#week of seven captains

[winterwrens]

janeway x seven | cut to the feeling

[adelineiserman]

Star Trek: Voyager, J/7: The Measure of Logic

Sneak peek of one of my favorite sections from later in this fic.

A hardness overcame Seven then, the alloys in her spine chaining her fractured emotions back together in some grotesque distortion of what Janeway had always insisted they could be. Was this what it meant to be human? This labyrinth of consternation and insecurity and doubt? To feel, from one moment to the next, while drowning under the gravity of her inability to draw any meaningful connections between them? What was the purpose? Janeway found her then, and Seven realized she had dropped into a crouch closer to the habitat floor. The tentative ghost of a palm encapsulated her knee as the Captain crouched before her and Seven carefully deflected its benevolence by righting herself. She feared the touch would melt the metal of the implant concealed beneath the biosuit and burn them both. “Must...you always…touch me?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62063797/chapters/158729248

[lesbian-of-nine]

Stardate today, Janeway beams aboard the Delta Flyer. She reminds Seven of the bond that's grown between them. Seven lowers the forcefield and she decides to come home. All I'm asking is that you trust me again.

[headfullof-ideas]

Petition for Hammerhead and Kaiko and Will to have a ‘parents only’ meeting twice a month or so to talk about dealing with children on submarines, not because they like each other but because there’s no one else they know of that knows the struggles with raising kids, let alone teenagers, on a submarine

[the-babygirl-polls]

Captain James T Kirk - Star Trek

Propaganda:

He’s adorable, he’s hot, he loves women and a certain Vulcan science officer. He’s a tactical genius with a heart of gold and a whole bunch of daddy issues. He is a precious dumpling.

[every-character-ever-poll]

CAPTAIN OLIMAR - Pikmin

[captainsunder]

Kicked out of the server I just joined for the media with a canon child orgy for my crimes against fictional children 🐒🐒🐒

[sai-int]

You keep talking about douchebag Simon, so I keep thinking about douchebag Simon, and now I wanna get back at him. Here's my thoughts:

This time you're actually done with his bullshit. He's taken you to yours, fucked you seven ways to Sunday, and left before you even fell asleep, again. You know you could help, could give him everything he doesn't have, but goddamn, there's only so many times one can offer before the other party makes it clear that they don't want help. Simon doesn't want help.

He's just been dragging you along on a string, and now that you've cut it, you want revenge. Definitely not partially to make him jealous so he would long for you like you have for him. However, Simon hasn't told you anything about family or friends, so it's not like you could just go and fuck his dad, but some basic reconnaissance should get results.

It doesn't take but a few batted eyelashes, payments for drinks, and some bullshit story about a surprise for Simon to get the other regulars at the shitty bar Simon frequents to talk. He comes every so often with friends, each with an odd nickname. However, the one that piques your interest is one that's occasionally referred to as 'Captain". Simon does have the military look about him, with all those scars and the way he carries himself, so you assume that his Captain will be the next best thing to a metaphorical father.

You learn that his name is John Price, a perfectly average name, common in all aspects, and get a description of him, tall, bearded, built bloke. Not so average. You bribe the bartender to call you next time he's in and steal him away for a few moments after. You would wait around at the dive yourself, but you'd rather avoid Simon because you don't want to fall into old habits don't want to see his stupid face.

A few weeks later, you get the call. You look in the mirror to make sure your makeup is good enough and you throw on the best outfit you can given the time constraint. It doesn't take long to get to that bar and you make your way behind the building to meet with John Price and avoid the prying eyes of your ex(?) situationship.

The hard gaze and tense posture of the large man fall once he gets a good look at you. You're not a hostile that somehow got their location. You're just a little bird (regardless of weight or height, you're little to Price). Maybe you have a thing for large men who could kill you with one finger, because this man is certainly doing it for you. "John Price?"

"Tha's me." John is surprised you know his name at all. He certainly would've remembered you if you had met before. You must be a clever little thing.

Now, you are inherently a bleeding heart, and as much as Simon hurt you, you can't bring yourself to bring someone else into this shitty situation blind, so you explain the whole situation with him, hoping that for some reason he will help and not rat on you. The plan of course is to pretend to have a one night stand with the captain then pretend to fall in love and date for a bit. Just long enough to rub it in Simon's face that you bagged his commanding officer.

John seems entirely amused. Normally he wouldn't dream of going behind his mens' backs like this, especially not Simon who's been a loyal dog for years now, but he clearly has something to learn if he's breaking the heart of this sweet, whip-smart bird like he is, and said bird just offered a perfect learning opportunity. John never misses the chance to better his men after all, and if he can keep this bird coming back to his windowsill to sing to him, (As he doesn't want to cage the poor thing, that would be just as cruel as breaking her) then that's all the better.

Anyways that's what my brain said, you can do with this as you please. ^-^

holy shit, i don't even think I could put it better than this, but here's my portrayal!!

cw : none, douchebag!simon, simon's a brat, but john's a man

you knew this moment would come.

you spent weeks laying the groundwork, learning the ins and outs of simon’s world. the places he haunted, the people he trusted, the patterns of his life. and now, after all the work, after all the nights spent staring at your ceiling, seething over the way he’s used you.

time to make him feel it. really feel it.

because you were done. done letting him take and take and leave you empty—well, not necessarily empty, he's pumped you full of his seed more times than you could count on both hands. you're done waiting for a man who had already made it crystal fucking clear he was never going to let you in.

and what better way to drive the knife than with the one man he actually respects.

john price. his beloved captain. his commanding officer.

you had expected price to shoot you down the second you'd cornered him in the team's usual haunt and suggested your plan, to wave you off like a foolish girl playing a game she couldn’t win. instead, he just leaned back, took a slow sip of his drink, and smirked.

"he needs a lesson," he’d said, amused. "and you need a bit of fun."

john was impressed, to say the least. you managed to not only pin down when he was going to be at the pub, but also put a name to a face? clever girl, you are. gorgeous one too, and that wasn't lost on him.

which is how you find yourself here, pressed close to john price in the same exact pub, not 3 days later, looking like you belong at his side.

simon had wandered into the pub a while ago, but he had just sat at the bar, not noticing the pair cuddled up in a booth in the far corner of the bar. eventually, though, his eyes wander. bored, in his head probably. then they bulge as they land on his captain and his bird. his big, tender paws are all over you. he makes you laugh, a sound that makes simon's heart twist in a way he tried to ignore. he wipes the stray drops of your drink from your lip with the pad of his thumb.

the weight of simon's gaze is suffocating, burning a hole straight through you, scorching from across the bar. it should make you falter, should make you hesitate, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction.

instead, you lean in closer to price, one hand resting lightly on his forearm, the motion deliberate and obvious.

price plays his part so well, you'd think he was being genuine.

"hope you don’t mind me stealing your attention for a bit," you murmur, just loud enough for simon to hear, voice dripping with amusement.

price tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with something dangerous as he brushes your hair back. "not at all, love," he says easily, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "was starting to think i wouldn’t see you again."

you just coyly smile at price, kneading his thick forearms as if to say 'you're so strong'. "you can see me whenever you want, John, you know i'm yours."

price hums, gaze flicking toward simon before settling back on you. "so," he muses, voice a deep, rolling thing, "you never did answer my question, doll."

you blink up at him, lips parting slightly. "what question?"

he smirks.

"this one,"

then he leans in, close, slow, one hand settling high on your thigh as he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

not a full kiss. just a taste. just tender enough to get your stomach fluttering.

and that’s when you hear it.

the screech of simon’s chair against the hardwood. the slam of his glass onto the bar counter.

then, low and guttural. he's seething.

"the fuck do y'think your doin?"

the tension in the room shifts, like a current crackling through the air. you feel the heat of simon’s anger, the barely-contained rage simmering just beneath his skin.

but you don’t turn, you occupy yourself with your drink, letting price answer first.

"something wrong, mate?" he asks, tilting his head, voice the perfect picture of calm

simon clears his throat, hand waving awkwardly as he tries to find the words. "that's my girl."

price just lifts a brow. "thought you weren’t interested, riley."

simon scoffs, low and sharp. "you tell me, captain," the title drips from his lips like venom. "didn’t think y'were in the business of pickin’ up my fuckin’ scraps."

you don’t flinch. you don’t even blink. you just exhale, slow and measured, before turning your head to meet his glare

"funny," you say, tilting your chin up. "didn’t realize you thought so highly of yourself"

simon’s nostrils flare. his eyes flick to price’s hand still resting on your thigh, his fingers twitch like he’s dying to rip it away

"y'slummin' it, cap?" simon mutters, but there’s a crack in his voice, a tightness to it, something that tells you this is getting to him.

price just hums, completely unbothered as he throws his arm around you. "nah," he says, tucking you into his side and planting a kiss to your temple. "just doin’ what you couldn’t,"

simon goes still.

"or wouldn't."

his fingers curl into fists, his jaw tics, and for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t have anything to say.

the silence stretches. you watch his chest rise and fall, the way his eyes flick between you and price like he’s trying to make sense of this, like he’s looking for the part where it’s just a game.

you see the moment he begins to believe it isn't, the way his shoulders tense, the way his lips part just slightly before they press into a tight, thin line

and then, just as you knew he would, he breaks. he turns on his heel, returning to the bar and downing his drink.

price exhales beside you, slow and knowing, before finishing off his drink.

"well," he mutters, "that was easier than i thought"

you hum, tipping your own glass back before setting it down with a soft clink

"you were right," you murmur, stretching, letting price’s arm fall from your shoulders to rest against the small of your back. "he’s not gonna forget this."

price lets out a low chuckle, and it feels like honey dripping down your spine. he presses his palm just a little firmer against you as he leans down, voice dropping just for you.

"no," he agrees, smirking. "especially not when he realizes i’m keepin’ you."

your breath catches slightly, just for a second, but price notices, his smirk turning softer, more certain

"didn’t think you were mine to take," he continues, thumb brushing the hinge of your jaw, "but now?" he huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "fuck, sweetheart. i’d be a fool to let you slip away now."

and when he takes your hand and leads you out of the bar, the weight of simon’s absence is nothing compared to the warmth of price’s touch.

douchebag!simon mlist

[yenhan]

TF141 X Retail worker!Reader

Masterlist

a/n: tf141 x retail worker!reader because the international student au reader is busy, lol

Synopsis: Kyle is the best customer you could ask for, but his teammates aren't as easy.

At first, London seemed like a dream. Hustle, grit, fashion week, the chaos of creativity all bottled into a city that never took a breath. Too bad the reality was different. It wasn’t the long hours that crushed you, it was the people, the endless ladder climbing, the sneers hidden behind faux-kind smiles, the stinging burn of rejection from agencies that only saw numbers, not vision. For someone like you, soft around the edges, it was suffocating. So, you left. “I didn’t fail,” you told yourself. “I just chose something else.”

Now, you were here, in a sleepy tiny town tucked far from madness, working in retail in a cozy boutique on the corner of a cobbled high street. The shop had charm. All reclaimed wood shelves and vintage Edison bulbs, racks lined with pre-loved jackets, silk scarves, old military coats with stories stitched into their hems. Some days were slow. Most were, but you liked the pace. You liked knowing the regulars by name, their styles by heart.

Your signature Ferrari bomber jacket hung over your shoulder, bright red, bold white racing stripes down the sleeves. It had survived seven years and at least three attempted red wine assassinations. Half the people who walked in complimented it. The other half gave you a knowing look when they spotted the prancing horse.

“I know,” you’d sigh with a smirk. “Being a Ferrari fan is practically a tragic personality trait.” The jacket made people smile. It made you smile. And in your world, that was enough.

Your favorite customers were a group of four men who’d started showing up sometime last year. You didn’t know how they found you, though it wasn’t surprising. Most of your customers came from word-of-mouth; a recommendation from a friend, or sheer luck during a caffeine-fueled detour. Either way, once they got in, they kept coming back.

Kyle was the first. Friendly, easygoing, with a sparkle of curiosity behind those warm chocolate eyes. He liked trying new styles, often picked your brain about fabrics and cuts, and wasn’t shy about flipping through racks with genuine enthusiasm. The two of you hit it off quickly. You’d talk fashion—designers, eras, tailoring techniques, so on and so forth. Every now and then, you’d catch him scribbling notes into his phone like he didn’t want to forget what you’d said. You had a stupid smile plastered on your face for the rest of the shift.

Johnny followed soon after. Something about his roguish charm and mischief wrapped in a thick Scottish accent made your heart flip. He made a game of flirting with you, asking which shirt made him look like a rockstar, which trousers “hugged the right bits.” You didn’t mind. It wasn’t sleazy and disgustingly creepy like Mr. Lambert’s comments; it was just cheeky. “’s fun, right, hen?”

The Scot had been through something, there was a scar that curved into his hairline, and sometimes, you caught him checking exits a little too carefully, but he always smiled at you as if the world wasn’t heavy on his back.

One day, Kyle told you the others would drop by the shop for a quick tour. “The captain and lieutenant,” he explained, hanging a pressed crimson sweater on the rack. “Figured you might help. Price—John—needs to stop dressing like a dad who bought a motorcycle to impress his ex. And Ghost... well, he’s allergic to color. I won’t be there, love. Good luck.”

You laughed, finding his concerns exaggerated. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

And oh boy, you did.

—

The bell above the door chimed, and in walked two figures whose attires screamed ‘suspicious crime syndicate members.’ One was broad-shouldered, bearded, and wore a low cap over his brow. The other looming shadow wore black jeans and a hoodie, eyes unreadable under a dark skull-printed mask.

“Y’alright?” John Price’s voice was gravel and warmth, all wrapped in one delicious burrito. “You’re the one tryin’ to make us fashionable?”

“I try to guide people. Whether they listen is another matter.” You corrected him.

Ghost didn’t say anything. He stood by the door like a gothic statue, gazing from wall to window to floor, like the entire place might collapse under the weight of vintage cardigans. You offered him a polite smile. He didn’t return it.

So. That was Simon, you’d find out his birth name much much later.

Gaz had warned you. But warnings didn’t quite prepare you for the presence of someone who could dissolve into a shadow if he really wanted to. You felt your smile falter a little. “Be gentle with the lieutenant, bonnie. He’s got the fashion sense of a funeral director. Easily spooked, tha’ one.” You remembered Johnny saying it. That Hulk of a man didn’t really seem easily spooked or affected by anything at all. But you’d learned not to trust the Scotsman’s judgement on people. Last time he said your newborn nephew looked like Sid from Ice Age and you’d never felt so offended.

“Well, let me know if anything makes you feel like you’re on a runway show,” you offered lightly, mostly to Price. “Or at least less of a fashion crime.”

That earned you a huff of amusement from the captain. “That obvious, huh?”

You studied him openly, eyes running over his old leather jacket, faded jeans, boots that looked like they’d seen more mud than pavement. “I'm getting 'I'm about to start a podcast about whisky and post-divorce toxic masculinity' vibes.”

Ghost let out a short snort. Yes, that sound had come from him. Price, on the other hand, barked a laugh and pointed a finger at you.

“Cheeky. Sorry for the trouble, birdie.”

—

The next thirty minutes were… interesting.

Price started by rejecting everything. Every coat was too soft, every shirt too ‘bloody posh’, every jumper looked like something his dad would’ve worn to the pub. But he kept trying them on, kept letting you adjust the collar, roll up sleeves, hold a mirror just right. “Don’t see what’s wrong with the leather one I’ve got.”

“John, you don’t want women to guess you’re divorced and why just by your looks.” You deadpanned behind a rack. The man stopped complaining after that.

“Tell me the truth,” he inquired once, eyeing a fitted navy peacoat. “Do I look like someone who owns a boat?”

“You look like someone who pretends to own a boat to impress his Tinder date.”

He gave you a mildly confused look. “What’s Tinder?”

Meanwhile, Ghost hadn’t moved an inch. You tried subtle nudges. Held up a long black coat with silver snap buttons. No response. Picked out a designer knit jumper with a high neck. Nothing. Finally, you took a risk.

You stepped closer, gentle but not meek. “Look, I’m not gonna try and make you wear lime green or anything. But you’re a tall guy. Broad frame. You could make half of this stuff look terrifying in a clever way.”

He tilted his head just enough to make the skull motif shift with him. “Not here to impress anyone.”

“Fair. But comfort isn’t just about fabric. It’s about feeling like yourself. Or... the version of you that you don’t mind being seen.”

Silence. Again. After a moment, he reached out and you had to stifle your holy hell as he plucked the coat you’d offered off the rack. Then he disappeared into the changing room.

You turned back to Price, whose eyes held something vaguely amused. “I owe Kyle a pint,” he winked.

Ghost walked out of the fitting room, and the entire shop seemed to still for a moment. The coat suited him like it had been tailored specifically for his bulk. The wool draped across his shoulders and the belt cinched just enough to emphasize the lean strength of his torso.

…

“Could be worse.”

You beamed. That was a five-star review coming from him.

Eventually, both men found something they liked. Price left with the peacoat and a rugged forest green henley. Ghost kept the long coat and to your absolute delight, picked up a navy blue shirt as they were checking out. You didn’t mention it. You figured calling attention to it might break the spell.

At the register, Price handed over his card with a smirk. “Suppose I owe you an apology, birdie. Thought this’d be a waste of time...”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pretend you were a nightmare and insulted my entire stock.”

“Attagirl.”

—

Later that evening, Kyle poked his head back in while you tidied the place back into shape. “They liked you,” he cheered.

“I’m irresistible.”

“Nah, seriously. You made Ghost wear something that wasn’t from a tactical catalog. That’s magic.” You rolled your eyes. However, when he left and you locked the door behind him, a little glow lingered in your chest.

[trek-tracks]

Kirk's version of the Kobayashi Maru was hacking the Starfleet simulator.

Spock's version of the Kobayashi Maru was hacking Leonard McCoy's brain.

[jackfrostdoll]

arrr, what was that, landlubber? ye wish ta join my crew?

don't struggle so much. i know ye want ta wear yer own eyepatch. ye wish to be a salty bilge rat, sailin' fer weeks on months, privateerin' up n' down the west indies wit' yer captain and a fine group of buccaneers.

be a good sailor n' stop strugglin' so much. put on the hat. ye wi' be enemies of the Spaniards, the British, n' the French, n' that's just the empires ye be pillagin'. Most th' time, ye be doin' yer work on behalf of one crown or 'nother. strange bedfellows, but we be doin' what we can for a cut of fine booty.

scared of the tossin' and turnin' of the Osprey? Bah, We'll get ya yer sea legs, you salty dog. after a few days on the seven seas, ye will be rollin' along with the waves better then Ol' Davey.

yo ho ho, lass. we'll get'cha a parrot an' a pegleg soon enough. welcome to the crew, matey.

[theemporium]

[4.6k] as the season dwindles on and the new year approaches, luke comes to a handful of realisations. some of them were unsurprising. some of them were not. one of them leads to a very interesting interaction during his captain's new years party. (smut)

series masterlist

.

Whoever said it was better to be self aware was a fucking liar. 

It had been a few weeks since the Hughesbowl and Luke had come to a few realisations in that time. Some epiphanies that had been tormenting him over sleepless nights as the season dragged on into December and quickly approached the end of the year. 

One: No matter how many times he had said it before, Luke still couldn’t quite grasp just how different NHL hockey was to the hockey he had been playing his whole life. And it sounded stupid to say, considering he had grown up being around NHL players and had two brothers in the league before him too. But it was tiring and rewarding and, fuck, he didn’t think he had ever been so hungry in his damn life before he joined the NHL. 

Two: Adulting in college versus adulting in real life was weird, different and not as fun as he liked to think it was when he was growing up. He felt like he spent most of his free time fighting the washing machine, wondering if groceries had always been this expensive and bribing Jack to do things for him when it got too overwhelming or confusing. Which, also wasn’t great considering his brother was just as helpless as he was, and Quinn was too far away to bother. 

Three: Despite the concerns tucked away in the back of his mind when he signed his first contract with the Devils, none of the team had made him feel like he was just Jack’s younger brother. He knew Nico had said as much at the start of the season, but experiencing it and really feeling like a part of the team brought a fuzzy warmth in his chest that he wasn’t quite ready to confess to anyone—but it was a nice feeling that followed him through the season, even after the losses. 

Four: Figuring out you were kind of in love with your friend who also offered to take your virginity was not exactly the best crisis to be having in the middle of your rookie NHL season. But he was having said crisis regardless and there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

And five: the Devils took New Years very seriously. 

As in serious enough that Jack was looking at him like he was the crazy one at this current moment.

“Did you hear what I just said?” 

Luke blinked, his spoon hovering awkwardly over his bowl of cereal as he stared at his brother across the table. “Yeah no, I heard you. I am just trying to wrap my head around why you decided to tell me at—” His eyes glanced over at the clock on the wall before returning to Jack. “Seven in the morning that I am banned from leaving the state for New Years?”

“Because you’ll make Nico sad,” Jack said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Luke put his spoon down. “Nah, you’ve still lost me.” 

Jack let out a deep sigh. “You can’t upset him like that, Luke. He’s our captain.”

“And me leaving the state in the three days off we have between games around then will upset him?” Luke deadpanned. He wasn’t even planning on leaving. He doesn't even know where he would go. But his sleepy brain almost wanted to pretend he had plans just to spite Jack right now.

“Duh,” Jack huffed. “He throws a New Years thing every year. Jonas missed it once when he had some family in town and Nico was pouty as fuck after, even if he didn’t admit it. It’s, like, a team bonding thing for him. Hockey families and real families coming together.”

Luke blinked. “It’s way too early for me to understand half the words that just left your mouth.”

“Plus we have a game on his birthday,” Jack added with a shrug. “It will probably be a double celebration.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke grumbled as he shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I’ll be there. You know I’d be there. I don’t get why you’re asking.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment before he spoke again, trying (and failing) to sound casual. “He doesn’t mind if you bring some guests. The more the merrier.”

Luke bit back his yawn. “Who would I even bring?” 

Jack shot him a deadpan look. “You’re so dumb.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, almost tempted to lay his head down on the counter and fall asleep right there. “M’not gonna miss Nico’s New Years party, don’t gotta get defensive about your boyfriend.”

Jack let out a noise that sounded vaguely close to a squeak. “He is not my boyfriend—” 

Luke zoned out after that. 

…

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Luke was sprawled on the floor in some feeble attempt of stretching his muscles after a late morning gym session, that Jack’s words made sense. 

He stared up at the gym room ceiling, listening to the various noises around the room: machines humming, metal clinking, guys talking. It was oddly soothing, almost mindful. These were noises Luke was familiar with, that he sought out to cling onto when the noises in his head were a little more irritating. It reminded him that he was actually there in the moment.

“Are you stuck down there?” 

Luke blinked as a shadow suddenly casted over him, taking a few seconds before he saw Nico staring down at him with an inquisitive look, though he seemed more amused than concerned. 

“Cardio days suck,” was all he was able to supply, his hands resting on his stomach as he made no move to sit back up or head towards the locker room to shower and change.

Nico just snorted, shaking his head in a way that almost seemed fond. “Welcome to the big league.” 

“Every league has cardio,” Luke replied, a little snottily if he was honest with himself. “And it sucks no matter what age you are.” 

Nico’s grin just widened in response.

For a moment, Luke was happy to just lay there for a few more minutes and let Nico wander off to go check on some of the other guys dotted around the gym. He knew his captain, knew he was doing his rounds and knew that he would have done them anyways, regardless of the ‘C’ on his chest because that was just the type of person Nico was. Luke was happy to let him shift that attention onto someone else.

But then Nico turned to head towards Haula and Bastian on the treadmills and a thought suddenly entered his head and Luke was opening his mouth before he even realised it.

“Hey, are you still doing your New Years thing?” 

Nico paused, his face brightening up. “Yeah, I am.” He paused, his smile faltering a little. “Why, can you not make it? I swear Jack said you could—”

“No, yeah, I am,” Luke answered quickly, scrambling to sit up a little so he would feel less exposed. He ran his fingers through his curls, wincing a little when his pinky nabbed a tangle before making his eyes meet Nico’s curious gaze. “I was just wondering if it would be okay if I brought someone.” 

Nico’s shoulders dropped in relief but his head tilted in interest. “Brought someone?” 

“A friend,” Luke supplied. 

“A friend,” Nico repeated, looking as though he was biting back his grin. “Yeah no, bring her with you. The more the merrier.”

Luke raised his brows. “How did you know it was a her?” 

Nico smiled knowingly. “Call it a captain’s hunch.”

Luke frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

Nico just shrugged in response. 

He tried not to let the question linger too much, instead finally forcing himself to finish his stretches before heading towards the locker room. The noise of his teammates blurred in the background as he reached for his phone, typing out a message before heading towards the showers.

hockey boy: u got any plans for nye?

…

“You suck.”

“I literally don’t know how else you expected me to answer the question.”

“I asked you what the dress code was and you said ‘nice’,” you scoffed, shooting the boy a look as you settled into the passenger seat of his car. “Nice isn’t a dress code. Nice doesn’t tell me if I should be wearing jeans or a dress.”

Luke tried—and failed-–to bite back his grin as he glanced over at you. “I see you went with the dress.” 

“No thanks to you,” you retorted with a small huff, but your lips were already twitching upwards. “I would rather your teammates think I am weirdly overdressed than weirdly underdressed.” 

“They won’t think you are weird,” he assured you, deciding not to point out the fact you had been around them on previous occasions and had never ran into that issue before. He didn’t think you would want him playing know-it-all. “But maybe stay away from Curtis.” 

He could hear the glee in your voice, even if he didn’t turn his head around. “Scared he will give me some ammo against you?” 

“Yes.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “My new favourite Devil.” 

Luke rolled his eyes, also deciding not to mention the small burn of jealousy that bubbled in his stomach at your obvious joke. 

“Don’t worry,” you said after a few moments of silence, playfully knocking your hand against his thigh. “I wouldn’t embarrass you in front of your people.”

Luke snorted. “My people?”

“Yeah, you athletes are all super weird about your teammates. You guys kinda seem more like a cult than a family but it’s cute,” you teased. “Does this mean I get to join the cult for the night? Special access?” 

“We aren’t a cult,” Luke scoffed, choosing to also not mention the handful of weird superstitions half of his teammates complete before every game. 

“But they are important to you,” you retorted.

Luke nodded, smiling a little softer. “Yeah. They are.” 

“Then I’ll keep the fact you thought the Titanic was a documentary a secret,” you concluded, snickering when the boy let out an exaggerated groan.

“It’s based on a real ship, okay!” 

“Yeah but Leonardo DiCaprio wasn’t on the ship back in 1912 when it went down.” 

“Whatever, there was room on that door and everyone knows it,” Luke grumbled, sniffling slightly before he turned to glance at you once again as the car came to a stop at a red light. “You’re important to me too, you know.” 

You turned your head to look at him, wiggling your eyebrows. “Working towards a midnight blowjob instead of a midnight kiss?” 

“I—no,” his cheeks burned hot and he was suddenly glad the car was too dark for you to see the full extent of how red his face must have been as memories of you on your knees—of his number on your cheeks—flashed to the front of his mind. “I mean it. You’re important to me.” 

You blinked, your smile faltering a little when you realised he was serious. “Oh.”

“Like,” Luke quickly cleared his throat. “We’re friends, right? My friends are important to me.” 

“Yeah no, of course,” you laughed, and maybe it was still a little awkward and stilted but he was glad you weren’t jumping out of the car and running off. “I didn’t realise I reached cult level though.”

Luke smiled. “Maybe just for tonight.”

“Knew it!” 

He turned his eyes back to the road for the rest of the journey to Nico’s place.

…

Luke knew he shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. He knew that. He didn’t even mean to. It just kind of happened somewhere between him disappearing into Nico’s kitchen to look amongst the weird European beers and ciders until he could find two flutes of champagne for you both and walking back with said flutes in hand to overhear you talking to Jack. 

Jack, who he remembered being on the other side of the room almost on Nico’s lap, before he left to grab your drinks.

“You watch our games?” 

Luke paused, a voice in his head telling him to take that step forward, to walk back into the room, to intervene before Jack inevitably embarrassed him. The other—and louder—voice kept him put, holding onto the champagne flutes tightly as he listened. 

“Yeah, the ones I can.” 

“Really?” 

“You sound surprised.” 

“Guess I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I mean, I don’t understand a single thing that is happening.”

“Luke hasn’t explained the game to you?”

“Oh no, he has. I still don’t get it. But hey, the commentators tell me you guys are pretty good.” 

Luke listened to the way Jack laughed, noted how it sounded more like his actual laugh rather than the stilted media one.

“I’m surprised Luke had the balls to invite you.” 

Luke’s eyes widened, his cheeks growing hot again as he silently vowed to trip Jack up during their next practice for that line.

“Am I that scary?” 

Jack didn’t respond for a moment. “I don’t think it’s you he’s scared of.”

“What? He thought you guys would scare me away?” 

“We can be overwhelming.”

“You guys fight other grown men on ice for a living, I think I can survive.”

Jack laughed again. “Mom would love you, you really know how to keep a guy humble.”

“You mean keep his ego in check.”

“Professional athletes with egos? Unheard of.”

This time it was you who snorted out a laugh.

“You’re not what I expected, Cherry.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?” 

But before Jack could say anything, before he could possibly embarrass Luke any further and continue whatever weird interrogation he had going on with you, Luke quickly rounded the corner and practically shoved a champagne flute into your hand whilst shooting his brother a look.

“Shouldn’t you be bothering Nico or something?” 

Jack shot his brother a knowing look, glancing between the two of you before he took a step back. “Yeah, I guess I have a few things to tell him.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. 

“It was nice to meet you, Cherry,” Jack said earnestly, tipping his beer bottle towards you. “Maybe I’ll catch you at the house. It would be nice to see Luke around instead of running off to yours.”

You snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Luke watched the new but playful camaraderie between you and his brother. The banter and the shared laughs at his expense. He watched it as he chugged a mouthful of champagne, hoping the bubbles would drown the other fluttering feelings he was feeling in his stomach. 

…

“I’ve been looking for you.”

You snapped your head around, your smile widening a little when you found Luke standing by the door of the guest room. His sleeves were now rolled up, a few more buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and his curls looked as though they had been ruffled by a drunk and very handsy Haula more than once.

“The main bathroom was occupied so Nico said I could come in and use the guest room bathroom,” you explained, nodding your head towards the other door. 

“And you decided to hide in here afterwards?” Luke asked, mostly playful and teasing but there was a hint of concern in his voice. The team could be a lot sometimes and, despite the fact you seemed more than capable of holding your own, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable and as though you couldn’t leave.

“I got intrigued,” you shrugged as you gestured towards the bookshelf that seemed to take over a large portion of the guest room wall. “How many languages does this guy know?”

Luke snorted as he walked deeper into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed with a small huff. “I think three?” He shrugged, leaning back against his hands. 

“That must be so cool,” you murmured, your eyes flickering over the book spines before turning back to look at Luke. “Do you know any other languages?” 

Luke shook his head.

“None?” You laughed in disbelief. “Buddy, most of your teammates down there speak English as a second language and you haven’t picked up anything?” 

“Do three words in standard German count?” Luke retorted, playful and sheepish all at once. “Jack tried learning on Duolingo for, like, two weeks to try to impress Nico during summer before realising Swiss German and standard German are different.”

You shook your head, trying to bite back your smile as you wandered closer. “F for effort on your part. I’m pretty sure Jonas taught me more in one conversation than you’ve learnt all season.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his fingers twitching against the comforter with the urge to reach out for you. “It can be my New Years resolution.” 

“Yeah? You have a list?” You questioned, watching as he spread his legs without thinking and let you into the space like it was instinctual. 

He shrugged. “I try. Achievable stuff, you know?” 

You raised your brows. “Like?”

“Eat better, workout more, start a new hobby,” he listed off, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he finally gave in, as he finally reached for your waist to tug you even closer to him. “Learn a new skill. Or improve on ones I already know.”

You hummed, your hands resting on his shoulders as your fingers skimmed the fabric of his shirt. “Hockey skills?” 

Luke glanced up at you, swallowing a little. “Not all of them.”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

His thumb smoothed over your hips, feeling the small details of your dress under his touch. “What’s on your list?” 

“I don’t have one,” you admitted with a shrug. “No point to it. If I want to do something, I’ll do it.” 

“Sounds like one of the media trained answers we are forced to give,” Luke teased, pressing his thumb a little harsher to gain your attention when your head tipped back with a laugh. “No, but really. There’s nothing new you wanna try?” 

“Are you offering?” You retorted, lighthearted and teasing. 

“Yeah,” he rasped. “Maybe I am.” 

Your head tilted slightly, your hand moving to lightly grasp the back of his neck. “We probably shouldn’t. I hate to break it to you, Hughes, but you’re not very quiet once you get going.” 

His cheeks burned but he didn’t tear his eyes away from you. “Who said I was the one getting off?” 

And that seemed to catch you by surprise.

“Pretty boy is feeling confident, huh?” You mused, your fingers brushing against the curls at the nape of his neck. “As hot as it is, I don’t think we have time.” 

And your words sent a spark through, soft and buzzing and persistent. A spark that he knew very well, a spark that made his grip on your waist tighten. A spark that he felt every single time he stepped onto the ice.

“Is that a challenge?” Luke asked, his voice a little lower than he intended. 

You smirked, shaking your head. “Depends what you have in mind.” 

His heart was pounding in his chest, loud and strong and overwhelming, but it didn’t stop him as he leaned his chin against your stomach. “I want to make you come.” 

Your eyes wandered over his face, at the pure determination in his eyes. “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he nodded, his hands trailing down the side of your thighs. “That’s on my list too.” 

Your lips twitched. “Thinking of becoming a ladies man? Live up to the hockey sex god stereotype?” 

He shook his head. “No. Not other girls. Just wanna make you come.”

You didn’t have a reply for that. 

“I wanna make you come right now. In here.” There was a flicker of something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. 

Your brows lifted slightly.

“If you want to,” he added, his hands squeezing the back of your thighs. “Consent is sexy, you know.” 

“Show me what you’ve got, pretty boy,” you murmured, leaning down to close the distance between you as you pressed your lips against his. 

The rest of the world was a distant buzz in the back of his mind once you finally kissed him, his shoulders dropping with some unexplainable relief that only being around you seems to bring. Your fingers were already in his curls by the time his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, leaving the boy groaning and gasping into your mouth as you tugged him closer. 

You pulled back for a second, to catch your breath and appreciate the flush on his cheeks before leaning back in. But it was enough. It was enough to have his mind spiralling faster than he could even keep up with.

For a split second, you weren’t smiling down at him. For a split second, the two of you were back in his car and you were staring at him with an expression he didn’t understand, an expression that made his stomach turn nonetheless. For a split second, he was just staring helplessly at you as you doubted the words he said. 

And whilst Luke never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, he knew it would be a monumentally stupid idea to repeat the words. He knew that if he repeated the words he said in the car, if he tried to insist on their truth, you would shut down again. 

And he didn’t want that.

Not at all.

But the overwhelming and insistent need to show you what you meant to him was bubbling inside him, swirling along with the bottled up feelings and glasses of champagne he had drank over the course of the night. 

And if he couldn’t tell you, he would show you. He would make you see that you were important to him, that this unlikely and unconventional friendship may have started with you helping him but he was in this for you too. 

That your pleasure was important to him too.

He swallowed your gasp with another kiss as he tugged you closer, as he finally broke whatever restraint the two of you had until you were finally on his lap. Or, almost on his lap. But when you tried to shift in his hold, when you tried to straddle his lap properly, Luke’s strong grip on your waist kept you locked in place.

“Stay,” he murmured, swallowing harshly as he leaned back enough to watch the confusion wash over your face. 

“I thought—” You started but he was already shaking his head.

“Like this. I want to get you off like this,” he confessed, his voice rasping as he tried to pretend like his whole body wasn’t thrumming with excitement and nerves and something else he wasn’t quite ready to name. “On my thigh.” 

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Fuck, Luke,” you murmured under your breath before pulling his lips back onto yours through the hold you still had on his curls. 

He sunk into the kiss as easily as he breathed, moaning softly when he felt your tongue against his own. His hands clung onto you, squeezing your waist like he needed to make sure you were actually there, like this was real and not some sex-crazed dream he would wake up from, half-hard and alone in his room. 

But the silk of your dress remained under his touch, soft and smooth and bunching in his fists as he clenched the fabric in his hold. And then his hands started wandering as you continued to kiss him senseless. 

He pushed the skirt of your dress up until it pooled at your waist, until his hands were engulfing and squeezing your thighs. His fingers continued to skin upwards, until his fingertips were brushing against the waistband of your panties, until he could hear the small gasp you let out as he lightly traced them. 

It made his head spin the way you were straddling his thigh, the way he could feel the warmth of your cunt pressed against his leg, feel it through the fabric of the dress pants he wore for the party. It made his head spin how he wished he could pull them off, how he wished he could just feel you with no boundaries between. 

His hands were pawing at you before they started to guide you, rocking you back and forth on his thigh. It was slow and deliberate, almost unnoticeable until the first choked out noise you let out between the soft kisses he was giving you. 

“C’mon,” his voice was low, rough, full of desire. “Want you to take what you want.” 

One hand remained entangled in his curls but the other shifted down to grip his shoulder, to dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you continued to follow the pace he set. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. It felt so fucking good with his sweet words smothering the slow pace he refused to relent.

“Shit, Luke, I—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lower lip as he continued to guide your hips, as he continued to let you grind yourself against his flexing thigh. 

“Whatever you want,” he murmured out, feeling like he was in a daze as he watched your eyes flutter shut. You were breathtaking when you let the pleasure take over, when he got to see you with no walls up and unguarded. “Just tell me.” 

“More,” you managed to mutter out, your head falling back as you continued to ride his thigh, to feel the rush of what you were doing just down the hall from his teammates wash over you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered because he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t hold the thought back even if he wanted to. “Wanna make you come more, Cherry baby, shit.”

Because he did. He wanted to do this a million more times if he could watch you like this for the rest of his life. He wanted to see you riding his thigh, unashamed and unabashed, so lost in your own pleasure—pleasure that you were receiving from him—that you had no other worries in the world.

He wanted to watch you lean your head forward against his shoulder, his name leaving your lips between soft moans and a list of curse words as your orgasm washed over you. He wanted to watch the way your body shook with the after effects, the way you clung onto him like a lineline. 

He wanted to watch the way you lifted your head, giving him a smile so soft that he felt like the rug was pulled out from underneath him. 

“I have been severely underrating hockey thighs all these years,” you muttered, your smile widening a little more when Luke let out a disbelieving laugh.

Luke couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. “What? No thank you?” 

“That’s your thing, pretty boy, not mine,” you teased before you relented, leaning forward to press a soft but lingering kiss on his cheek. It was somehow the most intimate act you shared in the last fifteen minutes. “Ten out of ten for your thighs.”

Luke swallowed harshly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good, because that won’t be the last time we are using them,” you said to him, so sure of yourself and unaware of the muddle of thoughts in his head at that moment. 

“Happy New Years, Cherry,” he managed to mutter out, not even sure if the clock had passed twelve or not. But it was the last of his concerns when you smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, Luke,” you murmured softly. 

And yet, all he could think about was how he wanted to hear those words leave your mouth every year. 

.

[wonderjanga]

marvel- "Definitely a normal age, not something weird like twelve or seven hundred, uhhhh thirty? " batman- concern

Part 2 to this post

Batman: “Why are you saying this as if you don’t know?”

Marvel: “Funny you mention that.”

Batman: “You don’t??” *more concern*

Marvel: “No?”

Batman: “Oh my God.”

Bruce stared at the ground and started to piece together everything until he came to a, albeit wrong, conclusion. Captain Marvel doesn’t know how to do half of the adult things almost every adult should know because… because what? Does he have amnesia?

Batman: “Do you have amnesia?”

Marvel: “I did for a little bit.”

Batman: “Pardon?”

Marvel: “A long time ago, I hit my head and forgot how to use my powers.”

That was true. One day in Fawcett it was really cold, and Billy slipped, head over ass, and tumbled down some stairs.

//mini flashback//

Billy: *ringing in head, slowly opening his eyes*

Freddy: “BILLY?? BILLY, OH MY GODS???” *shaking him*

Billy: *groans*

Mary: “Stop shaking him, Freddy, you’re making it worse!”

Freddy: “Oh, right. Sorry.” *stops shaking him*

Mary: “Billy? Billy, can you hear us?? Are you okay???”

Freddy: “How many fingers am I holding up?” *holds up two*

Mary: *looks at him like he’s crazy* “Freddy, he hit his head. He’s not blind!”

Freddy: “You don’t know that! I was watching this movie and some chick went blind because she hit her head.”

Mary: *now actually considering that a possibility* “What??”

Billy: *groans again*

Mary: “Billy, answer! How many is he holding up??”

Billy: “Two…? Uh… who are you guys?”

//mini flashback end//

Batman: “…has it been cured?”

Marvel: “Yes? That was a couple years ago.”

Batman: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: “Are you sure you got everything back when you regained your memory?”

Marvel: “Yeah?”

Batman: “I see…”

Okay, so something else must’ve taken away this man’s basic life skills.

Batman: “Have you been hit by any lasers that inspire harmful and or wacky effects recently?

Marvel: “No?” *pauses* “Actually, there was Sivana’s Destructo Ray.”

Batman: “And?”

Marvel: “And it blew the side of my head clean off.”

Batman: “Pardon??”

Marvel: “Don’t worry it regrew. I did have a splitting headache though.”

Okay, that could explain why the Captain is mentally lacking in certain departments. But��� just to be sure…

Batman: “Any other head injuries?”

Marvel: “Uh… Well, there was Thursday.”

Batman: “Last Thursday?”

Marvel: “Yeah, last Thursday. Anyways, I was trying to take down some robbers, and one of them pulled out a hammer and hit me in the head. Gave me a big dent.”

Batman: “I thought you were indestructible?”

Marvel: “It was a magic hammer.”

Batman: “Oh.”

Marvel: “It was also the size of a car.”

Batman: “Oh.”

Marvel: “Yeah. And then there was about a week ago with Black Adam grabbing my head and slamming me into the ground—

Batman: *just listening, more and more concern growing*

Billy went on for a solid 15 minutes about the various head injuries he’s earned as a hero and as Billy. Batman left that conversation more concerned about his colleagues brain than ever.

[twohearts-hs]

Dove & Captain: 1 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 7.5k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

-

0700

The bathroom tile was absolutely and utterly freezing against her bare knees, but Y/N did not move. She couldn’t. She couldn’t risk it, but she also, she couldn’t stop. Another wave of nausea crept up her spine and she leaned forward just in time to vomit into the toilet bowl again. Her hands gripped the rim of the toilet with white knuckles, her pulse loud in her ears. She stayed like this, motionless, forehead pressed to the cool porcelain, eyes watering and sweat along her brow.

            She knew now it was not food poisoning or stress. Yesterday, it confirmed it. She was indeed pregnant. Dana made her take a pregnancy test, and it came out clear. Then, they confirmed it with a blood test. Then again, with an ultrasound. Seven weeks along, she was, and she was completely terrified.

            Y/N had endometriosis, a very severe case which at nineteen she was told by doctors that the chance of her getting pregnant is very slim, but the chance of her being able to carry full term was even slimmer. Therefore, when she and Jack got serious, Y/N expressed to him that she was not able to have children,, and he supported her in that. He was older, forty-nine now and she just hit thirty, together for six years. Not married. But common law. Share a mortgage, a credit card and joint bank account as well as, four dogs while he helped raise her brother.

            Very serious, very committed, very much together, but just not legally binding to one another through a marriage contract. Though, they love one another with everything in themselves.

            However, he did not know she was pregnant. She found out yesterday during her day shift. He worked the nights. They have been barely passing one another, barely able to talk with their conflicting schedule. Y/N used to work nights, but she got pulled to day shifts lately due to a nurse leaving on maternity leave.

            She was planning on telling him tonight. He had the day off. His shift ended at seven in the morning, while she started hers at seven. When she got off at seven that evening prior, she had a whole speech prepared to tell him. However, only Dana knew at this moment.

            Y/N took a slow, ragged breath, blinking back tears. Not because she was sad. Not because she was happy. But because she didn’t know how to feel. Never had she thought she’d be able to get pregnant with him. Never had she thought she’d have to talk to Jack about what to do.

            He was forty-nine. He was older. To throw a child into their life would create chaos. She was younger, thirty and it could work. However, both were workaholics. Y/N never thought she’d be able to be a mother, so she never thought this through.

            Tonight. She would talk to him tonight. They would plan, discuss and come up with the solution moving forward. A nurse. A homeowner. A mother to four dogs. In a stable, quiet, loving partnership with a very nice man. A man who understood her more than anyone ever had. They owned dogs, shared a mortgage, grew herbs in the windowsill, argued about laundry and both fought over who would cook in the evenings,as that is one of their shared love languages. It was good. Peaceful. Calm. Lovely.

            However, morning sickness fucking sucks. And this? This was not part of the plan. Especially being told that this could never happen.

            Sleeping in a bed alone last night while Jack worked the evening shift was something she did not like. However, she had to go to work, talk to him and see him for a bit before he went home and she had to keep this a secret. She had twelve hours to work through before they could have a serious talk.

            Glancing at her watch, she groaned again.

            Late. She was utterly, completely and terribly late.

            Rounds were about to start soon. The handover from night shift to day shift was about to happen. Work was about to begin. Yet, Y/N was stuck on the ground of the ensuite, tears flowing down her face and nausea bubbling over.

            Dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a bra, her hair was matted and bags covered under her eyes.

            She was fucked.

            Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself away from the toilet bowl. Guilty a little bit because she was leaving with a spoiled toilet, and normally she would clean it after puking. However, she was late to work and Robby would have a fit.

-

Jack was at the computer, filing in the last bits of his shift. Writing patient notes, talking to Robby for the handover. However, his eyes furrowed as he glanced at his watch to see that it was just past seven and Y/N was not here yet. Where was she? She was never late. Rather, she was constantly early.

            “Dr. Robinavitch?” a voice came from behind Robby as he leaned against the nurses’ station talking to Jack.

            “Yep,” he replied, turning to the voice.

            “Melissa King. I will be joining you today. I just came from two months at the VA,” Mel told Robby, voice pitched with excitement and a smile.

            “Hey, welcome to the Pitt,” Robby replied, shaking her hand. “This is Dr. Jack Abbot,” Robby introduced, glancing over to Jack, who was focused on the computer in front of him and didn’t glance over to the resident.

            “Nice to meet you,” Mel hummed before looking at Robby again. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be here today, so…”

            “Talk to me at the end of the day,” Jack muttered, looking over to the resident, voice low and serious.

            Robby glanced at Jack. “Ignore him. He had a rough night,” he stated, “and is having an ongoing existential crisis.”

            Jack stood up, straightening as he looked a them. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon enough,” he joked, coldly, face serious. “Robby, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, looking over to his old revival and long time friend. “She’s never late and I haven’t seen her.”

            Robby’s brows drew together in concern. “No, not yet. She’s usually in by now.”

            Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his gaze to the main hallway, like maybe she’d appear if he just stared long enough. But there was nothing – nothing…no rushed footsteps, no half-apologetic smile, no Y/N clutching a coffee cup and calling out something sarcastic to the team. Just a sterile corridor buzzing with too many lights and not enough soul.

            He tapped his fingers against the nurses’ station counter, the way he always did when he was trying not to overthink.

            “Maybe she overslept? Traffic? Maybe one of the dogs got out?” Robby offered casually, but Jack didn’t bite.

            “She doesn’t oversleep when she is supposed to work,” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder. “She never oversleeps. The dogs are trained. They don’t escape.”

            Robby shrugged. “Traffic then? You two are like in the woods. Text her. She’ll be here,” he replied with a smile before patting Jack’s back. “Don’t stress.”

            Jack nodded watching as Robby walked away with Mel, rounding up his interns, residents and med students for rounds. Pulling out his phone, he brought up his messages with Y/N, but she had sent nothing since last night.

            Y/N slammed the door shut to her Bronco with more force then intended, her hair still damp from the world’s fastest shower, pulled into a low messy bun. She hadn’t had time to do her usual minimal makeup, and her scrubs were slightly wrinkled. She felt gross. Heavy. Empty. Swollen. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and a tangerine stuffed in her pocket that was her makeshift breakfast. She knew Jack would lecture her. However, the nausea was still there.

            Running across the hospital parking lot, her sneakers pounded against the concrete in rhythm. Each step sent a dull ache up her spine, her stomach still uneasy, her head spinning from the sudden movement and lack of food.

            She burst through the staff entrance, making her way through the triage to the back, scanning her badge on each door.

            It was 7:18.

            “Shit,” she hissed to herself, brushing past coworkers as she headed towards the nurses’ station after placing her belongings in a locker. Jack was still there. Robby too. And several new faces which she placed as the new intern, resident and medical students.

            Her gaze met Jack’s, and he raised a brow at her, but she just sent a small smile. He didn’t look angry. But his eyes were sharp, worried. That was worse.

            “As you can see, we have some new faces with us this morning,” Robby began. “Good morning. Good morning. Come on over.”

            Y/N stood behind the station, looking over the new faces. Jack was glancing at her, but she said nothing.

            “Starting with second-year resident, Dr. Melissa King, fresh from the VA,” Robby announced.

            “Everyone calls me Mel,” Mel said with a smile. “I’m so happy to be here.”

            “Trinity Santos, intern,” a new face said, pale skin and dark hair.

            Y/N crossed her arms as she glanced over to Dana who was on the phone. Y/N knew there was an incoming trauma.

            “We’ve got two traumas from the T,” Dana said, holding the phone to her ear. “Five minutes out.”

            “Ok, copy that,” Robby replied. “Actually, this is the most important person that you’re going to meet today. This is Dana. She’s our charge nurse. She is the ringleader of our circus,” he said before looking over to Y/N. “And this here is Y/N. Nurse as well. Nurses are your best friends. As you can see, our house is always packed, and our department is mostly clogged up with boarders. Those are admitted patients waiting for a room upstairs, sometimes for days. Beds are a very precious commodity around here, so please be quick and efficient with your workups. What else?” he paused for a moment to breathe, then nodded. “We treat the sicker patients back here, but please keep your eye on that waiting room. Make sure nobody’s gonna die out there. Your senior residents are Dr. Collins and Dr. Langdon. You report to them, and they report to me. Ok? Great.”

            As the last of the introductions faded into the background, Robby took his team to deal with the incoming trauma.

            Jack noticed she wasn’t listening. Not really. Her arms were crossed, fingers twitching like she was trying to ground herself, eyes glazed over just enough to make him uneasy. That wasn’t like her.

            Before she could slip away to get a shift change from the night shift, Jack reached out, a firm but gentle hand on her elbow. “Kid.”

            She looked up at him, startled.

            “Hi,” she whispered, a small smile gracing her face. “How are you? How was the shift?” she asked, sending him a small smile.

            He stared at her for a minute, whiskey eyes connecting with hers. “Fine. Rough, but fine. We can talk more later about it. Can I talk to you for a minute, though, in private?” he asked, his voice low. Not unkind. Just quieter than usual.

            Y/N hesitated for a moment, then gave a tiny nod, letting him guide her a few feet down the hallway near the med supply room, just out of earshot from others. It was private but not secluded enough to feel like a scene.

            Jack looked over her carefully now that they were face to face. Her skin was pale, tinged with that clammy undertone he only ever saw in patients who hadn’t eaten or had something deeper going on. The bags under her eyes were harsh against her face. No mascara, no usual faint blush or a neat bun. Her hair was tied back like she’d done it blind, and her face looked dry, bitten.

            “You were late. You’re never late,” he said quietly. Not accusatory. Just a fact. His eyes narrowed as he scanned her over. Then he tried to make eye contact with her.

            Y/N glanced down, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “It won’t happen again.”

            “That’s not you.” He waited for a second, but she was still looking down. “What happened, Dove?”

            They were alone, and the nickname slipped his lips.

            “Nothing. I’m fine,” she replied a little too quickly, shaking her head.

            Jack frowned. “Dove, you don’t look fine,” he replied, trying to get her to look at him. “Look at me.”

            Y/N glanced up to see him, his eyes meeting her and all she could see what the complete care he had for her.

            “I’m just tired. It’s nothing,” she said, brushing her hand through her hair. “I went to bed late. I overslept. Forgot to set an alarm. Stayed up late talking to Beckett.” Beckett was her younger brother, half-brother.

            He tilted his head, raising a brow. Silence happened between them. “Y/N…”

            “Jack, just drop it,” she muttered, voice tight. “I’m here now. That’s what matters, right?”

            He stared at her for a moment, crossing his own arms now. Biceps bulging which usually makes her heart flutter, but she was glancing away. “I know you. You’re hiding something,” he whispered.

            Y/N glanced around. They were always professional at work. People never really questioned their relationship. Him being a trauma attending and her a trauma nurse. But now, with his voice so soft and eyes so concerned, it felt like a crack in their practised armour.

            “Jack,” she started, but the words faltered, her throat tight. “I didn’t sleep well. Ever since I’ve been put on days, it’s just weird sleeping alone when you are doing nights and–“

            “You’re deflecting,” he interrupted. He leaned in a little closer, not touching her, but lowering his voice so that no one would overhear. “Dove, I’m not mad. I just want to know what’s going on. Talk to me.”

            Her eyes flickered again, to the hallway beyond, to where voices were rising and monitors beeped from the trauma bay. She couldn’t do this here. Not now. She felt the weight of the morning crashing down on her all over again. The puke. The nausea. The fact that she was pregnant.

            “We can talk later. I need to work now,” she whispered, looking up to him. “I want to know how your shift went. I’m off at seven. I’ll be home and we can order in, watch one of those serious documentary movies thing you like and talk,” she proposed. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m ok,” she said confidently. “I’m ok,” Y/N said again.   

            Jack didn’t believe her.

            Not because he thought she was lying. But because he knew her. Knew the way her jaw clenched when she was holding back. The way her voice steadied was not out of calm, but control. A nurse who thrived in chaos. A woman who didn’t flinch in a code blue. But here she was – eyes too shiny, hands twitching like she was trying to hold her pieces together.

            Still, he nodded.

            “Alright,” he said quietly. “Later then.”

            She gave him the briefest nod. “I love you,” she whispered.

            He nodded. “I know,” he whispered back. Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s ok,” she whispered again, a mantra for herself more than anything. “Go home, sleep, have a shower, think of me in the shower,” she hummed, tone light as she winked, “give the dogs a kiss. Then I’ll be home before you know it.”

            He chuckled lightly as he stared at her. “Did something happen with your brother?” he asked, raising a brow. She shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes. “Did something happen to your mom?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did something happen to you?” he asked, voice low now.

            “Go home, Captain,” she stated, tone sharp. “I’ll see you later.”

            He stared at her for a few more moments. “Have you eaten?” he eventually asked.

            “No. I have a tangerine in my pocket that I grabbed on my way out,” she replied.

            Jack rolled his eyes. “Christ, Y/N,” he whispered. “Let me go buy something from the cafeteria. I don’t want you to be running on nothing,” he muttered before walking off but squeezed her bicep as he left.

            Y/N sighed, watching him leave. She stayed there for a moment before walking back to the nurses’ station. Y/N settled down next to Dana who looked over.

            “You look like hell,” she muttered, chuckling and shaking her head.

            Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced over to her friend. “You sound like Jack,” she muttered as she grabbed a tablet to look over.

            “Jack said that. Doesn’t sound like Jack,” Dana replied.

            Y/N sighed. “More like ‘Dove, you don’t look fine’ is what he said,” Y/N muttered as she looked over the charts. “Give me a shift change.”

            Dana looked over at her, glasses perched on her nose, as she looked at the young nurse. “Have you told him?” she asked, hinting to the little secret she had.

            Y/N groaned. “No. However, he is sniffing out that I’m hiding something.”

            “He needs to know, sweetheart,” Dana replied.

            “I know,” Y/N whispered back. “Spent the morning puking my guts out. That is why I was late.”

Dana clicked her tongue, her voice lowering but still tinged with that no-nonsense edge only a seasoned trauma nurse could carry. “Morning sickness is not your friend, but hey, you get something out of it in the end.”

Y/N looked over as Dana read her tablet. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Y/N whispered. “Don’t know how Jack will react.”

Dana’s eyes met with Y/N’s. “I’ve known you since you were a small, new graduate nurse. Well, met your briefly when you did your last practicum. What I know about you is that you already know what you’re going to do,” Dana replied. “However, Jack needs to know. He’s a lot of things – gruff, grumpy, allergic to small talk – but he loves you. If he finds out you didn’t tell him? Especially over something like this? He’s going to be very hurt.”

Y/N nodded. “I will tell him. Tonight. I won’t keep this from him, but,” Y/N sighed and looked around, “I’m scared.”

Dana reached out and gently touched Y/N’s wrists, grounding her. “Of course you are. You’d be crazy not to be. But you’re not alone, ok? You’re not doing this alone.”

Y/N swallowed thickly and gave her a small nod, eyes glassy. “It’s just…I was told I couldn’t. I couldn’t have kids. Couldn’t get pregnant. Therefore, Jack and I just didn’t care. We just went along with the ride. We didn’t think that I could get pregnant, and here I am. And now it’s like I’m holding a secret I never thought I’d have. Now I have the impossible and it’s terrifying,” she whispered, voice cracking, barely audible now.

Dana squeezed her wrist once before pulling away, sensing how raw Y/N was. “That’s a lot to carry, hon. And you’ve been doing this all alone. Let someone in,” she whispered, giving her a look.

“I let you in,” Y/N replied.

Dana raised a brow. “Let him in. How long have you two been together? Six years or something.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. No ring though,” Y/N replied, trying to make a joke as she let out a low chuckle. “No, we aren’t planning on getting married.”

Dana rose another brow. “How many dogs do you have?”

“Four. Two rescues, then I have my dachshund from when I was twenty-two and Granny, Jack’s rescue from aeons ago,” Y/N replied, lowly.

Dana nodded. “Four dogs. You bought a house together a year ago. A beautiful house with a big yard. He’s your emergency contact. You go on camping trips with him even though you hate camping. He bought you a car when you were together for what, six months? Because he didn’t want you walking home in the dark. He’s basically like Beckett’s dad. You share everything. You two are serious. Practically married. Talk about everything together. He’s your best friend, your other half, though I would say you’re the better half and you deal with his trauma, and he deals with yours. Tell him. What are you scared of?”

Y/N was silent for a moment and the words were on the tip of her tongue, I haven’t told him the truth.

However, just when she was about to respond Jack appeared in front of them. Coffee in one hand and a wrapped sandwich in the other. His eyes narrowed between the two of them, trying to calculate what was happening.

“Eat, Kid,” he said, placing the sandwich down in front of her. “It’s a breakfast sandwich,” he told her. “And a coffee. Two sugars and a splash of milk.” He didn’t look smug about it, rather just quietly concerned.

Y/N stared at him. “Thank you,” she said. However, the sandwich stayed still.

He stared at her. “Eat.”

“I will,” Y/N whispered. “I just need to get a shift change.”

“Eat while you’re getting a shift change,” he replied. His eyes were bouncing now between Dana and Y/N, sensing the tension, the way Dana was sitting just a little too straight, and how Y/N was avoiding his gaze.

He looked at Dana. “You know something.” Jack raised a brow at Dana. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Dana gave him her best nurse face. Calm, unreadable, efficient, while Y/N said nothing. “Nothing. All good. We’re good. Just girl talk,” she said smoothly, tapping her table. “Thanks for feeding our girl, though. She needs it.”

Jack glanced at Y/n, raising a brow. He lingered for a moment, arms crossing over his chest again. “Girl talk, huh?” he asked, tilting his head.

She forced a smile, pulling up the coffee and bringing it to her lips. “Thanks for the coffee and food,” she whispered, then smirked. “Just girl talk. You hate girl talk. You know Dana,” Y/N said, looking over to the older woman, “probably telling me to eat better and stop dating emotionally unavailable men.”

Jack raised a brow, letting out a scoff. “I’m very emotionally available…now, aren’t I?”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, grateful for the reprieve, even if her hands were shaking slightly around the cup. “You’re evolving. Better than when I first met you.”

He studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing just a better. “Talk to me tonight, ok?”

Y/N nodded. “I will. Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like he was filing the entire interaction away in that steel-trap brain of his. The secrecy. The whispered tones. The way Dana had looked at Y/N.

Something was going on. And he didn’t like being left in the dark.

“You can tell me everything…anything. You know that, right?”

Her heart clenched. “I know,” she whispered. “And I do. You know too much about me.”

Jack gave a slight nod. “I’ll head out. Dogs are probably plotting a mutiny without me. Especially Delta. Barely a year, but pure chaos.” He sent her a small smile. “Text me if it gets too crazy here or if you get a really good case,” he finished.

Y/N nodded. “I will. Can you give Granny her medicine? I wasn’t able to when I left,” she told him, naming their oldest dog, a female named Alaska, but they call her Granny. She was Jack’s dog when they got together, which he got when he came back from his last tour.

He nodded. “Yeah, I can. Did you feed them?”

“I did. I let them out too before I came. Normal routine. However, Winston didn’t want to move from the bed so can you please let him out again?” she asked, sending him a smile. Winston was Y/N’s wire-haired dachshund, which she got when she was twenty-two after nursing school.

He nodded. “Yeah, can do. I’ll see you later, ok? Text me, ok?” he said, and Y/N nodded, agreeing.

Then Jack was gone, turning to leave, but he glanced back one more time, his brows furrowed, eyes sharp. Watching her like he was solving a puzzle.

As soon as he was gone, Y/N slumped back in her chair, sandwich untouched.

Dana glanced over; brow raised. “He totally knows something is up.”

Y/N groaned. “I know. He’s going to dig until he finds out.”

“Well, let’s make sure he hears it from you and not from putting two and two together.” Dana tapped her temple. “Smart man, that one. Scary smart.”

“I’ll tell him tonight,” Y/N muttered, more to herself than anything else. “Tonight.”

Dana gave her a look. “Promise?”

Y/N nodded, slower this time. “Promise.”

“Good. Let me get you something for the nausea,” Dana replied, getting up. She pointed to the sandwich that Jack bought. “But eat, you’re growing a baby,” she lectured.

“Dana, shush!”

            Dana gave her medication to help with the nausea. They were going over their shift change when Robby appeared. Y/N was munching on the sandwich when Robby called their names.

            “Abbot’s told me that he’s got a pregnant teen coming back today for mifepristone. Let me know when she gets here,” Robby said, looking at the two women.

            “Sure,” Y/N replied.

            “Yep,” Dana stated before turning back to the computer.

            “Bowel obstruction still waiting on surgery consult. What about Garcia? She was just here for the traumas,” Robby rambled of the board.

            “I think she was waiting for her attending to sign off,” Y/N muttered, looking over to Robby.

            Robby and her met eyes. Then he shook his head. “Ok…” he walked towards a computer to file patient charting. “Oh, and one of the med students took a header,” he chuckled. “I parked her in the lounge under the guise of a work comp report. Will one of you go in there, eyeball her, and make sure she’s alright?” Robby asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at the nurses.

            “Last time I checked, I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 178,” Y/N replied, typing on the computer. “I don’t babysit med students.”

            Robby turned to look at her. “Jack said you’re hiding something,” he said casually. “What are you hiding, Ace?” Then he raised a brow.

            Y/N glanced at Dana. “My kinky sex life,” Y/N said with a smirk.

            Dana snorted but didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s exactly what she’s hiding. She’s got Jack handcuffed to the bed every other night. You should see the bruises.”

            Y/N chuckled as Robby stared at them for a moment. “I’m kidding!” Y/N expressed. “Maybe on the handcuffing, but not on the kinky sex,” she added with a smirk. “Men with trauma, freakiest in town,” she replied with a smirk and a wink.

            Robby just stared at her. “You deflecting adds to my hypothesis,” Robby muttered. “Abbot knows something’s up. I know some things up. Dana definitely knows what’s up.” Then his eyes landed on her. “You’re not planning on breaking up, right?”

            Y/N’s eyes widened. “No!” she exclaimed. “God, if anyone would leave anyone, it’d be him. I am a whole wagon of problems,” she muttered.

            Robby hummed. “Well, you deflecting is a sign. Secondly, Jack gave me this look this morning like he was ready to gut me with trauma shears, so whatever you’re hiding…he knows you’re hiding it, and he’s two seconds from losing his mind or figuring it out,” Robby muttered as he typed things into the computer. “Intelligent man.”

            Dana hummed. “That’s what I said.”

            Y/N turned in her chair to give them both an unimpressed look. “Do you know how exhausting it is to be this emotionally intelligent and book smart, responsible for lives, and handling interns, med students and residents who know less than me?” she poked.

            Robby glanced over his shoulder and pointed a finger to her. “Deflection.”

            Y/N rolled her eyes.

            “I’m just saying. You were late. In the eight years you’ve been working here, you’ve never been late. You look pale, there are bags under your eyes, you’re quieter than usual, you didn’t jump into this morning’s trauma, and Jack is acting like some keyed his fancy truck.” He glanced at her and he chuckled. “I know…” he whispered, shaking his head. “Jack will either not forgive you or will…” Y/N raised a brow. “You’ve adopted another dog.”

            Y/N stared at him and raised a brow. For a minute, it was silent as eyes were on her. “Yes. How’d you know?” she hummed.

            “Knew it,” Robby muttered before going back to the computer.

            “No. I didn’t adopt another dog,” Y/N said moments later.

            “Delta chewed through the seaming of the couch?” Dana asked, looking over to the nurse. “She’s a menace.”

            “That pup has the soul of a raccoon,” Robby added, clicking through patient charts. “Chaos and cuteness in the same package.”

            “Keeps us on our toes. Never had I ever had to kennel train a dog as she is not worth trusting,” Y/N replied.

            “Anyway,” Dana muttered, changing the subject, “med student is going to miss the arrival of the living dead.”

            Robby glanced over at them again. “How many are we expecting?” he asked, voice serious now.

            “We are getting three, but one died en route. Don’t know who’s luckier, us or them.”

            “What’s open?” Robby asked.

            “14,” Dana replied.

            Y/N got up. “Good luck. I have patients to see,” she muttered, leaving the nurses’ station after Dana gave her a shift change.

-

Y/N was talking to Langdon about a patient, writing down notes as they talked about what she needed to do to care for them, when Robby showed up.

            “Y/N, triathlete, Otis?”

            Y/N glanced up. “He’s stable. Repeat potassium is 6.1. Renal wrote the dialysis order. Tech should be down soon…maybe fifteen minutes,” she told him.

            Robby nodded, looking at her. “Good. Thank you.” Then he glanced over to Langdon. “Language mystery solved yet?”

            Langdon shook his head. “No,” then he sighed before looking up. “Hey, what’s your take on dogs?”

            “In what context?” Robby asked.

            “For kids,” Langdon added.

            “Kids and puppies go together like fish and chips. Man’s best friend, you know?” Robby said, walking around the station to go to one computer.

            “Well, you don’t have a dog.”

            “I don’t have a best friend,” Robby added.

            “What am I?” Langdon hummed.

            “You’re my best resident,” Robby replied. “Big difference.”

            “Yeah, but we’re still friends,” Langdon poked.

            Robby glanced over. “Not if this conversation goes on much longer. Talk to Y/N, she has dogs.”

            Y/N’s head perked up from where she was sitting, looking over to Langdon and Robby. “What?” she asked.

            “You have a dog?” Langdon asked, raising a brow.

            “I have four,” she said with a chuckle.

            “Four?” Langdon gasped, raising a brow. “Four dogs?” he asked again, shocked by her comment.

            “Uh, yeah,” Y/N said with a chuckle.

            “How can you have four dogs?” he asked, raising a brow.

            Y/N glanced around for a moment, then turned slightly in her chair to face Langdon fully, amused. “Easy,” she said. “I don’t have kids. I don’t sleep much. And I live with a man who’s just as much of a softie for strays as I am. We also have a giant piece of land for them to run around and we enjoy being outside.”

            Langdon blinked. “Jack’s a dog guy?”

            Robby snorted but before they could respond, Mel came over asking for Langdon to check in with a four-year-old.

            Y/N continued to type, but she could feel Robby’s eyes on her. “You’re staring,” she stated as she continued to type. “It’s creepy. Stop staring.” Then she glanced at him. Robby said nothing, and Y/N scoffed. “Robby,” she whispered, raising a brow.

            He threw his hands up. “Good work, Ace,” he said with a smile as he went back to work.

-

Y/N was doing her job within the hour, checking on her patients when Otis began to crash. She ran back out to the nurses’ station, catching the eyes of Collins, Robby and Dana.

            “Otis’ BP is crashing. 70 over 50. Still waiting for dialysis,” she announced, nodding to the room that her patient was in.          

            They entered and instantly got to work.

            “How are you doing there, Otis?” Robby asked.

            “Not so good,” he replied.

            A series of beeping was heard from the machine as the patient crashed. Y/N began setting him up.

            “50 litres. Non-rebreather, please,” Robby called out.

            Y/N listened, working alongside them. An ultrasound was done.

            “Fuck,” Y/N muttered, looking over at the ultrasound. “Diastolic collapse of the right atrium and right ventricle,” she muttered before Collins could say anything on the screen.

            “Tamponade from uremic effusion,” Robby muttered.

            “That is why his BP is low?” Santos asked, glancing over to the monitors.

            “Yup, indeed,” Y/N replied. “Too much fluid and pressure around the heart, chambers can’t fill.”

            “Otis, you’ve got some fluid around your heart,” Robby told the patient as Y/N grabbed gloves. “We need to get it off.”

            Y/N lowered the bed, making him flat lying down.

            “25 of Propofol, 10 cc’s of lidocaine with epi, pericardiocentesis tray,” Collins said to Y/N, who nodded.

            “I have to get that from central,” Y/N replied, looking over to Robby.

            “No, no. Just open a central line kit. Dr. Santos takes the head of the bed and bags him if he stops breathing, compressions if we lose the carotid. Prep and drape the subxiphoid, please. 10 cc’s of 1% with,” Robby ordered.

            Y/N nodded, grabbing supplies.

            “Chlorhexidine here.”

            “Injecting lidocaine,” Robby announced before following suite.

            “Pressure down. 60 over 40,” Santos explained.

            Robby grabbed the ultrasound from Collins.

            “Wait, you can’t ultrasound and place,” Collins barked to him.

            “I know, that’s why I’m taking the probe,” Robby replied. “18-gauge thin wall on a 60 cc syringe, please, Dr. Collins. Let’s go,” Robby muttered, looking over to the resident. “You’re going in right over the centre of my probe…” The doctors continued to work as Robby explained the procedure to Collins. Y/N watched.

            Eventually, the patient stabilised.

            However, just before they were stabilised, Y/N ran to the bathroom. Robby watched her cover her mouth and instantly ran out of the trauma room, running across the bay to the bathroom. Dana watched her run as well, dodging co-workers before making her way to the bathroom.

            Opening the door to the bathroom, she kneeled down to the toilet, puking her guts out. Breakfast sandwich and coffee coming back up as she clutched the toilet bowl.  

            The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her as Y/N stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the toilet, the other holding her hair out of her face as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

            The bathroom door opened gently behind her. Soft footsteps. Not rushed. Familiar.

            Dana.

            Without saying a word, Dana stepped in and crouched down beside her, pulling a handful of paper towels, wetting them and placing them gently on Y/N’s back of her neck.

            “Nausea meds didn’t help?” she asked, rubbing her back.

            “Guess not,” Y/N muttered, coughing and wiping her mouth before leaning back against the wall. She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes.

            “Are you ok?” Dana asked, looking at her.

            “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I don’t know what set it off, as I was fine.”

            Dana chuckled lowly. “It’s morning sickness, sweetheart, you can’t control when it hits. It’ll be fine. You’ll stop being sick soon at the end of this trimester,” she responded.

            “If this baby stays within me,” Y/N mumbled, not thinking. “If I decide to keep it too.”

            Dana rose a brow. “What does that mean, sweetheart?” she asked, looking at the young nurse.

            Y/N sighed. “It’s not my first time getting pregnant. The other times, I’ve lost it early on,” then she groaned. “I think it’ll be better if I just get an abortion so I can’t go through losing it again.”

            Dana’s expression softened, the sharp edges of her no-nonsense persona melting into something gentler. She reached over and cupped Y/N’s cheek for just a moment, grounding her.

            “Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

            Tears began to brew in her ducts as she looked at the older woman, blinking them away, trying to hold herself together. “No one knows. No ex-partner. Not even Jack knows. Not even Beckett,” she whispered. Then she sighed. “I don’t know what will happen or not. I just…maybe it’s for the best to just get this dealt with and never tell him. But what if I do tell him and he gets so excited then I lose it. I don’t want to go through that again,” she continued to ramble. “I don’t want Jack to go through loss again.”

            Dana sat beside her now, fully next to her, knees cracking slightly as she adjusted on the tile floor. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t something you should carry alone. Not this time.”

            “I don’t want to see that look in his eyes,” Y/N whispered. “The quiet heartbreak. I know he would like kids. He says he’s too old, and he’s ok with my endo, but like I see the way he looks at his sister’s kids or like kids in general. Like he’s wondering what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t missed his shot.” She closed her eyes for a moment to breathe.

            Dana was quiet for a moment before she said, “He loves you. Everything about you. Mess, chaos and all. Hope and heartbreak included. He’s your partner. Your other half. Talk to him. He deserves to know…not the decision, but the truth,” she told Y/N. “Go home. We will be fine without you today,” she suggested.

            Y/N scoffed. “That’s the last place I want to be,” she replied.

            “Let me cover for you for the next hour. Go lie down in on-call. I’ll say you’re charting or looking up labs.”

            “Dana,” Y/N tried.

            “Y/N,” Dana cut her off. “You just ran out of a trauma room and vomited into a toilet. You’re not fine. You’re a damn supernova most days with that brilliant brain of yours, but even stars burn out if they don’t rest,” she replied.

            Before Y/N could reply, there was a sharp knock on the bathroom door.

            “Y/N?”

            Robby’s voice. Low. Concerned and filled with love.

            She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath, silence happening between them.

            “She’s fine, Robby,” Dana called out.

            A pause happened, then Robby replied, “I’m not leaving until I see that with my own eyes, Dana.”

            Dana turned to Y/N. “You ok if I let him in?” she asked.     

            Y/N wiped her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her scrub top. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Might as well. He’ll probably come in–“

            The door opened, and Robby walked in.

            “My point exactly,” Y/N muttered, looking up to see the older male attending.

            His eyes fell on Y/N instantly, crouched on the floor, pale and sweaty, but clearly alive. His concern deepened.

            “Jesus, Y/N,” he whispered, crouching down beside her, not too close, scanning her face like he was memorising it for changes. “Scared the hell out of me.”

            “Sorry,” she whispered. “Just a rough morning.”

            His brows furrowed. “You ran out on a code. That’s not like you,” he muttered. “What’s happening? You sick?”

            Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

            “Do you want me to call Jack?” he asked, voice dropping a little bit. A sympathy tone.

            “No,” she said a little too bluntly. “I’m not fucking broken if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m fine. I can work. I just needed to puke. That’s all. I will take an anti-nausea and I’ll be fine. Do not call Jack,” she barked. “Do not even mention this to Jack. I’m not in the mood to deal with this,” she muttered, getting up.

            Robby rose with her, slowly, watching every movement like he expected her to collapse again. “Y/N,” he said, carefully. “I didn’t mean–“

            “I know what you meant,” she snapped, her tone sharp but her body trembling. She leaned against the sink for a moment, catching her breath. “But I don’t need saving.”

            “No one said you did, sweetheart,” Dana replied gently, standing now, smoothing her hands down her scrubs. “We’re just worried.”

            “Well, don’t be. I’ll be right,” Y/N responded as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection betrayed her – pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, hair clinging to her damp forehead. “I’m not your patient. I’m your colleague. I’ll handle it.”

            Robby raised a brow, stepping just a little closer. “If this is just a stomach bug or food poisoning, you’re really overreacting to the offer of help.”

            Y/N glared at him through the mirror. “What are you saying?”

            “I’m saying,” he replied, crossing his arms, and tilting his head, “I’ve known you for far too long. Eight years. You don’t run from a code. You don’t puke in your shift. I have never heard you take a sick day. You don’t bark at people who offer to call your partner unless something is really wrong.”

            Silence.

            Dana cleared her throat. “Robby,” she tried.

            “No, it’s fine,” Y/N interrupted, voice strained. “There is something. But let me deal with it on my own.”

            Robby sighed. “Y/N,” he tried.

            “No. I’ll be right,” Y/N muttered. “I’m ok. I can work. I want to work. Honestly, the next trauma I’m jumping in as I haven’t gotten any blood on my hands yet today.” Robby and Dana slowly nodded. However, they stayed quiet. Y/N turned. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she responded. “Not with you. Or you,” she said, pointing to each of them, “definitely not Jack and definitely not even with myself.”

            “Can you talk to Kiara?” Robby tried, raising a brow.

            “Definitely not her,” Y/N barked. Both of them stayed quiet. “I love you all. I thank you for helping me. I thank you for your care. I thank you for your worry. I just need to deal with this on my own, and Jack will know eventually,” she said, voice softer now. Y/N’s eyes shifted between them. “Do not tell Jack, and if you do, I will make all your lives a personal hell,” she barked before turning to the door and walking out.

            Robby glanced over to Dana once the door clicked shut behind her. “You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked, looking at his nurse.

            Dana crossed her arms and levelled him with a look. “Not my secret to share.”

            Robby sighed, running a hand down his face. “Dana,” he tried.

            Dana snorted. “Do not try to get it out of me?” she warned, shaking her finger. “But she is going through something hard. Something she didn’t think was possible. And the fact that she’s still standing, still showing up, should tell you exactly the kind of woman she is.”

            Robby leaned back against the bathroom wall, arms crossed tightly, staring at the door Y/N had just exited like it might swing back open and explain everything.

            “She said Jack doesn’t even know,” he murmured.

            Dana said nothing.

            “She’s scared,” he added, quieter now. “Not panicked. Not sick. Not spiralling. Just…scared. Jack mentioned something was up with her this morning. He knows something is up.”

            Dana looked over at him, rose a brow.

            “Let me work the problem,” he muttered.

            “She’s not your patient, Michael,” she said sternly.

            He shook his head. “Just hear me out…humour me,” he said, holding his hand up as he began ticking off on his fingers. “Sudden nausea. She was late this morning. No fever. No reported GI outbreak in the hospital. She said she’s not sick. Ran out of trauma. Pale, lightheaded. Avoiding food. And her mood? All over the place.”

            Dana was quiet, arms still crossed.

            Robby held up both hands now. “And don’t even try to say stress, because Y/N thrives under pressure. She doesn’t run. She charges.”

            Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled tight.

            Then, he went softer. “Morning sickness. Hormonal shifts. Emotional volatility.” Robby looked over at Dana now, his voice lower. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

            Dana didn’t even flinch. “That’s not mine to confirm or deny,” she replied.

            “But I’m right,” Robby replied.

            “I did not say that,” Dana warned.

            “You didn’t have to,” his voice wasn’t triumphant; it was heavy. Like the realisation carried more weight than he expected. “Excellent doctor, I am,” he hummed with a smile, winking.

            “Don’t tell Jack,” Dana whispered, voice blunt.

            “Lips are sealed,” he replied, giving her a salute before going back to the outside world of the emergency room. “I am correct, aren’t I?”

[the-babygirl-polls]

Captain Grimothy Grime - Amphibia

Propaganda:

Big softie and even grows a dad bod in an episode

Other Additions:

The toughest warrior toad!

[lieslab]

No wisdom, just teeth

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: A tooth infection leads to a dentist trip and some chaos.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Lab rats, do we like 9th member AUs? I'm testing this out and working on another 9th member AU request. Consider this a brief test run.

_ _ _

The pain radiating throughout your jaw, when your eyes opened to the sound of your alarm clock, blinded you. You gently cupped the side of your aching jaw, moaned in pain, and blindly reached over to quiet your alarm clock. 

Three days ago, it was a minor toothache. All the way in the back left corner of your mouth, you assumed it was a pesky wisdom tooth. Why on earth humans grew more teeth as they aged? You didn’t know. All you knew was that it was hell on earth.

The aching gums, the discomfort of chewing, the tiny morsels of growth that left you feeling exhausted and defeated. It became more and more clear why babies cried and gnawed on everything when growing in their own teeth. 

You took the proper steps yesterday, when nothing seemed to work. The pain killers didn’t help the pain and neither did the gel you applied to numb the pain. Briefly, you were freed from the ache with the gel, but the pain came back much worse. The next opening for your dentist was next week. You thought you could manage, but clearly your tooth had other ideas. 

Out in the kitchen, plastic coffee cups clattered. Chan pressed buttons on the fancy espresso machine and tapped his fingers awaiting a third espresso shot. A triple shot americano wasn’t needed at seven in the morning, but something had to cut through his groggy haze. A cup full of ice sat waiting. 

In the distance, Jeongin struggled to open his eyes in the bathroom. His hair stuck out in multiple directions. Their morning routine didn’t change, but he still struggled to pull himself from sleep, too. A sigh escaped his lips, he forced his eyes open, and reached for the hairbrush. 

Mid-brush, he paused when he heard you calling for Chan. It wasn’t unusual for the ninth member to want Chan. You found comfort in Chan and often seeked him out for guidance. Being the leader of the group, you often admired him and trusted his advice. 

“Chan?” You grumbled again as you patted into the kitchen. 

“I’m here, what’s up?” His silhouette appeared around the corner. “Do you want a morning coff- oh?” He frowned. Your eyes were still barely open. An unsteady gait in your walk. With cheeks flushed of color and something obviously wrong, he walked to meet you. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think my tooth is infected. I feel like shit and my tooth has been hurting.” 

“Uh-oh.” 

“What’s going on?” Jeongin appeared with a toothbrush full of toothpaste. “Did you lose something again?” 

“Even worse, they might have a tooth infection.” 

Jeongin’s face contorted into an instant grimace. “That’s not good.” 

“Did you call your dentist?” 

“Booked out until next week.” 

“Are we sure it’s an infected tooth and not the flu or something?” Jeongin asked. 

Chan’s eyes wandered back to you and you shook your head. “I have a pounding headache and was fine last night. My tooth hurts worse and my head feels like it’s on fire. Even just accidentally touching my face hurts my jaw.” 

His face quickly mirrored Jeongin’s. “There’s no way you can work like this. Why don’t you settle back into bed and I’ll make some calls? I’ll call my dentist and if I can’t find someone willing to work something out, I’ll call another dentist.” 

“I can call people, I just-” 

“Your focus right now should be on resting. Take some painkillers, drink some water, and I’ve got this, okay? Let me do this for you. You’re in pain and I don’t want you to stress yourself out more.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Innie, are you still-” 

“Going to the company building? Yeah, unless you want me to stick around here and help you.” 

“I’ve got it. Tell the guys that I’ll be there a little later. I’m going to get this worked out first.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” He saluted, patted you on the shoulder, and disappeared back in the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

“Try not to worry too much, we’ll figure it out.” Chan flashed you a dimpled reassuring smile, but it didn’t feel very reassuring to your aching jaw. 

~ ~ ~ 

The bright blue eyes of the dentist peeking over your face didn’t make you feel better. After a quick phone call to his dentist, Chan’s dentist agreed to meet you immediately. If a tooth infection created the root of the problem, the infection could turn much more dire than expected. 

So you laid with your mouth cranked open. Silver dental tools poked and prodded the back of your mouth. Tender and sore gums bled at the touch. Your nose scrunched from the pain. Tools scraped. The dentist mumbled to the assistant and you hated all of it. 

Getting x-rays sucked. Biting down on two pieces of plastic nearly made you vomit in your unwell state. Even the basic exam made tears prick in your eyes. Chan’s dentist was nice. She didn’t mean to make you feel worse, but your feelings were in shambles. 

All you could focus on was your aching jaw. Across the pale blue room, Chan’s knee bounced. He could have stayed in the waiting room, but he wanted to be here with you to make sure you were okay. You were grateful, despite the awkwardness, you didn’t want to be alone. 

He texted the group chat with frequent updates to keep the rest of the members informed, but all he could really do was wait for the dentist’s diagnosis. Nervous for you, his knee never stopped bouncing. He winced at every sound of a tool clanging against your teeth, he knew how it felt from his own time in the dental chair for cleanings. 

After a few more moments, the dentist pulled back. She pulled down her blue surgical mask and sighed. “I have good news and I have bad news. The bad news, it’s an infected wisdom tooth. The good news? It can be fixed with extraction and some antibiotics to make sure the infection is cleared up.” 

Chan’s head perked up at the sound of her voice. He clicked off his phone and looked at you. Your eyes were focused on the ceiling, only half-paying attention. When he called your name, you glanced over. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“Please take it out before it kills me.” 

Unable to hide her amusement, the dentist chuckled softly. “It won’t be a problem.” Her eyes went back to Chan. “It might take a while and since it’s a wisdom tooth, you’ll probably be better to wait in our waiting room.” 

“If I give you my number, can you call me when they’re finished?” He glanced at the dentist and she nodded. He stood up and approached you. “I don’t want to leave you, but the guys are having some issues at the recording booth.” 

“Go ahead and help them. I’ll be here when they finish and after they call. If we’re lucky, I’ll be in a lot less pain.” 

He chuckled, grabbed your hand, and gently squeezed it. “Behave for the dentist, will you?” 

“As long as she frees me of that stupid tooth, we’ll get along just fine.” 

~ ~ ~ 

The lights blinded you. The world blurred and you groaned loudly. Your head jerked back in the wheelchair you were sitting in. People around you turned into silhouettes rather than individuals with clarified features. 

“Hey, easy there, tiger.” A hand gently patted the top of your head. Minho’s voice reassured you, but you couldn’t see him. “Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times or the pig-bunny will gnaw them off.” 

“Hey!” Changbin cried out, clearly offended. “That’s not true! I wouldn’t gnaw off your arms.” 

“Guys, stop it. They just came around from having all four wisdom teeth plucked out. They’re probably confused and disoriented, you’ll scare them.” 

Felix’s freckled face appeared right in front of yours. “Hi, there!” He grinned and reached out to lightly poke the tip of your nose. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?” 

All you could muster was another groan. Your cheeks felt like they were bursting at the seams. Packed with bloody gauze, you were a numbed zombie. Your entire body felt off. More than anything, you were confused about the ongoing scenario around you. 

Back in the lobby of the dental office, Chan talked to the dentist and receptionist with slight worry. He didn’t realize after he left, you agreed with the dentist to have all four wisdom teeth pulled, rather than the single infected tooth. It’d save you a second procedure, but the recovery would last a lot longer. 

He flipped through the papers in his hands, trying to understand everything the dentist reminded him. Beside him, Jeongin glanced back outside to you. As both your roommates, they’d get the task of managing the majority of your recovery process. Neither was looking forward to it, nor were they looking forward to informing your manager that you’d have to sit out of the usual schedule for a while. 

Han popped out of an open car door when Minho rolled up with your anesthetic-laced body. Upon seeing the roundness of your cheeks, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Hey! You look just like me! You’ve got my cheeks!” 

Your head slightly shook, which caused him to laugh. He climbed out of the car. Hyunjin glanced up from the driver’s side and looked behind his seat. Bloody gauze could be seen in your slightly opened mouth. His eyes narrowed. “Ew.” 

“Ew?” You mumbled.

“That’s what I said. Ew.”

Your bottom lip trembled and Felix’s face fell. “No, no, no. Sweetheart, don’t cry, he’s just teasing you. He doesn’t think that you’re ew, he’s talking about the bloody gauze in your mouth. He’s just being silly.” 

“He’s ‘urting my ‘eelings!” 

“Well, you look ugly and swollen, so…” Seungmin shrugged and took a sip of his smoothie. Before the guys left the company building to pick you up, they stopped to get drinks. 

Changbin spun around, trying not to laugh. Felix swatted his shoulder. Han forced himself to bite his lip. Behind you, Minho couldn’t stop the grin from appearing. 

By the time Chan and Jeongin came out of the building, a steady stream of tears slipped down your cheeks. The guys tried hard to comfort you, but you weren’t having any of it. Too strung out on the remnants of being under anesthesia, you didn’t realize Seungmin’s words held no truth. 

“What’s going on? Why are they crying?” 

“Because Seungmin was a dickhead,” Minho pointed out. 

“Yeah, he called them ugly and swollen.” 

Jeongin’s hand patted your leg reassuringly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Seungmin’s face looks ugly and swollen all the time.” 

“It does not!” His instant objection brought a pause to your tears. 

Minho realized it instantly and grinned. “Hey, they stopped crying! Keep going! Seungmin is ugly and untalented!” 

“Seungmin smells like beef,” Han continued. A look of Seungmin’s genuine concern shot his way. Han ignored it and went on. “Seungminnie is bad at most video games.” 

“‘Outh ‘urts.” 

“What are they saying?” Changbin asked. 

“Their mouth hurts. I know it hurts, but we’re going to get you home and feel better. When you feel much better, I’ll make you an entire batch of brownies, okay?” 

You wiped away your tears instantly. “Tanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

After deciding who was sitting where, a few of the guys sat with you. Others followed Jeongin into his car, so they could be taken home. Hyunjin drove, Chan sat in the passenger’s seat, Minho, and Felix sat on either side of you.

You stayed quiet and let your eyes shut. For the first few minutes, all was fine, until it wasn’t. For whatever reason, you jerked straight upright with wide eyes. Both Felix and Minho glanced over concerned. 

“I’m being kitnapped!” 

“Huh?” 

Your hand went towards your seatbelt. Minho quickly grabbed your hand, trying to prevent you from getting loose. “Woah, there. You can’t unbuckle when the car is moving.” 

“Channie!” You cried out loudly. 

Chan flipped his sun visor down and glanced at you. “What’s wrong? What is it?” 

“He’s kitnapping me!” 

“Who is?” 

Your arm flung toward Hyunjin. Hyunjin glanced in the rearview mirror and rolled his eyes. “If I was kidnapping you, you’d probably have a bag over your head. Why would I kidnap you and put you beside Felix? Being kidnapped with Felix probably wouldn’t even feel like being kidnapped.” 

“Don’t worry, mate. When ‘re outta this, I’m gonna make yer brohwnies.” Hyunjin uttered in a dramatic Australian accent. 

“I do NAUGHT sound like that!” 

“You just did.” 

Felix huffed and tucked his hand around yours. “You’re not being kidnapped. We’re taking you back home, so you can get some rest. You’re safe with us.” 

“Channie!” You uttered again. 

“Hyunjin, can you stop the car, so I can change spots with Minho?” 

“Oh, yeah! Lemme up there, so I can air fry the ferret and stretch my legs.” 

“CHANNIE!” 

“Minho, you’re making them upset. It’s okay, I’m coming back there, don’t worry. Felix isn’t going to let Minho air fry anyone, okay?” 

Hyunjin slowly brought the car to a stop on the side of the road. He turned on his hazard lights, allowing Minho and Chan to swap spots. The moment Chan slipped beside you, you grabbed his hand and refused to let go. Your forehead rested upon his shoulder. The numbness and confusion you felt melted together. Your eyes drooped and you let yourself drift to sleep. 

~ ~ ~ 

In Chan and Jeongin’s dorm, Jeongin already arrived back home with Changbin, Seungmin, and Han. Chan told Jeongin to make sure they had a proper spot for you on the couch and he didn’t know exactly what that meant, so he tried his best. 

After dumping multiple of your blankets and pillows on the couch, he stood back and scratched the back of his neck. “How on earth do you make a cozy spot for someone on the couch? It’s the couch, it’s not meant to sleep on after such an intense procedure.” 

“Oh, this one is.” Han grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around his shoulders. “This leather couch is so sleek and nice. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but you both have good taste. This couch is my favorite piece of furniture.” 

“I don’t think they’re going to be real happy knowing you’re stealing their blanket,” Seungmin commented. 

“And I don’t think they’ll be happy seeing your swollen and ugly face,” Changbin shot out in Han’s defense. 

“You wanna go, pig-bunny?” 

“Yeah, come here!” Changbin shot forward and grabbed Seungmin’s throat. 

A grin instantly filled Seungmin’s face. “I didn’t know you were into being an alpha man.” 

“Yah, no! Ew! Stop!” Changbin pulled away and shook his hand. “No more alpha and omega stuff. I don’t wanna hear about it, you pervert.” 

“You grew oddly offended about that.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Shh! They’re back, I can see them coming to the door through the window.” Han shoved himself to his feet, shedding your blanket, and letting it lay on the couch. 

Jeongin hurried to the door and pulled it open. In Chan’s arms, your sleeping body lay bridal style. He carried you inside with ease. “Did you get the couch ready?” 

“I mean, I didn’t know exactly what you wanted, but their stuff is there.” 

“Good enough.” 

The rest of the guys followed behind Chan. He gently placed you on the couch against your pillow, making sure you weren’t lying on either side of your jaw. He quickly grabbed blankets to cover you up and let out a sigh of relief. “That takes care of that for now.” 

Out in the kitchen, Minho flicked through the stack of paperwork from the dental office. “This looks like a huge headache, thank god I’m not playing a part in this.” 

Felix appeared over his shoulder and frowned. “Oh, poor thing. This is certainly going to be a long recovery period. They’ll probably be pretty upset when they wake up.” 

“And in pain. Does anyone want to come with me to go pick up their antibiotics from the pharmacy?” Jeongin pulled out his car keys. 

“Please get me the hell out of here,” Seungmin walked towards him instantly. 

“I guess I’ll go.” 

“Yeah, same.” 

Changbin and Han followed him, but it was Han that spoke up first. “Do you think we should stop at the store and grab some soft snacks, so they have something to eat and drink when they wake up?” 

“That’s a good idea.” 

The guys all conversed and slipped out the door, leaving only a handful behind. Hyunjin observed your peaceful demeanor and sighed. “I think this is the first time they haven’t been stressed in a while.” 

“Anesthesia is just a brief coma,” Felix mumbled beneath his breath. 

Chan came out to look through the papers that were in Minho’s hand. Despite Minho’s previous words, he didn’t mean them. Of course, he’d help with your recovery, he always would. 

~ ~ ~ 

You woke up to the sound of quiet whispers full of affection. 

“They look so cute when they’re relaxed and asleep like this.” 

“I can’t wait until they wake up, I miss them.” 

“I like them when they’re dead to the world. I haven’t heard this kind of silence in so long.” 

“Kim Seungmin, you fucking jackass.” 

“Bite me.” 

“I might.” 

When your eyes opened, you made out the faint illumination of Chan’s yellowed face. The way the lamp positioned, it cast an unnatural tint to his face. He stepped away and walked closer to you. “Hey there, are you awake?” 

You tried to speak, but the gauze stopped your words from coming out clearly. Your eyes widened and Chan stepped forward. “Whoops, I forgot about that. Hold on, stay still, and let me take this out for you.” 

He leaned forward and peeled away the gauze. When he did, you blinked rapidly, trying to wake up. To your surprise, all the guys were scattered throughout the dorm’s living room. 

“You made it through your wisdom teeth extraction.” 

“You’re a total baby when you’re high on anesthesia and you can’t take a joke.” 

“Seungmin made you cry.” 

You tried to speak, but your voice felt hoarse. Jeongin quickly stood up to retrieve a water bottle for you when your words came out cracked. When he came back, he jerked it open, and handed it to you. After a few sips of refreshing cold water, you thanked him. 

“Honestly, I’m really disappointed you didn’t give us more to work with. I was expecting you to turn into a total brat, but you didn’t. You thought I was kidnapping you and cried at Seungmin’s insult, but that was about it.” 

You glanced up at Hyunjin with furrowed eyebrows. He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t remember?” 

“No. I don’t remember a lot of it. I thought they were taking out one tooth.” 

“Yeah, I think you were half unconscious when you agreed to take out all four.” 

“But I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” Felix chimed in. “Now you never have to do that again and that’s pretty cool. Unlike the rest of us…” He frowned thinking about it. 

“Oh, hell no!” Jeongin’s head shook. “They’re not putting dental tools in my mouth.” 

“Yeah, I agree. I’ll continue my regular appointments to keep my mouth cleaned. I’ll be flossing and brushing like usual,” Minho added. “Preventive measures help with tooth infections and cavities.” 

“Thank you, doctor obvious.” 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Chan questioned with concern. 

“My mouth feels so swollen and I’m tired.” 

“No pain?” 

“Not really, I just feel groggy.” 

“I think this has been the best possible outcome for you.” 

“Wrong. I wanted to see you beat up Changbin,” Seungmin pouted. 

“And I wanted to see them put their foot up your ass, so I guess we’re all disappointed,” Changbin glared. 

The sound of your stomach made everyone pause. Your cheeks flushed red and you grabbed your stomach. “Sorry, I guess I’m hungry. I haven’t had food all day.” 

“Oh!” Felix popped up. “You can pick something off the list of foods that the dentist recommended.” 

“Nothing hard, crunchy, or sticky,” Han clarified. 

“I know it’s not exactly healthy, but a milkshake sounds nice.” 

“You’re not allowed to use a straw, but if you want a milkshake, it can be arranged,” Chan leaned over and patted your head. “What kind?” 

“Can we all have milkshakes for dinner? A big giant chocolate milkshake would hit the spot. Topped with a lot of whipped cream and chocolate syrup and-” 

Jeongin cut off Han’s rambling. “Usually, I’d judge you for that, but that sounds so good.” 

“Sounds pretty official to me.” 

“Come on, Innie.” Changbin stood up and grabbed Jeongin’s arm. “The rest of you can text the group chat with what kind of milkshakes you want. We’re going to go find our sugar rush.” 

Chan sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I can’t believe I’m a full grown man and agreeing to get dessert to replace a balanced dinner.” 

“Live a little, you ancient, old fuck.” 

“Seungmin is right!” 

“Felix, you’re not supposed to agree with him.” 

“Well, he’s acting like he has a stick up his ass.” 

“I am not! I just think that having a milkshake is ironic since our member just got out their-” 

“Hey, what’s the best time to go to the dentist?” Han beamed. 

“Han fucking Jisung, if you say tooth-hurty-” 

“Tooth-hurty!” 

“Come here,” Minho stood up with a fist. “I’ll show you a tooth-hurty.” 

“AH!” He rushed to the opposite side of the couch. 

You sucked in a deep breath and sighed. You might have survived getting your wisdom teeth removed, but now you were tasked with surviving your recovery period with the members of your group; quite a difficult feat when you live with a group of wild animals. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz

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