#I’m actually serious. Watch his face in moments like this one in the hospital | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyugraphy · 3 months ago

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psyche (1)

— synopsis. After the catastrophe in New York-when the Void tore through the city-the Thunderbolts know it can't happen again. Bob Reynolds doesn't need another collar or containment spell. He needs help. Enter her: a psychiatrist with an unusual gift, capable of stepping into the mind itself. No one expected her to reach him-least of all, him. "You're just going to leave me the moment it gets too hard, aren't you?" he says. She meets his gaze, steady and unshaken. "I've walked through nightmares to get to you. I won't walk away now."

— pairing. robert reynolds (sentry/the void) x reader

— warning/s. mentions of trauma, mental illness, depression

— word count. 5.1k

masterlist ⊹ part 1 ⊹ part 2 ⊹ part 3 ⊹ part 4 ⊹ part 5 ⊹ part 6

⋆˙⟡

“Strange called,” Christine Palmer said, not looking up from her tablet.

You glanced in her direction but didn’t respond. You felt like there isn't anything worth saying. Instead, you focused on the soft, familiar sounds around you—the quiet clatter of metal instruments being cleaned at the nearby sterilization station, the steady shuffle of footsteps on polished hospital floors. A monitor beeped somewhere down the hall, keeping time in the way only machines could. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead, that you never really noticed, added to the background noise.

In the corner, a few patients sat hunched in plastic chairs, wrapped in hospital blankets that offered more symbolism than warmth. Their faces were drawn, tired, a mix of exhaustion and quiet anxiety. Some waited for scans, others for pain relief, a few just for answers that might never come tonight. They all shared the same energy, that tension that lived in the bones of everyone who passed through the ER after dark. You knew it well.

You were supposed to have clocked out an hour ago—your shift technically ended at midnight—but no one really left on time in this place. The ER didn’t care about schedules. It held you in its grip until it was ready to let go, and sometimes, not even then. Not when a life could still slip through the cracks—because of a missed bleed, a bad stitch, or the wrong word spoken at the worst possible time.

Christine tapped her screen a few times, then added, “Apparently, Bucky Barnes asked him to help find a psychiatrist.”

That made you pause, your fingers hesitating on the chart you were holding. Still, you didn’t look up. The case wasn’t serious—just a minor injury with a straightforward treatment plan. You met Christine’s gaze briefly, then looked back down, eyes scanning through lines of notes more out of habit than need.

“You know I’m not practicing anymore,” you muttered. “Psychiatry, I mean.”

Christine leaned a hip against the counter beside you, folding her arms. “Since when? You’re double-boarded. And don’t give me the ‘I’m just a surgeon now’ line. I’ve heard it too many times to believe it.”

“It’s not a line. It’s a preference,” you said, your voice flat. “Organs are a lot simpler than people's minds.”

“Sure,” she said, the sarcasm thin but present. “You can cut them open, take out what’s broken, sew them back up, and call it a day. But that’s not why you switched.”

Your hands stilled mid-note. The chart blurred for a moment, your pen hovering above the page.

“Tell Barnes to find someone else.”

“Actually, he didn’t call,” Christine said quietly. “Strange didn’t either.”

You looked up, and she turned the tablet toward you.

“They just sent me this.”

Your name was there in bold, black text at the top of the screen—accompanied by layers of encrypted clearance codes, redacted fields, and a formal request for psychiatric consultation. It wasn’t just a note. It was government-level. Serious. Sealed. No fluff. No context. No diagnosis.

Just one name buried in the lines of classified language.

Robert Reynolds.

You stared at it. The name carved through you like a scalpel—sharp, precise, and deep. Your chest went tight. Not with fear exactly, though it wasn’t far off. Christine watched you too carefully now.

You said the name aloud, almost to yourself. “Reynolds. Sentry? The Void? The man who turned Manhattan into literal shadows?”

Christine’s voice softened. “He’ll could probably eat you alive,” she said. “Whoever it is. You know that.”

You didn’t answer. You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall beside you. You reached for the gloves on your hands, peeled them off one by one, and tossed them into the biohazard bin beside the counter. The silence between you stretched.

“You’re not going to do it,” Christine said, trying for a steadier voice. “Right?”

But you were already moving. You grabbed your coat, your badge, and turned toward the hallway that led to the staff exit.

“Right?!” Christine repeated, this time louder. You only waved her off by raising one hand as you continued to walk.

Christine sighed under her breath, watching you go.

“Oh, she’s in trouble,” she mumbled, more to herself than anyone else.

⋆˙⟡

The city didn’t feel real when you stepped outside.

Maybe it was the late hour. Or the way the streetlights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a dim, unnatural gold. The sidewalk gleamed with recent rain, and the night air clung to your skin—cool, damp, electric. Maybe it was just the words still echoing in your mind.

Bob Reynolds.

You heard that name before—not whispered behind closed doors, not even in passing. People avoided it deliberately, like saying it out loud might stir something sleeping. Might invite the dark back in.

He doesn’t need containment. He needs healing.

That was what the message had said.

But you knew what it really meant. You could read between the encrypted lines. Reynolds wasn’t just unstable—he was a ticking bomb they didn’t know how to disarm. He wasn’t a patient; he was a problem no one wanted to admit they couldn’t fix.

They were looking for someone to step into the fire and hope they didn’t burn.

You had no intention of being that someone.

Not anymore.

It was just past two in the morning when the elevator doors slid open on the surgical floor. Most of the hospital was asleep or pretending to be. You were still on your feet—finishing post-op notes in the nurses’ station, trying to tether yourself to something routine. The soft tap of keys, the faint smell of coffee gone cold, the distant echo of an intercom down the corridor. These were the things that kept you grounded when your hands weren’t cutting. When your mind threatened to drift.

The hallway was quiet. Empty.

And then, something shifted.

You didn’t hear him at first. You felt him. A subtle change in pressure. A ripple through the air, like the building itself had gone tense.

You looked up.

There he was.

Bucky Barnes. Standing in the middle of the hallway like a ghost. Dressed in black, that metal arm catching the flickering light overhead. Expression unreadable. Posture coiled.

Your fingers hovered over the tablet.

“Subtle,” you said dryly.

He didn’t smile.

“I’m not here to make a scene.”

“You’re five seconds from getting tackled by security.”

“I turned off the cameras on this floor.”

Of course he did.

You sighed and slid the tablet aside. “You could’ve sent a message.”

“You would’ve ignored it.”

He wasn’t wrong.

You stood, slowly. Kept a polite amount of distance between you. “You want a consult.”

“No,” he said. “I want you.”

That gave you pause. He saw it.

“I read your work,” he continued. “The old stuff. Before you scrubbed it. Neural pathway immersion. Psychogenic structure mapping. Entering the subconscious. Rewriting trauma loops from the inside.”

You kept your expression still. “That research was never meant for clinical application.”

“It saved people.”

“No, it delayed their collapse. That’s not the same thing.”

He took a step closer. “You walked into the mind of a patient mid-psychotic break and helped him walk back out.”

“That patient relapsed two weeks later. Nearly took out his care team with him.”

“But he lived,” Bucky said. “That’s more than Reynolds has right now.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t let it show. Not much, anyway.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, voice cool. “You want me to crawl into the mind of the most powerful bipolar the world’s ever known? A man who once turned half of Manhattan into literal shadows? You want me to walk into that and—what? Talk him down?”

“He’s not just the Void.”

“No. But the Void is part of him. You don’t separate the two.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped.

“He’s trying, okay? He’s lucid. Or close to it. He’s afraid of what he’s done. He wants to be better—but no one can reach him. They’ve all stopped trying. Except me.”

You studied him then. Not just his words, but everything else—the tight set of his shoulders, the wear in his eyes, the quiet tremor under all that steel. This wasn’t just a mission for him.

“You care about him.”

His breath hitched. “I know what it’s like to be controlled by something inside you. Something you didn’t choose. Something you hate.” His voice cracked just a little. “So yeah. I care.”

You looked away. The floor felt suddenly distant under your feet.

“I’m not a miracle worker, Barnes. I’m not some psychic surgeon. I can’t promise I won’t make things worse.”

He hesitated. “Would you try… if he asked you himself?”

That stopped you.

Your throat went dry.

“You think he wants me?”

“I think he’s afraid of you,” Bucky said. “Which is exactly why I think he needs you the most.”

You exhaled slowly. The kind of breath that emptied your lungs and still didn’t feel like enough.

The name echoed again in your mind like a wound reopening.

Robert Reynolds.

You crossed your arms instinctively, bracing against the words. Against everything they meant. You weren’t ready to say yes—but you couldn’t walk away yet. Not when the puzzle Bucky had thrown at you was already rattling around in your mind like a loose coin.

"Tell me more about him," you said, before you could second-guess yourself.

Bucky blinked, clearly expecting you to brush him off, maybe even shut him down. But you hadn’t done that. Not yet.

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice as if the air itself might carry his words further than he wanted. "Bob... he's not what you think."

You could feel the weight in the silence between you, the hum of fluorescent lights and distant beeping from another part of the Tower, but it felt miles away. The shift in Bucky’s voice wasn’t a demand. It was a plea—one you weren’t sure you could ignore.

"He's always been complicated," you said, trying to keep your tone neutral. "Sentry and the Void aren’t easy to separate."

Bucky nodded slowly. “I know. But right now? He’s more fractured than ever. The Void doesn’t just come out and take over anymore. It’s... it’s slipping into him, little pieces at a time. He doesn’t know where the man ends and the monster begins.”

You stared at him, thinking of everything you’d heard about Bob over the past few months—the whispers, the rumors, the stories that came with living in a world of meta-humans. The Sentry, a hero with the power of a god, the man who’d nearly torn apart the world itself in a breakdown. The Void, a primal force of destruction that had no regard for morality or life.

But hearing the weight of that confusion in Bucky’s voice was new. And it unsettled you more than it should have.

"Where is he?" you asked, voice quieter now.

"He’s here, in New York," Bucky said, his eyes flicking away. "Living on the same floor as the rest of the Thunderbolts— or the new Avengers. We’re all on the top level of Avengers Tower, trying to keep him from... from himself."

You blinked. Here? With the Thunderbolts? In Avengers Tower? That was... an entirely new layer to the situation. You weren’t sure what was more surreal: the fact that Bob Reynolds was living under the same roof as some of the most dangerous people on the planet or the fact that you’d just been asked to walk into his mind.

“How is that even... manageable?” You asked the question, but you weren’t sure if you were asking Bucky or yourself.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. "We try to keep him grounded. When he’s not... when he’s lucid, he’s like any other person. He talks about everything—sports, movies, some of the stuff that made him happy before everything broke down." He exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. "But the minute he starts spiraling, it all goes wrong. The Void starts leaking through the cracks. And it’s not just him anymore. He reflects everyone else’s fears. He mirrors them. It’s like we’re all living in his nightmare when that happens."

The implications hit you like a truck. A man who could turn his fear into destructive power was now having his own breakdown while everyone around him became collateral damage.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of Bucky’s words settle deep in your chest. “Is anyone else in danger?”

Bucky hesitated. “Not unless we provoke him. But... it’s getting harder to contain. We don’t know what he might do when he finally snaps, and we can’t keep him isolated forever. Not without breaking him completely.”

You shook your head, barely processing the words. Living with the Thunderbolts? This wasn’t just a clinical case anymore. This was a man in desperate need of help who could bring the whole team down with him if things went sideways. And you were being asked to wade into the heart of it.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Bucky. “You want me to just walk into his mind, face whatever twisted version of reality he’s experiencing, and fix it? I’m not a magician.”

“You’re the only one who’s ever been able to do something like that,” Bucky pressed, voice low but insistent. “You helped people when it seemed like no one else could. Even when it wasn’t perfect, they stayed alive. And you’re the only person who can actually get in there, see it from the inside. No one else has that ability. No one else can.”

You pressed your palms against your face, exhaling sharply. Your mind spun. This wasn’t just about fixing someone. This was about getting close to a raw, broken mind—an unstable mind that could tear apart everything around it if pushed too far. You’d been in this position before. You’d seen minds crumble and break. You’d been the one to pull them back—but not without a price.

“Why me, Bucky?” you said, the question finally spilling out. “You know this isn’t going to be easy. I’m not some miracle worker. I can’t promise I won’t make it worse.”

Bucky’s expression softened. “Because you’re the one who never gave up on the people everyone else walked away from. You see them. Really see them—without the fear, without the labels. You don’t treat people like they’re lost causes. You treat them like they’re still worth saving.”

You took a step back, your chest tightening. You’d made it clear years ago that you wouldn’t practice psychiatry anymore. You weren’t the kind of person who specialized in people’s mental health, not when it carried so much emotional weight, not when the cost was too high.

"He's afraid of himself," Bucky said, almost as if he were reading your thoughts. "He’s terrified that he’s going to lose himself again, that the Void is going to take him completely. But there’s still some part of Bob in there. He wants to be better. He wants to make it stop. I know he does."

You swallowed. “So where does that leave me?”

Bucky stepped closer again, lowering his voice. “I need you to help him. Not fix him. Just help him understand he’s still in control—if he is. If there’s still a way to reach him before it’s too late.”

You closed your eyes again, the pressure in your chest rising. But when you opened them, Bucky was still there, his gaze steady, waiting for something.

And you knew, despite everything, you were already halfway in. Even if you didn’t want to be.

⋆˙⟡

The Avengers Tower loomed like a monument against the night sky, its gleaming windows reflecting the city lights below. As you stepped inside, the difference hit you immediately. It wasn’t the usual cold, sterile atmosphere of hospitals or military facilities. No, this place was warmer—not in temperature, but in feel. It had a kind of lived-in quality you weren’t expecting. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air, mixed with the scent of old books and worn leather furniture. Shoes were scattered by the door, someone’s guitar leaned against the wall in the corner, and someone had scratched “Yelena was here, losers” into the corner of the counter.

"This is the Thunderbolts' floor," Bucky said as he swiped the access panel, letting you both pass through. There was a strange undertone to his voice, a quiet sort of pride—or maybe wariness. "It’s... a work in progress."

You raised an eyebrow. “A rehab wing for ticking time bombs?”

Bucky gave a small, tight smile. “Something like that.”

The elevator doors opened to a wide living area that was surprisingly quiet, dimly lit. The hum of music thudded faintly from another room, but the space itself was calm—almost peaceful. You noticed how the walls weren’t bare and cold like the rest of the building had been. Bookshelves lined the walls, mismatched furniture sat comfortably in corners, and discarded snack wrappers sat on the coffee table. It didn’t feel like a headquarters for elite soldiers and heroes; it felt more like... home.

Before you could take it all in, a voice rang out, piercing through the quiet.

“Bucky!” The voice was sharp, teasing. “Who’s the new blood?”

You turned to see Yelena Belova striding toward you. Barefoot, dressed in sweatpants, her braid half undone, and a crooked grin on her face, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. She took a long look at you, her grin widening.

“She’s not mine,” Bucky said quickly, as if almost to assure you—or himself.

Yelena shot him a knowing glance. "Pity," she said, her grin only growing wider. Then, her eyes shifted to you. “I’m guessing you’re here to meet Bob?”

Bob. That nickname.

You nodded, but you could feel the weight of Yelena’s gaze. Her expression shifted slightly, and you didn’t miss the subtle change. It wasn’t fear, but something much more calculated—like someone who knew the danger that came with being in close proximity to a ticking time bomb, and what could happen if that bomb ever went off. There was wariness in her eyes now, something you hadn’t expected after the teasing remark.

Bucky didn’t miss it either. “I’m bringing her to meet him.”

At the mention of Bob Reynolds, Yelena’s expression changed again. Her playful smile slipped just a fraction, and the playful tone in her voice dimmed. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you with a kind of guarded understanding, before finally speaking.

“Be careful,” she said, her tone softer now, though still carrying an edge. “He’s a bit sweet. Until he’s not.”

You paused, the weight of her words sinking in. Sweet. Until he’s not. That one sentence sent a chill down your spine. You’d heard the name Bob Reynolds before, the Sentry, the Void—the rumors about his mind and his power were legendary. But this? This was a whole different level of complication. Sweet until he’s not. You couldn’t ignore the warning, not when you were about to walk into that very storm.

Bucky stepped forward, breaking the moment of quiet tension. His voice was quiet but firm. “I’ll be with you. You’re not going in alone.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your mind already racing. You weren’t sure if you were relieved or more uneasy now that you had confirmation Bucky would be there. It didn’t make it less dangerous.

“Thanks,” you finally said, though you weren’t entirely sure what you were thanking him for yet. Maybe it was just for getting you this far.

Yelena took a step back, a small smirk still tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’m just saying,” she added casually, “you don’t have to rush in. No one will blame you if you need a minute to run.”

You chuckled lightly, though the humor didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Right,” you said, your voice tight, “I’m sure that’ll be helpful.”

Bucky didn’t linger, turning toward a door at the far end of the room. It was heavy, imposing. You could tell this wasn’t just any door; it was the kind that kept the more... unpredictable things behind it. Bob Reynolds, the man who had lived through the collapse of his own mind, who carried the weight of the Void in him. You had an idea of what kind of danger he represented, but standing in this place, it felt much closer than you had ever imagined.

“Ready?” Bucky asked, looking over his shoulder. There was a glimmer of something in his eyes—maybe it was concern, maybe it was just routine. Either way, it didn’t settle your nerves.

You took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be,” you said, but even as the words left your mouth, you felt the truth of them slip through your fingers. This wasn’t about being ready. This was about what you could handle when everything fell apart. You didn’t have any illusions about how this might go.

With a quiet hum, Bucky led the way to the door. You followed, feeling a kind of coldness creep into your limbs despite the warmth of the room around you. Whatever was waiting behind that door wasn’t just about Bob Reynolds. It was about everything that had led him to this moment. The Sentry. The Void. The man who had been both savior and destroyer. And now you were about to walk into that darkness.

The door to Bob’s room was slightly ajar when you arrived, and Bucky didn’t hesitate. He knocked once, then pushed the door open.

Inside, Bob sat at the edge of the bed, his posture tense, hands clasped tightly between his knees. His blonde hair was a little too long, and his shirt was wrinkled, like he hadn’t bothered to care about his appearance in the last few hours—or days. He was staring at the floor as though it might somehow provide answers to whatever was going on in his head.

When you stepped inside, his eyes flickered up to you. The movement was slow, almost as if it took him effort to pull himself away from whatever was haunting him in the depths of his mind. And then—he blinked.

“Oh,” he said, the word soft and distant, like it didn’t quite belong to him.

Bucky stepped forward, giving you a glance before offering the introduction. “This is her,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “The one we talked about.”

Bob stood, his movements awkward, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was tall—broad in the shoulders, built like a man who could break cities—but he moved like someone terrified of knocking something over, of breaking something fragile.

“You’re… the mind walker,” he said quietly, his voice low, tentative.

You nodded, crossing the room slowly to close the distance. “And you’re the man with the monster inside him.”

Bob’s lips twitched—a ghost of a smile, fleeting and uncertain. “Guess we both come with warnings,” he muttered, the humor in his voice strained but there all the same.

The air in the room felt thicker now, the weight of his words hanging in the space between you. You studied him for a moment longer, the tension building like an unspoken agreement that neither of you could escape. You stepped closer. Without saying anything more, you both sank into the floor, sitting cross-legged across from each other. The distance between you was minimal, just your knees nearly brushing. But it was enough to feel the tension crackling in the air between you.

“I need your permission,” you said softly. “To go in.”

Bob didn’t hesitate, though his eyes were dark with uncertainty. He nodded once, the smallest motion.

You closed your eyes.

At first, there was nothing. Calm. His mind opened before you like a gate, as if it was letting you in—but something was wrong. Behind that gate, you could feel a storm building, growing, ready to unleash.

And then—

You were in.

It was worse than you had expected. The space around you was dark, twisting. The architecture was impossible—floating staircases, walls that screamed, mirrors that bled shadows. It felt like a mind split in two: one side terrified, the other hunting. The chaos was dizzying, the sensation of being swallowed whole by something far larger than you.

And then you felt it.

Something massive, coiling around the core of his mind. It was there, lurking. Watching you.

The Void.

It turned its head, and you felt its eyes on you—it smiled.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” it whispered, its voice like shards of glass scraping against your skull.

Pain bloomed instantly. A searing throb behind your eyes. Your nose started to bleed, the pressure inside your head unbearable.

“Get out,” Bob’s voice said, faint, distant—not the Void’s. “Get out now!”

And before you could even process the command, your body snapped back. Your eyes flew open, and you gasped for air, choking on it as blood dripped from your nose. You blinked, disoriented, and found yourself back in the room with Bob.

He stumbled backward, pale, his breath ragged, eyes wide with fear. “You saw it,” he said, his voice trembling.

You wiped the blood from your face and sat back, trying to catch your breath. “I felt it,” you said quietly, the weight of the experience still heavy in your chest.

Bob’s eyes searched your face, his expression torn. “Did it… did it touch you?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. But it came close. Too close.”

He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it would go after you.”

You exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of the Void’s presence. “We’re not ready,” you said, your voice a little steadier now. “We need to know each other first. Establish a connection before diving into something like that.”

Bob didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just stared at you, like you had said something that didn’t quite register in his mind. His expression was still unreadable, but there was something there—a glimmer of hope, perhaps, that you could give him something he’d lost. Something he didn’t think he could ever get back.

“Okay,” he said softly, as if testing the words. “We can… get coffee or something.”

You gave him a small, understanding smile. “Let’s start with daylight.”

Later, back in the common room, you nursed a pounding headache and a steaming cup of tea. Yelena was sprawled across the couch, her feet resting on the armrest, eyes half-closed. Her gaze flickered over to Bob, who lingered just inside the doorway, watching you like he was afraid you’d vanish if he looked away.

Yelena’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. She lowered her voice, but you could still hear the teasing note in it. “Someone’s got a crush.”

Bob’s face flushed instantly, his eyes widening in embarrassment. “I do not,” he muttered, like a kid caught in the act.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her smirk turning smug.

For the first time all day, you couldn’t help but laugh. It was the kind of lightheartedness you hadn’t felt since stepping into this mess, and it felt like a small, precious thing in the middle of all the chaos.

You finished your tea, Yelena stretched across the couch like she owned the place, eyes flicking between you and Bob with far too much interest. Bob hovered by the doorway, visibly trying to gather the nerve to speak, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a schoolboy.

You stood, brushing off your hands. The day had been long, and you were more than ready to go.

Just as you stepped toward the elevator, Bob moved quickly, blurting, “Uh—wait!”

You turned to him, surprised.

He looked like he instantly regretted speaking so loud. “I just—uh, I think we should talk again. Tomorrow. If you want. About… you know. Everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Where?”

Bob blinked. “I—uh, I don’t actually know where you work…”

You let out a breath. “Metro-General Hospital”

His eyes lit with recognition. “Right, yeah. That makes sense. I’ll be there. I’ll wait until your shift’s over.”

You studied him for a second. He was tall and intimidating by most standards, but right now he looked like someone nervously asking their crush to prom.

“Okay,” you said, biting back a smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Bob nodded too many times. “Cool. Good. Great. Okay.”

You stepped into the elevator. As the doors started to slide shut, you heard Yelena’s voice behind you—lazy and far too entertained.

“She said yes, Romeo,” she drawled. “You can breathe now.”

Bob muttered something unintelligible.

Yelena’s laughter echoed down the hall just before the elevator doors closed. You shook your head, grinning to yourself.

Tomorrow was going to be something.

⋆˙⟡

The Sanctum-like glow of protective wards hummed low along the ceiling as Stephen Strange poured tea into two mismatched cups. The room they were in wasn’t grand — no spell-casting library or mystical relic chamber — just a quiet observation lounge. It had a clear view of the city below, and right now, the skyline looked distant and unbothered by the storm they were preparing for.

Wanda Maximoff stood by the window, arms crossed. Her reflection in the glass looked tired.

“You didn’t tell them everything,” she said without looking back.

Strange let out a quiet sigh as he set the teapot down. “I told them what they needed to hear.”

“No,” she said, turning slowly. “You told them just enough to believe this was still safe.”

Strange didn’t flinch under her stare. He simply raised his cup and sipped.

“She’s walking into a fractured mind with something ancient wrapped around its spine. The Void doesn’t just destroy—he consumes. She’s not just risking injury. She’s risking... unmaking.”

He nodded, gently. “I know.”

Wanda stepped closer. “So why send her?”

“She’s not like us,” Strange said.

Wanda frowned. “That’s not a reason.”

He looked up at her, finally setting the cup down. “It is. You, me, even Charles—we bring power, force, structure. She brings something else. She listens. She understands how to walk with someone in their madness, not just force them out of it.”

Wanda studied him for a moment, then said, quieter, “What’s the best-case scenario?”

“She reaches Reynolds. Helps him stabilize. Creates a bridge between him and the monster he’s trying to cage. If she succeeds… the Void stays dormant.”

“And the worst?”

Strange was quiet for a long moment.

“If the Void latches onto her,” he said finally, “we lose both of them.”

Wanda looked down.

“She doesn’t know how dangerous she really is, does she?” she asked.

Strange gave a faint, unreadable smile.

⋆˙⟡

A/N: :)

#bob reynolds x y/n #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #thunderbolts au #thunderbolts x reader #bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #sentry x y/n #sentry x reader #lewis pullman #bob reynolds x reader #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts imagine #mcu fanfic #mcu au #mcu oc #mcu x reader #yelena belova #bucky barnes

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koyagifs · 30 days ago

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angels don't cry

pairing:: hongjoong x reader x ateez au:: 9th member | poly genre:: fluff synopsis:: you and hongjoong welcome your baby to the world word count:: warning(s):: dad!teez, sweet tooth rotting fluff, some crying

Nine months had passed in a blink.

Now, any day—any moment, really—your baby was set to enter the world.

The nursery was fully set up, thanks to the boys and their generous splurging on nearly everything from your baby registry. Just walking past it made your heart swell. You wore a soft smile as you made your way toward the kitchen, one hand instinctively resting on your belly.

But then— A sharp pain suddenly gripped your abdomen, pulling a startled grunt from your lips. You stopped in your tracks, your hand flying to your stomach as the sensation deepened.

“Joong—” you breathed out, just before another, stronger wave hit you.

Hongjoong was instantly at your side, his hands still wet from the dishes he’d been washing, water dripping onto the floor as he reached for you in alarm.

You didn’t even need to say anything.

Your knees buckled slightly, and when you glanced down, your eyes widened.

A slow, clear puddle had formed beneath you.

“Oh—” Hongjoong blinked, color draining from his face. “Your water just broke.”

You looked up at him, equal parts terrified and excited.

“It’s time.”

You were already by the door, one hand braced against the wall as you focused on steadying your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth—just like they’d taught you. Just like you thought you’d be calm enough to do.

Behind you, Hongjoong was the complete opposite of calm. He was darting back and forth through the apartment like a man on fire, water still dripping from his sleeves, panic in full swing.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, it’s happening,” he muttered, eyes wide as he spun in a full circle. “It’s happening.”

“Hongjoong,” you warned, breath shaky.

“I need to call the boys—no, wait, the hospital—no, shit, both—”

“Hongjoong.”

“The bag! Where’s the hospital bag? Did we move it? Who moved it?!”

You clenched your jaw, another contraction hitting you with force as you growled, “Kim Hongjoong!”

He froze mid-step, eyes snapping to you.

You exhaled, slowly. “I love you, but if you don’t get it together and get me to the hospital in the next five minutes, I swear to God, you are delivering this baby.”

There was a full beat of silence.

Then—“Right. Bag. Car. You. Let’s go.”

The ride to the hospital felt both way too fast and painfully slow.

Hongjoong gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding him to Earth, his knuckles white as he glanced between the road and you every three seconds.

“Okay. Breathing. You're doing great, baby,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You were reclined in the passenger seat, one hand pressed to your belly and the other gripping the door handle like a lifeline. “I swear to God, Joong, if you don’t stop accelerating at every green light—”

“I’m not speeding,” he argued, voice shrill. “I’m efficiently navigating under pressure!”

Another contraction hit, and you hissed in pain, head rolling back against the headrest. “Your definition of efficient is going to get us pulled over—”

“If we get pulled over, I’ll deliver the baby in the back seat,” he declared, eyes wide and completely serious. “I’ve watched like...three documentaries on this.”

You stared at him through gritted teeth. “Three? That’s comforting.”

“Do you want me to lie to you or get us there?!”

A pause.

“Fair point,” you mumbled, gripping your seatbelt as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “How far?”

He reached for his phone mounted on the dashboard. “Five minutes, max.”

You let out a long, shaky breath. “I swear, I’m never letting you near me without birth control again.”

Hongjoong gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his chest. “You wound me, woman.”

You glared at him through the next contraction. “I will actually wound you if you don’t stop talking and just drive.”

He snapped his mouth shut immediately.

But then he snuck a glance over at you, eyes softer this time—glassy, even—before reaching over at a red light to gently squeeze your hand.

“We’re about to meet our baby,” he whispered.

And despite the pain, despite the chaos—you smiled.

While nurses rushed around you, prepping the room and helping you into position, Hongjoong stood just beside the hospital bed—one hand in yours, the other typing furiously on his phone.

🍼 Baby Daddies Club

[HJ]: she’s at the hospital. it’s happening. [HJ]: contractions are 3 mins apart. baby’s coming.

The responses were instant.

[San]: FACETIME ME RIGHT NOW. [Yeosang]: Wait, what do you mean “it’s happening” like RIGHT now?! [Mingi]: bro I’m calling my CO I swear to god. [Jongho]: I will walk off this base if I have to. [Yunho]: Please tell her we love her. Please. We’ll be there as soon as we’re allowed. [Seonghwa]: Put me on FaceTime. I’m not missing this.

Hongjoong was trying to juggle calming you down with calming them down, fumbling to open FaceTime and hold the phone up with one shaking hand. “Okay, okay—here, I’m putting you guys on mute unless you wanna get yelled at by a woman in labor.”

Your head whipped toward him. “Mute them, Hongjoong.”

San’s frantic face appeared onscreen. “I heard that—”

Click. Muted.

You could see their faces on the screen as Hongjoong propped the phone against the windowsill—San practically vibrating with nerves, Yeosang pacing in a room somewhere, Seonghwa already teary-eyed, and Mingi in his uniform, clearly trying to hold it together while on the phone with someone off-camera.

“I wish they were here,” you whispered, breath ragged as another contraction hit. “They’re missing this.”

Hongjoong leaned in, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead. “I know, baby. But they’re with us. They are. Look at them.”

You glanced at the screen again, and despite the chaos, despite the pain—you felt loved.

They didn’t care that the child wasn’t biologically theirs. This baby was part of them. And even from miles away, it was clear they already loved your child as fiercely as they loved you.

“Alright, mama,” the nurse said gently, adjusting the monitors. “We’re fully dilated. It’s time to push.”

You barely had time to process the words before another contraction hit you like a wave. You gasped, gripping Hongjoong’s hand so tightly he winced—but never pulled away. Instead, he leaned closer, his forehead pressed to yours, grounding you.

“You’ve got this, baby,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

The sound of your own labored breathing filled the room, mixed with the steady rhythm of the fetal heart monitor and muffled, frantic gestures from the FaceTime screen propped up nearby. The boys were all still there—every one of them. San’s eyes were wide with worry, Yeosang had stopped pacing, Jongho was frozen in full military uniform, and Seonghwa had one hand covering his mouth, already crying. Yunho and Mingi both stared into the camera like they could will themselves through the screen to be at your side.

The doctor gave the cue, and you began to push.

It hurt. More than anything. But between the pain, the sweat, and the overwhelming fear—you heard Hongjoong's voice the entire time, steady and fierce, whispering encouragement like a lifeline.

“One more,” he said softly. “Just one more, baby. You’re doing so good.”

And then—everything shifted.

A cry filled the room. Raw, piercing, new.

You collapsed back into the bed, sobbing, not even sure if it was from exhaustion or joy or sheer disbelief. Hongjoong stood frozen, hand over his mouth, eyes wide and shimmering as the doctor held up your child.

“It’s a—” “Don’t say it,” you croaked through your tears, reaching for Hongjoong. “Let him tell me.”

The nurse gently laid the baby in Hongjoong’s arms, and for a moment—just a moment—he stood there completely still, staring down at the tiny, perfect human swaddled against his chest.

His lips parted, trembling. “It’s a girl,” he whispered.

You sobbed, both hands reaching for them.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, voice cracking completely. “She looks like you.”

The boys on FaceTime were dead silent—and then erupted. Cheers, sniffles, actual shouting from Mingi, who looked like he was about to start bawling in uniform. Jongho blinked hard, clearly fighting back tears. San had turned away for a second, probably wiping his face. And Seonghwa? He was already crying openly.

Hongjoong leaned over, placing your daughter gently into your arms.

She was warm. Small. Real. Her tiny fingers curled instinctively around your thumb.

“Hi,” you whispered to her, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Hongjoong kissed your forehead, his voice barely a breath. “She’s perfect. You were perfect.”

You glanced toward the screen, heart full as your found family watched through teary eyes, cheering from miles away.

“She’s not just mine,” you whispered, looking at them. “She’s ours.”

Hongjoong was stunned to see Wooyoung walk through the hospital door, flowers in one hand and a “Welcome Baby!” balloon in the other. He had no idea how Wooyoung had managed it, but somehow, he’d gotten all the boys there within a matter of hours.

Their eyes were red, puffy—undeniable proof that they’d all been crying. And that alone nearly broke Hongjoong.

You were fast asleep in the hospital bed, exhausted from labor, the baby cradled safely in your arms. Gently, Hongjoong took her and pressed a kiss to your forehead before quietly guiding the others out of the room, careful not to wake you.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them and they reached the waiting room, the questions came in a rush.

“Can we see her?” Mingi whispered, nearly bouncing in place.

“What did you name her?” Yeosang asked, eyes still glossy.

“Is Yn okay?” Seonghwa’s voice was soft, almost fragile.

Hongjoong looked at all of them—their messy hair, tear-streaked cheeks, uniforms, travel-wrinkled clothes—and smiled, something heavy and warm blooming in his chest.

“She’s perfect. They both are,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “And yeah… you can see her. She’s yours too.”

Hongjoong peeked into the room first, quietly pushing the door open to find you propped up in bed, feeding your daughter. Your eyes were droopy with exhaustion, but the soft smile you gave him was everything he needed in that moment.

He stepped inside, gently closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he murmured. “I have a surprise, if you’re up for it?”

You let out a tired sigh, leaning your head back against the pillows. “If it’s Manager Lia with a truckload of congratulatory flowers, can it wait?”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “No flowers. I think you’ll actually like this one.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite the exhaustion. “Okay… hit me.”

Instead of answering, he turned and opened the door a little wider—just enough for the boys to quietly file in, one by one.

San entered first, holding a stuffed tiger. Then came Seonghwa with a soft pink blanket, Jongho with a pink and white gift bag, and the rest right behind—smiling, nervous, reverent.

Your breath caught.

“Surprise,” Hongjoong whispered.

And the moment your eyes met theirs—puffy, red-rimmed, brimming with love—you started crying all over again.

Wooyoung was the first to move, quickly crossing the room with a crooked smile that barely masked his tears. “Hey, hey, hey—are you trying to make us cry again?” he teased, voice cracking as he knelt beside the bed.

You let out a watery laugh, brushing a tear from your cheek. “I didn’t think you’d all come.”

“We had to,” Seonghwa said softly, standing just behind Wooyoung. “This isn’t something we could miss.”

Just then, your daughter let out the softest little sound—more of a coo than a cry, barely a whisper—and it was like time paused.

Every head turned toward her. The room shifted instantly, the air thick with quiet awe. You could have sworn you heard the collective sound of their hearts swooning in unison.

Yeosang slowly stepped forward, eyes wide, voice hushed. “She made a sound.”

“She’s already stealing hearts,” Mingi whispered, half-laughing, half-sniffling.

“She’s got you beat, Woo,” San added, trying to lighten the moment as he wiped under his eyes.

“She’s beautiful,” Jongho said quietly, staring like he couldn’t look away. “She looks like all of us. Somehow.”

You smiled down at her, your hand gently brushing over her tiny fingers. “She’s surrounded by love. Of course she does.”

Hongjoong stood at your side, one hand resting on your shoulder as the others gathered close around the bed.

“Do you wanna know her name?” you asked, looking at them one by one.

They all nodded, holding their breath.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking with each of theirs. “We named her Arin.”

A soft silence fell over the room as the name settled in.

Wooyoung was the first to smile, voice warm and teasing. “Arin. That’s… perfect.”

Seonghwa nodded, eyes shimmering. “Strong and gentle, just like her mama.”

Yeosang’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “It suits her.”

San’s usual playful grin softened into something tender. “I think she’s already got her own little army with us behind her.”

Jongho’s gaze stayed fixed on her tiny face. “Arin. I like that.”

Mingi leaned closer, whispering, “She’s going to grow up knowing exactly how loved she is.”

Hongjoong squeezed your hand gently, voice thick with emotion. “Arin. Our little miracle.”

You smiled through the tears, cradling your daughter closer. “Arin means ‘light,’ and she’s already brought so much into all our lives.”

The boys gathered closer, the room filling with quiet laughter, soft words, and the steady, unbreakable bond of your found family.

like by no1likeme8_8, wooyounggg__, _starhwa_, and others it'syn.png welcome to the world, our light @ no1likeme8_8

wooyounggg__ i'm an uncle 🥹 translated yunou._.u congulations mama 💛 user1 HELLO!?? HAS IT BEEN 9 MONTHS ALREADY?1 user2 ITS A BABY GIRL, SHES GOING TO BE SO SPOILED user3 hey did anyone peep the wedding ring on yn finger 👀

#ateez x reader #9th member ateez #9th member of ateez #ateez 9th member #hongjoong fluff #ateez poly #poly ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #── ateez: poly #🔍 ─── 𝐂𝖱𝖮𝖬𝐄𝖱 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒’#ateez network

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

Text

I’ve seen fics where Joaquin is hurt, so I thought why not do things a little differently…I’m unhealthy addicted to this man. (Have since the show but didn’t capitalise on writing for him then, grave mistake tbh though there still wasn’t much for him back then either.)

The mission with Sam and Joaquin was a success but one reckless misstep caused you to be put right into a hospital bed with a uncharacteristically quite Joaquin by bedside, his hands clasped together tightly in front of his face as his beautiful dark eyes seemed distant and unfocused as they gazed at the wall across from him.

‘You can quit mentally going over funeral arrangements for me, I’m still alive to continue being a pain in your ass.’ You tell him once you had awoken, but it seemed as though your attempts of making light of a serious situation only seem to put Joaquin even more in a sour mood.

‘You sure have a weird way of trying to comfort me you know? Making jokes about your own hurt and thinking that I’ll just laugh along?’ Joaquin said as he looked at you, eyes sharp but filled with worry as they looked over your bandaged figure. ‘Is nearly dying really a funny experience for you?’ He then adds rhetorically. It was obvious that you being hurt had more of an affect on Joaquin then it did you, maybe because you had time to be accustomed to how dangerous the job was, which resulted in giving you a weird sense of fucked up humour when you find yourself on the hospital bed.

‘Joaquin-‘ you began as you reached out for his hand but it seemed as though your friend and mission partner wasn’t quite done.

‘Do you know how I felt when I found you hurt?’ Joaquin starts, unable to keep the feelings with him any longer then he already had, hating how helpless he felt upon finding out that you were hiding an injury as serious as this as though you didn’t view yourself as someone valuable. ‘And the fact that you kept it from us, from Sam but most importantly,’ Joaquin paused when he felt himself letting his emotions rise to the surface as tears brimmed his beautiful eyes, ‘you kept it hidden from me, we’re meant to be partners y/n, partners.’ He adds in a way that made you know that what he felt towards you was a lot deeper then you two just being partners.

‘Are we not partners?’ Joaquin asked.

‘Of course we are!’ You replied without hesitation, reaching out and grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. ‘You’re my best friend and the best mission partner I could have ever asked for-‘

‘Then why did you feel the need to hide your hurt from me.’ Joaquin interrupts you, though you noticed how tightly he held onto your hand as though he was scared to let go of you, and in the moment you hated yourself for making Joaquin worry over you like this. You truly were the worst when it came to these things but with Joaquin you wanted to be as transparent as possible with him, expect when it came to needing help and your feelings for him it seems, and you couldn’t help but feed into the idea that due to this Joaquin deserved better…better than you at least.

‘The mission comes first Joaquin you know this as well as I, so why should it matter if I’m hurt or not.’ You said to him, hating how it seemed as though Joaquin could see through you whenever you looked in his dark eyes, bringing you under the impression that he seems to know you better then yourself and you feared that that was the truth. You wish you could hate him but you knew you’d be lying if you ever said that because you knew you’d love the man until you couldn’t, making you fear how far you’d actually go for him and vice versa.

‘Well it matters to me! You matter to me! So sorry for not wanting to watch my best friend and love of my life die on a hospital bed.’ Joaquin exclaims suddenly, taking you both aback by the outburst of repressed emotions but Joaquin pushed through as he moved his hand from your grasp, moving to hold your face within his hands instead as he rests his forehead again yours. ‘Especially not when I have so much to say to you that I should’ve said far, far sooner instead of hiding.’ He adds softer this time as he moved to press a tender kiss your forehead, making you smile softly at the feeling, before pressing his head back against there.

‘And what would those things be my dear falcon.’ You asked analog sheepishly as your hands reached to keep his hands again your face, caressing the backs of them with your thumbs, smiling at how while this wasn’t the ideal place for you to admit your feelings but it didn’t feel any less magical then it did right now.

Joaquin smiles for what felt like the first time since he’s been sat beside you. ‘We’d be here for a really, really long time if we want to go into specifics,’ you both laughed at this, knowing that you would spend just as long listing of the things you loved about him in return, ‘but to keep it short all you need to know is that you’re the best part of me, my better half and the one person who could make me feel like this when I’m under the impression that I could one day loose you forever.’ Joaquin sighed and closed his eyes, leaning further into you as though trying to convince himself they you were still here with him.

‘I don’t ever want to see you like this ever again, not as long as I can do something about it to keep you safe from this day onward.’ Joaquin admits and you felt yourself becoming warm and giddy it made you forget why you were in the hospital for brief moment in time, for you were too focused on the beautiful and brave man in front of you holding you like you were everything and to him you very much were.

‘Then I can only promise to be more carful on missions from here on out if it’s to keep your heart from breaking, for I wouldn’t want to hurt someone as important to me as you Joaquin,’ you then moved your hand to wipe away the unshed tears from his eyes, taking your time with it as well as you caressed his tear stained cheeks with care and held the weight of a death as though you were in fact scared of hurting him. ‘I never went to see you shed a single tear more of my reckless ass.’ You add and this time Joaquin laughed along with you as he kissed your palms sweetly, smiling against them.

‘Then I guess you’ll have to deal with me being a little overprotective on the future missions.’ Joaquin says barely above a whisper.

‘I wouldn’t mind that at all, not a single bit.’ You replied, kissing his nose and smiling, happy to know that your feelings weren’t unreciprocated like you originally thought, but also happy knowing that your heart was in the safest hands you’ve ever known.

#joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #Joaquin Torres imagines #mcu x you #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu imagine #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines

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madamechrissy · 9 months ago

Text

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Descriptive edical procedures, reader has a medical issue, crazy sexual tension, light angst, tons of humor, workplace relationship, kissing and teasing, the hospital is lowkey slutty. Reader like 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 8.7k

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

♡ Reblogs and comments appreciated ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part Two =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

♡ Part Three ♡

One Week Later- the OR

“Intern, those fingers ready?” Dr. Gojo says to you, as you hold the severed finger of the patient in front of you, you’ve already cleaned them out, removing the damaged tissue. Maki is watching you eagerly from the window above, as if she’s dying to get her hand on the fingers, nibbling on a snack with Yuta as they watch. You look at Gojo, nodding now. “Perfect, now come over here.”

You stand next to Dr. Gojo in the OR now, a little overheated in your face mask, holding the finger steady as he begins to work on restoring the ligaments. You watch him avidly, his expert fingers under those latex purple gloves, precise to every millimeter, wiring the finger as you hold it. It’s quiet in the room, just the two of you and the sleeping patient, along with one of the nurses checking the vitals.

“What am I doing right now, Intern?” Satoru asks, peering up at you through his goggles, only serving to magnify the blue of his eyes.

“Wiring the tendons, Dr. Gojo.”

“Exactly, and how many hours do we typically have to do this successfully?” He asks softly.

“Twenty four hours, though everything after six hours poses a risk.”

“Perfect. How are you at sutures?”

“I’m the suture queen. I am in quilting classes, you know.” You tease, he chuckles a bit then, as the nurse hands you the needle and thread. You take it with steady hands, pouring antiseptic on the exposed finger, now put back together from Gojo. He’s right next to you, watching everything you do carefully.

“Nice, very nice. Almost as good as me, actually.” You smile under your mask at the praise, as he stands so very close you can smell his cologne even in the room that smells like pure rubbing alcohol and cleaner, you can feel the body heat of him, but you focus.

You slowly continue your sutures, making sure to be as even as possible, looping the skin together bit by bit as Dr. Gojo watches you. He does not instruct you, he merely holds it in place and allows you to finish, once you do he inspects it and hums to himself in satisfaction.

“Do you want to wire the tendons?”

“Fuck yes! Oh shit…” You blush now, thankful he can’t see, but you hear his soft laughter then. “Can I?”

“Only way to learn is to do it. I’ll be guiding you.” One hand presses against your back for just a moment as he switches your positions now, making you tremble, nerves going insane as you see Maki giving you a big thumbs up. Gojo laughs as he looks at her. “You have a fan club.”

“Not like yours Dr. Gojo.” You tease, now grabbing the wire.

“And what’s this technique called?”

“Tension band wiring.”

“You’re a little nerd.” You gasp, and the nurse laughs a bit. “It’s not a bad thing, you just are one.”

“Aren’t we all who go to med school?” You ask, carefully starting to gently wire the tendons together, Satoru is right against you now.

“Figure eight motions, there you go. Beautiful.” He murmurs again, and you’re eating up the praise, the nurse steps out for a moment since he is now stable, as you’re finishing up, when suddenly something is stabbing you in your temple. You cry out, gasping, and Satoru looks at you with concern.

“What’s wrong?” He whispers, leaning closer, and you shake your head, taking a breath as you continue to finish suturing his finger up.

“I’m so sorry.” You manage to say.

“Sorry? Your hands haven’t wavered, you’re okay. What’s going on?”

“Really bad stabbing ache. I’ve had them before but this was bad… shit… please don’t-”

“I won’t tell anyone.” He assures you quietly, and your eyes flutter shut for just a moment now that he’s taken over, arms wrapped around and working over you, for a moment you lean back against his chest, before panicking. “It’s fine, no one’s watching anymore, take a moment.”

“It’s not professional-”

“You did great. Why don’t we… talk about that headache later?” You sigh, leaning against him for just a moment, feeling his heart pounding against your back steadily, slowly, it feels far too good, to shut your tired eyes and breathe.

“You don’t have to worry about it. You have enough to do.” You say softly, straightening up now and starting to apply the antiseptic carefully. Satoru stands next to you again, and you already miss him behind you, complete insanity surely.

“Just come to my office after you clean up. Yeah?” He says, the nurses come in then, and you nod carefully.

“Do you think he’ll play piano again?” You ask, carefully inspecting both of your handiwork now, the fingers sutured beautifully, but still, you know he has quite a recovery ahead. “I found him on Youtube, he’s amazing.”

“You get so mushy and attached.” He teases, you just smile.

“I guess I do. It’s a bad habit.”

“Very bad. But… I do think he’ll play again, it may take some practice and time, but we did very well.” You exhale in relief, finishing up as Dr. Gojo walks out, the pain in your head starting to come back once more.

“Shit…” You whisper under your breath, anxiety making your heart race now, but you shove it down, focusing.

Later after cleaning up and heading to Satoru’s office, it’s cracked open and you peek in, earning his laugh when he sees you. “Hey it’s not a Scooby mystery, Daphne. Well… maybe Velma, you’re so nerdy.”

You glare now, making him grin with those glinting white teeth. “You’re a regular Scooby Doo, but for sweets and BJs.” You shut the door behind you, he holds a hand to his chest.

“Ouch! That one hurts, you’re saying blow jobs are my Scooby Snacks!?” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just making sure I’m not stepping in on a… Hojo moment.”

Satoru’s lips curl up on one side, hands in the pockets of his slacks, lab coat behind his hips then, revealing his long, lithe legs. He is tilting his head, white hair falling just so. “A Hojo moment hmm? Like me and you at that party?”

“Shh!” You’re leaned up, hand on his mouth, as he laughs against your palm, heating it up. “We did nothing.”

“You know orgasms help headaches? Scientifically- don’t go!”

“You’re an ass.” You’re snatched up by him then, big hands on your narrow shoulders, frozen in place with him behind you.

“Sorry, sorry. Can’t blame me for teasing you, Miss cancels our date.”

“I really did get crazy busy, family shit. I’m sorry.” You turn back to him, feeling his fingertips brush your bare skin as they slip down your arms, and see he is pouting, you giggle then.

“You laugh at my pain, brat?”

“Brat! You’re a brat. No, your pout is why I giggled, it’s cute.” You tap his lips now, remembering the feel of them on yours, fuck it had been a long week since you two had shared that moment in your room, you may or may not have played with yourself to the memory… maybe or maybe not several times this week.

Not that you’d tell him though. Just stress relief!

Yeah?

Yeah…

“I promise I’ll make it up. I felt bad… it was actually my cousin. She had a baby recently and came down with something.”

“So you spent your only day off doctoring?”

You sigh. “Yep.”

“Nerd.”

“Hey!” He’s laughing again.

“Fine, what about a drink at the bar across the street after work then? Something easier?”

Drinks with Gojo. Dr. Hojo.

Bad idea.

“Sure.”

Fuck. Maybe you can keep your pants on this time…

“Better not stand me up, missy.” He taps your forehead now. “I want to do a CT scan first, MRI if I see anything too crazy. That okay with you?”

“But I have work, Dr. Gojo… rounds…”

“Have your friends cover for just like thirty minutes, okay? Do they know you have headaches?” He asks, eyeing you as if you’re a case now. You know that look, you see it on him constantly as he assesses his patients.

“How do you know I get them alot?”

“You rub your temples all the time, and your neck. But I figured stress and exhaustion. It could just be that. But…” He trails off, brushing back a lock of your hair now, making your body light up with the gentlest brush. “Humor me and let me see inside your head.”

“You wanna be inside me so bad.” His eyes get lidded at your joke, and your breath catches at the look on his pretty face. “Fuck, bad joke.”

“Hmm, no… it’s true.” He tilts your chin up, your breaths mingling now, as the door knocks, and you step away quickly, only to earn his lazy gaze. “Those scrubs hide such a nice little body.”

“Shush Hojo.” You smack at him now, and he opens the door, you notice it’s Miwa, he lets her in and you tense up, ready to leave, what is their deal? And why do you care!? It’s not like you all have done anything but make out and…

And…

Fuck you can’t get his demon doctor fingering skills out of your damn head, it’s like he’s implanted there, whispering your anatomy just to fuck with you. You shake yourself out of it as Satoru talks to Miwa now.

“Could you prep a CT for me please, Miwa?”

“Of course I can. Hello Doctor!” She says brightly to you, you both had been much better this week after the intense situation where she’d questioned you, now she seems to truly respect you more. Though you wish it wasn’t just Gojo’s words.

“Hello Miwa. How are you handling today? It’s been crazy.”

“I know, ugh. I’m good, I’m about to leave for the day, I’ll prep it for you, Dr. Gojo, here’s the notes for the recovery of that patient you all just worked on too.” He takes them and smiles.

“Thanks Miwa. Have a good night.” She bounces off, and he smirks down at you, snowy lashes lowering. “You’re jealous.”

“What!? No! Of what, sucking Dr. Hojo’s dick?” You cross your arms, scowling up at his snarky expression.

“It was once. I don’t tend to go on dates or carry on, you know.”

“So why ask me?”

“Maybe you’re… different.” You pause at that, blinking a bit when he steps close once more. “Maybe I really can’t get your anatomy out of my mind.”

“Shush. CT scan.” You whisper, he’s too goddamn close, leaning low over you, so close you’re studying his perfect skin and his high cheekbones, fuck he’s even prettier up close. It’s really annoying.

Those blue eyes are absolutely stunning, of course they are, but it’s not just the color, it’s all of the things emoted in his eyes, the intensity of them. Your eyes keep darting to his lips, even when the throbbing in your head comes back, you gently rub your temple as you keep flickering your gaze back to his eyes, soon his cool fingers replace your own, rubbing gently.

“You don’t want to admit you liked it.” Satoru says softly, his breath tickling you as he presses in, your eyes close at how good it feels, sighing.

“I want to be taken seriously, Satoru. Not to be the intern that gets favored because she fucks her boss.”

“You stress too much. Maybe that’s the cause of the headaches.”

“Hmm… maybe.” You lean closer now, continuing to let him rub your temples further. “You assume I wanna fuck you, Dr. Hojo.”

“Oh, it’s an educated guess. By all your body language.”

“Shush, keep rubbing.” His chest shakes against your hands with laughter as he gently cradles your face in his hands now, pressing his lips to your temple. “That feels too good, better stop.”

“You’re really annoying, intern. Mmmkay go get yourself covered so we can get it done yeah?”

“Meet you there.”

*****

“I hate this shit, I feel like I gotta pee.” You grumble now, as Satoru is injecting the contrast dye into your arm, making you feel like you’re hot everywhere as you lay on your back right outside of the machine. Satoru’s lips quirk up, you try to ignore how good the man looks as your doctor for just a moment.

Impossible.

“I know, it’s the worst, but just for a few. I’ll be right over there, looking all inside you.”

“Fuck off.” You stick your tongue out and he wiggles his brows, stepping out of the room, you get tense, feeling yourself breathing a little too fast as he now speaks through the microphone.

“Alright, pretty patient.”

“You’re flirting with your patient during a CT scan?” His teasing eases your nerves, though you don’t admit it outright, a little smile plays on your lips.

“Only patients this pretty.” He murmurs, and you ignore the blush on your cheeks, must be the contrast dye overheating you. “I’m easing you in, yeah? Just stay as still as you can and breathe.”

“Yes, Sir.” He hums then a bit, and you’re sliding into the donut shaped scanner, you always hate these things. As it starts swirling around your head in circles, you try to ignore the whirring sound, the overwhelming fear, what could be wrong, what could it mean-

“Don’t panic, it’s fine. Just checking okay?” Satoru’s voice interrupts your thoughts over the speaker now. Your nails are digging into your palm, a little sheen of moisture on your eyes that you suck up.

“Yeah.” Is all you manage, then it’s quiet as Satoru finishes the scan, as you’re eased out, he’s right there, unhooking you from the IV carefully, holding your arm and pressing a white square cotton to where he’d poked.

“You bleed a lot. Anemic?” He asks, and you should be surprised he knows, but he knows everything it seems.

“Just a bit, yes. I know, I should take my iron.”

“Mmm, anemia is pretty common in women, especially since I think all I see you eat is coffee. Maybe eat more? And add some protein?” He teases.

“I eat! But I’ll add some. Thank you, Dr. Gojo.” You take his hand to help you out of the little bed then, ignoring as much as you can how good his hands feel when he steadies you by your waist, warm and pressing against your skin. Your heart races as you look up at him. “Did you see anything interesting?”

His lips tense a bit, more serious now. “I saw a little interesting spot right there, but I wanna look at it more. I’ll call you to go over it in a few?”

“Sounds good, thank you.” You manage, you don’t know how much he’s hiding or what he’s found.

“Don’t stress, intern, I will tell you if it is, yeah?” You exhale, nodding, leaning up a bit, lashes lowered as you take in those perfect lips.

“If I’m gonna die-”

“Shut it. Now get to those rounds.” He whispers, breath so close you can taste it, minty always with the mints and gum he constantly chews.

“Got it Doc.” He snorts at you, fingers brushing your jaw line, as you contemplate his jaw line, so much more defined, his face is so chiseled… his body…

Fuck.

You clear your throat, smiling. “That’s much better. I’ll talk to you soon, don’t stress about it okay?”

Sure you won’t.

*****

“Maki, what if I die before interning is over?” You grumble next to your best friend as you all make the rounds, Maki snorts now.

“Gonna die of no Dr. Gojo dick?”

“Bitch shush!” She snorts as you look around wildly.

“No bitch, you shush. Why do you think you’re dying? I mean… we all are, but why so soon? You can’t die, I need to live with you.”

“You can have the house.”

“I still want you around!” You both pause in front of the patient’s door now, sighing and looking at each other. “Is something actually wrong?”

“I’m just panicking. I have some bad headaches… and did a CT.” You murmur, she frowns then, emerald eyes studying you seriously behind her black frames.

“Everything okay?” She asks, a little softer.

“I’m sure it is, I just panic when I don’t know the answers to things. Fuck… I could use some lorazepam in the arm.” You joke, she giggles with you.

“We all could, that’s for sure. Oh fuck… look.”

You take the chart from Maki then, raising your brows as you look at the patient’s records. “They’re blue?”

You both look at each other then eagerly pace to the room, where indeed there’s a young man, and he is in fact blue. He smiles a bit at you both, waving his silvery blue tinted fingers. “Hello ladies.”

“Hello.” You both say, looking at each other, then back at him. He laughs now, sighing.

“I know, I look like Papa Smurf.”

“No!” You say.

“Yes!” Maki says, and then the three of you burst out in laughter.

“At least you’re honest.” He muses, and the both of you approach him now, you take his hand and turn it over, seeing the palms were more of a typical color.

“When did this start happening?” You ask softly, Maki is checking his vitals, not hiding her curiosity.

“I’ve been blue for… probably a month. I’ve just hidden in my house.” You put aside the medical curiosity then, you feel the pain hidden in his voice. “Didn’t wanna scare the masses.”

“Anything in particular you consume? Colloidal Silver can cause this.” You say softly, he shakes his head then.

“I don’t think so? I’d know if I took silver, right?”

“Yes, it’s a supplement. Hmm… and anyone else in the family ever…”

“Turn blue?” He finishes. You nod. “No. Not that I know of?”

Maki and you look at each other, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in her head. You’re thinking it too, but it’s so rare and so weird.

“Methemoglobinemia?” She murmurs, and you tilt your head, sighing.

“I mean it’s possible, but that’s genetic, he’d have been blue. But let’s check for that and any potential exposures to chemicals that could cause this. It’s definitely not a typical case of methemoglobinemia, but we have to rule it out. Don’t worry, we’ll get you all figured out…” You check his name. “Muta, yeah?”

“Yeah. You mean I may not be blue anymore?”

“We’ll figure out what’s going on, I promise.” The door opens then, and Miwa comes in, gasping a bit, before smiling. Muta lights up when he sees her, his eyes glinting, you see it then, he has a crush.

“Your hair is the color of my skin, we’re meant to be.” Muta teases, Miwa laughs softly, coming in then as you two fill her in.

“Got it ladies, I’ll get these labs going.”

“Thanks Miwa.” You say, patting Muta’s shoulder. “We’ll get you back to normal, I promise.”

“Thank you, Doctor. And Doctor Maki.” She gives him a thumbs up, and you both walk out now, as the fluorescent lights make your headache worse. You wince now, rubbing your head again.

“Take a break babe, it’s okay. He’s not dying, he's just blue.” She says, as you are shaking your sore head now. Your phone goes off and you see it’s a text from your ex, you roll your eyes. “The ex?”

“Of course it is. Begging to see me over and over. I’m dreading the moment he comes to the house.”

“Shit, he’s really missing that coochie-”

“Maki!”

“It has cobwebs now.”

“You bitch!” You shove at her now, as Yuta and Toge walk up, both laughing at the two of you. Toge tilts his head when you rub your temples again.

“Hurt?” He asks quietly, you nod, sighing when his hand is on your forehead, you moan just slightly at how cool it feels.

“Feels so good.” You take his hand, pressing more, then feel him tense. You look up to see he’s bright red, and then he runs away. Your brows go together, as you blink in confusion, and Yuta covers his face, shaking his head.

“And you tease him! To torture him!” Yuta says, you glare then.

“What now!? His hand felt cool.” You grimace, leaning against the gray counter of the reception, as everyone flits back and forth by you.

“Hey you alright?” Yuta asks softer now, brushing back your hair.

“She’s got a nasty migraine again.” Maki murmurs, then comes with a little paper cup of water. “Drink babe.”

“Thank you.” You sip the cold water now, feeling it chill your lips and teeth. “Did I really upset Toge again?”

“He’s just in love with you, now you touched him. He’s going to be infatuated for days. I’ll have to hear.” Yuta winces now, you laugh, sucking in a breath as it starts to ache worse.

“He barely talks, how do you know?”

“It’s obvious. But you’re too into white haired doctors.” Maki whispers, earning a smack on her hand when she touches your forehead. “Hmm, no fever.”

Your phone goes off again, and thankfully it’s Gojo and not your annoying ass ex, you don’t need more of a headache. “Oh, he has results. I should go… can you-”

“We’ve got it, go.” Maki murmurs. You smile thankfully, heading towards Satoru’s office now. You knock carefully.

“Come on in.” You shut the door behind you, and Satoru smiles easily, calming your nerves somewhat.

“Come check out your brain, it’s pretty cool.” You laugh softly, and come to where he’s sitting, leaning over to peer at your brain on his laptop now. “So this… is what I think is causing your headaches.”

You look then to a little mass, panicking, damn near falling back, so much he has to catch you with his big hands. “A tumor!?”

“Calm down, no. Shh.” Satoru sits you right on his thigh then, brushing a hand down your back, tilting your chin to look at him. “I wouldn’t casually say ‘you have a tumor’ like that. Breathe.”

“Shit.” You take several breaths, leaning your head back, trying to compose yourself. “So what is that then?”

“Kind of a tumor?”

“Dr. Gojo!”

“I’ll explain if you calm down.” He presses his hands on your waist gently, pointing back to the screen. “So it’s something called a false tumor, it’s typically from head contusions. Bash your head on anything a couple years back?”

You steady your breathing now, trying to focus. “Shit, yeah I did. I was getting some things from the attic and had a whole bunch of old dvd players whack me in the head.”

“Ancient ass.” He teases.

“Hey I have VCRs up there too!”

“Fuck you’re old.”

“You’re old!” He’s chuckling now, and you can’t help but laugh softly. “You’re doing it again, cheering me up.”

“Yeah, and it worked.” He taps your nose, watching it scrunch, little crinkles on the sides of his own brilliant blue eyes as he smiles. You realize then, you don’t want to get off his lap, fuck you wanna stay here. You feel good here. His arm casually wrapped around you, and suddenly you realize your warmth on his thigh, gulping now. Did he notice!?

He notices everything.

“I should…” You go to stand, and he presses you back down, firm thigh between your thighs, pressing up where it shouldn’t through the thin fabric of your scrubs.

“You should stay, let me explain what it is. Yeah?” You nod a bit, realizing that for just a bit you couldn’t think about your head hurting, even as you all are staring right at a scan of your brain. Satoru uses one of his long fingers to point at the spot, where you see it raised up. “A false tumor.”

“False tumors, I haven’t heard much about them.”

“It’s essentially intercranial hypertension, which translates to your brain is stressy-stressy.” You snort in laughter then, and his hand far too casually brushes down the outside of your thigh as he leans forward, pressed so close against you.

“My brain is in fact stressy.”

“See! I’m so smart, admit it.” He grins deviously, you snort in laughter at him, shaking your head.

“A little bit.” You gesture, squishing just a bit of space between your finger and your thumb now.

“I’ll take it. So there’s no sense removing it, seeing as that’s just opening a can of worms. A spinal tap would help relieve the pressure.”

“Spinal tap, yuck.” He rolls his eyes.

“You’re a big baby.”

“Am not. But yuck. Anything else? Lots of tylenol?” You find yourself turning now, he’s pulled you further on his lap, it shouldn’t feel this easy, this normal. Why does your head hurting not even matter now that you’re so close to him, now that you inhale his cologne, feel his touch.

“That sounds like liver problems waiting.”

“Well my wine at night does that.” You say with a smile.

“A little wine is good for you. Blood flow.” Satoru murmurs, gently running his fingertips up and down your arms now, you tremble just a bit at it, at how good it feels, a network of goosebumps left in his wake. His blue eyes darken just a bit as he watches them form, and suddenly it’s very quiet.

“Blood flow is good.” You say softly, to fill the silence, where all you hear is the pounding in your ears. “So any option three?”

“I can inject you with something to help the pain, but you really can’t put off the tap too long. When do you actually get a break?”

“Um…” You try to focus. “I get Thanksgiving weekend off?”

“Okay we’ll do it around then.”

“You can’t just come do a tap on a holiday!”

“Sure I can, I’ll be here a couple hours anyway. But you’ll have to lie still for some time, so I just wanna make sure you have a day off.”

“Alright, the injections till then?”

“Mmhmm.” He’s closing the laptop now, and you hear your heartbeat just racing, blood pumping in your ears, Satoru raises a thin white brow. “Are you alright?”

“It’s odd, the headache is gone when you… touch me. That sounds stupid, ugh.” You stand now, covering your face with a sigh. Satoru turns you so you’re right between his long legs now, hands firm on the curve of your hips.

“It doesn’t sound stupid. You’re getting endorphins from this.” He whispers now, so pretty this close he makes you ache, Maki is right maybe you do have cobwebs there, and his touch ignites your body. Like you’re on fire, especially when he cups your face.

“Satoru, what are we doing?” You whisper, he sighs, thumb brushing across your lower lip.

“Feeling things. You think too much. So dramatic, a fake tumor and alll.”

“Jerk!” You shove at him, unable to stop the grin from forming, craving his touch, more and more, when he pulls you flush against him you melt, hands bracing on his chest now, feeling the strong muscles flex under your touch.

“We should touch more if it helps your head.” His lips are right there, your noses touching as you hover, his snowy lashes lowering over dilated eyes, hands slipping up your back, one big one splaying the expanse of it. You press even closer, feeling the heat in your tummy building. Fuck would it hurt to just-

Suddenly both of your pagers go off. “Shit, code blue.”

“Shit.” Satoru and you both jump up now, rushing out into the busy hallway, you both round the corner, the chaos of the ER coming into view. Nurses and doctors moved with a choreographed precision, each step calculated and deliberate, as one of your patients from this week is in cardiac arrest.

“Shit shit shit.” You mutter under your breath, you rush in to see one of your elderly patients this morning now flat lining. You quickly begin compressions, pressing over and over as Satoru runs in, looking at the clipboard, studying you. “We need epi!” You say to the nurse, and Satoru stops her. “Satoru!”

“DNR, intern.” He turns the paper and shows you, the giant three letters, you gasp then, looking down at the lady you are working on.

“She has kids, she has-”

“She has a choice. Off now.”

You release her now, feeling tears flow as you watch the monitor completely flatline now, you remember her kids were literally just here, with her grandkids. She was laughing, smiling. You almost thought she was doing better…

“Intern, call time of death.” Satoru says.

You scowl at him through your tears, even if you know he’s right, and he sets his lips in a firm line. You see Maki, Yuta and Toge right outside the room, their eyes looking at you with concern, with worry. “Time of death is five- fifty- one PM.”

The nurse nods and writes it down, and you carefully cover the patient with one of the thin hospital sheets. “You can’t save everyone, you know.”

“I know, I know.” You choke up then, that headache right back, making you feel sick. “But to not save someone I could?”

“Her choice was to go. She’s been in pain a long time.” Satoru says, coming to stand next to you now, you feel bile rise in your throat.

“She seemed so happy today, so energetic even!?”

“Sometimes you get that burst of energy at the end. Maybe it’s… a bigger plan out there, to give your family something of what you used to be at the end.” You look at him through watery eyes, just exhausted.

Finger surgery.

A blue man.

Your own CT scan.

Some false tumor?

Now a death.

You want to go home. You want to lay in bed, curled in a ball in the dark, where maybe your head won’t pound. You want to throw up. You want to sleep for fucking days, trying to just not think. You want to just…

“Martha, her name was Martha.” You say now, and Satoru nods, a hand on your shoulder.

“Her name was Martha. Do you want me to tell the family?”

“No, she’s my patient. I will.” He nods then, eyes following you as you stiffly walk out, Maki, Yuta and Toge all come to you, but you hold a hand up. You’re barely keeping it together as it is, if one of them hugs you, you know you’ll fall apart. “I’m fine you all, promise.”

As you tell the family she passed, instead of the typical extreme upset, they almost seem a bit relieved, upset but relieved. “She was in so much pain, I think now… she’s free of it. Do you?” Martha’s son asks, and you struggle to hold you composure, feeling your stomach want to retch it’s contents, which were literally just coffee and a fucking croissant from this morning.

“She’s not in pain anymore.” You agree softly, and Martha’s granddaughter, about your age comes next to her dad now, looking at him, then you.

“Did she seem peaceful?” She asks softly, you nod then, giving a touch of comfort to her shoulder.

“She did, she seemed so happy to have been with you all I think. You may see her if you wish to.”

“We would like that. Thank you.” After they walk out you watch them pass by Satoru, who has his eyes on you.

You can’t let him see you so weak! You shouldn’t be so weak, you’re a doctor, you see death every single day. You rush into the locker room, thankfully finding it empty, before heading to the bathroom, leaning in and emptying the contents of your stomach, retching everything out. You get so weak as you do, dry heaving then as you feel yourself falling apart.

You’re sobbing over the toilet, flushing it, when you hear the door open and close, and suddenly you feel hands on your back. You shake your head, taking several breaths. “Go away, it’s gross.”

“You just cleaned out fingers that were cut off.” Satoru says softly, you laugh then, in between tears, as he holds your hair back for you. “Aw it’s like we’re besties, just having drinks you know.”

“Oh stop it. I’d kiss you if I didn’t just puke.”

“Please don’t, I don’t like you that much.” You laugh once more, before bursting into tears, and Satoru holds you, brushing your hair gently as you cling to him. “It’s normal to break down, surprised it took you so long. Been months.”

“I want to keep it together. I want to so badly.” You’re soaking his light purple scrub top, you see the blotches of tears forming as you cry more, letting him hold you. “Why are you so…”

“So handsome? So smart?”

“So comfy.”

“Huh, didn’t expect that one. Calling me fat, brat?” You giggle again, looking up at him now, his pretty face swims with how many tears you have.

“Not at all, no body fat on you. Just… comfortable I guess.” Your hand rests right over his heart, feeling it steady under you, trying to make your heart match, to slow your breathing down. Maki walks in then, kneeling quickly, brushing your hair back.

“Baby, you okay?” She asks softly, and you manage a weak little nod, as she kisses your head. “You’ve had a long day.”

“We all do, I shouldn’t act like this.”

“Babe we all puked at some point. Yuta was the first day.”

“He’s got a weak stomach, that one.” Satoru says, then looks at you and Maki with a little smile. “Maki, stay with her for a bit, I’ll get her some zofran, and I’ll get you something for the headache, yeah?”

You nod weakly, holding his hand then. “Thank you.” You say, he runs a thumb over your knuckles and just stands then, heading out. Maki cups your face carefully, studying you.

“You okay? Seriously.”

“I have some… fake tumor thing.” She gasps. “No, no, it’s fake. I don’t know… Satoru said maybe a spinal tap?”

“Satoru huh. Chummy.” You roll your eyes, sniffling as she helps you up. “Let’s brush your teeth, you don’t wanna kiss your doctor like this.”

“Maki, I can't kiss him. I can’t be with him.” You choke up once more.

“Just stay careful and sure you can. Do you think he’s serious though, or is it one of his… what do you call them?”

“Hojo moments.” You brush your teeth in the sink, grimacing at your appearance, you have mascara streaked under the dark circles of your eyes.

“Hojo moments… well about Miwa, seems like her and Papa Smurf are actually hitting it off. He’s hot now that his blue is fading.”

You perk up now, brows raising. “The blue is fading!?”

“Mmhmm, your first guess of methemoglobinemia was correct. Does that make you feel better maybe?” Maki’s eyes are concerned, you nod then, making her smile return just a bit. “Knew it, Miss know it all.”

“That’s you!” You spit out toothpaste, rinsing your mouth out now, as both of you laugh. The alarm goes off, your shift is done. “How’d it not present itself for so long I wonder?”

“I’m wondering the same thing. Already started the Methylene blue and Insane doses of Vitamin C. It’ll take a bit but he’ll be normal soon.” You wash up your face now, dabbing the bits of mascara off.

“One good thing today.”

“Two good things.” Satoru says, as you and Maki head to the locker room. “The finger surgery seems successful so far, we’ll keep him and monitor, but he could feel them.” You grin at that, at least something was going good today, aside from the ever more comfortable presence of Doctor Gojo.

“That is good news!”

“Now have a seat, let me make you feel good.” He teases with a grin, Maki snorts then, heading to her locker.

“Let me get out of here first, god.” You stick your tongue out, as Maki is sliding off her scrub top.

“I should get out of these real quick too if that’s okay? Before you poke me.” You say, he nods then, setting down the two vials.

“Let’s all get naked then, ladies.”

“Oh jesus.” Maki is dressed quickly, sliding her jacket on while Satoru is undressing, she sees him shirtless then and gives you an audacious wink, earning another eye roll from you. “Is she good to drive Dr. Hunk?”

“She’ll be fine from it, don’t worry. If not, I'll take her home. Having a drink after work anyway.” Maki pats your head once more, kissing your forehead then.

“See you home then. Night Dr. Hunk.” Satoru is giving some smoldering look that makes you and Maki both almost pee your pants, as she leaves you both alone now. Satoru has slid into a soft long sleeve black shirt and dark jeans, as you’ve gotten into your own clothes, you keep your jacket off, sitting on the bench and holding your arm out now.

“It needs to get injected in your ass.” He says then, and you gasp, making him grin wide.

“No way!”

“Yes way. Not the zofran, that’s just a little pill. Open up, pretty.” You open your mouth now, and he places the little pill under your tongue, gently closing your mouth with his fingers pressing your chin up.

“Fuck I hope it works quick.” You sigh as it dissolves, Satoru nods and tears open the package now, grinning like a devious ass devil. “You really gotta do this in my ass cheek!?”

“I really do. I’ll be completely professional, no worries.”

“Uh-huh sure. Well… alright then.” You turn now, unzipping your jeans and pulling them down, revealing your ass cheeks and your panties. He whistles, a hand coming to trace the bottom of them now, making your tummy clench with desire from just that. “So professional.”

“I need the panties off.”

“You do not. Dr. Pervert.”

“I’m Dr. Hojo and Dr. Pervert now?”

“Mmhmm. Fine, you little shit.” You slide down your panties completely, and his breath catches as he sees you, suddenly he’s quiet, then he’s bending down to sit on the bench, turning your now bare ass to him.

“You hiding that ass in your scrubs is such a crime.” You shake your head, ignoring how good his touch feels, even as he’s dabbing an alcohol pad on it, his breath against your skin does insane things, you have trouble forming a word.

“Your flattery works on those girls because you’re hot, not because you have any rizz, you’re so rizzless.”

“Rizzless my ass.”

“Ow!” Satoru has jabbed the shot in your ass cheek then, it stings and burns, you cry out, nearly jerking, so he holds you still with a hand on your hip. “You jabbed it hard on purpose!”

“Aw, need me to take it easy when I stick it in, baby?”

“Oh fuck off! Oh… I… mmm…” Suddenly the headache you’ve had all damn day is easing, you sigh now, feeling so blissful you can ignore the fact that your ass stings. You ease your panties up now, then your jeans, sighing as you turn to him, they’re still unbuttoned and unzipped, his eyes are locked right on you. “That felt so good, thank you Satoru.”

“You’re welcome, intern.” He murmurs, softly, watching you zip up your jeans and button them. “You’ll still need the tap, it’ll help for months.”

“I will. Thank you for everything today, really.” You cup his face now, before thinking better of it, pressing your lips against his softly. “A thank you kiss.”

“Can I get a thank you hand job? I’m having an issue.” You shake your head with a laugh, running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Absolutely not. But you can buy me a drink.” You grab your jacket and slide it on, and he eagerly hops up.

“Yeah?” His blue eyes light up, melting you further.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there, Dr. Pervert.” You grab your keys, but Gojo passes you quickly as you all walk out, opening your door before he runs off to the car, making you giddier than you’d admit.

*****

“You’re drinking the fruitiest drink they make.” You say later on, as you both are sitting at the bar, and the bartender hands you a cosmopolitan cocktail, and hands Satoru a Sex on the Beach.

“Lemme enjoy my sex mmkay?” You go to pay and he stops you. “Put it on my tab please, and a tip for now.” Satoru hands the bartender cash, he smiles at the two of you.

“Anything you all want, fruitier even.” You both laugh now, and Satoru and you go find a little table on the side of the bar towards the window, you sit and sip on your drink as your phone buzzes away. You swipe it off.

“Annoying ex?” Satoru asks, leaning back as he looks at you.

“He’s so annoying. It’s been months of me ignoring him, you would think he’d get the hint.”

“And you don’t date now?”

“Um… it’s hard to think about dating with our hours, you know?” He nods then, pouty lips encircling a straw as he sucks up more of his drink, and you wonder at how Satoru makes everything look sexy. “Do you date?”

He flicks his gaze up and down your body slowly, leisurely, as if he’s caressing you with his look. “Are you asking me out, intern?”

“Oh whatever, you asked me!”

“I don’t date right now, no, but I guess I have different reasons.” He murmurs, looking off to the window for a moment.

“Would you date? No, I'm not asking you out.” You say, studying him as he licks his lower lip, drawing your attention further to things you shouldn’t.

“I would, I’m not against it, I guess no one has sparked my interest enough. I mean aside from physically.”

“Any crazy exes?”

“I have an evil ex, actually. She’s scary.” He shivers now, you tilt your head curiously, sipping your own drink, feeling the warmth flow through you.

“Is she now? Like mean?”

“She’s mean alright. We just didn’t work out, our parents pushed us to get married too young, prominent families this and that. But we never even liked each other, she was pretty happy to divorce me. And I was too.” You digest the information slowly, mouth opening just slightly. “Yeah, I was married.”

“I didn’t expect that. You seemed like a bachelor, I guess.”

“I am about to be thirty four, you think I was single this long? Nah, I’m too handsome, baby.”

“Not your baby.” You kick at his feet, but he just grips your thigh now, burning over the layer of denim, and you wish it were on your skin instead.

“Not yet. You’re in love with me already, you just don’t know.”

“Oh am I?” He’s leaning closer across from you, blue eyes glittering in the dim lights of the busy bar.

“Mhm, you are. It’s okay, everyone falls in love with me.”

“You’re so loveable, so humble.”

“I know I am… hey.” You giggle now, smacking his hand off, finishing your little martini off and exhaling.

“I needed this, ugh… thank you Satoru.” He smiles a bit, finishing his as well now. “Your wife was… well, you’re not a guy you leave.”

Shit, you said that.

You cover your face then at his look of surprise. “I’m sorry-”

“Why apologize for that? Sounded like a compliment. But she left for good reasons, we hated each other and were miserable. She still hates me still, but we’re more friendly now. Your boyfriend, did he leave you?”

“No, I left him. He was too controlling and I just… wasn’t feeling it. It sounds so silly compared to an entire marriage.”

“Nah, not at all.”

“I also just put med school first, I really did. I don’t think I gave him the attention he needed. So it’s on me a bit.”

“That’s mature as fuck.” You shrug a bit.

“Well, we had a drink, hmm?”

“Let’s have two?” You sigh, leaning forward on the table, elbow propped up, chin in your hand as you study the handsome man across from you.

“Two sounds like my resolve slips.” You say softly, Satoru leans forward as well, brushing your hair behind your ear, every touch and look making you weaker and weaker for him.

“Would that be so bad, intern? To let go.” You exhale now, leaning into the caress, lashes fluttering shut and casting shadows on your cheeks as he studies you for a moment.

“I have a feeling it would be hard to let you go.”

“Yeah, what if I bust quick? Have a small dick?” You burst into laughter now, and he pouts. “Maybe it is small, meanie.”

“That’s the other rumor, Gojo, that your dick is huge.” He blushes a bit, surprising you. “Oh you didn’t know that one! Shit.”

“I mean I’m not complaining but god, girls are gossipy.”

“Like you’re not!”

“Another drink?” He asks, standing up then, your gaze trails up his lithe, long body, as you feel the warmth spread through you.

“One more.” You agree, and he holds out his hand for you to stand, bringing you almost against him, knowing you’re teetering on the edge of a dangerous game, and when you both grab your next drink, Miwa walks in now, she pauses for a moment, before waving at the two of you and coming over.

“Dr. Gojo, I never see you at the spot.” She says, and for some reason you get nervous, looking down a bit.

“Yeah I decided she wouldn’t meet me for a date so I’d connive her into meeting me here at least.” He ruffles your hair and you huff, fixing it, ignoring the pounding in your heart at how good it felt to hear.

“A date?”

“Well, a pre date. Just a drink but she blew me off.”

“I really didn’t mean to. Um… is this weird or anything Miwa?” You ask nervously, she shakes her head with a little smile.

“Oh no, you’re fine. What you saw um… let’s just say I was having a bad day is all. We’re not together.”

“Heard you like Papa Smurf?” Gojo teases, she smacks at him then.

“He’s sweet. And less blue. Oh, my friends are here! See you two later.” She says, you watch her curiously, and Satoru is smirking down at you.

“Not everyone has to be dating or have feelings. You’re like some eighteen-hundreds Victorian lady.”

“Am not!” You’re laughing again as you all sip another drink, sitting side by side now, your phone goes off again now and you roll your eyes.

“Send him a pic of us together.”

“Shit that’s mean.”

“He’s a dick though? Yeah?”

“You tell me.” You lean close now, showing him the endless texts. Satoru whistles as he reads them, scrolling up.

“Shit, gaslight much?”

“The king. Fuck you smell good.” Your alcohol is clearly hitting, Satoru chuckles once more, hand stroking up and down your spine carefully.

“You smell good, sweet like lavender.” He speaks right against your ear, tickling it as he inhales now, sighing. “I noticed you switched shampoo back.”

“Hush, it wasn't because of you.”

“Of course not.”

You have the most fun you can remember, fuck when don’t you enjoy Satoru Gojo? When he’s walking you over to your truck, and the music is just a low hum now, though you feel it pulsing through your body, Satoru’s pressing your back against the car door, hands on either side of the top of your car, hard body so good against you. You bite your lower lip, hands sliding down his jacket.

“You want me so bad, you love to fight it. Why?” Satoru says softly, cupping your face with one hand now, leaning low.

“I don’t wanna be a notch in Dr. Hojo’s bed post.” You say softly. “I’m not judging, but I don’t wanna be just that to someone. I totally was going to at the party, ugh, but it’s not me. So, I fight it.”

“I have a feeling if I got you, I wouldn’t want more notches.” His thumb strokes your lip side to side, eliciting a little cry from the back of your throat that you can’t quite stop before it comes out.

“You think so, hmm?”

“Judging by your hot, sweet little pussy, yes.” Your cunt throbs around goddamn nothing, reacting to his words, to him pressing you further against your big old SUV, the cool metal against your back. “Those sounds you make…”

“Fuck… kiss me.”

“You’re demanding. And confusing, you know that?” His soft words are right against your lips, you cry out then, pulling him down as you tiptoe, kissing him over and over, mouth moving over his, his tongue slipped in between your lips. Your tongue slips around his, dancing then, as his big hands grip your waist.

Your hands slide up his chest, entwining around his neck, breasts pressing against his hard abdomen, nipples growing tight as desire fills you more and more. He grabs one of them now, thumb brushing over a peak, eliciting a whimper, your head falling back now, neck begging for his kisses. Satoru’s kissing your neck and grabbing your breast right in front of a damn bar.

It’s insane.

It’s stupid.

Right?

“Fuck I want to feel you again.” His husky voice melts you now, you’re now whining for more and more, pathetic for him, were you worried too much, could you just do this, just have sex? Did there have to be such complicated shit you always put on yourself? “You’re thinking too much.”

“How do you know?” Your words are against his ear now, as you flick your tongue on the earlobe, nipping just a bit.

“I just know, and you need to just feel.” He’s sliding his hand under your shirt, across your tummy, making it tremble under his touch, goosebumps rising. “How’s it feeling, pretty?”

“Feels… fucking good.” He chuckles deeply, as you breathlessly laugh, kissing him over and over. “But I usually need things to mean something. I know I’m lame.”

“That’s not lame.” He cups your face with both hands now, blue eyes boring into yours, the soft glow of the street lights ensconcing him, making him look even more handsome somehow. Even prettier. “It means something when I’m kissing you.”

You feel everything react to him, to his words. “It does?” He nods then, nuzzling your noses together, and his phone goes off, he sighs, scowling at it now.

“The ex?”

“Nah, parents. Worse. Say… you wanna pretend we date so I can bring a girl home for Thanksgiving?”

“What now?” You blink up at him.

“Yeah… they really want me to bring a girl home. You’re perfect too, they’d fucking love if I brought a top notch Kyoto Med school grad?”

“Oh gosh… I mean, I have no plans?”

“Perfect. It will make my mom so damn happy, she’ll love you. Aw we’re moving so fast you know.” He’s grinning wolfishly, eyes glinting down at you.

You love the idea far, far too much. “Alright, a good spinal tap and then I’m a whole Thanksgiving date.”

“Works perfectly for me. Good night, intern.” Satoru kisses you one more time, leaving you breathless.

“Good night, Dr. Gojo.” You slide into your car, covering your face and squealing then, yes you’re squealing like you’re fifteen again, not a twenty six year old doctor. “His kisses…” You squeal again, overheated as you go to start your car with a roar then, hating that you’re like some lovesick teenager.

Then you see him.

Satoru Gojo grinning as he watches you through your window. You gasp, sputtering, limbs flailing as you scream out, rolling down the window then, glaring right at him. “What the fuck!”

“Aw, you do love me. Already. So easy, intern.” Satoru teases, leaning in then, far too close.

“Whatever! Good night Dr. Gojo.”

“You-”

“Bye!” You leave then, catching his reflection in your rearview, stupid giddy grin on your damn face.

Shit this is gonna be messy.

So a LOT in this, I really want to explain how it would be to have SO much going on during a typical day, I hope it doesn't overwhelm her and Dr. Hojo's connection. We will be learning a lot more about Reader's ex and Satoru's ex soon <3

A/N: Totally added my own prob as a medical thing lol ( false brain tumor) they're rare and interesting. I love you all and can't wait to hear your thoughts!!!

Taglist: @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @miizuzu @nanasukii28 @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @moncher-ire @jkslaugh97 @aldebrana @shadeowz @gojo1228 @victoriaaaa00 @jaeminaur @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @jjknanamin

Part Four

#gojo x reader #jjk smut #satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jjk gojo #doctor gojo #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo fic

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blue-jisungs · 9 months ago

Text

360

[ song inspo ! ] 360 by park jihoon

[ author's note ! ] 3 6 oh zero take a shot for meeeee

[ summary ! ] when you and your husband get called as a backup, youd never guess how that 'date' would end ...

[ warnings ! ] suggestive + allusions to sex sigh SOURY!!! since its agent au theres violence, guns and shooting, blood, mention of drugs n gangsters, kidnapping n stuff, reader is nauseous, joke or two about dying (? i promise it makes sense), swearing, sliiightly angsty i guess :3

[ word count ! ] +- 4k

seungcheol watched you carefully as you wandered around the kitchen. you grabbed two cups and turned around to join him on the couch.

just by his smug look in his eye you could tell he was thinking about something.

you put down the steaming cups on the coffee table and crossed your arms, standing in front of it.

“what?” you asked, a playful smile forming on your husband’s face.

“nothing. just admiring my wife” he hummed and as if his legs weren’t spread enough, he pushed them a little wider. he patted his thigh with a boyish grin.

“c’mere. i missed you” he whined, brows furrowing in a pleasing expression.

“seungcheol, you remember what happened last time. i will not explain to the doctor once again how you strained your leg” you grunted, recalling the last time when you… well, safe to say, in a rush of emotions forgot about cheol’s injury. then you had to rush to the hospital, both of you almost half naked and your state leaving very little to the imagination. the doctor nagged seungcheol to slow down with physical activities and you had to shush your husband before he blurted out something that would embarrass you even more.

“ah, i’m better now. just come here” he giggled and pulled you onto his lap. you shifted and rested your knees on both sides, not putting all of your weight on him. “it’s just us. we should enjoy the free time we got”

“mhm. i feel like you’re getting bored rotting inside the house” you hummed, arms wrapping around his neck. seungcheol looked at you with hearts in his eyes, shaking his head.

“no, not at all. i love having you all to myself” he replied and before you realized, he pulled you down to rest on his lap. you just rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head in disbelief.

due to his injury, he was put aside from his duties. and you, being his wife, had to take care of him.

both you and seungcheol were agents. your job required a lot of running and just being physical. so naturally he wasn’t able to execute it.

time passed and he started getting better but his doctor advised to rest for another month.

that way he also developed many new hobbies. crotcheting, making candles, pottery, baking… you could swear he tried everything.

“i could get used to it, you know” he sighed, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. his soft locks tickled your skin as you played with the hair at the back of his neck “i love our job, i really do. but spending time together–“

your right one interrupted the peaceful moment, you and cheol pulling away at the same time. he looked at you shocked and you leaned back to grab the phone. his hands remained on your hips the whole time.

“yeah?” you answered, putting the phone on speaker.

“hi, doves. hopefully im not interrupting?” jeonghan asked in a slightly teasing voice.

“yeah, actually. we were making passionate love” seungcheol grunted and you just smacked his arm, giggling.

“don’t listen to this man child. what’s up?” you scoffed and just flicked his nose.

“i know you can’t do shit but we’re running low on people. jun and hao got sent to china and we’re just helpless. we need you, y/n. it’s a serious matter” jeonghan’s voice was stern, a little pleading.

“got it. i’ll be at the base in thirty” you said and were about to get off your husband’s lap when he took your phone

“im going too”

“what?!” you and jeonghan yelped at the same time. you smacked his shoulder yet again.

“you heard me. i’m the captain, after all. we’ll be there in fifteen” seungcheol ordered and hang up.

you saw his eyes darken a bit – you knew that. adrenaline rushed through his veins, he was itching to be back.

“you’re insufferable” you grunted and went to change into your work clothes.

“for fuck’s sake… and what are you even doing here?” jihoon crossed his arms, eyeing seungcheol up and down.

“told him not to go” you grunted and didn’t even bother to look at your husband. you had to weapon up real quick “his doctor too”

“i can run, chill out. it’s not like start breakdancing. my injury is 99% healed” cheol grunted, the atmosphere in the room already tense.

“i’d rather have kyungmin take your spot” chan snickered, trying to ease the tension. kyungmin was his nephew who just started his training to be a special agent one day, just like him… and you.

“hey, leave kyungmin alone. he’s my baby” you grinned. you really loved that kid, he was just like a happy virus. the sole sight of his cute face made you want to squish his cheeks and bite–

“okay, let’s just go. y/n, you’ll lead the group. seungcheol, you’ll take her side, i’ll explain the details on the way” jeonghan massaged his temples and left the room.

“someone’s pissed” cheol teased. jeonghan took over for the time being of seungcheol’s absence and it seemed like he already wanted to have his leader back.

as a group of special agents, your tasks and duties varied. sometimes it would be protecting someone, sometimes taking down criminals… a new day, a new surprise.

“okay, we got called as backup. there are hostages and they are the main priority, alright? one of them is the health minister’s daughter. the location is an abandoned factory, the kidnappers just wanted money. however, we got informed that they are the local drug gang we’ve been trying to locate ever since you and cheol got time off” jeonghan explained once in the car, eyeing you in the mirror “they are really reckless and unpredictable. there was no connection between the daughter and them and despite their illegal actions, they still decided to show themselves and kidnap her. because of that the minister sent a government group too, they’ll help us too”

“don’t worry, i’ll protect you” seungcheol said, the buzz of adrenaline in his veins making it hard to stay still. as if himself alone could replace the whole additional group. but…

he missed this. he missed the thrill of danger, the action, the tension. he just loved this job way too much and no amount of crocheted socks or baked cinnamon rolls could replace this.

“take a shot for me, hm?” you hummed, cupping his jaw. seungcheol’s face scrunched in a soft smile.

this saying was what got you closer. when you were new in the crew, you and cheol didn’t really… enjoy each other. so you two would often bicker and joke about letting the other down (which was cruel if you thought about it but on the other hand… you had no feelings towards him whatsoever. how the turn tables). after your first successful mission, you said it too when you were celebrating. so seungcheol drank a shot, holding eye contact with you. something deep about his gaze turned the phrase more intimate, turning into a promise of protecting the other with your own life.

“you’re gonna manifest it one day and i’m gonna kill myself if one of you dies” dokyeom suddenly spoke up and you just snorted, turning your head towards him.

“you’re being dramatic” you snickered, resting your head on seungcheol’s arm.

“no, no. he’s right. we missed you like crazy, you’re kinda like a parental figure to me” chan stuck his head out from his seat behind you, sending you a toothy grin.

“don’t get too used to this. this drama queen still needs to rest” you pointed at seungcheol “but, jeonghan, tell us more about the drug gang. leaders, weak points maybe…?”

seungcheol and you left the car, not going too far. jeonghan handed you both a walkie talkie and then moved a bit away to test it.

“coups, do you copy?” jeonghan checked. you haven’t hear your husband’s code name in a while.

suddenly, it all hit you. you’re back in the field, gun and knives attached to your hip. your bulletproof jacket on your chest, heavy boots hugging your feet. there’s life on the scale, and you’re responsible for saving those hostages.

a wave of nausea washed over you, bending in half.

“fuck, y/n, are you okay?” seungcheol asked; his voice shook a bit, taken aback by your sudden reaction.

“i got nervous all of a sudden, i might throw up” you groaned, clutching your stomach.

“hey, it’s okay” he kneeled down next to you, eyeing your pale face. rubbing your back in a reassuring motion, he didn’t notice others sending you worried looks.

“i’m fine” you muttered and took a few deep breaths, the sick feeling fading away.

your husband didn’t take his eyes off you, nodding reassuringly.

“do you want some water?” he asked, big bambi eyes staring at you.

“no, thanks. i just… the realisation hit me, i wasn’t prepared mentally to come back so suddenly. but i’m fine, don’t worry” you smiled softly and patted his arm “i promise”

“you better because you come in like, in ten. you have everything? remember: hostages are the priority” jeonghan’s smooth voice suddenly boomed from behind you and you just nodded. a loud churn turned in your stomach, your breakfast suddenly wanting to escape.

but you swallowed hardly and rushed to your spot. seungcheol followed you and before you had to head in, he pressed a quick kiss on your lips.

the old magazine was quite a messy location but luckily you were able to pass through it unnoticed if you tried enough.

on jeonghan’s signal you went in, leading the group. dividing into small groups to locate the aim, you placed your feet surely on the ground.

wonwoo and jun who were with you were as quiet as mice.

“got anything?” vernon’s voice rang in your in-ear. you replied quickly, deciding to check the rest of the corridor you got and to return to one of the squares.

it was overgrown by various plants, clearly a sign of abandonment of this place. it had a couple of benches, most of them ready to fall apart upon a small movement. it was probably an area where the workers could take a break, back in the day when the factory was working.

it had four exits, by two of which your group came in.

“what now?” chan asked jeonghan through the walkie-talkie and just when there was a buzz of an incoming answer, you heard seungcheol’s voice.

“a movement at twelve, i saw through one of the windows. we’ll be there in a moment”

in a flash you aimed your gun at the door in front of you, waiting for them to open.

seungcheol could see the square thanks to most of the walls not surviving the test of time and simply falling apart. and also most of the windows were broken due to some hooligan’s actions.

“get ready, don’t shoot yet” you ordered, shifting the weight of your body on your right leg in a defensive position.

and surely, the metal doors soon clinged open.

your jaw tensed when you saw one of the gangsters, holding a hostage. and a gun to their head. it was a boy, he looked as if he could be kyungmin’s age. it made your brows furrow.

“took you long enough. we were starting to get bored” the man grunted. they knew you were coming, they definitely had a plan. you swallowed, unsure what to say. however, the man was faster.

“who’s the leader of this pathetic little group?” he asked.

you proudly stepped out, not wasting a second. the aggressive man just pushed his gun closer to the hostage’s head.

then, seuncheol entered the room, aiming at the man as well.

“drop the weapon and follow me” he snarled “unless you want my colleague to shoot the minister’s daughter”

“y/n…” jeonghan warned you, not even sure why – he knew you wouldn’t listen.

you slowly kneeled down and tossed your gun on the grass, raising back up with your hands in a defensive posture.

“i’m going with her” cheol’s voice boomed behind you, shortly followed by the sound of a dropping gun.

no one noticed but the gang member realized the bligning golden rings on your fingers. a teasing smile bloomed on his face as he nodded.

“welcome” he just mumbled.

“let me see her” you ordered and the man just turned around, silently telling you to follow him.

“don’t do anything stupid, you’re unharmed! both of you!” jeonghan hissed through the in-ear.

seungcheol’s heart sped up and he looked at your group through his shoulder for the last time.

“the other group has to follow them, now! use the right wing, don’t get caught. use the second exit, the one i showed you on the map. go!” jeonghan ordered.

“what’s your plan? you’re surrounded” you blurted out. the man just snickered.

“you’re a dumb bitch if you think i’ll tell you that”

“motherfucker” you heard cheol’s hiss and just sent him a nagging look. the man either didn’t care nor didn’t hear.

soon enough after entering and passing through some rooms and corridors, the guy lead you to a room on the second floor.

the hostages were tied there, sunlight shining through a half broken window on their frightened faces.

“now that was dumb to follow us all alone. we’ve got two more to our collection. well, you definitely won’t be as worth as her” the man spat on the floor next to a blonde girl, nudging her with his foot.

“tell me how much you want. we can solve this without hurting anyone” you pleaded, eyeing the guards in the room. then, you casted an eye over the hostages. huh yunjin, the daughter of the minister. jeonghan showed you her pictures. you also saw two young boys, a man who you saw before and a woman… with her baby.

a baby.

your jaw clenched. your husband noticed that and only sent you a calming look.

“a woman of business. now we’re talking” the gangster huffed and followed your line of sight. he smirked upon noticing you’re looking at the small baby.

“i see them! second floor, west side. the hostages are on the middle, there’s more or less five people. i can’t see the whole room” you heard jihoon’s voice in your in-ear - he took the sniping spot alongside dokyeom and seungkwan.

“how much do you want?” you asked, finally looking up. the man suddenly started laughing, grabbing his walkie-talkie.

“i’ll show you something, listen closely” he smiled disgustingly and started talking to the walkie-talkie “rooftops, how we’re feeling? did you take down those ants already?”

“on it, sir” the buzz sent shivers down your spine. they had snipers too?

wait, rooftops?

“oh shit–!” jihoon’s yelp rang in your ear.

“jihoon-ah!” jeonghan’s voice was full of fear and you felt your heart speeding up when your friend didn’t reply.

you stared at the aggressors, your chest rising up and down.

the silence was so loud, your racing heart tearing apart. should you save the hostages and remain calm or should you–

“fucking asshole missed”

a shaky sigh left your lips and you glared at the leader of the gang.

“what do you want?” you hissed, jaw clenched. your hand was itching to reach for your hidden weapon.

“see, misses… life is not all about love, money, fame. although it is fun that way” the man tsked, circling around the hostages. they were looking at you pleadingly.

you shifted your fingers, calculating how much time you have. if the snipers could take the rest of the guards down before you reach out for your hidden knife.

you caught seungcheol’s stern gaze, he could read you like an open book.

“don’t” he mouthed. you just cursed mentally and raised your eyes to the sky.

“you know, we’re doing it because, well… money. but also, i got a little bored” the man spoke up, standing still and observing you two.

jeonghan was right, this guy is a psycho. bored? he was bored and decided to give those poor kids trauma.

“but thanks to you my game just got a whole lotta entertaining!” he opened his arms widely with a grin. you wanted to rip it off his face.

“hang on in there, we’re almost there!” jeonghan said. he could hear everything that was going on, including your rapid breaths.

“because if i’m not mistaken… you’re married, hm? lovebirds… quite a romantic date idea” he chuckled slyly, fox-alike.

the sound of a gun reloading made you take a step closer to seungcheol.

fuck.

you usually take off your wedding rings. exactly for the risk of such a situation. and also because it was more comfortable to hold a weapon with a free hand.

“so, mr. husband. choose. her…” the gang leader pointed his gun at yunjin, her eyes glossy. then, he painfully slowly aimed his weapon at you. right between your eyes “... or her”

“fuck. where are you?” jeonghan asked the group.

you stopped breathing, ringing in your ears getting hard to bare.

“her, pick her” the daughter of the minister whined, almost begged. tears pooled in your eyes - this poor girl wanted to save you.

“yunjin, listen to me. you’ll live. don’t panic” you reassured her, shaking your head.

seungcheol stayed silent, swallowing hard. in theory, the choice was easy: you; he’d always choose you.

but he didn’t want anyone to die. especially this young girl that still had her whole life in front of her. he knew the trouble everyone could get in if anything happened to her. both you, him and his whole team.

“come on” the gang member teased.

“shoot me”

you whipped your head at seungcheol, mouth falling agape. he was serious.

“cheol, what the fuck are you even talking about!” you yelled, trying to grab his hand but the loud tsk made you halt.

“a man of honor…” the guy started.

“boss, i see a group of people approaching the room” his walkie-talkie speaking made you freeze. you’re doomed.

“see, normally i’d make you suffer a bit more. maybe even give you time to say your last goodbye. but since your team is coming, i have no options left” the guy grinned and moved his gun at seungcheol, lowering his hand a bit.

then it all happened in a blink of an eye, your heart fuelling your limbs.

when seungcheol didn’t feel any pain but he heard the gunshot, he thought it was the adrenaline blocking his sensors. only when your body surged forwards to cover him, it was too late for him to react.

along with your painful yelp, the door swung open and your team came to rescue you and the hostages.

with the rest of your strength you reached for your hidden knife and threw it at one of the guards who was getting ready to shoot.

“hey, hey. y/n… fuck, are you stupid?” cheol kneeled down, panic in his ebony irises. he held your body, sticky blood covering his palms. he was freaking out, only being able to observe how your eyes are starting to lose their light.

“take a shot for me, remember?” you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his cheek.

“no, no, no. that’s why he was supposed to shoot me! we… you, i… you can’t–” he breathed out, tears filling his eyes.

he didn’t realize the fight that was going on, luckily jihoon and the rest of the snipers were taking care of your backs. the voices around him blurred out; fell silent on his ears as he was only focused on you.

your eyelids drooping, your limbs getting lighter. he held your wrist that was cupping his cheek, the other hand looking for the wound to stop the bleeding at least for a moment.

“i love you, cheol”

the light in the room was unbearable. but so was the silence. the horrible, bone shattering silence.

“how is she?” jeonghan asked quietly, stepping into the room with a doctor, mingyu.

seungcheol just swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. your face was pale, your arm bandaged. he already wiped the dried blood off your cheek. most importantly, you were breathing.

“good question” seungcheol murmured, squeezing your hand.

mingyu looked at his papers and clicked his pen, humming.

“i’m fine, actually”

jeonghan’s soft gasp was followed by your husband’s yelp. he lurched forward to hug you, careful not to cause any pain to your arm.

you giggled into his shoulder, wrapping your free hand around his back.

“you gave us a heart attack” jeonghan snickered and the doctor just smiled. seungcheol leaned away a bit and you brushed off the hair from his forehead. visible relief was painted all over his face.

“sorry. couldn’t let my hubby die before me” you snickered and jeonghan just tsked in disapproval “also, how…”

“everyone is alive, sound and safe. well, except some of the gang members. we captured the leader, who did manage to escape but… um, your husband put the pedal to the metal, let’s just say that” he snickered.

“good. very good. i’m glad they are all safe” you smiled and interlocked your fingers with cheol’s.

“if i may interrupt…” the doctor cleared his throat and you all nodded, allowing him to read his notes “everything is fine. you got shot in the arm, luckily above the bone. you did lose a lot of blood but everything, as i said, is fine. the baby too”

“that’s good” you grinned and halted, your smile fading. you blinked twice, furrowing your brows. seungcheol didn’t seem to understand “wait, what baby?”

now it was mingyu’s turn to frown. jeonghan’s eyes were as wide as plates.

“you’re pregnant, mrs choi. i thought you knew?” he frowned, observing the pure shock on your faces.

“i... we… baby?” seungcheol choked out, pointing at himself and then you.

“well that’s how babies are made, right?” the doctor snickered.

“oh my god, you weren’t joking with the passionate love making” jeonghan groaned dramatically and you just fellt your face go red.

“no! i mean… wait, how… how… which week…?” you asked, looking at your husband. he was still clearly processing it.

“ninth week. it’s normal that you couldn't see the belly” the doctor explained and just smiled softly “well, i’ll leave you alone now. if you have more questions or want to do extra check up, or usg for the baby, just let us know. and congratulations, i suppose”

he sent you a toothy smile and left.

you could see cogs turning in jeonghan’s head.

“so that would mean… three months, more or less… oh, ew, someone was celebrating their birthday!” he fake gagged and your eyes widened.

“you’re gross, get out!” you laughed and he just snickered.

“i will. let me spread the news tho” he smiled and left.

seungcheol kept staring at you, lips parted.

“cheol?” you asked softly, sitting up. his fingers traced the cold metal of your wedding ring in an absentminded motion.

“y/n… we’re going to be parents” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes.

he let them flow, smile breaking on his lips.

“we are” you agreed happily. sure, life was messy with your job - and maybe it was a sign to change your profession to something less life risking. but during cheol’s injury you got a taste of the time alone.

it was nice. peaceful, embodiment of love.

and now, there’s gonna be an additional member of your small family. maybe it won’t be as peaceful as it was with just the two of you. but it’ll definitely be worth it.

seungcheol leaned in and cupped your face, surprising you with a passionate lips. wet tears stained your cheeks and you weren’t sure anymore if they were yours or his. one thing was certain, though: they were tears of joy.

your life will turn 360 degrees now but with your husband by your side, you know it’ll be perfect.

svt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

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jackabbotsfakeleg · 4 months ago

Text

Dark is The Way, Light is a Place.

Ongoing Series Synopsis: As a board-certified clinical psychologist working at PTMC, you were expecting to see patients of the hospital. But by some twist of fate, you end up seeing several ER doctors for individual therapy. Pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch / Jack Abbot/ Frank Langdon x Psychologist!Reader Genre: Angsty, existential, dark, and sometimes fluffy therapy sessions. A/N: I'm a clinical psychologist so this is a planned series to explore what therapy sessions might look like with some of the Pitt crew. Planned for at least Robby/Abbot/Langdon but open to incorporating others. I hope you enjoy, thank you for reading

Next Chapter

Robby has been in the elevator hundreds of times– transporting patients, rounding with Jack, taking the “long way” to the roof for a much needed shift in perspective.

But he’s never been to the eleventh floor. This building, this hospital, he knows it like the back of his hand–a second home. But the eleventh floor is foreign to him- Behavioral Health.

There’s a hard rule about the “soft” sciences and the ER– They come to you. Doctors aren’t transporting patients in five-point bed restraints who bite in an elevator. The Psychologists and Psychiatrists come to the ER for the consults, the medication orders, the 72-hour hold evaluations. He’s joked about them before with Jack – bats hanging in the rafters, waiting for the next crisis to swoop in.

And yet, here he is. The eleventh floor, at the eleventh hour.

Robby hesitates when the elevator dings and the door opens - a moment of apprehension about the inevitable reveal of the skeletons in his closet - It’s not too late to head back downstairs, no one would know you were even here, not even Jack. And he wouldn’t blame you.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as the elevator doors begin to close, bumping against the outside of his arm. He’s already got one foot out the door- an unconscious step towards finding out where the wild things went. He bites the bullet, and steps out, turning the corner towards room 1122.

—------------------------

“Thanks, Doc,” Jack opens your office door and steps into the hallway, turning back to confirm, “I’ll see you next week?”

There’s something about the way he wears his sadness -like a badge of honor of all of the things he has survived. His sessions are exhausting and existential. He holds his trauma in his hands and wrings it out like rain. He speaks about death–his own and the people he’s lost. He talks about ending it, in a very matter-of-fact, this-is-what-it-would-feel-like way, and backs away from the ledge when he recognizes that the feeling in his body is actually fear.

“Same time as usual. But Jack, you fucking call me if you need me,” Your tone is serious and empathetic, a directive for the man who talks about darkness like his soul was forged there, “Dark is the way…”

“Light is a place,” he replies, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He repeats the mantra under his breath several times, before turning to walk down the hall.

You stand to close the door when you’re met with a familiar face, Dr. Robby, waiting outside the door.

“Michael, I’m so glad you’re here.”

He locks eyes with Jack, an unspoken greeting, like one of the great bromances of the 21st century. For a second, you imagine the two of them hugging, but instead, they acknowledge each other with a nod, Jack reaching out to squeeze Robby’s shoulder, as if to say, “I’m proud of you.” I’m sure they’ll compare horror stories on the roof later. As Jacks walks off you watch Robby’s expression change to something unfamiliar - anxious. He looks over his shoulder, as if he’s making sure no one else saw him come up here, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

The stark contrast in presentation is unsettling. You’ve seen him work downstairs, confident, calm, collected. Here, he’s softer, uneasy, wounded. Heavy is the head that wears the crown

“Come on in,” You smile, holding the door open for him to slip past you and into your office. You can hear the audible sigh of relief as the door closes behind him, hands still stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, “this your first time?”

His back still faces you as he takes in his surroundings, hesitant to sit. He studies the diploma’s hanging on the wall, an exercise in distraction. Maybe if he spends his time pointing out things about you, you’ll run out of time to talk about him.

“On the eleventh floor? Yes.” He points to the certificate on the wall, and finally turns to look at you “Board certified, huh?”

He keeps you at arms length, wants to talk about anything but the reason why he’s here. You could make small talk with this man all day, he’s got the bedside manner for it, wears being “just fine” well, with smile lines to prove it, charismatic, attractive, a good guy.

“I meant therapy, Michael.”

He nods, sheepishly, “That easy to tell? Although I’m not sure if I should be wasting your time. There are far worse off people than me”

“Sit.” You motion to the couch, and he initially ignores your command. His attention turns to the sound of staff running past your doorway and down the hall, likely responding to a crisis. Emergencies are his thing, always running to put out a fire, not even recognizing that he too, is engulfed in flames.

“I’m happy to discuss you ‘wasting my time,’ and the fact that you have had your hands balled up in fists in your pockets since you got here for the next..” you look at your watch, “55 minutes. But not until you sit.”

This time, it’s a directive. It catches him off guard, the slow recognition that he, for once, is not in control of what happens here. He apologizes, removing his hands from his pockets after your pointed observation, and takes a seat.

You take a seat opposite of him, matching his posture, “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well” His answer is short and to the point. a real nothing-to-see-here vibe. He folds his arms across his chest, briefly glancing at his watch, “I told you, I’m probably wasting your time.”

"I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, than wasting this time with you. Humor me, you’ve got my full undivided confidential attention.”

He inhales and rubs a hand over his neck, avoiding eye contact with you, “Found myself on the roof like Jack.”

There it is.

“I really need to start having office hours up there.” You lighten the mood, before diving back in, “Okay, you’re on the roof, then what happens? You get close enough to the edge to think about jumping?”

“Jesus, no.” He retorts, like the thought of diving off the roof is the most outlandish shit he’s heard all day. Not Robby. Not cool, calm, collected Robby. He’d never do something like that. Right?

“Therapy only works if you’re honest with yourself. We’ve all thought about jumping, Michael. doesn’t mean you intended to.”

“Touche,” He’s still trying to feel out the process, unsure of how safe of a place this is.

“Let me show you something,” You turn to your desk, rummaging through a disheveled pile of papers, for a blank sheet of paper. On it, you scribble a mantra, handing it to him.

“Dark is the Way, Light is a Place.” He says it aloud, slowly, eyebrow raised, looking to you for an explanation.

“It’s from a poem by Dylan Thomas.” You explain, “The gist is that there’s going to be so much pain in this lifetime, but that doesn’t mean it is not worth losing a single moment of it, because at the end of the day, there is going to be hope. But I need you to dig deep into that pain, anchor yourself there, let me sit in it with you.”

You can see him at a crossroads in his head. Choose to make this all about sleeping and surface level bullshit and leave with his sanity and some semblance of wellbeing, or bare his soul to someone he’s just met, to anchor himself in the pain, to share it and reveal what’s hidden in the darkest places of his mind, and leave with his soul wide open, exposed, and raw, with the promise of an eventual catharsis. He chooses the latter.

“For the first time in my career, I didn’t want to come back here” his voice cracks, “I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t pull myself out of it. For days, I felt this sense of darkness, this hopelessness.”

“You felt scared” you reflect, but he shakes his head silently for a few seconds, drawing a deep breath in before continuing.

“Being on the roof, wondering what it would feel like at the bottom, Fuck. I felt at peace with that.”

He watches your face when he says it, looks for you to flinch, or your eyes to widen. He waits for the recoil, for you to hit a panic button. You maintain eye contact, softening your expression, sitting with his words.

“That must have been really hard, and really hard to share. I’m really proud of you for allowing me to sit with you, with this.”

“Dark is the Way, Light is a Place.” He repeats, and for the first time in a long time, he feels proud of himself too.

#the pitt #dr robby #michael robinavitch #doctor robby #dr robinavitch #noah wyle #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbot #dr abbot #therapy #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #dr langdon #frank langdon #dr robby x reader #dr abbot x reader #michael robinavitch x reader

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clairewritesfanfics · 3 months ago

Text

No Goggles!Mark Grayson Origin Part 4

Pairing: No Goggles!Invincible x Older!Reader

Part 3

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Unplanned pregnancy, descriptions of bodily harm, mild swearing, No Goggles is a little freak

When the first test came out positive, you stayed calm. False positives were a thing.

You barely slept as required and your job left you stressed every waking moment, so your period was often irregular, but when you started dating Mark, who was insatiable to say the least, you took a pregnancy test every time your period was late. Every test turned out negative or a false alarm.

For false alarms, you simply needed to recheck and everything would be fine. But not this time. No. Every single stick said the same thing: you were pregnant.

Logically, you knew this was possible. Despite all your efforts–condoms, sponges, injections, timing–everything short of surgery and an IUD, nothing was 100% effective.

You didn’t know what to feel at first. Shock, fear, anxiety, terror. Not exactly what expecting mothers should be feeling.

You remembered crying. You cried a lot. You were grateful that Mark was out for a multi-day mission with the others when you first confirmed the pregnancy.

He needed to know, it was his right, but… He wasn’t even a college graduate, for God’s sake. He was also a “teen” superhero on the cusp of getting promoted. He already dedicated so much of his time to you. Hell, he never went to parties or hangouts with his classmates or teammates unless you insisted, and even then he would return two hours after leaving you.

He said he was happy, he said he loved you, and you believed him, truly. That’s why you couldn’t be the woman who ruined his future.

After you broke up with Mark and he accidentally fractured your wrist, you spent a good five hours weeping on the floor before pulling yourself together and going to the hospital.

“Hey, you, I thought you had the day off?”

Of course, it had to be him. The friendly jerk. What was his name again?

You glanced at his nametag. Josh.

“I did,” you answered quietly.

“Then why–what the hell?”

“It’s not a big deal. I just needed to get this checked.”

He went from flirty to professional in an instant. He unrolled the recklessly done bandages and narrowed his eyes at the injury.

One x-ray and an excruciating re-alignment later, he finally asked while you two were alone, “Wanna tell me what happened? And don’t say something stupid like you fell down the stairs. We both know this was something else.”

You stared at your cast. Then you turned to him with a blank face. “I’m thirsty.”

He looked at you like you grew a second head, but followed you to the bar across the street.

“Seriously?” He watched you stir your milkshake with a paper straw. “You really hate booze that much?”

“I can’t drink alcohol right now.”

“Why?” He picked up his pint. “Are you pregnant?”

“Yes.”

Beer squirted through his nostrils and he lurched over the counter, coughing.

The bartender handed him a pile of tissues while you sipped on your drink.

“I figured– ack –I figured you had something serious going on considering how mopey you’ve been, but I didn’t expect this.” He wiped the bar counter and without looking at you, he asked, “Did the father do that to you?”

“Actually, he doesn’t know.”

“The father… is he the boy toy–I mean, your boyfriend? But I thought he was still in college?”

You said nothing.

“Ah.” He sighed and went back to his pint. “That sucks.”

You stirred the milkshake again.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Again, you said nothing.

“You know he has the right to know, don’t you?”

“I know.”

“Are you going to keep them?”

You stopped stirring, your vision blurred. “I don’t know.”

“Crap, I’m sorry, don’t cry.” He picked up the remaining tissues and handed them to you. “I’m sorry I called him your boy toy.”

“It’s fine. Not like you’re the first to call him that.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“...Thanks.”

“What’re you gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Maybe move.”

“You can’t run away. He’s young, but he’s still the father. He deserves to know.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just… I think I just needed someone to say it out loud.” You let out a big sigh. “I shouldn’t have pushed him away.”

Josh watched you for a few seconds before reaching into his satchel. He uncapped a black marker. “Give me your arm.”

You let him write on your cast.

“‘ Shake it off’ ?” You gave him a look of incredulity.

It was his turn to shrug. “Well, I don’t think a bible verse would fit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. It was so stupid. “Thanks.”

“No problem. It’s getting late. I’ll drive you home, and don’t refuse.”

You accepted his offer. The drive home was quick and you thanked him again as you got out of the car.

“Hey.” He leaned over the passenger seat. “It’s gonna be fine. Just talk to him before you decide on anything else.”

“It may be too late for that.”

“You’ve always been the logical one in our team. Don’t start being stupid now.”

“You realize that I’m technically your superior, right?”

He winked and you shut the door.

He was right.

Feeling much better, you breathed in the evening air, unaware of the pair of eyes observing you from afar.

***

Mark hasn’t been picking up your calls. Understandable. You did ask for this. In the past, he’d pick up at the first ring, and now you knew how he felt when you missed his calls.

You put a hand over your belly.

After that talk with Josh, you made up your mind. You were going to be a mom. Mark would be free to be as involved as he wanted. That is if you got him to talk to you.

He didn’t open the door when you reached his apartment and you really didn’t want to speak with Nolan. He might’ve been polite but he always looked at you with a chilly regard.

“Desperate times,” you muttered, scrolling through your list of contacts. “Hello? Donald? It’s me, I hope I’m not disturbing–”

Static and the sound of panicked panting interrupted your words. Donald called out your name, out of breath and in distress. “Thank God! We were about to call you!”

Your shoulders tensed. “What’s going on?”

“It’s–”

The line was cut off.

“Hello? Hello?! Donald?!” You redialed but there was no ring. Suddenly, you tumbled into the wall as the whole building shook. Several apartment doors flung open and dozens of residents ran out screaming.

Your pager beeped. It was the hospital.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you followed the stream of civilians down the emergency exit.

By the time you got outside, the neighborhood–no, the whole city was in chaos. The roads were cracked, revealing broken pipes that flooded the streets with filthy gray water. A line of buildings was bright red as tall, angry flames licked the sky and filled it with smoke. A signal tower from a few blocks away was bent at the tip. You could hear sirens and shouting everywhere.

Shit.

You needed to get to the hospital ASAP. This disaster meant they were going to need every pair of hands available, though your wrist was still in a splint, you knew a bunch of fresh graduates who would require a more experienced doctor to guide them.

But before that…

You surveyed the scene. There was a little boy whose arm was bleeding. An old woman was on her knees, her whole form was heaving, struggling to breathe. There were more injured civilians.

A policeman ran towards you. “Miss, you need to leave now!”

You searched inside your purse and clipped your hospital ID on the collar of your shirt. “I’m fine, prioritize escorting the others first. I’m going to help with the injured.”

Two ambulances arrived. One of them had Josh on board. If he was curious about your presence in the area he didn’t voice it.

“Any idea what caused this?” You asked, pushing back any stray hairs that could interfere with your job and shoving them under a haircap.

“At first we thought it was an earthquake, but we caught Omni-Man and Invincible flying around so we think it might be a villain attack.”

Mark.

You pushed that thought away. You couldn’t afford to be emotional right now.

“I’ve never dealt with this level of catastrophe before,” Josh admitted.

Understandable. He was originally from a small town before he came to this city, which was villain central.

“Consider this your baptism.” You then split up and went to work. You couldn’t exactly put back bones together or stitch up wounds, but you helped ground the new hires who have never dealt with emergencies before.

Once you were done with the patients in the neighborhood, you went with the ambulance back to the hospital.

Checking for vitals, overseeing transfers, calming down delirious patients, worried family members and nervous young doctors left you exhausted to the point that even your boss had to ask you to take a break.

“You should get some rest, we’ll take it from here,” Josh said as you two headed for the vending machine.

“I guess.”

“Wow. I expected more resistance.”

“I’m not a workaholic.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He caught you by the elbows when you began to lose balance. “Are you–”

“I’ll be fine, I just… need a moment.”

He let go. “Go home, doctor.”

You sighed. There was no point in arguing.

You were already on your way to the elevator when your phone rang.

“Donald?”

“Finally, I’ve been trying to contact you for hours.”

“I had to set my phone to airplane mode. What happened?”

“It’s Mark.”

Your shoulders tensed.

“He’s in surgery.”

“What?”

“We need you at the base.”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m on my way.”

With the roads all ripped up, the ride to the GDA base was excruciatingly slow.

When you arrived at the building, no introductions were necessary, the guards brought you to Cecil and Donald immediately.

They were standing outside giant window panes that started from the floor and reached all the way to the ceiling.

“Where is he? Is he okay? What happened?”

“Easy, doc.” Cecil raised his palm placatingly, then he gestured towards the window.

You peered through and saw Mark unconscious and surely bare naked under the white cloth that covered him from his chest to his knees. He wore an oxygen mask so at least you knew he was still alive.

Donald began to explain, “We’re not too sure about the details… but from what we’ve seen, he and Omni-Man got into a fight. A big one.”

“Nolan did this to him? His own son?”

Donald could only offer a look of helplessness.

You touched the glass. “Where is he now?”

“We don’t know,” Cecil replied. “We lost track of him when they flew past Earth’s atmosphere.”

“What’s Mark’s status?”

Donald gave you his datapad. You scrolled through the patient history, each line was a stab at your heart.

He had multiple hairline fractures, torn muscles everywhere, eight bruised ribs, both eyes were inflamed, and he was missing several teeth.

“Here.” Someone offered you a handkerchief.

You lifted your chin and saw Cecil looking at you, face blank.

You gratefully took the cloth and wiped your tears. “I’m staying by his side.”

“We figured as much. We’ll move him to a more private room. Donald will take you there.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way.” Cecil stopped you before you could walk away. He stood still, only staring at you, like he wasn’t sure of what to say.

You were growing impatient. “What is it?”

“Are you and Mark okay?”

Your fingers twitched. Even someone like Josh noticed how Mark became absent the past few months. Cecil was Cecil so he probably knew of your… relationship problems.

You took a moment to answer. “We hit a rough patch.”

“But you’re still together, aren’t you?”

“No offense, Cecil, but that’s not any of your business.”

“I’m sorry, but it is, considering that Mark is one of our most valuable weapons. The state of your relationship tends to influence how he works.”

Rage filled your stomach and you stepped forward, pointing an accusatory finger towards his chest. “ How dare you. Mark is not a weapon, he is a living, breathing human being, a person who has dedicated most of his life protecting you and me and everybody else on this godforsaken planet. You don’t get to treat him as some kind of tool that needs to be controlled and monitored.”

He narrowed his eyes. For a moment, he looked ready to argue, but instead he shook his head and turned his back to you. “Go. He’s gonna need someone when he wakes up.”

Donald didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

Once you were left alone with the love of your life, you allowed the rest of your tears to fall as you sat beside him, holding his hand in yours. With nothing but the hum of the AC and the steady rhythm of Mark’s heart to keep you company, you took in your lover’s appearance. You read Mark’s file, but nothing could have ever prepared you for seeing him like this.

His face was nearly unrecognizable. His chest heaved with every breath.

Over the years, you learned to steel your nerves as you got used to seeing bodies mangled and shredded. But you weren’t the doctor here, you were the patient’s family.

You put a hand over to his cheek, your knuckles feathered over the cut swollen skin.

He stirred.

Then he groaned softly as he woke up, turning his head. It took him a while to adjust to the light, but when he finally became aware, his bed rattled as he shot to a sitting position.

“Careful!” You put your hands over his shoulders. “You’re injured, stay down.”

He stilled under your touch and turned to you. You resisted the urge to fidget under his stare.

“Why are you here?”

You tried not to flinch at the venom in his voice. Mark’s never talked to you like this before, but you would gladly receive his anger.

“Donald called me. He said you were in surgery.”

“Why?”

“Mark–”

“I thought you didn’t want to be with me.”

You deserved that.

“I don’t need your pity.” He swung his head to the other side, glaring at the heart monitor.

“You can be angry, but please look at me.”

A beat. Then he reluctantly raised his swollen eyes to meet yours.

You refused to break down. You needed to be strong for him. So you gulped down the lump in your throat and cradled his face between your palms. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

You smiled thinly. “I figured.”

His lips twitched. “Dad…held my face against a train.”

“Fuck.”

He bent forward, chuckling, but his laugh was soon covered by a groan of pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Instead of answering, he stared at you intently, like he was drinking every last detail of you. “Are you really here?”

That took you by surprise.

He reached over, his thumb ghosting over your lips. “Or am I dreaming again?”

And just like, you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You pulled back, your hands covering your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the whimpers.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I’m sorry.”

He watched as you swallowed down your sobs and breathed.

You straightened your back, trying to compose yourself. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

He was silent. His expression was unreadable.

You looked down at your lap. “I… I should’ve been more upfront. Should’ve told you from the beginning.”

“I know.”

Your whole body froze. He knows?

You raised your chin and nearly jumped. His gaze wasn’t full of understanding but something dangerous, something dark and cold.

“You cheated on me,” he said matter-of-factly.

Your brain crashed. But it quickly rebooted and you shook your head furiously. “No! What… no! I would never do that to you.”

“You don’t have to lie, I saw you. What was his name? Jacob or something? I saw you in his car.”

You clenched your fists, desperate now. “He just gave me a ride home, that’s it.”

“From a bar.”

How did he…

It doesn’t matter.

You grabbed his hand. “Mark, listen to me. I have never, ever cheated on you. I’ve never even so much as entertained the idea of doing that. Ever . You were–are the only one for me.”

He blinked, expression breaking for a moment before he grinned sardonically. “Then why did you break up with me? And why have you, who has never been the type to drink after work, decided to go to a bar with a man you barely know?”

“Because I’m pregnant, you idiot!” You wanted to smack your own face. “Sorry, no, that’s not right. You’re not an idiot. I didn’t mean that. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

It was Mark’s turn to crash. The darkness broke completely, leaving him wide-eyed and his jaw ajar. He gulped slowly.

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“With my kid?”

“With our kid.”

Several heartbeats passed.

Mark ran his fingers through his hair.

You rubbed your arms. You two haven’t talked about having a family before, not really, because you were busy with your job and Mark was busy being a superhero, and just as importantly, being a college student. Life was good. You were both happy. Talks of the future were limited to what you two wanted for dinner next Thursday or who was going to plan date night next. You discussed marriage–well, he mentioned marriage every now and then–even only in passing, but never brought up children.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. We didn’t plan for this.” You chose each word carefully as you put a hand over your belly. “But I decided to keep them.”

His eyes had that faraway look to them.

You continued, “I should’ve told you from the very beginning, I know that. But I panicked, and I was worried about you. About us. But I’m telling you now. I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay and be a father. You’re young–”

“Stop.”

You did.

“You keep saying that I’m young, and you act like you have to worry about the big things and make all the big decisions alone. I’m younger than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not your equal.” Mark squeezed your hand. “You said you would never cheat on me–”

“I never did, and I never will.”

The bed creaked as he shuffled around and reached for something in the night stand drawer.

“It’s the same for me, there was only ever you. So I’m going to ask you properly this time.” He revealed the ring he had prepared days ago.

“How–”

“I kept it with me even when I was in costume. Before they started treatment, I asked one of the nurses to keep it close. I’m glad he listened.”

You stared at the ring. It was exactly your style. Simple yet opulent.

Mark lifted it between the two of you and offered his hand. He said your name, eyes full of adoration, and asked, “will you marry me?”

You smiled back, hoping the look in your face had even just a fragment of the love he showed you, and placed your fingers on his palm. “Of course.”

The ring fit perfectly.

You leaned down and kissed him, actively avoiding the questions at the back of your mind. The type of questions whose answers should’ve sent you running.

For example, Mark left this ring in the condo when you broke up. Up until now, you have had zero contact with him. So how did he manage to take it from the vault that only your fingerprint could open? It was one thing if he forced it open, but it was still intact.

“Sweetie?” Mark called.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me again.”

“I promise. I’m sorry.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist with ease. He buried his nose in your torso.

“Huh.” It came out before you realized it.

“What?”

“Just that… Viltrumites sure do heal fast.”

He tilted his head.

“You didn’t seem to be in pain when I kissed you, but your face and your arms should still be hurting. That’s what your chart says.”

A beat. A smile. “Yeah, we do heal fast.”

“That’s good. I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Then you should take better care of me. Make sure I don’t do anything stupid or reckless.”

You giggled. “I will.”

He mumbled something into your stomach.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I’m telling the little one that I’m excited to meet them.”

You felt the tension leave your shoulders and you patted his head. “Me too.”

***

Mark breathed in your scent. God, he missed this. He missed you.

Poking holes in the condoms wasn’t as useless as he thought. He would’ve done more, like switch out your pills, but you definitely would’ve noticed that.

It was cute how careful you were. In fact, he appreciated it. He didn’t want to share your attention with some brat, but it was an effective way to keep you by his side.

He rubbed his nose onto your abdomen. “If you die young, that’d be great, too.” Nothing like a senseless tragedy to bind two people together. He already has proof that you love him so carrying this thing to term wasn’t necessary anymore. Though he definitely won’t protest in seeing you round and full, waddling around, helpless and pouty and adorable. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear that,” you said.

Channeling his inner puppy, he beamed up at you. “Just telling the little one that I’m excited to meet them.”

A/N: The next chapter will be the final one for this Mark Variant's origin.

@danart501

Part 5

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