctor. why?”
“don’t need to. just need to sleep and it’ll go away.” he said, gruffly.
you rolled your eyes and put the thermometer in his mouth, “i love you, but you’re kinda stupid.” it beeped. it was 101.8. you swore, “fuck nate, it’s almost 102. that’s not good. open your mouth.”
he was about to hesitate, but you furrowed your eyebrows at him so he obliged. you shined your phone’s flashlight in his mouth and sure enough, white spots covered the back of his swollen throat. his mom was right, it was strep. “how much pain are you in? be honest. don’t downplay it.” you asked, bringing the flashlight down and touching his cheek.
you ALWAYS caught strep so just being this close to him meant you were going to catch it, not even factoring in that you had kissed him. “a lot,” he groaned, “head hurts. body hurts. hurts to swallow.” he hated admitting these things. it made him weak.
“baby,” you frowned. you put two tylenol in his hand, “this will help for now, but you have to go to the doctor. you need antibiotics. you’re only gonna get worse.”
he took the pills and swallowed them with the water you had brought, “then if i get better who will play nurse?” he joked, trying to avoid the topic of the doctor’s office.
“well since it’s most likely strep, i need you to get better so YOU can be the sexy nurse when i get this because i always catch strep.” you grinned.
nate’s smile disappeared, “this is exactly why i didn’t want you here. i knew i’d get you sick and i didn’t want that.”
“cut that shit out, jacobs. i chose to come over. and besides that, YOU haven’t been telling me what’s going on. it’s been 3 goddamn days. i know you’re sick but you could’ve texted me and told me.” you hadn’t intended to call him out.
his eyes dropped to look at the bed, “i know. i just knew you’d come over if i told you and i didn’t want to lie. i’m sorry.”
you tilted his head back up, “i’ll take care of you whenever. that’s what you do when you love somebody. besides i’ll catch strep from you a million times over.”
“now text your mom and tell her you’ll go to the doctor.” you said finally.
def gonna be a part 2
#nate jacobs x you#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs imagines#nate jacobs imagine#nate jacobs one shot#nate jacobs fanfic#nate jacobs fic#nate jacobs#nate euphoria#euphoria imagine#euphoria fanfic#euphoria imagines#euphoria#hbo euphoria
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The 1 - Jay Halstead
Request: You were in the army with Jay and Lindsey finds out your back after answering jays phone and it being jays brother will, so Lindsey lies and tells Jay it was nothing an then after his shift he goes to see his brother after work an will brings it up an says Lindsey said he would tell him an he puts it all together an realizes Lindsey knew how he truly felt for you an ends up seeing you at the bar he’s in with his brother and you were drinking
A/N: I ended up making this kinda sad or something...
One Chicago Masterlist
✰ ✰ ✰ ✰
You had thought about reaching out to Jay when you found yourself back in Chicago but you didn’t know exactly where he was in his life, aside from what you’d heard the last time you’d been home five years ago, and you didn’t want to come crashing in when he didn’t really need you there stirring things up. But a trip home to Chicago, especially one that was turning out to be more long term than you’d anticipated, was too tempting a reason to see Jay to pass on, especially when you’d run into Will at Med.
“Look, if you don’t wanna call him, I will, no sweat.” Will promised, typing a report on the computer in front of him while you leaned against the nurses’ station. “He’ll be happy to hear from you.”
“Yeah, he was happy to hear from me last time too, and then his whole relationship with Abby imploded and I literally took off on him.” You replied, cracking your knuckles to relieve the tension in your body. “I don’t want to see him and screw him over again.”
“Do you plan on screwing him over?” Will asked, honestly, looking as though he might actually be reconsidering reaching out to his brother for you.
Of course you weren’t planning on screwing him over but then, who plans that sort of thing anyway? You’d really wanted to stay last time but things with your mom had been so strained after your dad’s death, it felt suffocating even being in the same state as her. Now here you were, back home to take care of her, in the ED, waiting for her doctor to discharge her with an all-clear.
“No, I didn’t plan on it last time either I just...Will, you know I love your brother but, if he’s got someone or if he’s in a good place, I don’t want to be the reason that fails on him. Jay deserves the world, regardless of who gives it to him.”
“I’ll give him a call.”
Will left out the part where Jay was in a relationship for the first time since you left. Maybe not the healthiest one at times but a relationship all the same and Will knew he was putting all his effort into trying to make it work. And it wasn’t like Will didn’t like Erin, he had nothing against his brother’s partner turned partner, but he couldn’t deny that a small part of him still rooted for the two of you.
So he didn’t mention Erin and he called his brother for you, early in the morning before his next shift. The one person he didn’t want to talk to answered the phone, Jay having been in the shower at the time, and Will left a message with Erin that you were in town (giving only your name and that you’d been in the rangers with Jay).
-
“There he is,” Will clapped his brother on the shoulder, sliding onto the barstool next to him and flagging Herrmann down with his other hand, ordering two beers, “so?”
“So?” Jay asked, an amused look crossing his face as he swiveled just enough to look at his brother. Will was smiling like he was in on something that Jay imagined he was supposed to be in on too. The only problem being that he had no idea what it was.
Will’s smile slowly faded as he realised that Jay had no idea what he was hinting at. Taking a sip of his beer first, he asked if Jay had reached out to you, “I called and said they were in town...Lindsay said she’d let you know.”
“Oh,” Jay stuttered for a second, hesitating over an answer that wouldn’t make it seem like his girlfriend had lied to his brother and withheld information, “yeah...I just, haven’t called yet. Work’s been crazy.”
“Well listen, I saw them in the ED with their mom yesterday, said they’re in Chicago permanently.”
“Permanently as in temporarily?” Jay replied, unable to conceal the slight edge to his voice. He’d heard that line before, straight from your mouth after he left Abby for you. Chicago was it for you back then and he’d stupidly believed that you were telling the truth only to be burned when you left, apologizing up and down like it would do any good.
“Look, I know last time things didn’t exactly work out-”
“More than that Will. I’m with Erin, I’m in a good place. I’m not digging up the past just because they rolled back into town.” Jay drank the last of his beer and then swiveled his chair away from his brother, “I gotta go.”
“Come on man, I just got here. Just stay, I won’t mention them again, I promise.” Will urged, looking somewhat apologetic though he really wasn’t at all. He didn’t want to push Jay and he definitely didn’t want to tell his brother that he at least could let you explain yourself, so he just rolled back on his hardline, choosing to drink and be happy rather than drink and be alone.
“Fine,” Jay sighed, “I don’t wanna hear about it again though.” It was bad enough that his mind was running through all the reasons Erin had withheld her conversation with Will from him, circling back to the same one again and again. He’d never told her but she was good at her job, it didn’t take much for her to figure it out.
Will shook his head, mild amusement overtaking his features as he glanced again at the table in the back. Whatever kind of serendipity that was, “don’t turn around then.”
Jay did exactly what his brother told him not to do, spinning around in his chair and looking behind him to one of the booth-style tables. There you were, drinking with Mouse of all people. He should’ve known that Will wasn’t the only person you’d reach out to, though it stung more than he cared to admit to know that you’d called Mouse before you’d called him directly. Whatever Will kept saying, whether it was true or not, it seemed more like you wanted to see everyone but Jay.
“Just go say hi,” Will urged.
Without saying anything else Jay got up for the second time, not headed for the door but your table instead. He set his beer bottle down first, both you and Mouse turning to look at him, the conversation dying down.
“Jay,” you stood up, hesitant for a moment and then wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He wrapped one arm around your waist. “I didn’t know if you got my message-”
“Will told me you were here,” he replied as you pulled away, not mentioning anything about Erin. It wasn’t relevant anyway, not right now. Though he couldn’t help wondering if Mouse had said anything.
“Sorry I didn’t call you...I wasn’t sure you’d really want to see me,” you explained.
Mouse offered Jay a knowing smile, as if he was in on something that Jay wasn’t completely sure he understood, before standing up and patting his best friend on the back, “I’m gonna go get a refill, let you guys catch up.”
You watched Mouse walk to the bar before turning back to Jay, “Greg looks good, he told me you got him a job so he’s legit now.”
“Yeah, he really fits in.”
“Jay look, I know last time things didn’t exactly, work out-”
“Didn’t work out? You up and left Chicago and I didn’t hear from you for a month and then it was just a ‘sorry I bailed’ text.” Jay replied.
“I know, I just...it was hard for me to be here.”
“And it’s easier now?” He asked. When Will mentioned you being home there was a part of Jay that just wanted to see you but there was another part of him, the part that was still angry, that wanted you to know how much you hurt him.
“Just different circumstances. I wasn’t gonna tell you I was even here I just wanted to see you,” You explained.
Jay took a sip of his beer, glancing toward the door as it opened and Erin walked in with Burgess. He looked back over to you, “I’m just not sure I’m ready to see you yet...sorry.”
“No, it’s okay...I understand.” You nodded, “I’ll let you, get back to everyone. Tell Greg I said goodbye.”
#jay halstead imagine#jay halstead fanfiction#jay halstead fanfic#jay halstead fic#jay halstead x reader#jay halstead x you#Jay Halstead x y/n#one chicago fanfiction#one Chicago fanfic#one chicago fic#one chicago imagine#chicago pd imagine#chicago pd fanfic#chicago pd fanfiction#chicago pd fic#collecting stories imagine
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Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.
He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.
At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.
Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.
Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.
His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.
For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.
“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”
“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”
“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”
Gabriel sighed.
“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”
No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.
“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.
Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.
“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.
Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.
It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.
This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.
Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.
“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”
“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.
“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.
“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel’s heart seized with terror.
“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“
“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”
And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.
Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.
People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.
It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.
The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.
He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.
Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.
“Whoa, Jesus!”
Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.
“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“
The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.
Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.
The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.
Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.
The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.
Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.
But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—
was Castiel himself.
He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.
It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.
He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.
“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.
He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.
“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.
“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.
“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.
“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.
“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?
“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”
“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—
“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”
“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.
“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.
“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.
Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.
What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?
“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”
Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.
“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“
“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”
The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.
He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.
“Sorry again, man.”
It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.
Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.
It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.
Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.
A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.
The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.
Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.
This could not be happening.
#SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER THIS WAS GETTING TOO LONG AGAIN#IM REALLY BAD ABOUT KEEPING THESE SHORT#BUT I KINDA WANNA WRITE THIS FULLY??#MAYBE? idk#supernatural#cas#castiel#destiel#spn#casdean#dean is bi#dean winchester#deancas#destiel fandom#destiel fanfic
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The Traveling T-Shirt
No Pairings
No Warnings
It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time
It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.
Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.
Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.
Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.
“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.
The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”
Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.
Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”
They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.
He’s lost weight.
Too much.
One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.
Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.
The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.
Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.
She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.
She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.
To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.
“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.
Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.
He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.
But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”
She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.
She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.
JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.
“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.
JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It’s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.
“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”
JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.
Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.
“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.
Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.
JJ goes unburdened.
That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.
In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.
It’s fine, calm… for the most part.
Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.
He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.
JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.
Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.
Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”
Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.
He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”
He’s never getting this shirt back.
#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#dererk morgan#aaron hotchner#emily prentiss#jennifer jareau#spencer reid#penelope garcia
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