#left her alone with only the company of medical staff

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[citronaut69]

Work shit in the tags cause it's A Lot

[lleldey]

The Broken Vow

Description: You met your husband when you were children, foolishly following the pull of first love. Nothing seemed impossible with him holding your hand; dreams and hopes at your fingertips. But when an accident happened, and you were left alone in this world, you learned how to rebuild it without him. Years later he’s back by your side, the only problem – he’s not too keen on having been replaced. It’s not your fault...right?

Warnings: manipulation, yandere, hospitals, divorce, mentions of death, angst, weight loss (not by MC), power corruption, self-condemnation. Please keep in mind this is a yandere story.

Word Count: ~13.5k

One-shot

!In no way of shape and form do I think this is how Jungkook acts in real life, this is pure work of fiction, so if you choose to read it, please keep that in mind!

Life is the biggest mystery of them all. You’ve promised yourself to never again take it for granted, yet now you wish the time to stop, and for you to disappear in it.

You don’t remember how you got here, the parking lot of the hospital seems eerily empty, the vacant lights illuminating the lone space. You rest your head against the seat and wish for whomever is upstairs to give you strength, you remember how you prayed years on end for this day to come, but now that it’s here, you’re at a loss of what to do.

Notifications from your phone light the car, and for the first time in hours, you pick up your muted phone and scroll through the countless messages and calls, some from unknown numbers, probably the medical staff, and some from people you tried your best to forget.

3.04 a.m.

You should’ve been here at least an hour ago, but the ride took almost twice as much as it should’ve. The speed of your car never nearing the limit, every yellow light stopped at, and every minute spent in silence. No music, no thoughts, just silence.

If it were to happen two years ago, you would’ve jumped in relief and happiness, thousand possibilities running through your mind, and body jittering in anticipation, but as you walk through the hospital door, you look around lost. Not sure where to go, not sure if you wish to go.

The reception stares right at you, and you know you should probably go there, but your legs mindlessly carry you to the waiting area. You sit down and look at the people around you, only a few give you company in the dead of night.

A woman sits in front of you, dried tears trace her face, as she clutches the hand of a man besides her. Probably her husband. You watch how he caresses her hand, while they mutter something under their breath, and fresh tears fall from her eyes. It looks like they’re praying. Should you be crying as well?

From your peripheral vision you see someone stand next to you, but you can’t hear what they’re saying, as you continue to watch the sorrowful woman in front of you.

“Mrs. Jeon?”

You play with the gold ring on your finger, the jewelry calms your mind, as you mindlessly twirl it around.

Cough sounds besides you, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Not so far along you were in her shoes, the memory still fresh in your mind. How you sat in the seat for hours, crying and hoping for God to take pity on you. But now you pity the woman; she doesn’t know that the seat she’s occupying will soon become her second home.

A hand on your shoulders breaks your trance, and you look up confused as the nurse once again asks, “Mrs. Jeon?”

Only now you realize she’s speaking to you, and you’re quick to start, “No, no, I’m not-” but you catch yourself, and swallow your words as the realization hits you. No one has addressed you in such way for years, and her words trigger a distant past.

The woman looks at you expectantly, but all you manage to do is stand up and barely nod your head, as memories from years ago plays out in your head.

She outstretches her hand, a light smile graces her tired face, “Mrs. Jeon, I’m your husbands’ doctor, we talked previously,” you shake her hand, only half-heartedly listening to her words, and silently follow her lead.

“Your husband has been asking for you, and dare I say he’s very persistent,” she chuckles, and you butt in, “He’s awake?” she must’ve seen panic travelling through your body, as your hands start to shake and suddenly your surroundings seem grounded, the sleep like state ripped away like a bandage.

“He awoke 2 hours ago,” you stop near a door, laughter resonating from it, and you swear, the voices seem eerily familiar, “your family is with him right now, but he keeps asking for you.”

“His family is here?” she nods her head, and you’re not sure if you can do this. They don’t want to see you, the last time you spoke, you made his mother cry, and his brother chose to ignore your existence.

You drag your hands down your face, you must look a mess, hair sticking every way possible, and the pajamas mixed with your sneakers surely doesn’t help. You feel the doctor’s hand on your shoulder and with a squeeze she points towards the closed door.

Before she leaves, you grab her hand and mutter the words that keep ringing in your head, “How is this possible? Everyone said there’s no hope if I had known...” your words slowly fade, as you watch her with tearful eyes, hoping she’d understand.

“Your husband was taken for his annual checkup, and we noticed some…” she stops and thinks of the correct words, “elements that shouldn’t be present with his condition.” You nod your head, clinging to her every word, hoping that you weren’t at fault for this.

“We did some additional tests, and they came back positive for minimal consciousness.” She holds your hands when your lips began to tremble, “And after your agreeance, we gave him course of amphetamine, and now here we are.”

Her smile should’ve calmed you, but shame manages to creep up your veins; how are you supposed to face him? If he’s been asking for you, surely, he doesn’t know anything. Or perhaps he does and wants to see you begging for forgiveness.

The doctors’ steps slowly fade away, and you’re left with the door glaring daggers into your soul. You try to remind yourself that these are good news, you’d hoped for years on end for this day to come, then why does what’s hidden behind the door scare you so much?

You hear the voices of his family members through the walls, voices from people you used to call your own family. You haven’t talked to them for two years, even if some of them tried to reach out to you.

The room feels suffocating even through the door, you envision their judging stares, and harsh whispers. You lay your head against the door and try to calm yourself. Perhaps they won’t let you in, chase you away even before you step a foot in. But through the war in your head, you hear a soft voice, such a delicate voice you think your mind made it up.

Tears spring to your eyes, as you realize it’s truly him; ever since the doctor called you, all you could think of was his family, the possibility of him being awake seemed so unimaginable, that you didn’t dare to hope.

His voice calls you like a melody, the soft hums you longed to hear for one last time. Gently you open the door, and the room falls silent, distasteful looks thrown at you from every corner. Slowly you step in, still keeping the door open, you wrap your hands around your body when you notice how elegant everyone looks.

What else could you expect from the Jeons? Makeup in the middle of night, suits and silk dresses are a norm, you should know, this was your life not so long ago. You try to soothe down your hair, while stuttering, “H-Hello,” you don’t await a response, and feel yourself caving in further, the dark gazes you expected are overpowering, and you’re close to running out of the room.

“Can I come in?” you try, you truly try to make this less awkward, but you hear your voice quivering, and their heated stares make you turn to the door, longing for a breath of air.

Before you manage to run out of the confined space, Jungkooks’ mom steps up, and approaches you, “Child, I’m so happy to see you,” she grabs your hands, and you manage to smile back, at least someone in this room doesn’t hate you.

Your relief is short lived, as a man’s voice comments from the front of the bed, “Took her long enough” Your gaze drifts to him, as Jungkooks mother scolds him, and you hear a familiar voice, hidden between the sea of people, disapprove as well, “Jin, don’t speak to her like that.”

Your breath hitches, and you try to look past the bodies hiding him from your view. Involuntarily your lips start to tremble, all you manage to decipher is his raven black hair and hand that tries to shoo his family away from blocking you, but that is enough for tears to trace down your cheeks.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and your gaze snaps back to his mom, and her sympathizing smile makes your tears fall down quicker, “All right everyone, let’s head out, and give them some space.”

You start to protest, as much as you wish to see him, you’re also afraid. You don’t know how much he knows, but your hands tremble from the idea of seeing him for the first time in years. Jungkooks mom stops you before you manage to say a word, “You’ve some explaining to do, and we must start preparing for court.”

Your eyes snap to her, and with furrowed brows you mutter, “You’re suing them?”, and the room fills with arrogant chuckles, “They took my baby away for years, of course we’ll sue those incompetent doctors.” She states while longingly looking towards the hidden bed.

Jin shoots you a grimace and mutters as he passes you by, “That’s the least we can do, they don’t deserve their certificate. Those doctors should not be allowed to step near a patient ever again.” He stops by the door and looks you over, suddenly your shoes seem like the most interesting thing in the world.

“They should know what happens when you mess with Jeons.” His words feel directed not only to the poor professionals. They should know indeed, and if they don’t, then they’ll have to learn the hard way. That much you can say from your own experience.

Jungkooks mom stands besides Jin, and pats his cheek while muttering, “You’re right son, now that both my babies are back, they’ll see why you don’t mess with attorneys.” You choose to stay quiet; they can barely stand your existence as it is, you doubt that they would overlook you going against them again.

Silence entails once more, as everyone leaves the room, you don’t miss how they keep a great distance passing you by, as if the mere presence of you disgusts them. But this was to be expected, and you stand still, not looking up till you hear the door close.

It takes a good minute for you to gather yourself and look up, but when you see him lying in the bed awake, looking at you with the love filled smile he used to give you, the barely patched up walls of your heart break, and you cover your mouth to silence the sob that wrecks your body.

Your feet carry you closer to him, and you stand by the bed, body shaking and tears falling. His hand reaches out to you, trying to comfort your restless mind, and you throw yourself in his embrace, the soft huff and chuckle rumbling his chest.

His heart beats against your own, and you pull him closer, not fully believing that you’re not dreaming. Hidden in his chest you whisper, “Is this real?”, but the hand that caresses your hair confirms your suspicion, this is real.

The countless years spent lying on his chest, praying that one day he awakens and embraces you like he used to leaves a bitter taste on your tongue, and you pull away just enough to see his bright eyes and gentle smile, and fall back into his chest, cherishing the moment at hand.

He leaves soft kisses on your head, and you let tears fall freely on his hospital gown, you forgot how warm his skin is, how comforting his touch is, the lonesome years left you with nothing but the far memory of it.

“Has it truly been seven years?” his voice sounds scratchy, his vocal cords vulnerable from all the years spent in silence. You raise your head to look at him, tears still falling, and caress his face noting the beard that has taken its place.

You nod your head and shakily mutter, “Almost eight”, to be precise seven years and two hundred and fifty-seven days of him laying motionless, unaware of his surroundings and your breaking heart. Jungkook heaves a sigh, and you lean into his touch, relishing his warm hand drawing patterns over your cheek.

He carefully examens your face, taking into account every detail and new wrinkle, “You look-”, playfully you groan, and sniffle, “Old? Like a train wreck?” to which he chuckles, and you can’t help yourself but do the same, you haven’t heard his laugh in so long, the sound almost hypnotizing.

“I was going to say beautiful,” you shake your head at his teasing grin, “God truly took his time on you, age suits you well. I just wish I was here to see it; it feels like only a day has passed, yet everything has changed.”

Your smile slowly fades, oh, he has no idea how much everything has changed, but you don’t wish to break his heart, so you opt to cheer up the dampening mood, “And you look like a cave man”

You brush your fingertips against his beard, something he used to keep track of to never grow out. His hair is also noticeably longer, brushing past his shoulders. You used to be the one who cut it, and shaved his face, but you haven’t been here for almost two years.

His hand moves to your chin, and your heart stutters; even though years have passed, he still acts like the man you loved, bringing you closer by your chin to kiss you. Now quickly realizing his motive, you back away and mutter, “We should probably do something about it, there must be shaving cream somewhere nearby”

If he notices the distance you created, he chooses to ignore it, a light furrow of his brows all is seen, before it morphs into a smile once more, “And here I thought you promised to love me for better or worse, even when I turn into a cave man”

Your heart sinks at his words, even though they are true, you’ve no clue how to even start to explain how you broke your vows, crumbled them like a piece of paper. You start to get up in search of a nurse, but Jungkook quickly stops you and presses a button, to which one quickly comes in and leaves in search of Jungkooks demand.

You sit back in a chair and enjoy his silent company while you wait for her to come back, seeing him conscious, breathing and back to his normal self is more than you could’ve asked for, and you can’t stop the tears that grace your waterline.

“I felt like I was going insane while waiting for you. Jin said you moved to another city...?” his questioning gaze looks over your features, and you distantly hum, when the nurse comes back and leaves a small bowl of water, razor, and some shaving cream.

Gently you start applying the cream on his face, and you feel his eyes burning, trying to catch your gaze. Continuing your work, you start to explain, careful with your wording, as the subject entails more than you wish to tell, “It was hard being there alone. But I didn’t sell it if you’re worried about that”

Understandingly he nods his head, and you cup his chin while gently scolding him for moving, afraid to accidentally cut his skin. You see his muscles morph into a smile, and you stop your movements, and look him in the eye as you shake your head with a smile of your own.

You lead the razor gently over the white foam and see glimpse of his youthful skin hidden behind it, “I can’t wait to go back home with you, these hospital beds will give me a backache like no other. Our bed is far more comfortable, not to mention you, who’s the softest pillow to exist.”

You press your lips together, and tightly smile; silence might be the best answer for now. You let his dreams carry on, couple of years ago you would’ve fallen into them with him, but now, you know you can’t afford to do so.

But the sparkles that coat his eyes are too bright and tender for you to extinguish, yes, you are selfish, you allow yourself to live in the fantasy-esque world that Jungkook desperately tries to pull you in, even just for a moment. You lost him for so long, barely found a footing in this world alone, but now that he’s here, the idea of losing him again hurts more than words could entail.

Jungkook is no fool, he sees that something is amiss. Your tense body, and pursed lips tell him that much. He tries to be gentle, it’s understandable that you’re confused, after all almost 8 years have passed. But it irks him when you refuse his touch, doing so seamlessly, that one might not even notice.

But someone isn’t Jungkook, he’s your husband, and has been your lover for six years before the accident. The past few hours have been dubious; at first everyone was elated, tears filled the room as more and more people came in.

But with each time the door opened his patience tinned out, they weren’t you, and as much as he was grateful to see everyone, the one he truly longed for wasn’t there. He tried to calm himself, he knew that you’re well and somewhere nearby, as the doctor said they talked to you, but every time he brought you up, the room turned silent, anxious looks passed by everyone present, till they ended the subject with, hopefully she’ll be here soon, and you’ll understand everything.

Now, what was ‘hopefully’ supposed to mean?

“I’m sorry about Jin, I don’t know what came over him” he starts, carefully observing your movements, but you tick your head, and forcefully shake the razor in the bowl. “He’s your brother, he was only looking out for you.”

“But you have great relationship, he shouldn’t speak to you like that” the sad smile that graces your lips makes him even more confused, “We did. But after you-” you sigh and drop the razor in the bowl, and grab a towel, softly wipe the residue off his skin “A lot has changed, I had a falling out with your family”

You focus all your attention on patting his skin dry, but his hand stops yours, and when you look up you see the light panic clouding his eyes, “How is that possible? Is it because of the accident?” you shush his rambling, and smile while caressing his jaw, “Don’t worry about it, at least now you’re no longer a cave man.”

He huffs, but you don’t pay it any attention, just appreciate his smooth skin that seems radiant in comparison to the last time, when you said your goodbyes to him. You allow him to play with your fingers, and don’t even notice when he pulls your hand closer to his face.

“Why are your fingertips cut? Do they hurt? Your skin isn’t as smooth as it usually is…” you laugh at his zeroed-in attention on your fingers, and with adoration explain, “I’m used to it, I work as a hairdresser now, and every once in a while, help out in a farm”

His facial expression is one for the books, he starts to sit up, and anxiously you try to stop him, but he stubbornly ignores your protests while cradling your hand to his heart, “What the hell did I miss? A hairdresser? But what about photography, it’s your dream!”

You nibble on your lip, while trying to think of a way to calm him down, this much stress surely isn’t good for his body, “Photography doesn’t pay the bills. I couldn’t stay here, Kook. I moved out and this was my only option.”

As much as you try to soothe him, your words go amiss, he shakes his head, thousand thoughts travelling through it, “I don’t get it, you had my trust fund, you shouldn’t have to worry about bills”

He tries to understand, he truly does, but something doesn’t add up, and it keep him on the edge. You move closer to him, and sit on the bed next to him, hoping that it would ease his mind, “They cut me off,” before Jungkook starts to panic, you continue, “we got into an argument, and that was my decision, I stand by it.”

Jungkook shakes his head and opens his mouth, but nothing comes from it. You watch how he falls back onto the pillows with a frustrated sigh, “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’ll handle it. I should’ve taken care of you, and I failed.”

You shake your head, “Don’t say that. Just promise to never again touch a motorcycle in your life.” He takes your hands in his own and presses kisses all over while repeatedly mumbling, “I’m sorry”

“It must’ve been so hard for you. I’ll get discharged, and we’ll move back into our own place, everything will be back to normal. You won’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Nothing will ever be the same, but he’s clueless. Your heart clenches as you realize you have to tell him the truth. He’s living in the idyllic life you created years ago, oblivious of how broken it now is. You have to tell him.

You straighten you back and ready yourself for what’s to come, “Jungkook, I-” But before you manage, he stops you

“What’s that?”

You follow his gaze, and your breath hitches. “That’s my ring, Jungkook.” His grip tightens around your fingers, and very slowly grits out, “That is not our wedding ring”

His gaze travels to your own and noticing the tears clouding your gaze his eyes narrow, “No, it’s not. But it is my wedding ring.”

Silence overtakes the room, but his eyes don’t stray from you, unblinking, frozen, trying to make sense of what you’ve told. “You cannot remarry when you’re already married. To me, might I add.” He articulates every word slowly, as if speaking to a child, and you shake your head and somewhat shamefully mutter, “We’ve been divorced for almost three years”

His neck slowly turns red, and his muscles are strained, veins popping out of his neck and forehead. You feel the doom coming, and you try to make him understand, “Jungkook, please understand. You were basically dead, and I waited for years but I-”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re married to someone else” his voice raises, and you feel the words vibrate through your body, “Jungkook,” is all you manage to whimper.

“You are my wife,” he hits his chest, “My wife, what are you even talking about?!” at this point he’s screaming, and you try to shush him to no avail.

His words become distant, once you see tears streaming down his cheeks. His hand is wailing around, neck strained and face red, and forcefully he pulls you closer by the hand he’s still gripping with full force.

You don’t hear the nurses running in, your eyes zeroed on his enraged state, he tries to push them away, and you force your hand out of his, to try and move away. But your actions don’t go unnoticed, as Jungkook close to lunges toward you.

Everything becomes white noise, and you see everyone screaming, nurses barely able to hold him back from you. He fights against their grip, but his body is frail, and the pool of workers press his body down, all while he scratches, screams and throws pillows every way possible.

Distinctly you hear one of them scream about sedating him, and your body finds the last bit of strength to run out of the room. But you don’t get far, as just outside you bump into his doctor, the poor woman looking over your shoulder astonished, as everything progresses downhill.

You hear him scream your name time after time, but you look at the woman in front of you, and cry out, “I can’t be here, take me off his medical proxy,” You’re out of breath, and you try to mutter a legitimate sentence over your cries, “Ask his brother, anyone, just please-” your words fade, and the woman stares at you in shock, but Jungkook keeps calling your name, and you can’t bear to hear his broken cries. He sounds like a wounded animal, and the sound chills you to the bone.

You push past her and run towards the exit, from your peripheral vision you see his family crowded around the hall, but you don’t stop, even when you hear their voices mixed with Jungkooks shouting after you. You have to get out of here.

Your body moves on its own accord, and perhaps your stressed mind is playing games with you, but you feel someone running after you. Jungkooks cries echo through your mind even when you find yourself in the parking lot, hands shaking, trying to unlock your car.

With trembling hands, you try to ignite the engine, but it won’t start up, frustrated, you hit the steering wheel with your palms, and pray that this isn’t the time your car decides to give up. With a look to the hospitals entrance, you see a dark silhouette running out, you were right, someone was indeed chasing after you.

Praying that they won’t notice you, you sink into the seat, and try to start up your car once more, it takes couple of seconds, but when it does you heave a sigh, and see that the person noticed you only now, headlights turning you in.

You don’t wait to find out who it is, or what they want from you, swiftly you press the gas pedal, and rush back home.

04.46 a.m.

If the road to the hospital took you almost three hours, now you don’t care if you’re speeding, only thing you wish for is to be in your husbands’ arms and cry your heart out. Yes, perhaps you missed a couple of red lights, but you’re too far gone, lost in the labyrinth of your mind to care.

06.10 a.m.

The edges of the clouds shine in golden sparkles, and the darkness slowly dissipates, as sun makes itself known. You drive through the depths of forest green, the car wobbles on the bumpy road, but you feel the end of your misery, as you see glimpse of your home in the distance.

Your body feels frozen, every action robotic, your goal the only thing in mind. You stop the car near the entrance of your home, the stone walls of the house seem lament, and you step out of the car, finally able to take a deep breath.

The door opens, and the gray monotone vanishes, once you see your husband. He looks visibly nervous, but he tries to smile to ease your mind. “How did it go?” his hair is disheveled, and eyes drowsy, it looks like he couldn’t sleep, anxiously waiting for you to come back.

You take a deep breath, and ready yourself to explain how horribly everything transcribed, but all you manage is to whimper “Tae,” before you run into his warm embrace, and let the dam of tears loose.

He caresses your head, and rocks you from side to side, you’re not sure how long you spend like this, you, hyperventilating on his chest, and him, embracing you in his warmth, trying to hold his own tears in. But when you calm down, and look up, the sky is baby blue, sun rays blinding you.

~

Some say you can’t avoid things you don’t want to deal with, but you're determined to prove them wrong.

For the past week, you’ve buried yourself in work, either at the hair salon, or, more so, helping Tae with farm work. Now more than ever you relish his company, his touch and gleaming smile helps you forget about everything else.

But with ignorance comes sloppiness. You can’t count the number of times you’ve accidentally cut your fingers, while trimming someone’s hair, or daydreamed while coloring hair, only for the end result being a two shades different color.

On top of that, Tae’s farm has gotten multiple complaints, so it made sense for you to clock out of work to help him. You’re applying the last bit of color on clients’ roots, every once in a while, humming along her story that, if you remember correctly, is of how her son drove her car in a ditch.

You make sure the color is blended in evenly when your phone rings. After the events in the hospital, your phone was flooded with messages, and the constant ringing was too much for both you and the phone, as it continued to glitch out.

You contemplated the idea of changing your number, but the next day complaints started coming in, and you decided that this isn’t the best time, both financially, and in case someone needs to reach out to you about that. And even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself, somewhere deep down you knew that won’t stop him. But Taehyung advised you to mute everyone’s notifications except for his, and so far, the proposal has worked perfectly.

Quickly you apologize to the woman, and pull off one of the gloves, while answering the phone, “Hi, honey. I’m working, is everything all right?”

His voice comes out rushed, and your smile fades, as you try to understand what he’s saying, “Can you slow down please, I can’t hear you”

He takes a deep breath and this time you manage to hear what he’s rambling, “Okey, I’ll be there soon, we’ll figure something out.” The line disconnects, and you curse under your breath, this isn’t good.

Moving into action, you grab your things, and turn towards one of your colleagues, while packing “Can you please take over my client? I have an emergency, and all that’s left is to wash her hair and style it” you ramble and look at her with puppy eyes.

“Which time is it this week? You can’t drop all of your clients on me” you clasp your hands together, and do your best to give her puppy eyes, but she rolls her eyes.

“I know, but it’s very urgent. Tae’s about to get sued, and he needs me”

She looks at you with a pitying gaze, “This one last time. Next time please remember that I also have a family to go back home to”

Quickly you kiss her cheek and turn to the exit, but you should’ve known that it won’t be this easy. Red fury, or rather, your boss stands at the aisle with a disapproving gaze. Before she starts to protest you butt in, “I know I’ve been distracted, but it’s truly an emergency. I promise once this is over, I’ll take double shifts, but please understand”

She looks nonchalant, and somehow you think that’s worse. She doesn’t scream, or scold you, but simply shakes her head, already given up, “Go,” quickly you thank her, but before you manage to exit, she notes over her shoulder,

“You haven’t been clocking in the hours. If this continues, I won’t have another option but to fire you.”

One foot out of the door you stop, at this point this job is your only income, but you make your decision, as your rush towards the car.

You try to convince yourself that there’s no other option, your husband needs you. You’ve already broken your previous vows, and sure as hell won’t do that again. After all you promised, for better and for worse.

One good thing about living in a village, everything is reachable in spam of minutes. But as you speed down the road, the idyllic ambience and joyous people make you feel like you’re suffocating.

This was never what you wanted, you enjoyed the bustling crowds and big cities dreams, but then the ground disappeared under your feet, and you were left all alone, lost, with no one there to ground you.

But then you met Taehyung, and he gave you another chance in life, even if it was the furthest thing from your reality. You could be the friendly neighbor who talks about her children morning-night. It never was your dream, but it is enough, because you have him.

You rush out of the car in search of him, for once thankful of your small home, as you quickly find him in the living room buried in scattered documents and disheveled hair. Once he notices your presence, he lifts his head up, and you kneel in between his legs to wipe his tears.

“What’s going on, Tae?” he shakes his head, and tries to calm himself. “They are suing me, and I don’t know what to do.”

When you left for work, things weren’t great, but they weren’t necessarily bad. You thought that this was another situation that would pass with time, but now you’re stuck, how could everything change so drastically in a few days?

“A little girl is lying in hospital because of me,” you shudder a breath and quickly stop him, “This isn’t your fault-”, he interrupts you, “But it is! I changed the supplier for a cheaper one, all the complaints, their health is on me!”

It doesn’t add up. He changed it two months ago, why are there problems all of a sudden? You watch his devastated face expression, at a loss of what to do to make everything better.

“Now, I have to compensate costumers, pay the workers, and find attorneys. I’ve already stopped all production, but I can’t fire everyone, they depend on me. I can’t believe I’ve ruined my family’s business.” He shakes his head, and you draw patters over his knee, not sure what to say, just listening.

“And I have no clue where to find resources for everything. I’ve already paid out most of our savings, and it’s just been a week. I don’t know what to do with court, you know how hard it’s to get attorneys.”

A thought strikes you, a possible solution to this whole thing. But you shake your head, as you realize what that would take out of you, you’re not sure if it would serve for better or worse. You rest your head against his knees, and think over the possibilities; you’re the last person he wants to see, you’re sure of that, but do you have a different solution?

But his screams still echo through your head, and you’re not sure if you can go through it again. But you have to try, for Tae.

“I might have a solution for that.” Confused he searches your eyes, and realization dawns upon him. Taehyung quickly gets up and starts pacing around the room. “I’m not putting you through that.”

“He’s our only option. There’s a reason why they’re the best attorneys in country. Worst case scenario, he can give us contacts or dismiss all together.” You don’t voice out the thought that he could indeed do worse, you’re not sure of his emotional state, but judging by the last time when multiple nurses had to hold him back from you, you’re going in blind. And honestly, you don’t blame him, you are at fault for his misery.  

“Alright, but I’m coming with you.” A humorless laugh escapes you, “No, you’re not. He might be unwell, but if he sees you, rage will consume him. You didn’t see what I saw, he doesn’t want to see me honey, let alone you.”

Silence consumes the room, and you know that it’s agreed upon. You have to do this for Tae, and you know you’ve to talk to Jungkook. As much as you’d like to pretend the past 20+ years of your life didn’t happen, you can’t do that. You love him, but you can’t afford to do anything about it. You’re divorced, and that was your doing.

Turns out you can’t hide from things you don’t want to deal with.

~

You’re not sure if this is the right call; it’s been 5 minutes of you standing frozen in front of the door of a place you once called home. Not a single thing has changed, even the doorman recognized you, never mind that years have passed.

You calm yourself (rather try to convince yourself) that everything’s all right. You hoped that Jungkook would deny your request of meeting up, or rather not pick up the phone in general, but he answered on the first beep of the call.

The conversation wasn’t pleasant - even awkward - no pleasantries exchanged. You take a deep breath remembering the lone sentence he muttered during the phone call, “Are you coming back?”

Seeing him brought up memories and feelings you did your best to burry, most prominent one – guilt. You remember the incident at the hospital; how hard you tried to pretend as if nothing has changed, till the truth came out, and you saw his desperate eyes pleading for it to not be true.

Guilt you felt that moment was consuming, you knew that it’s your fault, so you ran. But somehow that didn’t help, only amplified the gut-wrenching pain of leaving the one you love behind, in pain and hurt.

But you comforted yourself with the knowledge he has a crowd of people by his side – they can patch up the tear you made. He doesn’t need you.

And as pathetic as it is, you’re afraid of stepping into the apartment. Isn’t it ironic, you’re the one who’s hurting him, yet you’re afraid of how you’ll feel. Selfishness at its best.

Straightening your back, you knock on the door, silence greets you, and after good 30 seconds you try again. When nothing happens, you try the door handle – it’s unlocked.

Door opens and the comforting smell of your home envelopes you, even if no one occupied it, somehow, it’s still drowning in the smell you seeked comfort in – your washed-out scent mixed with Jungkooks.

Slowly stepping in, you shudder a breath; you’re transported back 7 years ago, the creamy walls and coat racks filled with both of your jackets, messily thrown out shoes in the hall, and photography’s of your small family decorating the walls.

You close your eyes and envision Jungkook coming behind you to help you shrug off the coat, and give you a kiss on the cheek, while hugging you from behind. Just like he always did. The memory seems so tangible yet so far away.

But you open your eyes to the vacant hall, dust particles coting the furniture. Cold seeps under your skin, and you remind yourself of reality. Calling out Jungkooks name is useless, as silence welcomes your nervous state, but your body leads you to the living room, sort of déjà vu coaxing you to go there.

And just like you thought, he’s there. Overlooking the cities horizon, standing still besides the window, even when you address him.

“How are you?” you try to start a conversation and move closer and sit at the couch far enough from his reach, yet close enough to see his stiff body. But his back is turned to you, and he doesn’t give you the least bit of attention. “Door was unlocked, hope you don’t mind me barging into your home…”

“Our home” he’s quick to interrupt, awkwardly you shift weight from foot to foot, “Well, I’m glad you’re alright-” his hollow laugh makes you pause, not sure what to do. His emotions far too intense to what you’re used to, his aggravated scoff makes you sink in with guilt, the gentle mannerism he always bestowed hidden behind waves of betrayal.

Now looking at him through the reflection of the window, you can see he is not the man you’ve known and cherished dear to your heart. His body looks frail, you’re afraid that a stronger breeze of wind will make him break.

But still, your heart cries out for the past. And if it didn’t feel real beforehand, now it does.

He is wearing the sweatpants you bought him years ago, when you first moved into your apartment and decided to paint the walls yourself, you can still see washed out splotches of blue and white on them. Only now the pants are way too big for him, barely hanging on his hips, threatening to fall off any second. His shirt swallows his whole body, pitifully hanging from his shoulders, with no muscles or fat to cling on to.

“You left me. You threw me out the first chance I wasn’t of value to you anymore.” His words hurt you more than imaginable, and as much as you know that’s not the truth, you let him talk. You deserve to hear what you have done.

“And now I have nothing. No job, no home, no purpose, no-” his breath shutters before he whispers, “no one to come back to.”

“All I have is money and this empty space. Space that we built for our family.” He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Before you chose to exchange it for that low-life.”

You know what you have done is immoral, but your husband has done no wrong, only nothing less than hold you through these last horrid years.

“Jungkook stop. Please, don’t mix him into this, you know nothing about him-”

He turns to you, and you realize you mistook his anger for pain. His face is scrunched up, brows furrowed and eyes hollow with undeniable rage. You don’t recognize the person in front of you, the soft eyes you longed to gaze at one last time are long gone. And you can’t blame anyone else, but yourself.

He looks older, the dark circles beneath his eyes undeniable, the wrinkle that seems to be taken place in between his brows. And the sharp cheekbones that pinch through his skin. He looks unhealthy, his skin colored in yellowish tone.

“Don’t I? Aren’t you here because he lost his job? Because his dirty secret has come clean, and no one wants to be associated with him?” He steps closer to you.

“Because you want to beg me, your husband to take a pity of your side dick, and give him a job?” As he progresses towards you, you’re able to see how his body trembles, and at this point you don’t know if it’s due to his rage or unwell body.

“He’s not able to take care of himself, let alone you.”

“Am I wrong?”

Looking at his disheveled body, you know you can’t lie to him. You’ve done things you promised to never do in your vows. You hurt him, and you left him. And that’s the greatest pain one can cause another.

But you’re left confused. He knows. But how does he know? Has he been keeping tabs on you?

“Jungkook. Do you have any part in this?” You’re afraid to ask, the answer already looming in his previous words.

“And here I was hoping that my wife still cares for me. That she came to visit me, her husband, who has been almost dead for years.” He shakes his head with a scoff, and you look away.

“But no, she’s more worried about her affair. She doesn’t even care.”

“You know that’s not true.” You bite back your tears. There’s nothing you can say to make it better. You play with your fingers in your lap, too ashamed to look at him.

“Isn’t it? Because I’m here, waiting for you to turn up. And my wife isn’t even bothered to show when I’m being discharged. My wife doesn’t even care I wish I’d be dead, then live with the knowledge that she’s sleeping in someone else’s arms, living the perfect life we promised each other.” His voice breaks, but you still refuse to look at him. He’s crying, breaking down in front of you, and he has every right to do so, because you betrayed him.

Silence drags on, you, not able to look him in the eye, while he shakily breathes out, trying to stabilize his breaking heart. Pacify himself from the reality he’s welcomed to.

“But you know, I’m not sad. I’m angry.”

“I thought about killing your boy toy.” Frightened, you look up, “You know we have contacts for that, hundreds of them lining my phone, hoping we’ll help them in exchange for a favor. But then I thought, what a great feeling it would be to dig my nails through his skin, watch as the life trickles out of him, and smile, when his blood drowns my skin.” You rush to him, hoping to awaken him from his dulled thoughts.

But as you stand in front of him, you’re afraid to touch him, and the thought drives the knife in your heart deeper. You’re afraid to touch the man you promised to love for eternity. The man your heart yearned for years.

“And I want you to feel every bit as I do. I want you to hurt, the same way I do. I want you to see the world crumble beneath your feet and know that there’s nothing you can do about it.” His overbearing frame casts shadow over your form, and you mingle your hands together, trying to stay strong.

“But then I realized, that would be too easy. And you wouldn’t get your lesson. As it turns out, you still don’t know that wife doesn’t disobey her husband.”

“I have always been there for you. And now, you will see what it means, when I stop taking care of you. Because now, you can’t do anything, and I can do everything.”

The promise in his eyes scars you, but when you see the first tear trickling down his cheeks, when you see the hurt you bestowed upon him, nothing else matters except for him.

You watch how he starts to hyperventilate; his body shakes uncontrollably and his face pales. And the moment his knees buckle, your haze is broken, and you catch him in your arms. Panic overtakes every nerve in your body, and you call out for him, only to feel his tears on your shoulder.

You try to move his face towards yours, but he stubbornly shakes his head, hiding in the crook of your neck. “Jungkook, honey,” your voice trembles, “we have to get you to the couch,”

His heart pounds aggressively against your chest, you can’t muster what he sobs in your neck, his cries overpower any possibility of deciphering what he says. You feel your pulse in your ears, and you’re close to succumbing under his weight.

“Please, you have to lay on the couch.” You’re powerless, your own tears cloud your sight, the only thought running through your mind is to get him to safety. You move your hands around his waist, and you thank the gods, as Jungkook seems to hear your words, and weakly takes a step towards the seat.

To see a man, you love crumbled in your arms, barely standing, and breathing, breaks a piece of your sanity. You don’t know what your body is doing, but you zero on the couch, and only distinctly hear yourself muttering “We’re almost there, one more step” with every step you take.

You fall into the couch, your hands automatically reaching for his face, hoping to understand what is going on. You’re met with his blood-shot eyes and tear covered face, his breath is shallow, and you don’t know what to do.

Jungkook throws himself into your embrace, and you finally hear what he’s been muttering like a mantra all this time, and the words “please don’t leave me all alone” only serve to make your own tears escalate.

“I need to call the ambulance” you cry out, only for Jungkook to hold you tighter and cry out no one after the other. His breathing gets worse, and you realize if he doesn’t calm down, he will pass out.

“Jungkook, breathe.” You loudly breathe in and out, caressing his head, and feel him messily repeat your actions. Every second seems eternity long, and you pray to whomever sits upstairs, that he will be alright. With heavy chest you watch how his breathing normalizes, and sobs turn to hiccups, your body deflates, and you rest your head against his.

You allow your heart to stabilize, carefully listening to his shallow breaths, “Do you have any calming meds?” you whisper in his hair. He detaches from your skin and looks up.

“Please don’t go.” He defeatedly whispers. You hush him and rest your forehead against his, “I’m here, but I need to make sure you’re alright.” Uncertainly he nods, and points towards the kitchen.

You get up from the couch and Jungkook grabs your hand, “Kitchen” you whisper, and see the relief in his eyes. The moment he lets you go, you rush towards the room, you shake your head, as the kitchen counters are filled with bottles of medication, pills scattered all over.

You search through the bottles; your home never looked like this, Jungkook is a perfectionist, he never left a single dirty dish out, but now the space is covered in dust, no sense of your family home present.

Picking the right bottle, you search for water, only to realize it’s not here. You open the fridge to find it empty as well. Praying for the best, you open the trash, and you know you’ve failed him. You turn to the couch, to see Jungkook watching you with tears still running down his face.

You want to cry, but now is not the time, with both of you unstable no good will rise, and he needs you now. You try to silence your mind and fill up a glass with tap water. Thankfully, his family kept the apartment running.

You return to Jungkook and press the glass and pill in his hands. Silently you watch how he follows your command and bend down to your purse to fish out your phone. “What are you doing” he panics besides you. Before he starts to hyperventilate again, you grab his hand and as softly as possible whisper, “Only ordering food, don’t worry.”

You notice how your hands shake around your phone, barely managing to order, before your phone drops to the carpet. You catch Jungkooks gaze, and you don’t know if you should, but you wish that you’d be wrong,

“Have you-” you swallow, and try to keep composure, “Have you eaten anything since you’ve been discharged?”

He doesn’t answer you but continues to stare. You take a deep breath and continue, “Have you drank anything?”

If Jungkook doesn’t decide to murder you for your betrayal, you’re sure that the silence will. The dark circles and blood-shot eyes encourages you to get to the bottom of this, “Slept?”

You search his eyes for an answer, praying that he’s too stubborn to answer, rather than cavalier enough to try and withhold the truth from breaking your heart further. But he simply stares, no emotion travelling past the deep mahogany eyes.

“You know I can’t sleep without you.” Is the only thing he whispers. He doesn’t break your eye contact, and you wonder, perhaps he truly wants to see your pain, enjoy the way his self-neglectance makes you feel like you’ve failed.

You take another look at his disheveled form, gulp down your emotions and turn to the stairs. “Where are you going?” one single step away from him, makes his voice shake in panic, and you wonder how’d you get to this place.

With a look over your shoulders, “Run you a bath”, Jungkook nods his head in understanding, and silently follows you. You turn to him once he reaches the staircase, unsure if he’s strong enough to climb it.

He pushes your outstretched hand away, and mutters “I can climb the stairs.” You send him an unsure gaze, but his eyes harshly move up the stairs, urging you to go in a silent command.

The house truly looks the same, only difference being the coat of dust over the space. Automatically you go into the master bedroom, even if you haven’t been in this house for years, your body still remember every nook and creaky board.

You expect the bedroom to look the same as well, but the bed is filled with your clothes, as if they were thrown around. You send Jungkook a questioning gaze, but the same void eyes greet you; you wonder if this is how it’s going to be, him looking at you with empty eyes.

It’s funny how the one you love, can be the reason of your anguish. You promised to love one another till your dying bed, but here you are, looking at each other with nothing but hurt and betrayal.

Silently you go into the bathroom and start preparing his bath. When you left, you were sure that was the last time you stepped a foot in this house, you wanted to start over, so you left everything behind.

Even if your past actions were rushed, now you’re thankful for them. Cupboards are filled with oils and bubble bath solutions, you have to take a double look to check the expiration dates, but you sigh in relief, as the gentle smell of lavender and chamomile fills the space.

The smell takes you back to when everything was perfect, ever since you two started dating, bath was a sort of escape from reality. After a stressful day at work, you lit the candles, and drowned in each other’s embrace in midst of bubbles. Spilled wine, kisses on shoulders, laughter, and bubble beards - that was the reality.

You help Jungkook step into the bath, and your breath hitches as you see the full extent of his fragile body; scars from the crash, and skin pressed right against bones, bones so prominent that you’re able to see how his sharp shoulder blades bulge when he moves, every single rib, and back bone.

Now this is the reality.

You pour water over Jungkooks hair, the black strands lightly tickle his shoulders, visibly grown out over the past few years. Surprisingly, he relaxes under your touch, head leaning against the bath while you massage shampoo into his hair.

He’s looking at you, but you try to ignore his gaze, as every time your eyes meet, you’re met with dark circles and red, puffy under eyes. The room falls silent, the only sound being the water trickling from his hair.

Jungkooks shoulders slowly relax under your touch, and you move to massage his neck, careful, observing his body language. But his body only further melts into your arms, and when he sighs, you’re sure you made the right call.

The main reason of your visit escapes your mind, you gathered his answer when he named called Tae, but the possibility of him being involved in the ordeal seems great. You keep in mind to check if there’s any correlation between them.

“When I was under, all I remember are sparks of warmth enveloping me,” you stop your movements and look at his face, how his eyes search the ceiling, as if they hold the truth to his misery, “But then it stopped, and coldness overtook my body. Conscious enough to feel like you’re about to wake up yet suffocating in coldness and loneliness.” He whispers, and your heart clenches at the tears clouding his eyes.

“I think it’s because of you - when you stopped visiting me. I think I felt it.” He tilts his head up to catch your gaze, and you stare at him in silence, no words able to bear the barrier of guilt. At times you’ve caught yourself regretting your decision, heart crying out for your ex-husband, missing his touch, and soothing kisses. But you could never regret meeting Tae, he’s been with you through it all, and you’ll be forever indebted for that.

You caress his cheek, and he looks at you lost in thoughts, but when he pursues his lips, you know somethings weighting his mind. “How did you meet him?” Your fingers freeze and you search his eyes confused, is he actually asking about your husband? No uncontrollable rage behind the words?

But he looks just as lost as you are, but you don’t miss your shot and cautiously murmur, “At the hospital. His mom was admitted, and we leaned on each other for support.” His face scrunches as if your words were physically hurting him.

“I’m so glad I helped you bond over my anguish.” He spits out, and his body tenses. You see the patterns of anger return, and desperately whisper, “Jungkook-”

“Save it.” His tone is final, and his clenched jaw combined with his stiff body should’ve been a warning for you to drop it; but he gave you a small bead of hope that everything might be alright, and you don’t want it to burn out.

“If you’d give him a chance, you’d see that he’s a good man” your words are rushed, and so are his actions. His shoulders move to his ears in disgust, and he jerks his body away from your touch, his back turned to you, “How the fuck can you talk with such ease about your affair?” his voice raises.

“The idea of him touching you disgusts me; do you actually want me to hurt him?” you watch helplessly how he pulls his hair. His voice breaks and body shakes, and you pull him back into your embrace by his shoulders.

Your body leans over the tub, and you back hug him; arms around his shoulders, as he’s pressed against your chest. “How can you do that to me? I love you, and you promised to be mine years ago. Does that mean nothing to you?”

His voice shakes and body sinks deeper under water, face pressed against your arms. You calm your own heart and brush your nose over his hair, smelling the gentle lavender. Water splashes everywhere, your top soaked, but you don’t mind, as you try to ground him.

“I love you with all of my heart,” you murmur against his wet strands, “Never forget that.”

You stay in each other’s embrace for a while; Jungkook cherishes your warmth like never before. Yes, he’s out of the void he’d been stuck in for years, but the feeling he told you about hasn’t faded.

The past week had been excruciating, he was alone in your home, in the place he should’ve felt the safest at. But void overtook his mind, coldness seeped under his skin, and he felt like he’s back in the cage he barely escaped from.

No matter how high he turned on the heating, his body was shivering from cold, and he awaited the day his body would freeze, and the pain would go away. Death seemed like an escape.

He realized this wasn’t his home, not really. His heart wasn’t bound to it, it was bound to you. And the further you were, the tighter the golden strings around his heart pulled, cutting off blood, and leaving him suffocating.

He detests the man who steals your warmth, who stole you from him. He doesn’t understand why you chose a farmer over him. Him, who does everything and beyond to fulfill your dreams, him, who painted the walls your favorite color, and made your forever home from stars that painted the sky golden.

Happiness doesn’t come to those who wait, it comes to those who fight for it. And he will fight for you. Physical alterations have never been his style, but if it comes down to it, he wouldn’t put it past him. But then again, he’s an attorney, and sometimes one has to use his advantage.

Silence is interrupted by a doorbell, slightly startled from the noise, you mutter, “Food must be here”. Before Jungkook manages to disapprove you quickly let go of him, and with a quick peck on top of his head, you’re flying down the stairs.

The moment felt too intimate even for you and moving out of his presence gives you time to collect yourself. You choose to ignore the confused look on the delivery-guys face; at this point you’re used to looking like a mess. Mascara smudged, hair tousled, clothes soaked. You simply smile and gather the bags from his hands.

Goosebumps cover your body due to the wet clothes, and your carry the paper bags away from your body, so they don’t get ruined as well. Jungkook awaits you in the bedroom, clean clothes on his back, and you watch how he gently removes your clothes from the bed and carries them into the walk-in closet.

You put the food down and follow him, the closet is still mostly full, not a single piece of clothing out of its usual habitat. Your fingertips traces over the elegant dresses, so soft to the skin like you’re touching a cloud.

Not so long ago this was your life, formal parties and theatre plays a part of your daily routine. Memory so far yet so tangible. And now you’re married to a farmer, overalls and dungarees is your daily routine. You don’t mind your life, found comfort in the routine of it; yet now, when you’re presented with the life you gave away, you can’t deny that at times you miss it.

“Here,” Jungkook hands you one of his t-shirts, “You must be uncomfortable.” Uncomfortable is an understatement, your skin irritated from the rough fabric, but he gives you his clothes in the midst of a full closet of your own. You bite back a remark and take it, quickly shooing him away to get dressed.

You pull the shirt over your head, all while not taking your eyes off of a particular dress. You take it off of the hanger and a smile graces your lips. This is the dress in which you announced your engagement; the red silk fabric reminds you of the sprinkles of champagne, and happily applauding family members. You take a closer look at the bodice and laugh, the maroon stain where Jungkook accidentally spilt his wine still visible, the day was too happy for you to be mad, you simply laughed it off.

Each of the pieces carry out a significance of your past life; the mahogany off-the shoulders dress for your first gallery exhibition, the elegant romper you wore for Jungkooks bachelors party, because yes, he refused to spend it without you. You’ve to pull yourself away from the memorial of your past, this isn’t real life.

When you come out of the closet, you sit next to Jungkook on the bed, and hand him a tray of soup – probably the best course of action, considering he hasn’t eaten in days. His hands shake around the spoon, his body exhausted from muscle extortion and sleepless days.

You look around the room, picture frames of your college days and wedding decorate the walls. Suddenly you can’t wait to go back to your husband, the overflow of memories overwhelms you.

A certain question keeps bugging you for more than a week now. You didn’t feel comfortable rising it in the hospital, Jeon judging stares left you relentless as it was, but this is Jungkook, you should be able to ask him anything, right? “Do you actually plan on suing the doctors?” you softly mutter as to not startle him with the hot brew in his hands.

He lowers the spoon and ticks his head, “If it wasn’t because of them, we wouldn’t be in this situation. Someone has to pay for it.” You watch how he continues to eat; to a certain extant you understand his stance, what wouldn’t you’ve done couple of years back for him to wake up.

But he wasn’t the one who spent every week crying on doctors’ shoulders, they offered you strength and compassion, and your consciousness spikes of you not being able to offer them the same in time of need.

Jungkook pushes the bowl away from him, and groans, “I can’t eat more. I feel sick.” He didn’t even eat half of the bowl, and you worry how fragile his body is, but you don’t push.

“Will you promise to eat more when you wake up?” he looks at you with a calculative gaze before he focuses on the bedsheets. “You won’t be here?” he emptily snickers “Am I your pity case?”

He still doesn’t understand. You grab his hand, and make him look at you “Jungkook, I love you with all of my heart,” you hope that the fierce look in your eyes confirms that, “But I have also promised to love him,” his face scrunches, and he looks away from you. Jungkook opens his mouth to cut you off, but you draw his head back to you and continue.

“I have signed a document stating that I will love him” you know that’s the last thing he wants to hear, but he has to understand you’re married, and your rightful place is to be besides your husband.

He shakes his head without saying a word, and falls into the pillows, “Like I said, someone has to pay for it.” You watch him and shake your head, he’s great at blaming everyone but you, for your own actions.

You put the food on the table, and climb back in the bed, remembering how hard it’s for him to sleep without you by his side. You draw the comforter over him and lie on your side watching him. He turns to you as well and intertwines your hands.

Neither of you speak, and you wait for Jungkook to close his eyes. But he fights sleep, and a droopy grin paints his expression, imagining him lying in the bed 7 years ago with his wife. But his stubbornness holds no strength to his prominent eye bags, and his eyes slowly close.  

Before he falls asleep, he whispers the lone thought eating his consciousness, “If you hadn’t married him, would you stay?”

Out of all the questions he’d asked, this is the easiest one. Without a second thought you whisper, “Always.”, and the last bit of stubbornness leaves his body, his smile increases, and he pulls your hands closer and kisses your knuckles.

His breath evens out and his cheeks form a pout as sleep invades his body. As peaceful as he looks, you can’t stop the unease creeping up your nerves. The view seems hauntingly familiar to his motionless body in the hospital.

You have to stop yourself from waking him up, just to check that the last week hasn’t been a fever dream, and he is, indeed back to life. You force yourself to stay put for a couple of more minutes, trying to prioritize his health over your discomfort.

But you feel uncomfortable leaving him like this, what if he awoke only for a moment, and will never be by your side again? You sit up, ready to quietly leave, but with one last look over your shoulder, you cave in and pinch him.

When he furrows brows from the unexpected sensory you breath out.

You contemplated leaving then and there, but guilt crept up your spine, like you were abandoning a lost puppy. Only in this scenario, the puppy is a grown adult, who’s begging for you to stay.

Standing by the door you take one last look at the apartment and decide you can’t leave it like this. Judging by Jungkooks exhausted state, you have more than enough time to rid this place of the painful reminders coating every inch of it.

You found some gloves in the kitchen and got to work. You didn’t stop till every corner gleamed and spent what little money you had on his groceries. Perhaps you haven’t made the best decisions, but you do care.

~

“He threatened you!” Taehyung looks at you flabbergasted, searching your eyes as to why you’re so careless of it.

You arrived home yesterday evening, and ever since then both of you have been arguing, neither willing to see the others POV. You told him the truth, Jungkooks distaste for Taehyung, his possible involvement in the lawsuit – you were honest and told him everything, and now you’re starting to regret that choice.

You drop your bag on the hallway floor, ready to leave the house and escape to your job, tired of the pointless arguing, “He’s lost, confused, what do you expect from him?” You never know how one might act in stressful situations, his life has turned upside-down; he missed out on most of his twenties – the time when one enjoys themselves, relishes the responsibility free life, and celebrates freedom. Of course, he’s lashing out.

“Not to threaten both of us, that’s for sure.” His words irk you; a sense of defensiveness comes over you, and you bite your cheek trying to calm down, “You don’t know him, he acts threatening, but his soul is gentle, he’d never hurt a fly.”

Taehyungs shoulders drop once he sees your pleading eyes; arguing has never been your pitfall, but these past weeks have been the most stressful of his life. Each muscle in his body is tense, ugly bursts of anger colored with desperation bubble in his chest. There is a reason why he vowed for better and for worse, you’re in this together.

Two letters fall from the doors mail slot and Taehyung bends down to grab them. You watch how he tears one of them open, while simultaneously hands you the other. Your name is printed on it, and you’re left confused when you see courts stamp next to it.

You’re about to open it, but before you manage to, Taehyung curses and you look up and meet his helpless gaze. “They’ve annulled my certificate till the court ends.” You purse your lips, trying to understand what he just said.

You move over to him and read the notice in his hands, “What does that even mean?” you look up and down from him to the letter, scared of the consequences that might entail, “That means hundreds of laid off workers, bankrupt business, and no income whatsoever. What are we supposed to do with court? All of our savings went into compensations, and no one wants to associate themselves with us-”

His words fade out as your gaze shifts to the letter in your own hands, you shoot daggers to it, and forcefully rip it open. Your eyes scan the text, and mutter “Oh my fucking god.”

At this, Tae stops his rambling, and when he notices court papers into your own hands, he nervously asks, “What?” You look up from the notice and clear your throat, “Um-”, you’re not sure where to being, your mind unable to process the information.

“It says that my divorce to Jungkook is annulled, as I have submitted forged documents,” his eyebrows scrunches and he shakes his head confused, “Wait what-”, but you’re not done, and you scan the other notice “And I'm being summoned to court as forgery is a criminal offence.”

“That’s not possible, I saw the doctors give you the documents with my own eyes!” his voice raises, but a particular symbol at the bottom corner of the notice gains your attention. You put both documents together to compare the stamps, and barely audible whisper “No fucking way.”

You snatch the documents from his hands, and when all the stamps match, you call out once more the only sentence your mind can muster, “Oh my fucking god!” You look at Tae in expiration and show the documents in his face.

“Bottom left. Under the prosecutor’s signature. Does the stamp remind you of something?” He takes the papers from your hands, and when he pursues his lips, and takes a double look at them, you know he’s got it.

“Is that…?” with a feigned laugh you finish his sentence, “Jungkooks company.”

You look at each other at a loss of what to do, when he said he had the power – he meant it. But never in million years did you think he would use his status against you, the corrupt ways of the law and one’s upper hand leaves you restless. Worst of all, he wants you to know it, he could’ve used any other company, one you wouldn’t recognize, and played his schemes unbeknownst to your knowledge.

But no, he wants you to know that he’s in power.

Unfortunately, you don’t see another choice but to fold under the pressure; your hands automatically reach for your pockets in search of your phone.

“Where is my phone?” Rushed you mutter, grabbing your purse to look for it there. Instead of answering, he asks, “What do you plan on doing?” Not finding it there you move to the coats rack, not minding if the jackets fall over in haste.

“I have to go to him. There’s no other choice.” Frustrated you sigh, and close to shout, “Where is my damn phone?!”

Taehyung comes up to you, and stops your actions, “Don’t go to him. We can fight this. We’ll take out a loan, and-” you interrupt him, “No one in their right mind will give us a loan. We’re already in debt as it is, you’re jobless, and my wage barely covers food. And now, we're both on trial.”

At that you groan, forgetting one crucial element, “Can you call my boss, I won’t be able to go in today. I still haven’t found my phone!” Taehyung stands silent, and after a while fishes out his phone to follow your command. He’s not able to rebut your words, he knows you’re right.

He puts the call on speaker, and after a couple of beeps your boss answers the phone, “Hi! It’s me. I know it’s a short notice, but something important came up, and I won’t be able to come in today. But I-”

“Save it. You have a week to collect your things, I have no use of a slacking employee. You’re fired.” With that she hangs up, and you’re left speechless looking at the beeping phone. You contemplate all of your life choices, when did life get so hard?

You look at Tae and drop your shoulders, “And now we’re both unemployed.”

He closes his eyes, and you see defeat written across his face when he moves to the windowsill and grabs your phone to hand it you. Quietly you thank him and drop it in your bag. Before you manage to step a foot out of the door, he calls after you, and you turn your head to look at him.

“He’d never hurt a fly, right?” He’s using your words against you, and you hate that he was right. But your blind love for your ex-husband left you fooled, and without a word you step outside.

~

You march down the hallway to Jungkooks apartment, hours you spent alone in your car only fueled your desperation. You didn’t bother calling him, somehow you felt like he knew you’d be there soon.

His door’s unlocked, and that only further proves your point. Not wasting a second, you walk through the apartment, and find him in kitchen cooking. This time he looks collected, hair in ponytail and clothes without a single crease.

He looks up from the cutting board and smiles, “I was wondering when you’d come by. I’m making your favorite, come, sit.” He points to the kitchen island, and you drop your bag on the table and move your hands on your hips.

“Why did you do that?” he washes his hands and looks at you questioningly. “Don’t pretend. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He smoothly stirs the sauce in the pan and comforts you, “If you’re worried about the charges – don’t. I can take care of that once you move back in.”

You stare at him incredulous; how can he speak so calmly about it? “I’m worried about being called to court over procedures that aren’t even legal.”

“Submitting forged documents is a valid reason to being called in.” he ever so calmly states, and you feel your blood boil, “Every document I submitted is real. And I’m sure the doctors will testify so.” But he only smiles and shakes his head, and continues to stir the food, while cheekily clarifying, “Will they?”

You consulted five different specialists before proceeding with divorce, of course they’ll testify the same, as their answers broke your heart one after the other years back. You shake your head trying to figure out where he’s coming from, why wouldn’t they-

Till it clicks. “You threatened them. If they don’t comply, you’ll sue them.” Jungkook tilts his head and presses his lips together, “I don’t threaten people. I simply explained their options.”

Your mouth agapes, and you whisper, “This is insane, Jungkook.”

This gathers his attention, and he clicks his tongue and comes closer to you, “You said your affair is the only barrier between us. I got rid of the problem, you should be thanking me.”

“Marriage Jungkook! I’m not having an affair, I’m married.” You raise your voice and hit your chest. He never calls it what it is. A marriage. One you freely chose.

“No, it’s not.” His tone changes, and now you’re both angry. You recognize the deep tone, it’s the one he used in courts, not a single person willing to interrupt his matter-of-fact statements. “You’re lawfully married to me; your surname carries my legacy. Don’t ever compare me to your adultery.”

He might be right, but he seamlessly evades why you’re married to him – how he used his power to tie you to him. “I will fight this.” You bite back.

“Will you though?” you clench your jaw, “Because I don’t see you winning. Are you willing to sacrifice your boy-toy and his whole family for a fight you’ll never be able to win? Their business, which they created generations ago. Go against specialists, who will testify the same statements? Not to mention what resources you have; jobless, without a penny to your heart. Do you think that anyone will employ you, with a criminal record?”

Fighting back tears, you wince out, “How do you know that?” Seeing your glazed eyes, Jungkook stands in front of you, and pats your hair, “You live in a village. Words travel fast.”

Unable to hold it in, you sob, feeling trapped with the burdens of life dragging you down. His words ring through your head, and you know – he’s not a man of who’s words should be taken for granted.  

Your sobs increase once you realize – this is not a fight you’ll ever win. He pulls you into his embrace, and you scrunch his shirt in fists, hating him for dragging you into this mess, hating him for getting on that motorcycle years ago, and leaving you all alone. Hating him, for he was the one you promised your heart to – hating him, for not being able to hate him.

He rocks you from side to side, and shushes your cries, “You broke our vows, but I promise to patch them.” He detangles your hand from his shirt, and you don’t notice him pulling your ring off your finger.

The sound of something falling catches your attention, and you see the silver bands lying on the floor. You look up and see him slipping your wedding ring on your finger, the golden ornament shining in the light bright as ever, as if it had never gathered dust in the drawer.

Jungkook kisses your forehead finally satisfied, the golden strings tying you back to your rightful place. Back to him.

“For better or for worse, baby”

 ~

Hi! Hope you enjoyed this story, as always would love to hear your thoughts on it. And thank you so much for all of the attention preview got, hope it didn’t disappoint ☺️

I haven’t managed to edit it yet, wanted to publish it for all of you, as you’ve been waiting for awhile.

As always, thank you for reading, hope you stick around! 🌻

[oval3000]

Chapter 3

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This might suck idk. I don't know German so it's all Google translate)

-------------------------------------------------------

He hasn't left his room for a month. They kept him in their with the straitjacket on. His meals are just vitamins that he has to swallow. You would go in to check up on him, but new orders from the administrator's to not go near at all, so you pass by his room. You would peak through the little window and see him laying on his back with little no to motion on his arms or body entirely. His psychiatrist, Dr. Smith is the only that goes in there. They have sessions in his room instead of the usual spot they have it in.

She was pissed at everyone, specifically you. You are her punching bag, even though it was Ben's fault. "Why hasn't he been given his meds!" She yelled at you.

"We are not allowed to go i-" you tried to explain your her, but she could care less.

"You are his nurse right! Your job is to give him his meds! How did you graduate when you can't even do that!" She yelled at you.

You plead for her to listen to you "I'm sorry, Dr. Smith. I can't it's Mr. Millers orders. No one can go in except you because you are his psychiatrist."

So she strolled her way to the administrator's office.

Ignoring his assistant from telling her that she can't go in. Slaming the door open to see him sitting on his chair, writing whatever cral he writes on paper.

"Sarah calm down!"

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is, and you want me to deal with him alone! On top of that the lack of guards is making my job harder!" Dr. Smith argued with a hand on her hips and her finger pointing towards Ben.

"Do you remeber when you wanted a nurse to look after him." She rolled her eyes. Yes, you, the nurse. "Do you have any idea how much money is going towards her. Triple the pay for looking after him."

Her hands swing in motion, showing her frustration. "She can't even do her fucking job Ben!"

"If she's alive, then she's doing her job well. What's making this hard, is you barging into my office and telling me what to do when you are the one demanding this." He stood up from his chair, fixing his navy tie. "We're loosing staff. People don't want to go near him. Gabriel is threatening to sue the company. Gaurds are quiting left and right so sorry that there aren't enough staff attending your needs."

She crossed her arms with an annoying sigh leaving her lips tinted with red lipstick. "Then hire more people, I don't see the problem?"

"Did you not hear what I said" he walked towards her, standing toe to toe to her. "Majority of our budget is going towards (Y/n). She's been here for two months now, lasting longer than any other nurses. We can't afford another hire with the same pay to deal with König. Besides he hasn't actually killed anyone in those two months, I'll take that than dealing with someone who has a broken jaw from a simple punch."

"Then ask for more money." She scuffed like if it was a joke she said.

He laughed at her face, "Do you think the government cares to fund more for this place, I already have the staff on my ass for new medical supplies, do you think they are gonna hand me the budget to hire someone with triple pay just because you are scared."

"Then fire (y/n) and hire a new guard, maybe someone with military experience."

"Why would I do that. You came into my office, spreaded your legs cause you were so desperate for a nurse and now you want me to fire her. She hasn't done anything in particularly wrong."

"She doesn't follow orders!"

"She does, you just make it difficult." He came in defense.

"Wasn't she trying to stop you from putting him into a straitjacket?" She smirked while her arms crossed at her chest.

"Yes, and she was right. Putting him in a straitjacket does nothing. He was fine it's just that..." he closed his eyes taking deep breath.

"Just what?" She came closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, gently caressing it.

He turned his head to her, he used to lovy dovey with her seduction, but now it's more annoyance. "Eli, the other guard, came to my office the other day and told me that Gabriel was provoking König."

She rolled her eyes, looking around his office. Paying attention to the paintings hanged up on the wall and the light objects he has on his desk. "Like what? Making fun of him? We all make fun the people here what else is new?"

"I don't know the full details, but that's what he told me." He sat a bit on his desk.

"Why does that matter?" She shook her head without a single thought in her brain.

"Gabriel is threatening to sue us. If we fight the legal action, we'll have to defend König. König, just like any other patient represent us, our care. If they find out that Gabriel was the one that caused this, making König the victim it doesn't look good after we placed him in the straitjacket. Like we silencing him out. It will ruin our reputation, we'll all loose our jobs and you fucked your way up here for nothing."

"But he harmed a worker, beside murdered multiple people." She let out a little chuckle, placing her hand on his chest.

He didn't give in, instead, he gave her a stare. "He's ex- military and as for you being his psychiatrist, you'll have to speak on behalf of him. Meaning that people will find out about you, how you never studied to become a doctor you fucked every professor you had to get your degree."

"What are you saying, Ben." Her smile dropped.

"I won't fire (Y/n). She stood up for König, making us look like we care about our patients. As for Gabriel, all he's asking is for some 20,000 thousand dollars, which we can easily give him worth than standing infront of the judge. Which means that we can't afford new guards for you. Besides they're taking off his straitjacket today, so stop being so scared and do your dam job."

"I still think you should fire, (Y/n) atleast." She hummed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I'm not doing that. Beside she's the only staff that doesn't barge in here demanding stuff. She nice and sweet...." he looked down to the side, " and...young and beautiful. "

She let go of his waist, clenching her jaw. Yes, you being so beautiful. "So what? You want to fuck her? Is that it. Never head young pussy before?"

"You should leave, I have work to do and so do you. This discussion is over." He walked to his desk, sitting down on his chair, unbutton his last few buttons from his dark, navy, blazer.

She stormed off his office, angrly stomping on the white tile floors with her heels creating a louder noise.

You heard the word going around that their taking of his straitjacket, so you quickly gathered what you need to check him up. You saw as the guards took off. He let out a big stretched, flexing more of his muscles. It caused a scare to the guards like a lion letting out a roar.

You walked up to and saw more of his face. He stared at you.

He missed you. He never thought he would miss you. During that month of not seeing you was a time he contemplated about you. Are you made for him or not. He will shut his eyes and images of you will pop up. You smiling at him. Taking good care of him. Watching you squirm under him as you take his full length cock inside your pussy. He'll treat you with respect as long as you do what he says that's all. Seeing your belly swell up with his baby. Can't wait to fuck your tits filled with milk. Can't wait to impregnate you with multiple of his children, making one big happy family. How protective he'll be for his kids, for you. To stand up to the bullies, to show them not to be scared of anything. To hold them if they cry.

He should kill you for making him react this way. He should just kill you. You are just another nurse thinking they have control over him. He use to give orders to people, being the colonel and all, he got the respect he fought for, why does he feel weak around you. You are so sweet and joyful to him. If he was back in the field and saw you, would he kill you. Or maybe fuck you. Maybe that's it. He hasn't done it in so long, so long he hasn't touch a women. He should've just fucked one of the other nurses. Yes, maybe he should do that. Fuck a nurse, just to see. I mean what's the harm in that.

"Aah...yes. right there ngh.... yes...oh fuck that feels good."

The sound of König's footsteps were low that they couldn't hear over the sound of skin slapping against eachother. Watching a men fucking his girlfriend on his bed.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this?" Slaming her ass back and forth on his cock.

"Ah....a-aah....he-..he could barley...make me- fuck!..mmgh....wet." She grip the bedsheets hard while he kept pounding her.

No. No. He can't. Not you. He can't. He can't betray you like they did. He can't imagine the face you'll make if you know he fucked another girl. No he should be pure to you. You should be the only one he touches.

He needs you. Okay, it's done. He'll make you his and you'll love him. You'll love him and care for him. Rather you like him or not it's done.

You wrapped the cuff around his bicep and squeeze the bulb reading the numbers on the circle, writing it down. Doing the usual things you have studied for. As you were checking his heartbeat, he reached up which caused you to flinch a bit. His index finger, gently, caressing your cheek. Your back was turned to the guards, making it hard them to see what's going. You stared at him as he touched you with such charisma. His thumb reaching to your chin, hovering over your lips. He placed the tip of his thumb on your bottom lip, gently pulling it out a bit.

You shouldn't have this feeling at the pit of your stomach. You couldn't tell of you didn't smack his hand away because you are scared or because you enjoy it. You never had this much attention, not like this.

"I don't have time to argue with you (Y/n)! Go to your room!" The little girl tuged at her moms shirt.

"Where's daddy?" She felt tears running down her face as her mother poured more wine into her glass, already finishing up the fresh new bottle.

"(Y/n)! Seriously go to room! You are such a headache! Why couldn't your father take you with him! Nauseating!" She dranked the entire glass, slamming the cup on the table.

"Where's daddy?" She said one last time not letting go of her blanket. The same blanket her father got her when she told him she was cold.

"HE LEFT! HE LEFT US (Y/N)! LEFT US FOR THAT BITCH! AND NOW I'M STUCK HERE WITH YOU. HE RUINED MY LIFE. I COULD'VE DONE SOOOO MANY THINGS! But no! I'm stuck to take care of a brat!"

He palmed your cheek, feeling your warmth. He went in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath, quicken as he got closer to your lips.

You pulled back, "I shouldn't- we shouldn't. I mean." You whispered to him.

"Mein liebling (my darling)." He whispered to you. The first time he spoke to you. You couldn't understand him, but he spoke to you. "Du bist mein (you are mine)." He pulled you closer to him, he didn't care if the guards were staring, if anything, he enjoys it. To show everyone that he is yours to touch. "Mein schatz (my sweetheart)," his lips were hovering yours, you felt a little tingle at how close he was.

You know this shouldn't happen. You turned your away from his. You walked back, feeling his grasp letting go. He stared at you witch a smile on his face. You saw the smile he gave you.

When your shift ended and went back to your apartment, the thoughts of what happened lingered into your mind.

That night, you couldn't sleep. He was in your dreams. What if you never pulled way. Were you really going to kiss him. You glazed over the parts where he touched you.

You searched the words he said to you to translate it. Sweetheart, darling, mine.

You felt the butterflies in your stomach again. You never felt so complicated before.

Having a crush on a patient.

You have a crush on König.

[transparentkinks]

What if the pre-war government censored all information on sexual health?

You should know I wrote this with my entire p#@sy. MDNI

Nora never really considered herself sheltered. All things considered she thought she was rather open minded. Anatomy and burns never made her squeamish, she was a battle medic, and then a trauma surgeon for hell’s sake. When she served she was often praised for her ability to keep it together even in the most hellish circumstances. When it comes to injuries encountered in battle, especially in regards to prisoners of war or those left too long alone in drastic environments, Nora was who they called. When the wounds before them were so gruesome it got to even the most seasoned surgeon, Nora was one of the few members on staff that people could count on to stay composed till the patient was stable. The things she’d seen, god the things she’d smelled… and beyond just violence and gore, she’s cussed, heard locker room talk, mothered herself a child, and she’ll never really forget that time with her company crawling around in a field looking for the dismembered penis of the poor bastard who caught the business end of a pretty nasty car bomb. Despite the propaganda of her small town she liked to believe that she treated people the same no matter what they believed in or looked like. When she crawled out of that vault she managed to swallow down her grief and face the wasteland. She accepted that life would always be stranger than fiction and started collecting friends that looked like they belonged in comic books. She learned fast and adapted to a world that had changed plenty without her. 

So what the fuck were her friends talking about? 

“I mean it man, I swear to god when I went down on her that rug was braided”

“No way, who in their right mind spends time braiding down there?” Piper looked at Hancock like his ear just fell off. 

“I guess some girls in the capital are just different” Hancock shrugged with a tipsy grin before talking another sip from his beer. “Different strokes for different folks and all that.” 

“I call bullshit” Macreedy spoke up. “Some chick in the capital isn’t gonna have any more time to be so weird about her hygiene than anyone in the commonwealth.” 

“They do got that bigass water purifier down there, maybe they get to shower more and it does something weird to their brain” Deacon interjected, shit eating grin having not moved from his face since the second he sat down with the group with his bowl of stew and a bottle of whisky to pass amongst the group. In fact Nora was fairly certain his distinctive grin had only grown as the conversation got more confusing. 

“Before ze war, zhey studied people’s brainz and why zhey might do strange zhings. Some diagnozis did mention zat a persons’s environment can induze compulzive behaviors, especially vhen expozed to trauma. Most of zhe examples were concerning cleanliness and hygiene.” Curie spoke up, and finally Nora felt like she was understanding what was being said. Though, She wasn’t entirely sure how they got to their current conversation topic. “If a perzon feels such compulsizons and findz zemselves vith zhe means, zhey may indulge zhemselves even to zhe point vhere ve find zheir behavior strange.”

“Well, I guess she could be considered odd. Becoming a ghoul isn’t exactly non-traumatic, but if it really is because of the water purifier than I wouldn’t mind everyone getting a little more weird. She nearly tasted like water” Tasted??? Who tastes someone during sex? Well, she guessed Nate had liked sucking her breasts, especially after having shawn, but she thought it would probably taste more salty.  They had to be talking about sex if Preston's face was anything to go by. The man looked like he was simultaneously trying to hide behind his drink and shrink back into his coat. Hancock was looking away fondly when Cait slugged his shoulder. 

“Man I’ve seen you put a slice of cram in between two snack cakes and call it a fancy sandwich. And then ate it. I don’t trust your sense of taste” 

“Yeah!” Curie spoke up. “You zaid zath you can’t taste anyzhing since you turned ghoul!” A choir of yeah’s arose around her from Piper, Macreedy, Deacon, and Cait. 

“Those are the words of a person who has never tried a fancy sandwich.” John waggled a finger at Cait. “You should know that’s a ghoul delicacy.” 

“What are we talking about?” Danse strode over to the group following the cheers from the corner of the settlement bar. 

“Only the finest delicacies available to a person.” Hancock grinned at the synth cheekily.

“Danse you’ve been to the capital wasteland before, did girls start tasting different after that water drama?” Deacon stood to drag the synth down into the already crowded booth. Danse suddenly looked very much like he wanted to leave. 

“I’m not telling you about my sexual encounters.” Ah, so It was about sex. 

“Oh come on! You’re no fun.” Deacon laughed and shoved Danse as he squeezed into the booth. 

“You know for all your expertise on retrieving important information I'm surprised you’re withholding this essential data.” Piper jabbed, and with a wiggle of her eyebrows passed the whiskey to Danse. “No way this reporter can get a scoop?” 

“Wrong hands and all that.” Danse sniffed before taking a swig. 

“And therefore!” Hancock slammed his hands on the table and looked pointedly at Macreedy Curie and Cait. “None of you can prove that pussy did not taste different after that water debacle.” Nora was trying to put it together in her mind what they were describing looked like, fighting off a blush as her mind wandered.

“Does it even matter if there’s a difference?” Nick sighed past his cigarette, adding another puff of smoke into the already slightly opaque air of the concrete building. 

“Ov course it doze” Curie slurred. While she had yet to touch any chems beyond stimpacks and the occasional med-x after a rough fight, curie was clearly enjoying ‘zhe social ritual of zhelebratory inebriation’ as she had put it. Especially since John used his connections to find her some pot, a drug she apparently had medical reason to trust more than alcohol. The first time Curie tried a shot she spat it out and talked extensively about how it burned. Right now she was enjoying a small rum and nuka (The only way she could tolerate any alcohol) and passing a joint between herself, John, and Cait. “It could be a healtz indicator! In regardz to zex, zhis is important, yes?” 

“Or” Macreedy interjected, seeming rather done with this conversation. “Maybe we’re all a bunch of gross fucks and pussy tastes good if its hydrated. For all we know that was just basic pre-war and we’re just now catching up.” 

“Man, people really had it good pre-war if everyone tasted like that.” Hancock sighed whistfully before taking a puff of the joint as it was passed his way. 

“Vell, I guess ve vill never have the data on zhat” Curie sighed. 

“Nu-uh” Deacon spoke up, grin unmoving as he cast his gaze to Nora. Oh no.  “We got ourselves our own repository of pre-war experiences right here.” 

“Oh shit, yeah. What do you think sunshine? Do folks taste different after the bombs?” Hancock looked at her rather excitedly, and suddenly Nora felt quite a few eyes on her. What she wouldn’t give for a stealth boy right now. Or a much, much stronger drink. Speaking of… 

“Well I don’t know, I wasn’t exactly walking around licking people.” Nora huffed and snatched the whiskey bottle before it could reach its next destination. 

“What, Nate never let you get a taste of yourself? Kept you all to himself? Never told you what it was like while he was going down?” Cait jested, propping her head on her elbow and looking up at Nora with mischief written across her face. Taste herself? Going down? Nora was rapidly losing context as her anxiety grew. 

“I-... I mean not really?” Nora stuttered, floundering for something to say that wouldn’t tip off her friends that she had no fucking clue what they were referencing. Oh no, now Cait looked confused. “I mean, people didn’t really discuss sex like people do now…” She trailed off but the eyes did not leave her. Normally she relished sharing her better memories from before the war with her friends, loved how they listened to her no matter what she wanted to talk about, but this time she just wished they’d ignore her. She took another swig to buy herself some time. 

“Wait, Nate did go down on you right?” Piper spoke up, leaning forward in her seat with a look of concern and confusion. Damn her. Nora normally loved how quickly Piper could put pieces together before she could, but right now she wanted to strangle her. The table was silent. 

“I uh, that’s slang right?” Piper nodded. “I don’t really know what that means.” Cait started cackling and Nora felt her cheeks flush. 

“Girly it means eating pussy.” Cait giggled. Nora just blinked at her, embarrassment growing as she remained confused. Cait’s giggles died off, along with her grin. “Eating you out? Shit Curie you had a big word for it.”

“Cunilingus?” Curie studied her face. “Oral zex?” Curie probed fruther. How would she taste herself during a blowjob? “Providing physical pleasure to a woman by means of contact between the mouth and the vagina?” Curie clarified. When she just started at Curie confused John spoke up. 

“Hold on, you really have no clue what we’re talking about?” He looked bewildered. 

“...No” Nora wished the ground would eat her alive.

“Damn, you had that man’s kid and he never went down on you? Ever?” John looked shocked, and looking around the table she realized pretty much everyone was giving her some flavor of the same look. “Man maybe pre-war folk didn’t have it that nice of they didn’t go down on each other.” Hancock shook his head. 

“We had the notion of oral sex before the war.” Nick clarified with a furrow in his brow. “I’m sure you ended up reading about it somewhere. You were a nurse right?” 

“I mean, yeah…” Nora mumbled. “But it was mostly about ways people catch different diseases and how to identify symptoms.” The whiskey bottle was passed along, and Nora prayed the conversation would steer towards pre-war medicine. At least she could talk extensively about that. Curie suddenly looked a little mad. 

“On vhat anatomy?” She questioned with urgency. “Your medical textbookz must have explained zhe affects on men and vomen, yes?” A beat of silence passed. Shit, her textooks were basically all male anatomy. She racked her head. There were diagrams of women, she knew it. Yeah, when she was learning basic gynecology. She saw plenty of diagrams of female reproductive organs. And especially leading up to their unit on delivery. Did they talk about diseases in women? She knew they discussed pregnancy effects… 

“I mean I was first trained as a combat medic, so it was mostly male anatomy...”

“But they had women in the army.” Nick corrected. “Not just medics, they saw deployment. They were soldiers.” Nick stubbed out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray. “They didn’t really train their medics to only treat half of their army did they?” 

“Well beyond genitalia there isn’t much difference between male and female anatomy-”

“Zhat is not true!!” Curie exclaimed. She definitely looked mad now. “Surely treating soldiers so vould result in more female casualties, yes?” 

“Women in relationships were given the option to opt out of the draft, so it was a lot more men than women.” Nora explained. “And if you ask me the death toll of that war was pretty equal opportunity in the end.” 

Curie frowned. “Hold on” Hancock spoke up, tucking his tin of mentats back into his pocket as he looked at her contemplatively. Nora felt like she would not enjoy his line of questioning with those in his system. “So let me get this straight, you knew about oral sex, but not on women?” Why did he look sad?

“Yes?” Nora suddenly felt very uncertain. 

“Did you perform oral sex?” He followed her response rather quickly. If she wasn’t already clearly blushing she was certain she looked like a tomato now (Or she supposed, a tato fruit is the new word for the vegetable). She swallowed and felt like it was all too audible. 

“Yes.”

“I hope he was a good lay then, fucker better have caught up if you weren’t getting any head.” Cait grumbled, leaning her head on Nora’s shoulder. “-‘Nough men up here don’t care if a girl cums, I’did’d hoped it was different then.” Nora was silent. Girls didn’t have cum, right? She’d never produced any cum with Nate, and her teachers were very clear. Men produced semen and women produced eggs, and sex required the male to ejaculate to enable procreation. Women couldn’t produce ejaculate. Nora must have been quiet too long, or maybe she still looked confused because John spoke up again. 

“He did make you cum, right?” Nora sorta wished someone would just shoot her now and spare her this exchange. Still, they seemed willing enough to explain, right? And they were her friends, she trusted them. 

“I thought only men could produce ejaculate?” Nora clarified rather quietly.

“Fuck, man.” Hancock sighed dissapointedly, leaning back in his seat and pushing his hat back. Nick shook his head as their friends began mumbles of ‘That’s fucked up/ Damn/ Fucking pre-war assholes.’ She found the whiskey pushed back into her hands, a rather clingy Cait wrapping her arms around her as she indulged, but no explanation offered. Nora was thankful when Deacon changed the subject, content to listen to his latest exaggerated story rather than think too much about the pitying looks she kept catching from her friends. She wasn’t quite sure what to think about this newfound revelation that she had far less experience than she thought when it comes to sex. Clearly she was missing a lot. Everyone was weirdly more polite to each other and her after the whole conversation, not that Nora was complaining, but paired with the glances she kept catching between her friends it was all rather strange. 

She was one of the first to turn in, making her way to the large house she built with a room for each of her friends. Of course not leaving without everyone insisting on a parting hug, Cait planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek with a grin. It was a short but pleasant walk back to the house. She loved sanctuary and still kept a house there, but sometimes the memories were just too heavy. There was just something about the complex she built at starlight drive-in that felt so beautiful to her. Maybe because her only pre-war memories of the place were high school dates and the carnival that would come through town. Maybe it was because it had one of the best places to stargaze undisturbed. Maybe it was because it felt like she was building a new family here. 

The building was mostly concrete, with lead lining on the exterior to keep out the wastes when they came in on the winds of a radstorm. Everyone had their own room, each decked out to their own tastes. The settlement had huge walls and enough missile turrets to send a sentry bot to abu dhabi. It was safe, and cozy, but not nearly as lively and green as Nora remembered from her childhood. There were people aplenty sure, but pretty much just robots, synths, ghouls, and folks just looking for some peace for once showed up to her settlements. No kids. Nora would always lament shawn’s loss of access to many childhood cultural staples. At least he had his pip boy and her entire game collection, and what child-appropriate media she had downloaded on there before the bombs dropped.She tried to make the compound fun, but her settlers seemed to enjoy her amenities more than her son. It's one thing to build your kid a playground, it was another to get them to play on it. She really wished that ghoul family would move in, or really any family. She really hoped the cure they sent out to Macreedy’s son worked fast. It’d be nice to have him here. She guessed she couldn’t blame people for choosing not to bring a new life into this hellscape, and to not risk talking about any kids they did have outside of settlements. At least Shawn seemed content with picking up stories from residents and playing games with Ada, Codsworth and the robots Nora built. Whenever she had to take off to make sure the peace she helped build would stick, she felt a lot better knowing most of her friends would be staying behind, and they’d be looking out for Shawn. 

They understood how anxious she could get about him. Shawn wasn’t born to her, but her son never really bothered to consider the implications of what he made. Shawn did not ask to be built young, programmed afraid and terrified of abandonment. Nora had asked the railroad if they thought he could grow, mature, not be stuck as a kid for however many centuries he’d survive. No one had any clue, there were no other synths like him. She knew one day she would have to tell him, before all the years on ice caught up to her and he was stuck alone. 

Except he wouldn’t be, Nora reminded herself. Her friends, they’d listened to her on many dark nights, listening to her grief and fears and anxieties. Nick had held her, promised her that no matter what reality lay in store for Shawn, if he was functional he would be there for him. John had similar sentiments, with the addition of a few corny ghoul jokes and a radioactive punchline. Strong, well… ‘No cry!!! Crying Weak. Human not weak. Strong is Strong! Strong smash anything that try to smash tiny robot child.’ Which she supposed was reassuring at least in regards to his safety. He was good at that, any time he was stationed at the drive in he insisted on guarding the front gate. She would have thought it would be easier to get a super mutant to party, but he generally did not enjoy any situation with too many humans he couldn’t yell at. In all honesty, when it came to helping keep her kid sane she trusted curie the most. She had taken her worries so seriously that she found a new research focus after her stimpack breakthrough. 

Nora stopped by Shaun's room on the ground floor, peeking in the door happy to see him in bed, his desk still littered with nuka cola bottles and the various pieces of whatever technology he could get his hands on to fiddle with. When she had started construction he had insisted on having his own door out into the little village so he could look around for scrap without Ada or Codsworth lecturing him for tracking mud water dirt or oil into the house. It worried her sometimes, and seeing him safe and at peace always helped settle her. She knew that with Ada in charge of the household and the many robots she had built to help the community nothing would ever happen to him. Realistically, It would be really hard to even approach the settlement while presenting a threat without getting nuked to hell by the space sentry bot her son had lovingly named Jupiter. Still, she always indulged herself in checking on him before she turned in whenever she was home. 

Four floors up the complex of concrete lead and steel, her room had a beautiful view of the gardens below, beyond them the marketplace. She watched as her friends spilled out the bar, one by one. Chatting amongst themselves as they made their way back to the house. John slung his arms around Nick and Cait’s shoulders before making a broader gesture towards the top of the house. The group paused and lingered, chatting in a large circle. 

Looking down on them, Nora figured it didn’t really matter if they all were more experienced than her. None of them would think less of her for it. She trusted them not to tease her, they dropped the whole conversation when they found their answers. No one said anything teasing afterwards, and she felt more confident now that if she had questions they’d be forthcoming with answers. She felt some of the tension from earlier leave her as she changed into comfortable sleep clothes and crawled into bed. 

‘So there has to be a way for women to ejaculate by their reactions from earlier’ Nora thought. When they were talking about tasting earlier, she now realized they meant tasting a vagina. ‘There’s nothing wrong with experimentation’ She assured herself, looking up at her ceiling she had painted with yellow stars and feeling herself over her clothes. Her hand felt a little cold as she braved the elastic of her waistband, feeling herself clumsily as she remembered what Nate had tasted like when she gave him a blowjob. 

‘What do I taste like?’ She dipped one slow finger into her heat and collected what wetness she could find there. She raised her hand up out of her pants to examine her fingers in what little light that made it through the windows. They were covered in fluid, but that was lubrication, right? She sniffed her fingers, and she didn’t smell bad. A bit like water left in a metal bottle out in the heat. Bringing them to her mouth she was surprised at the flavor. She wasn’t quite sure what she expected. John had described it as water at the bar, but this was definitely not water. She wanted to say it was salty, but It had this sort of tang that tasted similar to some pre-war sour candy without any of the sweetness. It almost tasted a little meaty? Thinking back on her assessment of the smell, she supposed it tasted like salt water left out in the heat in a metal bottle. She had a pretty fancy water purifier setup at the settlement, so if that really effected taste she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be right to say it tasted ‘just like water.’ 

A knock sounded at her door and she yanked her finger away from her face with a jolt. 

“Hey blue, can we talk?” Nora sat up quickly and climbed out of bed to greet Piper. Except it wasn’t just Piper she saw when she opened the door, it looked like most everyone were settling down further along the hallway in the sitting area near the stairwell. 

“Yeah-”Piper stepped inside and just as quickly closed the door behind her, the quiet murmur in the stairwell dampening beyond audibility with the soft thump of the door. Nora could feel her face flushing again and felt grateful for the night. “Is this all about earlier?” 

“Well, yeah, and some other stuff..” Nora could feel her stomach drop as she watched Piper turn around and sit in her desk chair. Piper seemed to notice something was off with her and quickly amended. “It’s nothing bad I promise! At least I hope so. Listen, first, personally. I need you to know that its really, really fucked up that from what it sounds like, you’ve literally never cum in your life.” Piper looked at her with a question clear across her face, like she was still expecting Nora to tell her that she had actually came before, because of course she has. Except she hasn’t, and Nora really didn’t know what to say. 

Piper sighed and continued after a beat. “Things are different in the commonwealth now Blue, and I know you know that, but I don’t know if you understand the extent of it- culturally.” 

“What does that mean?” Nora questioned, having found a seat on the edge of her bed. Piper leaned over, grabbed her hand and lacing their fingers together. 

“Well Blue, for one. Not only did you walk into the commonwealth like a hurricane, but you started just helping people for no real apparent reason other than they needed help. People don’t really do that here.”

Nora chuckled. “You know Cait and I already had this talk-”

“Yeah, and we don’t think you really get it. Preston has told you something similar too. And you brushed them both off, and me just now, why?” Nora looked down at their hands. 

“I-” Nora wasn’t sure she had an answer. It had to be her past, right? She did it because she knew it was right, it was what worked. “-just, its what you’re supposed to do where… I guess when I’m from. Politically, you know, at the time. Helping people became a form of rebellion. Helping one another, building up the people around you knowing they’ll do the same was the biggest fuck you the average person could manage without risking imprisonment.” Nora couldn’t quite meet Piper’s eyes. She’d spoken plenty about good memories, favorite movies and shows and songs, dances and the relative luxury afforded most people. It still felt illegal somehow, to talk about such seditious thoughts out loud. To speak the thing that held the little neighborhood of sanctuary together until the very end. Piper nodded along. 

“So It was still dangerous then?” Piper asked. Nora chuckled and shook her head. 

“Not in the same way it is now. It was freedom on the line, not necessarily lives.” 

“Which brings me to the point, you know we all really care about you, right? Whatever you need from any of us, we’re there.” Piper squeezed her hand, placing her other hand over top of their two hands already intertwined. Nora grinned.

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Which brings me to my next point. Blue, you’re beautiful. Its some sort of crime against nature that no one has ever gone down on you. I don’t know where you are with your husband stuff, if you’ll ever really feel ready to try and be with anyone ever again. That’s gonna be all up to you. But we were talking, after you left. Commiserating, really, over i'm sorry Blue, but the tragedy that is your sex life, and we all came to the in retrospect very unsurprising discovery that we are all heads over heels for you. You don’t really flirt back, so everyone kinda thought you were still caught up over Nate.- And don’t get me wrong! If it is still is about Nate, no shame that’s just the assumption.- But now we also realize it is completely possible you just still don’t understand that we love you a lot.” Fuck, was Piper trying to give her a heart attack? “And Im not saying this with any expectations blue. We love you, and that means we’re here for you anyway you want us, especially as friends. But that also means we want you to see all the cards on the table.”

“Piper, what are you saying?” Nora’s brain felt like it was going a mile a minute and everywhere this train of logic seemed to lead was confusing and quite flustering. 

“I mean that me and everyone back there in that room, we all want you to have what’s best, we want you to be happy, and we’re happy when we’re with you. And I know this is probably insane to you, by your pre-war standards but if you wanted to be with any of us, for some forever after or one night stand or anything in between, you can, no hard feelings. No friendship lost. All you have to do is ask.” 

Nora nearly felt at a loss for words, just staring at piper. How could that many people love her like that? She’d always found them all attractive in their own ways, but it felt wrong somehow. Wasn’t she technically a single mom now? None of it felt like it made sense. “Why? How?”

“Well, apart from single handedly taking down the institute, the brotherhood, restoring the minutemen, terrorizing raider groups and wiping out packs of feral ghouls and super mutants, freeing any synth you can, being the most thoroughly loyal and kind person any of us has met, skilled enough to build huge settlements across the commonwealth and face down some of the scariest shit i’ve seen, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Nora was at a complete loss of words. 

“I know its a lot blue, we just felt like we needed to tell you. You know, you have options.” Nora nodded in awe. She realistically liked them all, and had equally squashed any notion of such relationships being possible for her. Women like her, they weren't supposed to move on, were they? Would Nate want her to move on?  Nora honestly felt she couldn’t chose to date any of her friends with a clear conscience. It’d be horrible of her to choose one relationship and then go pining after any of the others, especially since she has learned the truly meager extent of her ability to lie the hard way out on her adventures into the commonwealth. Nora was certain her face was flushed as red as could be. 

“I don’t know what to say I - Im so flattered.” Nora tried to steady her thoughts. “I just couldn’t though you’re all- You’re all really attractive.” Nora couldn’t meet Piper's eyes. Piper gave Nora’s hand another squeeze before Nora heard her giggle. 

“So you do like us?” Piper said in a teasing tone.

“I love you guys, Its just that-” Nora wasn’t sure how to phrase it. 

“Romantically?”

“Yea-Yes.” Nora stammered out. God that was so stupid to admit. Why would she-

“You mean it blue?” Piper had risen out of her seat, now gripping Nora’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, so-”

“So what?” 

“So isn’t that unfair? To be with one person and secretly harbor feelings for others?” Piper was looking at Nora now at eye level. Piper frowned at her words. 

“Who said anything about one person?” Piper smirked, a determined look in her eyes as she stood and strode to the door, opening it. “Deacon, come here right now!” 

“A please is always nice.” He teased as he made his way in the room. “What do you need me for?”

“Explain polyamory to Nora.” Piper commanded, closing the door firmly behind him. Deacon suddenly couldn’t stop smiling, looking between Piper and Nora before finally directing his thousand watt smile at Nora before taking a seat at her desk. 

“So, I know when you’re from people pretty much exclusively only dated or were romantically involved with one person at a time, and having more than one partner at a time was taboo.” Deacon was watching Nora’s face, so she nodded. 

“Well, I'm sure you noticed what was taboo then isn’t always taboo now. Being happy, even momentarily, in whatever way a person can is expected of people. You know how much people in the railroad have each other’s backs, right? A lot of people were together.” Nora looked shocked and she knew it. 

“I never noticed.” Nora mumbled. 

“Well, you know, when a hot lady busts into your base in the fanciest power armor you’ve ever seen and a goddamn plasma rifle, and instead of opening fire tells you they wanna help, you let them do what they want and leave out any details until it's pertinent or they ask.” Nora could feel herself growing flustered. Intimidation was nowhere on her mind when she strolled into railroad HQ. She’d followed the trail, and it wasn’t a safe or easy trail. Of course she wore her armor. She did walk around in power armor a lot for the fun of it, she mostly saw it as a more efficient way to traverse the Commonwealth. Before her in her time it was just another piece of military hardware like any amount of the rather absurd guns she now had access to. Stepping into that power armor felt just like the medic armor, and on the battlefield everyone knew what it meant to see medic battlearmor. She never really considered the intimidation factor. Looking back, the only people who reacted like that anymore were minutemen or settlements. It kinda made her want to laugh, thinking about a raider shiting themselves seeing her in her x-2 armor. 

“So wait, who was together?” Nora questioned. 

“Tinker tom, Carrington, Des, and I.” He paused, his grin going bittersweet. “And Glory.”

“I’m sorry Deacon.” Nora held out her hand and Deacon took it gladly. He shook his head but his grin didn’t fall completely. 

“Thank you.” He paused. Nora knew Glory’s loss was a huge hit to the railroad, she didn’t realize the extent to which it impacted its top members personally. Everyone was grieving when the institute fell. “But you see what I mean. Happiness doesn't always last long, so if someone out here wants to love someone else no matter how complex we do it, no questions asked.” Piper snorted. “Well, some questions asked.” He added. “The problem is never really the number, but prejudice is still alive and well. A person would have an easier time keeping a harem than publicly being in a loving relationship with a synth, ghoul, or any other non-humanoid.” Nora nodded solemnly. 

“Not to say that isn’t worth the risk.” He mentioned. “If you ask me any of it's worth it, however long it lasts.”

“So, Piper,” Nora started. “You’re- You’re saying that I can… or should, uh.”

“I’m not telling you to do anything Blue. I'm saying, we’re all saying, I think, that if you want something you should have it.” 

Nora took a moment to think. Did it really matter what Nate or anyone from her past really thought? If they didn’t care that she was a widowed mother from a clearly different culture than the rest of them, then why should she? 

“You think real loud Fixer” Deacon spoke up, apparently unwilling to go too long without attention on him. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, looking at her and taking a deep breathe. His gaze seemed focused on hers, as if daring her to look away. 

“You” Nora started, shifting her jaw as she measured her words, praying her flustered mind wouldn’t say something too stupid. She turned her gaze to Piper. “-You all, feel this way?”

“Why not bring them in? Let them tell you themselves.” Piper looked pleased, and rather mischievous. Nora paused, glanced back at Deacon, and nodded. Piper strolled back to the door before throwing it open. “Why don’t you all come tell Blue what we came her to tell her. A quick shuffle of feet brought most of her friends into her room, pulling over her desk chairs and sitting on the edges of her bed and other furniture to make room in her room. 

“So,” Nora panicked a bit over what to say. She felt many gazes on her, and her eyes inevitably fell to her lap. “You all feel this way towards me?”

“What way?” Cait teased, having claimed the spot on the bed to the right of Nora. She heard Deacon snicker before Hancock spoke up. 

“Yeah sunshine, how do we feel about you?” 

Nora felt a bit conceited even entertaining the idea that this many people would fancy her, but here they all were, in her bedroom telling her as much. Damn, how did this many people like her like that? Eight people? “You like me?” She spoke it as a question. Some of them laughed at her response, Cait included. 

“Way more than like, love. You’re in my dreams, especially the naughty ones.” Cait leaned over to speak gently in her ear. 

“I second that” Hancock raised his hand with a grin, apparently enjoying whatever look Nora had on her face while she processed perhaps the most flustering thing possible being said to her. 

“My favorite dreams are spent covering your six when you’re wearing that tight ass blue suit” Macreedy spoke from his place leaned against the wall. 

“I’ve had that same dream” Danse spoke with a smirk.

“God, don’t get me started on that suit” Piper sighed wistfully. 

“We may need to lay off before we give our poor girl an aneurysm” Nick nodded towards Nora, her eyes big, face red, and utterly speechless. Preston nodded solemnly from beside Nick. 

“We can’t overwork her” Preston warned with a tone of authority. Curie, having climbed onto the bed behind Nora, touched a cold hand to the back of Nora’s neck and Nora nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“She is greatly flushed” Curie concurred, her hand not leaving Nora's skin. 

“Oh, she’s fine” Deacon spoke, playing with her hand held between his. “She wasn’t too flustered to have some fun before we showed up. Isn’t that right Nora?” Nora tried to pull her hand back, but Deacon held it fast, pressing a kiss to the finger she had used to feel herself. She swore she felt his tongue flick out and touch her skin. 

“I just-” 

“Wanted to know what it felt like?” Deacon finished for her. The bed creaked as Hancock grabbed the footboard of the bed and leaned over it. 

“Do you want some help with that sweetheart?” Hancock asked with mirth in his voice. 

Nora felt herself work her jaw, finding the right words. “ I like you all like that, but I don’t really have the experience and I don’t know how well I’ll-” Deacon squeezed her hand as Curie wrapped her arms around her waist and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck with an excited giggle, with Cait seconds after doing her best to pull nora to her and press kisses under her chin. Nora had to fight down a rather undignified noise at the attention. 

“We don't need you to do or be anything Blue. You’ve already done a lot. We just need you to tell us what you want. Now, do you want us?” Piper walked over to Nora, fingers lifting he chin a touch to give Cait more room for her conquest. 

“Y-yes” Nora croaked out. 

“Do you want us to make you cum?” Piper looked her in the eye in a way that turned the butterflies in her chest into something warm and intense pooling in her gut. She was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat. Nora swallowed before answering.

“Yes” 

“All of us?” Piper clarified. 

“I-” Nora paused. Would doing this make her a whore? Did stuff like that matter anymore? She can’t have sex with eight people in one night, she wasn’t sure her body could take it. “I can’t have, -Can’t have sex with eight people in one night.” She spoke worridly, and suddenly felt very embarrassed at the laughter that bubbled up at her response. 

“Baby, she said make you cum, not have sex.” Cait clarified. 

Nora furrowed her brow. “What’s the difference?” Curie suddenly pulled her back onto the bed. Deacon let go of her hand in favor of leaning over and grabbing her ankle. 

“Why don’t you let us show you?” Cait leaned over and licked a stripe up Nora’s neck, forcing a gasp from her. 

“Fuck” She heard Preston mutter somewhere off to the side of her. 

She felt a sudden tug at her hair, and Cait forced her head up to lock their lips together. Cait quickly pressed a tongue into her mouth, and when Deacon leaned over and slowly pushed her shirt up she let out a particularly undignified noise into Cait’s mouth. Nora wasn’t sure when she closed her eyes, but she opened them in shock when two pairs of lips began working over her stomach. Looking down, Deacon was running his hands over her ribs, pressing kisses to her sternum and inching her shirt ever higher with his nose. She was suddenly all too aware of the noises around her.

“Fuck baby” Below him Hancock had climbed his way onto the bed and began kissing down over her belly to where the waistband of her shorts rested. Curie pulled Nora further onto the bed, lying back and resting Nora’s head on her chest. Many hands maneuvered her body into what they deemed an acceptable position. 

“Good girl” Deacon praised. Her hands were pulled over her head as her shirt was stripped from her, and with another breathtaking kiss stolen by Piper she lost her shorts and underwear. 

“So pretty Blue” Piper remarked, moving down her body and sliding a hand up her thigh. She hardly had a moment to be embarrassed at her naked state in front of her mostly clothed friends when Preston and Piper each took a leg and pulled them apart, kissing and biting as they wished at her flesh. She nearly jumped at the contact and fought back a yelp of surprise. With Cait occupied with her mouth and neck, Danse and Nick had their fun with her breasts, palming and rolling her till Nora let slip whimpers. 

“Don’t hold back that voice baby, let us hear you” Deacon encouraged. Deacon took hold of her hand once more, and she could feel kisses pressed to her fingertips. Macreedy stole her other hand, lacing his fingers with hers and running a thumb over the back of her hand. 

“I want you to sing for me sunshine” Hancock returned to his place nestled between her legs and Nora was glad for something to hold on for dear life to. Cait pulled away, yanking her head back so that Curie could kiss her forehead and so that she may return to kissing and licking Nora’s neck. Nora let out a groan, deep and gutteral and she felt herself arch into Curie’s grip around her waist.  Hancock began running a hand over her, sliding just over her entrance and back up to her clit before repeating his path, and Nora couldn’t help but whimper each time he traced his path, the movement accompanied with a wet clicking sound. 

Nora immediately felt embarrassed at her noises, doubly so when Nick pointed out her blush spread to her chest while he toyed with her pebbled nipples. However, looking up at her, well, she wasn’t sure what to call them right now, she felt a little less embarrassed when she realized they all seemed to be feeling even more aroused than her. And oh, she could see-, Danse and Preston, pleasuring themselves to her. She could hear Cait grunting against her throat and a light squelching sound that didn’t seem to be coming from what Hancock was doing to her. They were making noises right along with her. 

Hancock slid a finger into her and she couldn’t help but wiggle her hips at the pleasure he was forcing upon her. He began thrusting, sliding in another finger before lowering his head and sucking. Nora had never felt anything like it and she damn Near screamed while he hummed atop her. Piper and Preston had to force her down where her legs met her hips to stop her from bucking away from the onslaught of pleasure Hancock was causing with his every move.

“I don’t know how you can be this cute and so damn strong” Preston mused as he held down her hips. He nipped at the skin of her inner thigh in mock punishment and a shudder ran through her. Nora began registering the growing states of undress of her friends. It just wasn’t fair how hot they were. It honestly felt like they were toying with her.

“Taking this so well” Cait paused her onslaught of kisses to whisper praise behind her ear. She could feel Hancock’s tongue work at her, felt the little puffs of air over her mound as he grunted into her flesh, and damn if the noises he made didn’t make it feel all the better. Nora had never felt anything like this before. With Nate, sex, it felt intimate but without fanfare. This, Nora felt like she could hardly stand it. Her toes curled, a heat in her belly got heavier by the moment, and it left Nora damn near sobbing at the pleasure of it. She had never heard anything like the noises she was making, it was involuntary and visceral with every suck and thrust. 

“You’re shaking like a leaf doll” Nick spoke as he smoothed a hand over her ribcage. 

“You’re feeling good?” Curie questioned her. She gripped the hands holding hers with a deathgrip and moaned when Hancock added a third finger. She nodded aggressively and was rewarded with a flurry of kisses wherever she was being held down. Her legs began shaking when Hancock picked up the pace, and the heat in her stomach coiled. She had no control, nor much awareness of the noises she was making at this point. Despite being held down, with the pleasure she was experiencing and the praise from her friends rolling around in her head she almost felt like she was floating. 

“Please what?” Danse asked with a rough squeeze of her nipple. Coming back to reality a bit, Nora realized during her whimpering and moaning she had started to beg. Please what indeed. 

“I-” Nora panted through another string of moans. Hancock was too skilled at this. “I don’t know”. 

“She’s gonna cum” Cait giggled into the skin under her chin. 

“Fuck” Piper cussed, looking down her body Nora realized that everyone was either watching what Hancock was doing to her or watching her face. While holding her down, most of them were working at themselves too and she couldn’t tell if it was embarrassing or arousing.

“Cum for us baby” 

“Give us a show doll” 

“Good Girl”

 The coil building in her gut suddenly got more and more intense in a way Nora was unprepared for. She hardly had a moment to register her shock at this new bodily experience when It all came down suddenly, like being hit with a ton of bricks straight to the brain.

“Oh, Oh FUCK!” Nora screamed out, body convulsing and head flying back. Her eyes closed but her vision went white. White hot pleasure shocked through her, before turning into waves of bliss. When she opened her eyes she felt like she was floating. She felt curie tucking strands of hair behind her ears. Hancock worked her slower and lighter till she shook. Looking down she met his eyes and his hands and mouth finally left her with an embarrassing pop and a slight smirk before taking the fingers that were within her and sucking them into his mouth with a pleased groan. Nora could only whimper and close her eyes. She faintly heard the moans of some of her friends, felt Cait shake and groan into the crook of her neck. 

“So, how was the first orgasm of your life?” Deacon teased, himself sounding a bit out of breathe. All Nora could manage was a grunt in response, apparently enough for him as he and some others began chuckling. 

The world seemed to come more into focus as she took some deep breaths. What did this mean now? She’d never felt like that before, her friends went out of their way to make sure she felt like that. They enjoyed making her feel like that. 

“You did so well” Piper praised, and many kisses brought Nora out of her thought process. Piper sided up to Nora, shoving Danse out of the way. Cait took the cue to so the same to Nick, and Nora was suddenly being held by three women. 

“You guys are hogging her” Deacon whined, making movements to tug Nora his way and tuck his face into her neck. 

“Says the guy who wasn’t shoved off” Danse ran a hand over her hip.

“Are you feeling okay?” Maccredy checked in on her. Maccready sat down on the bed next to Cait and began playing with Nora’s hair. Nora nodded. She felt boneless. It felt like her veins were buzzing. Beside her, she could hear whatever kept Nick running humming loudly.

“Any words?” Preston teased, rubbing at her ankle. 

“-Wow” Was all she could manage. Giggles erupted around her. Nora tried to get her thoughts straight. “So, what now?” 

“Like I said” Piper spoke up. “Whatever you want.”

“And- You all feel like that?” Nora checked, looking around at her friends, or were they lovers now? That’s a lot of lovers. 

“Yep”

“Whatever you want baby” A chorus of agreements spoke up. Nora looked around, only to see those that were silent nodding. 

“So I guess that just begs the question Blue, what do you want?” Piper questioned, and damn was that a hard line of questioning. What did she want? Piper talked about this all like it could be a casual thing, but would they be down for what she actually wanted from them? They all had lives to live, despite what she’s built here. Nora took a steadying breathe. 

“I want us to be family” Nora spoke. “Like Shawn and Nate and I were, but bigger.” She felt a bit afraid of what they would say, suddenly very aware of her nakedness in comparison to her mostly clothed lovers. 

“Oh Blue” Piper raised a hand to Nora’s face. “That sounds perfect to me.” 

“I like the sound of that” Preston spoke with a smile. 

“Me too” Maccready. 

“Oh, vhe vill be zhe best family!” Curie spoke cheerfully, squeezing Nora around the waist. “I can make you packed lunches vith little notes and you vhill have to kiss me before you leave for vork”. Nora couldn’t help but giggle at the image. Before the war, that’s what she was expected to do. Now her synth, doctor, girlfriend? Wife? Did she just propose? How did that even work in the wasteland? 

“I can’t think of anything I would want more sunshine.” Hancock spoke with a grin. 

“Wait, did I just propose to you guys?” Nora spoke with an amount of shock. “How does this even work nowadays?” 

“Well, considering you currently are the head of government, unless you want to join a religion or go do paperwork at diamond city, if we all agree to it that’s a marriage”. Nick explained. 

“Oh god” Nora threw her head back and closed her eyes with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m the government and I married y'all after we had sex once. Why is the law like this?” Her companions quickly dissolved into laughter. 

“Well I’m definitely not complaining” Deacon reassured. 

“Me either” Spoke Nick. 

“Isn’t this fast?” Nora asked. “I mean, I’ve been unfrozen maybe four years”. 

“People feel lucky to be able to spend even a year straight at a time with those they love. People marry fast.” Deacon explained. 

“Things move slower in the brotherhood, but I’ve known you over two years, and you’ve saved my life multiple times. Unless a brother has taken a vow of chastity, that’s more than enough time to decide to marry for them, and a lot of the wasteland considers them prudes.” Danse spoke up. 

“So as long as we love you, and you love us, you could call us married. Or fiances, or dating, the label doesn't matter. I just know that I love you sunshine, I think we all do. Do you love us?” Hancock asked. 

Nora felt very warm, surrounded by people she cared for, people who made her feel safe, people she would die for. She couldn’t help the small smile creeping on her face. “I love you all too.” She sighed. “I like the sound of married. I like the promise of it. But I think I’d want to do a ceremony or something. And I- I also want what you guys want. If we’re gonna call this that, we’re in this together, right?” 

Amid many agreements and sounds of excitement and some of the best cuddles Nora had experienced in her life, Cait leaned forward to whisper in her ear; “I want to eat my wife’s pussy till she screams for me again. Care to make that happen, love of mine?” 

Nora could feel the flush all the way down her chest. “Now what did you say to her Cait?” Maccredy questioned.

[theboywithburninghands]

The End. I’ll post a big mushy thank you post later since I’m posting this at work, but this is the end of the story. Hope it’s good! @fernstarsblog @noble-crimson

TW: Vomit, drugs, childbirth

Epilogue: Sweet Child O’ Mine

Upon first moving to Ediacara after collecting their dowry, Pomni and Jax moved into a small house near the town of Jezioro Niedźwiedź, or the much simpler to pronounce Bear Lake. As soon as the couple had unpacked completely, Pomni set to work learning Ediacaran. Jax was admittedly skeptical about her ability to learn such a complex language so quickly, and had in fact been a bit wary of moving to Ediacara at all due to the language barrier. Pomni studied the language for eight hours every day, and could speak and write it at a conversational level in about three weeks. By their fourth month, she was completely literate, shocking just about every prospective employer she met with her heavily accented yet completely accurate Ediacaran.

Pomni began her search for an occupation as soon as she spoke enough Ediacaran. It was rough going at first. Pomni may have been quite knowledgeable about law and been articulate, but she had little experience to actually put on paper. No diplomas or references, only cases she had helped her father with. She was offered at least four jobs as a secretary, but turned them down. Such a position would only make her depressed, being at the beck and call of a man…

But she hunted tirelessly, and eventually caught her first break as a stenographer for Bear Lake’s courthouse, specifically the misdemeanor accountability court. This was where soaks who had made a nuisance in public after a fifth too many of Ediacaran red wine ended up, or children who had pilfered sweets from a chemist’s shop, or frustrated citizens who wished to dispute moving violations and truancy notices.

Pomni remained quiet and kept a stern countenance, and, despite being fairly new to Ediacaran, made precious few mistakes. Magistrates and even the judges complimented her impeccable memory, being able to repeat back transcripts that she hadn’t gotten the chance to write down yet. Her penmanship was clean and she was unfailingly polite, even to the rare belligerent defendant.

Then came the day of a high profile felony case. A Dr. Kaczmarek had been arrested on charges of selling cadavers from the local hospital to a shady medical supply company. The usual stenographer for the felony court was abruptly hospitalized after an errant kick from a horse, developing a tremor in his hand that prevented him from writing as quickly. Pomni was asked to transcribe in his place. Although the judge was skeptical of her abilities, Pomni performed remarkably well, her affect cool despite the rapid-fire speech of the magistrates or mumbled testimonies of the witnesses. The court staff, impressed by her performance, brought Mrs. Krolik on for more high profile cases, and she soon became the court’s mainstay stenographer.

In her free time, Pomni had begun work on a novel. She initially thought of penning an autobiography, but she needed to be an established author first. No one would have any interest in the life story of a stenographer, even if her life was rather interesting. So, she began a novel. It was a character study of five children of a single mother and their lives from childhood to adulthood. She was still drafting the story, having to omit a good amount of unnecessary detail from just the first chapter alone. Luckily Jax was there to read through her drafts and offer constructive criticism while on the road to recovery.

As soon as they settled into their new home, Pomni put her husband back on the process of tapering him off of opium. They only had a single bottle of laudanum left and no easy way to get ahold of it anymore, so it would be the final dosage before completely excising the drug from his life.

His symptoms resumed after reducing his dosage from a single drop of opium to a half a drop. However, they were significantly less severe. He was weak and bedridden and struggled with body aches and cold sweats, but he had thankfully ceased vomiting and was at last able to get some sleep, although he woke frequently. Pomni cared for him, bringing him vegetables from the local market, not even attempting to cook them. It would have been dreadfully inconvenient to burn their new home down after just purchasing it.

Soon, he wasn’t on laudanum at all. After two weeks without poppy, he was up and walking about. His regular countenance returned come the third week. On that Friday, Pomni went to the edge of a bridge.

“Are you ready?” Pomni asked, holding his hand.

“I am,” Jax replied. He took the half full tincture bottle out of his jacket pocket. Jax looked for a long while at the small bottle that had ruled his life for the past five years. He lobbed the bottle over the railing. It plummeted thirty feet into the rocky gulch below, bursting with a splash on a boulder.

“Goodbye, cruel mistress. You’ll bewitch this soul no longer.” Jax said, giving a short wave to the gulch.

“Did you plan that little farewell or did it come to you just now?” Pomni asked with a smirk.

“Which would be more impressive to you?” Jax replied with a smirk of his own.

Jax took on a job as well to keep the pair from exhausting their savings. He quickly found one as an accountant for a trading company that had previously worked with Krolik International. Being the son of the founder, it looked quite good on a resumé, although he was careful to omit anything about recent goings on with the company.

Jax and Pomni saw Drexl Krolik for the final time a few days before their departure to Ediacara. They returned to the Krolik Estate to collect some of Jax’s belongings, and encountered two constables from Blackshell Bay speaking with Drexl in his foyer. Jax said nothing to his father, who said nothing in return. Pomni met her father-in-law’s eyes only once. Though his gaze was incensed, his eyes were drained of the fierceness they once held. Pomni and Jax had his belongings on the carriage within an hour, thanks to assistance from Zuzanna, who had put in her two weeks' notice and was planning to start a job at The Rooker Estate.

As for Jax’s brothers, he wrote to all three regularly. Altonicus and Kali, although they did not receive the funds necessary to open their pharmacy due to Drexl’s behavior, remained as stable as ever. Alton continued his work at the hospital, and Kali started a book club, which had around a half dozen regulars, including Mirella Shutnyk.

Osvaldo was elated to be living on Primum Peccatum, free to pursue his music career. His performance at the wedding put him on the map, and he began performing original compositions at other weddings, and he had been accepted into the prestigious New Hirnantian Choral Ensemble. He flubbed his first audition due to stage fright, but conquered his anxieties for his second audition. To help with the mortgage payments, he had accepted two tenants. Dawson, the son of Lawrence, Drexl’s former business partner, happily moved in with Osvaldo. The two of them became inseparable partners, often seen around town together, and the keen-eyed had spotted Osvaldo occasionally stealing a quick kiss from his larger companion. Assuredly in a platonic way.

The other tenant was Boone, who was allowed to stay with them on the conditions that he refrain from any churlish behavior and get an occupation that would help him pay for the house. It was slow going at first, Boone applying to many jobs in several different trades. Although he was politely declined positions at the fire brigade and The Gray Church, he found that he was a rather gifted editor. He got a job at a small ad agency, finding minuscule details to fix in ad copy or business documents. His ever-drifting focus was curbed somewhat by caffeine tablets prescribed to him by his eldest brother. He struggled, of course, and often found himself reprimanded at work, but remained steadily employed and was thus allowed to stay with his brother.

Pomni wrote to Mr. Kinger, Sister Ragatha, and Zooble regularly. When he remembered to respond, Mr. Kinger was thrilled to hear from his surrogate daughter, and Pomni gifted him several books on Ediacaran insects to add to his collection. Kinger said that Zuzanna was an excellent housekeeper, tidying up the dust and cobwebs while keeping his reams upon reams of notes and sketches untouched and in their place. Sister Ragatha was pleased to learn that Pomni had secured a job, chasing her dream to be a working lady just as the Gray Sister knew she could. She sent Pomni a string of beads to pray The 13 Steps should she ever feel the need to. Although Pomni remained agnostic, she kept the string in her handbag at all times. Zooble kept Pomni up to date with the goings-on at the Shutnyk Estate, and was always free to offer their candid yet insightful advice.

Although it took some time, two years to be exact, Pomni eventually decided to write to her parents. They offered their congratulations on her job acquisition, Vladimir remarking that he could have used her sharp eyes while working on some new cases, and, inevitably, told their daughter that they missed her terribly. Pomni missed them a bit as well, but was so busy with her career that she had precious little time off to come visit them. She assured them she would one of these days, but a major event occurred four years on that stopped her tireless work in its tracks.

Pomni awoke early one morning and was sick into the toilet, and remained at home to hopefully recover from her sudden stomach illness. When her symptoms returned the following morning, she sent a telegram to Altonicus inquiring what course of action to follow. Altonicus replied, politely as ever, if she and Jax had consummated their union recently.

Pomni was midway into asking what that information had to do with anything before she stood up straighter.

“Ohhhhhh blazes…” she whispered.

Four months on and Pomni’s belly had grown significantly. Jax was over the moon with excitement, and Pomni, while initially very hesitant, relaxed when she learned that she would be granted paid maternity leave in the third trimester. Her anxieties continued to smolder, however, when she remembered how many times her mother miscarried. She took the utmost precautions, moving as little as possible, eating very bland food and taking no medication apart from the prenatal vitamins the town’s doctor prescribed. By the seventh month, she was at home on leave, her belly firm and round and the tiny life inside it doing just fine, according to the hospital.

Leave was quite simple, as Pomni had a number of books to catch up on that she previously could not read due to not speaking Ediacaran, as well as her novel to chip away at. Jax had busied himself making preparations for the infant, clearing part of the house to serve as a nursery and reading countless childcare books. Pomni, as usual, did not require much attention, but did occasionally burst into tears or snap uncharacteristically at her husband, and she would sometimes burn with a physical desire she had never known before. It mortified her how unstable the developing life inside her made her act, and she would have been ashamed at acting so erratically had Jax not been his pleasant yet dry self.

Pomni told him one winter evening to please remove a pair of black leather gloves, as the scent was bothering her. Jax smiled.

“Why of course, my dear. In fact, I’ll see to it that I personally scour each and every surface these malodorous gloves have touched!”

Pomni silenced him by playfully lobbing a book in his direction.

Nine months in, Pomni’s water broke on the way to the restroom one morning, and she was rushed to the hospital. Labor proved to be an ordeal, as Pomni’s slight stature made the delivery process especially excruciating. Pomni said things to the doctors and nurses she hoped to never repeat to a single living soul, and it was the first and only time she repeated The 13 Steps, mostly because she wanted something else to focus on other than her entire lower body being torn asunder.

What felt like an eternity of suffering later, and there was at last a tiny voice crying out into the world. Pomni saw her child and the pain was instantly forgotten. Her child. Her baby. She was here.

Jax was the first to hold her after the doctor snipped off her umbilical cord. She was perfectly tiny, little more than a bundle of blankets and damp, blue-violet fur. Jax looked at her with a fondness Pomni had only seen on her wedding day. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked from his minutes-old daughter to Pomni, damp with sweat and rested atop five pillows.

“She’s beautiful, darling…” he said, gently handing her over to Pomni. Pomni feebly took her daughter into her arms, motherly instinct taking over as she rocked the infant to soothe her cries.

“Hello, Esther…” Pomni managed to say before drifting into slumber, equal parts relieved and exhausted.

—

“That’s it Esther, come to daddy!”

In the foothills of the Waga Mountains in Ediacara, on a grassy knoll, a red and white checkered blanket was spread out for a family of three. The father, a periwinkle-furred rabbit beastman, the mother, a petite human woman with shoulder length raven black hair, and their one-year-old daughter. The child’s fur was a deep, umbral blue, with twinkling green eyes like peridots. She had a small tuft of violet-black hair between her long ears, her cheeks, arms and legs still cushioned by baby fat. She wriggled about on the blanket until she was sitting up, clad in a small gray dress and puffy white bloomers.

“You can do it, dear! Up-up!” Jax said, patting his knees.

Esther rocked forward onto her hands and knees. She shakily rose onto her feet, pinwheeling her arms with a squeal and dropping into a crawling position again.

“There’s no need to rush her, darling. We should be cheering that she can stand for a little while.” Pomni said, smiling.

“Oh, I know.” Jax replied. “I was just so thrilled to see her come waddling towards me this morning. It was like she had forgotten that she was supposed to crawl. She dropped right to her hands and knees when I gasped.”

Esther babbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry Esther, I know you were just as shocked as I was.” Jax said to his daughter.

Pomni smiled, holding her squirming daughter in her lap as Jax reached into the basket. He took out a few tins of vegetables, a jar of puréed ham and potatoes, and a salmon filet.

Esther fussed, continuing to try and wriggle free from her mother’s arms.

“Now you be patient, young lady. Your papa went to a lot of trouble to make all this.” Pomni chided.

“Baba,” Esther said. That was her way of saying “papa,” as P’s were a bit difficult for her. It was also her first word, her second being “night night” and her third being “mama.” It came as no surprise to either parent, since Jax was by far the one who spent the most time with Esther. He quit his job to raise her at home full time, allowing Pomni to focus on her career while also saving them the trouble of paying for a nanny.

“So, just about everyone is on the way, eh?” Jax said. “I’m amazed they could even afford roundabout passes to Ediacara…”

“Kinger paid for them. I insisted he not, but he had already sent off the crowns by the time the letter got to him. I know Kinger has a considerable fortune, but he will run out of money eventually should he spend so frivolously…”

“Babaaa!” Esther cried.

“Yes, dear, on the way…” Jax stirred a teaspoon in the jar of puréed food and withdrew it, placing it into Esther’s mouth. “You’re fretting too much again, darling. Your family will get to see your daughter! And just how much she’s grown.”

“Baba,” Esther said. Jax gave her another spoonful of food.

“I do love it here, certainly… But if someone wishes to come visit us, it shouldn’t cost them an arm and a leg. Although, that’s true of most things…”

There was a flash of color on the endless, verdant expanse the family sat on. A mote of red on a quilt of green.

“I suppose that’s true, but he should really visit while he has- Pomni?”

Pomni looked at the blot of color. There was a glint, and she gasped.

“Pomni, dear, what is it?” Jax asked.

“Hold Esther a moment,” she said, standing up and running towards the red figure in the distance.

“Mamaaaa!” Esther cried sternly.

Pomni hurried down the knoll, just about running out of her shoes. Sure enough, coming into focus was a shapeman in a red tailcoat, clutching a black walking stick with a golf leaf tip. He had an enlarged pair of dentures where his face should be.

“You-” Pomni gasped. “You, how did you get here?”

The Gentleman in Red tilted his head. “I’m sorry?”

“I… I asked you, sir. How did you get here? What are you doing here?”

“Why I’m here to see you, Mrs. Shutnyk. I believe your friend Kinger Rooker issued everyone an invitation.” He held up a boat ticket.

“You… you came with them..? No, they’re not supposed to be here for a week! Sir, please…”

Pomni swallowed.

“I’ve been left pondering for years. The night at the church, when you defended me against Boone and Mr. Krolik… Why did you do it? Why?Could you… could you at least tell me your name?”

The Gentleman in Red put both hands on his cane and tilted his head to the other side.

“You look happy, Pomni.”

Pomni blinked. “I… I am happy? I’m-”

He nodded. “Then I shall move on. Enjoy the rest of your life, Mrs. Krolik.”

He kicked his cane, twirling it in his hand and walking away.

Pomni watched him leave. She wanted to run after him. But she understood. She laughed incredulously.

“Pomni, is everything alright?” Jax said, having had to walk to avoid not jostling Esther.

“Mama,” Esther scolded.

Pomni turned and looked her husband in the eye. She smiled.

“…Why, yes. Yes it is. Shall we eat?”

Fin

[charlescoded]

patience is when you smile at me

Ellie requested a prompt from this list and I happily obliged her!

pairing: lestappen word count: 1.7k rated m for the description of a crash, but there are no permanent injuries. max says fuck. i guess it's hurt/comfort

42. The Big Damn Kiss & 67. Character in Peril

He’s not allowed to go back on the track for the race. Medical didn’t clear him. Bruised ribs, they told him. Bed rest, they said. Well, he’s sitting—‘resting’—, next to a bed, so that’s close enough. After the hospital staff had cleared him, Christian had simply looked at him with understanding, squeezed his shoulder, and told him to go to Charles’ bedside. Max hadn’t argued. This was where he wanted to be, anyway.

Pierre had been there already, paler than usual, still in his racing suit. He’d come straight from the track, just like Max had been. But only for one of them, it had been by choice. But for both of them, it was misery to be there.

The hug Pierre gave him had been warm and comforting, if painful. Moving his arms hurt had hurt, Pierre touching his sides even more so, but it was worth it. Maybe deserved.

If Max hadn’t been there, hadn’t been there just in front of him, Charles wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed…

He’d kept his mouth shut about it. Pierre didn’t need to know.

They’d both slept in the room, restless and waiting, but come morning, Pierre had to leave. He hadn’t wanted to, but he hadn’t wanted to abandon his team either. Max understood that, the responsibility. But… Charles laying there… That was his responsibility too… 

If someone asked him what he would choose, to stay at Charles’ side, or to race, he would hate himself for the answer.

But now that Pierre was gone, Max is left alone, sitting in a sterile room with only his thoughts to keep him company. Except… Except Charles is still there…

Charles looks deadly pale, his skin almost the same sickly shade of white as the sheets. His hair stuck to his face, partly covered by bandaged. It doesn’t look right. Charles should be full of life, he should be out there, racing. They both should be. And fuck.

Max squeezes his eyes shut. He can't stand seeing Charles like this, so still. Unmoving, like he's not breathing. It reminds him of the crash, because by the time Max got to him, Charles was not breathing. His chest hadn’t been moving, his head lolled to the side. At least then, Max could do something, anything, to help him. But now? Now he's just sitting here at his bedside, completely useless.

He takes a few a deep breaths, ignores the flash of pain that comes with the expansion of his ribcage. Once, twice. He calms his heart before he opens his eyes again. Nothing has changed, of course, but he’s still disappointed.

The thing is, Max knows he couldn’t have done anything to prevent Charles from crashing. It had been a brake failure, and if Max hadn’t been there, he would have crashed into the wall anyway. But Max had been there, and when he’d dragged Charles out of the burning wreck of his Ferrari, it had saved his life. He’d been the closest by, had been wearing fireproof clothing, and yet…

If he could take that one second back, that one second, he’d do it in a heartbeat. 

He slides his hand over the cloth and gently grasps Charles’ wrist, careful with the tubes. It’s almost a comfort. He can feel Charles’ pulse this way, the steady beat of his heart under Max’s finger tips. It’s a reminder that Charles is alive, that he’s there with Max, that he survived, that Max saved him. It doesn’t matter that he can look up at the monitor to see the numbers. They don’t mean anything to him. The soft thump thump is more soothing than any number could ever be.

Max falls asleep like that, his head cushioned on his arm, his fingers still circling Charles’ wrist. It’s dark when he wakes up again, the race would have finished by this time, and Max wouldn’t care about the results. All he cares about is the fluorescent light illuminating Charles’ eyes. 

He’s alert in an instant. He sits up straight, winces as he jostles his ribs, and scoots closer to the bed.

“Hey,” Charles whispers, voice hoarse. He smiles, then. It’s more like a pained grimace, but Max’s heart skips a beat anyway. “You’re hurt as well..?”

Max shakes his head. It doesn’t matter. “I’m not the one laying in a hospital bed…”

“But you are hurt.”

There’s an accusatory tone in his voice. It’s not… It’s not towards Max. He can already see the stubbornness root itself into Charles mind, blaming himself for what happened, for Max getting hurt, more so than himself laying in the hospital. For once, Max wishes he’d blame someone else. Anyone else.

“Not because of you,” He throws back. He can be just as stubborn as Charles. And this time, this time he refuses to let Charles take the blame. And if he even thinks of apologising for what happened, Max will go straight to the media and put all the blame on himself, on Ferrari, and he won’t care if that’s Charles’ team, won’t care that he disagrees, won’t care that… that… and he won’t care that Charles will hate him for it… “It wasn’t your fault, Charles.”

There’s an angry set to Charles’ lips, eyebrows furrowed in a way that shows that he wants to argue, but something stops him. He falters, he hesitates, and Max doesn’t remember the last time this has happened. “You blame yourself.” It’s not a question.

Max doesn’t look away, doesn’t back down, he stares straight into Charles’ eyes. “You didn’t have control over your car, but I did.”

“Do not dare blame yourself,” He hisses. “I had a failure, my car crashed into you, mine, not yours.”

“Ferrari’s car had a failure, their car crashed into me, that wasn’t your fault either, Charles!”

“I could have dodged you! I got hurt because I couldn’t react quickly enough, that is my fault, and you got hurt because of it, also!”

Max grits his teeth together. Why does Charles have to be so infuriating? Why can’t he just accept that sometimes things aren’t in his control? Fuck. Tears sting in the corner of his eyes. He uses back of his hand to wipe them away but it doesn’t help.

“Don’t say it!” He snaps. “You almost died, Charles! It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself. I—I…” He brings his hand back up to his face again, scrubbing over his cheeks angrily. He hates how his voice breaks. “You weren’t breathing, okay? You weren’t… You were dead, for a few minutes, and it was... it was— fuck.”

He snaps his mouth closed. The tears refuse to stop flowing and his throat is getting clogged up. Charles doesn’t argue with him. Max doesn’t want him to.

Charles’ fingers touch the side of his jaw and at first, Max stubbornly refuses to look at him, but his touch gently pulls him closer. He swipes his thumb underneath Max’s eyes, wiping away a tear. “I’m sorry,” He says, and Max is ready to argue again, but Charles quickly continue. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Max I’m not… I am not apologising.” He swallows. “But I am alive, I’m here.”

His lips tremble. “But you weren’t, Charles, I had to give you mouth-to-mouth because the impact had stopped your heart, and I… I thought I’d lost you…”

“Oh.” Charles’ fingers flex against his jaw. His eyes are understanding.

Max lets out a soft laugh, ignores the flare of pain in his chest, and straightens himself. He needs to bend forwards slightly to say in Charles’ range, his ribs protest, but it doesn’t matter because he’s talking again. “I thought I’d lost you,” He repeats. “I thought you were gone and that it was my fault. I hated it, Charles, it hated it so much, because I wished it was me instead. I hated it because I couldn’t lose you.”

“Shush,” Charles shakes his head minutely. “Do not say that,” Where Max excepted venom and fire, there’s softness instead. Like his voice, his touch is still gentle. It helps calm him down. “We are both still here, Max, together.”

He inhales sharply. Together. That sounds right. Both of them are alive. Charles is awake. He’s talking. He’s breathing. That’s all that should matter. For now, he allows it to be.

Max rubs his hand over Charles’ arm. They don’t say anything for a long while. A doctor comes in to talk with Charles and do some tests. Max refuses to leave his side the entire time. By the time the doctor has left, there’s more colour on Charles’ skin than before, not much, but there’s enough of a flush on Charles’ cheeks that he doesn’t look like he’s part of the decor.

“Are you going to stay here?” Charles asks after he’s finished with his dinner.

The question is almost laughable. Where would he go? His hotel room? “Of course,” He shrugs. “If you scoot over, we can make it a sleepover.”

Charles snorts. “Are you trying to take advantage of my fragile state to get in bed with me, Max?”

“Damn, you figured me out already.”

“Yeah? And the mouth-to-mouth was just an excuse to kiss me, right?” He jokes.

Max falters. He doesn’t want to think about that again. More importantly, he never wants to have to do that again. “If that was a kiss, I’d like a refund.” He mutters.

“Okay.”

“What?”

Charles blushes. “You want a refund, so kiss me.”

“You… want me to kiss you?” He asks incredulously.

“I swear, Max, if you make me say it again!”

Max flushes bright red in return. He stands up quickly, almost knocking over his chair, and swipes his hands over his jeans. It doesn’t feel right, like this. To kiss Charles just like that, for a mere joke, but when he goes to lean away again, Charles’ hands come to hold either side of Max’s face. He blinks in surprise, and when he looks at Charles’ face he sees— Oh. There’s a fondness there. Patience. There’s a small smile on his lips, but he’s waiting, waiting for Max. To realise, to get it, to see this for what it truly is.

He relaxes. His own hand touches the side of Charles’ neck, where no bandage is found. Charles’ lips press against his own lightly, and Max finally smiles.

I was wrong, he thinks, this does feel right.

[houseofbrat]

I love Google Translate...

Kate Middleton 's life is at a crossroads marked by illness and loneliness. As she faces a tough battle with cancer, she finds herself increasingly isolated in her home, with the responsibility of caring for her three children falling solely on her shoulders. On the other hand, Prince William , her husband, seems to maintain a parallel life that is far from the supportive public image that he tries to project. In his first public engagement following the announcement of Kate 's cancer diagnosis , Prince William attempted to show a caring and caring side. During a visit to Surplus to Supper, a charity in Surrey, the prince interacted with staff and received cards of well wishes for his wife and his father, King Charles III, both affected by the disease. In an emotional moment, Guillermo promised to take care of Kate, showing an image of commitment and support. A public commitment, a hidden reality However, sources close to the couple paint a very different reality. Behind this façade of marital support, the marriage between Kate and William appears to be going through serious difficulties. Guillermo apparently shows little interest in his wife's health, delegating all medical responsibilities to staff available 24 hours a day. Meanwhile, he continues to enjoy an active social life, attending parties and nights out with friends and "special friends." Among his regular company is Rose Hanbury, a woman who rumors indicate has been his lover for more than five years. This double life of Guillermo contradicts his promise to look after Kate, who is fighting a devastating illness and needs the support of her partner more than ever. Kate Middleton's loneliness: a heartbreaking reality Kate Middleton's isolation is palpable. During the weekends, while William is away to enjoy his social life, Kate is left alone at home with her three children . This time, which should be rest and family support, becomes a period of loneliness and total responsibility for the princess. At her home, Kate takes refuge in the love of her children, but the lack of marital support aggravates her emotional and physical situation in these difficult times.

The situation is a reflection of a significant gap in their marriage, where the public image of a united couple contrasts drastically with the private reality of disunity and lack of commitment. Kate Middleton, who has always been a figure admired and respected by the British public , faces not only a fight against cancer, but also the loneliness and disappointment of a marriage that seems to be breaking down. Kate and Guillermo's situation has implications that go beyond the personal. The mere suggestion of a divorce would be a monumental blow to the British monarchy. Kate Middleton has managed to win the love and admiration of the British people, evoking the popularity of the late Princess Diana. A divorce could unleash an image crisis for the British Royal Family, generating an incalculable political and social impact.

[andtheflameswenthigher]

Please Don't Tell Me That I'm Dreaming

Pairing: JD x TZ

Word Count: 1.4k

Slight warning for language and it being hrpf lmao

Title from 'Jamie All Over' by Mayday Parade

A/N: I know like most of this is not accurate at all, especially like time-line wise and the extent of Jamie's injury. I am also aware that they were both in Cabo over the all star break but it didn't fit with my vision™️. Enjoy :)

~

Jamie wasn’t pouting. He wasn’t, fuck you very much, Yorkie. It was perfectly normal to feel like shit after an injury, especially when it was the same shoulder that had caused you to miss an entire season the year before. So to say he wasn’t in the best mood right now would be an understatement. And if he wanted to lock himself inside his brand new Philly apartment and only leave for his PT appointments, he felt like he was entitled to it. It had only been two days since the injury, and his shoulder still hurt like a bitch. The one saving grace was that he wasn’t in a sling this time around. The trainers said it didn’t look too bad, they just didn’t want to risk aggravating the injury further so they were being cautious by placing him on IR. So for right now, he was out for the next couple of weeks, falling back into a routine of no practice and PT sessions everyday. It sucked, a lot, especially since he had only been in Philly for about a month. He was eager to prove his worth to his new team, so of course he had to go and get injured, again. Fucking Penguins, this is why they couldn’t have nice things. 

Jamie was being slightly dramatic, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. He was hurting, in a bad mood, and alone. The pain in his shoulder had nothing on the loneliness he was feeling. Last time he had been in this situation, he’d had Trevor by his side. Trevor was there to change his ice packs and make sure he wasn’t aggravating his shoulder by trying to lift anything. He had gone into full on mom mode and had banned Jamie from doing anything around the apartment until his shoulder healed. Having him around, as well as the rest of the team and the Duck’s amazing medical staff had been what got him through last season. Now though, he was in a new city, with a new team he had only known for a few weeks, and without Trevor. 

He felt kind of pathetic, admitting how much being away from Trevor was affecting him. It had been so long since he’d lived alone, he was used to always having another presence in the house, especially one that was as loud as Trevor’s. He had thought about asking his mom if she would come down for a few days, but he didn’t want to worry her anymore than he already had. Besides, he didn’t think being bored and lonely was a good enough excuse to get his mom out of work. So instead he was stuck here in his empty apartment, with only Trevor’s texts for company. 

Trevor had been watching the game and saw the hit live. He had been blowing up Jamie’s phone ever since. Trevor had called him as soon as he left the hospital, out of his mind with worry and convinced that Jamie was dying. Jamie had to talk him down from jumping on the first plane out of Anaheim, which he couldn’t exactly blame Trevor for, since he had been about to do the exact same thing when he broke his ankle. Trevor had been insistent that Jamie did not have to fly back to Anaheim literally the day after he had arrived in Philly. Realistically, Jamie knew that, but he was worried and fuck whatever Torts thought, if Trevor needed him he’d be on the next flight out. So, yeah, he couldn’t exactly blame Trevor for his reaction. 

Knowing that Trevor was so concerned made him feel a little bit better. At least he knew he always had someone in his corner. Trevor had been sending hourly ‘checking in’ texts that he was trying, and failing, to pass off as just sending him memes to make him feel better. Jamie could see right through him, knowing just how worried he actually was. It probably didn’t help that Trevor was also injured, so he didn’t have anything to focus on other than their collective injuries. Jamie knew Trevor was struggling, no matter how much he tried to play it off. They were trying their best to make this long distance thing work. It was a first for the both of them though, not used to not being able to see each other every day. They had gotten to spend the All-Star break together, even though most of it was spent packing up Jamie’s stuff and getting it shipped across the country. The one week hadn’t felt like enough though, and being apart was weighing on him more than he’d like to admit. 

No matter how Jamie was feeling about it though, he knew Trevor had it ten times worse. At least he had hockey to focus on, and trying to find housing plus navigate a new city and new teammates had been a good distraction for the last month. Trevor had gotten injured the day after Jamie had left, which meant he didn’t have hockey to focus on like Jamie did. He had tried to be there as much as he could for Trevor, but it was hard when he was on the other side of the country. Jamie knew how bored he had been the first couple weeks of his injury, and he had over 100 Tik Tok messages a day to prove it. One thing every hockey player could agree on was that being injured was the worst. 

Trevor still hadn’t answered his good morning text, which was weird. Even with the time difference, Jamie knew he would be awake by now. Trevor usually had PT early in the mornings, and he always answered his texts first thing. The radio silence was starting to worry him. Jamie knew he was probably being paranoid, it had only been a couple hours since he texted. Trevor was probably busy, or he was late to PT this morning and hadn’t had a chance to check his messages. It was probably nothing, and it definitely didn’t have anything to do with him being bored and lonely. Definitely not. 

~

Jamie was just thinking about ordering lunch when the doorbell rang. It was probably Yorkie coming to make sure he hadn’t died of boredom yet. Jamie rolled his eyes, easing himself off the couch and trying not to jostle his shoulder. The doorbell rings again, and then a third time. 

“Jesus, Yorkie. I’m coming, calm down.” He calls, reaching for the door handle. Jamie opens the door to Trevor standing on his doorstep, wearing shorts and Birkenstocks like it isn’t -15° in Philly right now. His broken ankle is in a boot now, so at least he isn’t trying to balance crutches on top of the suitcase in his left hand. He looks slightly rumpled, like he had been sleeping on the plane on the way here. His hair is squashed on one side, and sticking up like he’s been electrified on the other. Jamie shakes his head, breaking out of his Trevor induced trance long enough to speak. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, shocked at his boyfriend's sudden appearance. 

“What am I doing here? Jimmy, you almost died!” Trevor shrieks, dropping his suitcase handle. 

“I did not almost die.” Jamie rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the grin that creeps across his face. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but from the angle I saw it looked like you were on the verge of death.” 

Jamie chuckles, “Are you done being dramatic now?” Trevor straightens up, nodding. “Get in here then so I can kiss you.” A grin spreads across Trevor’s face, he crosses Jamie’s porch in two steps and throws himself into his arms. 

“Ow, watch the shoulder.” Jamie laughs, shifting to hold Trevor with his good arm. Trevor surges up, pressing his lips against Jamie’s. 

“Sorry.” Trevor mumbles against his lips. “I missed you.” 

Jamie smiles, pulling him through the doorway. “I missed you, too.” 

~

It’s not until later that night when they’re laying in bed that Jamie remembers something. 

“So it’s fine for you to fly across the country when I get injured, but I’m not allowed to fly across the country when you’re injured?” 

Trevor lightly slaps him on the chest, already half asleep. “I’m also injured, it doesn’t count. Besides, I waited a few days to make sure it was fine with the trainers. I promised them I’d continue my PT while I was here so they’d let me go.” 

Jamie chuckles, shocked at how well thought out this surprise visit was. “Either way, I’m glad you’re here.” He presses a kiss to Trevor’s forehead, smiling to himself.

[omi-papus]

Fuck I wish I had it in me to write properly because Im constantly exhausted. But like ok imagine.

AU, where Robin and Al-An actually want to get hit up with Alterra, a little too much.

Renata Goodall is an official Alterra employee, who is totally very qualified to be here and got in through recommendation alone based on her impeccable portfolio and titles that are very real and totally all belong to this inexplicably distracted and danger-prone lady, don't question why her resume claims thirty years of experience, when she looks about twenty-five, that's just a good skincare routine.

Only two days after she's come in, one of the employees of a high-ranking position has had an inexplicable change in behavior. The upper manager of the division, who has a reputation for being lazy, impulsive, extremely unprofessional, known for getting extremely friendly with all employees, especially the female staff, among many other faults, whether he has stolen directly from employee wages is "a theory" if you ask the higher-ups, kept in that position exclusively due to being a long-distance relative of one of the corporate heads. After privately conducting a... personal inspection of foreign cargo that was theorized to be of alien origin, outside of work hours, he's... different.

The hostile human subject was inadvertently killed when attempting to dislodge components from the emergency storage medium, that had incited an electric discharge that resulted in fatal brain damage. This also caused the storage medium's energy to deplete rapidly, initiating emergency procedure of implanting the housed consciousness into the safest nearby receptacle. The functionally uninhabited human body left behind is considered the best option.

It has been noted that the general manager has developed an almost extreme difficulty to walk, concerning low appetite, and an almost manic desperation to avoid the bathroom at all costs, only ever doing it when the threat of contamination of the space becomes imminent. He has also been far less talkative; his previous friendliness had completely vanished, replaced with remarkable rudeness and even worse cluelessness. One thing is decidedly stranger. He reorganized the entire seven-year company plan to be optimized in under an hour, had all salaries updated based on market value as well as counted tax and medical costs, improved a multitude of policies in days, and somehow made the budget dedicated to technical repair of vents, computers, water, and light drop to zero since he has easily fixed every single one of those problems himself.

Alan Whelihan

Is never seen out of the office building.

Does not engage in conversation that is not related to work.

Does not answer personal questions, ever.

Renata feels some type of off around him. Something about the way his veins show from under the pale skin of his wrists, in the milliseconds they show from under his long sleeves looks eerie. It reminds her of something said in a research log she has saved on a pen drive that her sister, who died in an expedition to study the remains of a civilization that was thought extinct, sent her right before she was never heard from again. Declared dead only hours later. She is going to get information about what happened to her at all costs, even if she has to infiltrate this disgusting company, and if she has to beat it out of the superiors themselves, as strange as he was, he was probably her fastest way to the truth. She was sure she only kept a copy of all the information on physical hardware and wiped it all from her PDA. She was absolutely sure she got it all.

Her real name is Robin Ayou. The alien knows this; he had easily hacked the personal devices of everyone in the building; he has learned a lot from it. Her story crumbled under his scrutiny in mere seconds, and he had little difficulty having her pinned in every available facet of her known identity. Now, he has let this slide, for one reason: he needs her close. He needs to extract everything he can from her. Because he's seen something peculiar and terfifying.

On her device theres inexplicably, blurry, low quality, partially corrupted, but unmistakable images of a Sea emperor leviathan.

And while it would be most convenient to just corner the other and get what they want by reason or by force, neither is in a position where they can act out. Both of them are trying to hide their secrets, and they have enough suspicion on them already. So they will have to be more careful about this.

[spkyscry-a]

@royalreef​ sent: Miranda's nose was still running. It was still running, and she had developed a cough between her sneezing and her running, her lungs wheezing softly in her own chest. She had done the usual, called for her medical team who confirmed nothing that Miranda did not already suspect, and she had gotten her hot tea, and stayed in her warmed bed, and dabbled tissues around the high peak of her own nose crest.

It wasn't really getting better. Having something relatively minor but just horrible enough to make Miranda unpresentable would do that — that the only thing Miranda could do was wait out the whole affair and hope she got better sooner rather than later. Her medical staff helped, but only marginally. Miranda always had bad reactions like this, and she had bad lungs. Both of these things turned minor affairs like this into exercises in misery, and it meant that Miranda had very little to entertain herself with.

Sprinkles moved around in the aquarium encircling Miranda, curling gently flashing tentacles over the dome of glass stretching over her bed. Miranda signed back in turn, but there wasn't much conversation to be had. She hadn't thought to have some way to watch movies made into her bed, not when she was younger, and fresher to the land. She had her phone, plugged in beneath the display that housed Miranda's crown when she was not wearing it, but that was about it. Books were not so entertaining when Miranda kept wheezing as though her lungs were about to collapse in on herself, and she couldn't keep her attention on their words anyhow.

She didn't want to be alone. Miranda slept fitfully, here and there, but she couldn't stay asleep. She couldn't remain bored, and she couldn't remain alone.

But she couldn't get up and walk someplace else either, with better company. Sickness like this always made it hard for Miranda to balance, and that meant she could not walk. Even dropping down onto all fours left her stumbling, though she wouldn't have done that anyways. It was unbecoming, shameful, a tender spot where Miranda grew self-conscious around her companions.

Which just meant that she would have to figure out how to bring company to her. A far more likely plan, anyhow, than finding some way out of her pajamas and into something she could be seen in public with.

Miranda shoved her head down, against her pillows, into the nest of her blankets, and quickly sent out a few texts to Vera, a small request. She didn't think Vera would take her up on it, she knew her girlfriend was busy, but it was good to start with her. Just in case she could manage it.

[ TO: If’n ruatt-y'trsc'iil 🐍💘🐟 ] [ txt ]: Veraaaaaaa!!! 🥺🥺🥺 [ txt ]: I am not doing so well today, and Bells is off attending to Merkingdom duties for the time being. [ txt ]: Would you mind, perchance, coming over to visit me? I would not like to be all alone while I am sick, and there is not truly much I can do right now.

Vera was in the midst of work, which wasn’t something very uncommon, though today was perhaps a bit busier than usual. The holiday season was upon them, after all, and that meant that her more front-facing operations required care. That was not to mention the ones lurking beneath the pleasantries that she had been neglecting in her absence. It was a dangerous balancing act, pulling both off, and it required care.

She was currently between locations, working hurriedly on laptop amidst a meeting over voice call in limousine, whilst the hulking Aurora beside her was busying herself with handling the shadier dealings just out of sight of the pleasant little employees that might not even be aware that the boss they were speaking to was having her assistant weigh the pros and cons of living beings’ lives right beside her. Who had outweighed their usefulness with transgressions and if their work could be placed onto someone else without interfering with the flow.

Speaking of flow, it was brought to a pause when her personal phone buzzed on the seat beside her. It was set to only respond to certain people at present, meaning only those she deemed family or similar would be capable of making it do so. A friendly little “one moment, please” as she took the time to flip it over and check who. ‘My Miri💗 ’ displayed, which elicited a hum. Picking up phone and unlocking to scan over the texts proper with a frown. She wasn’t perturbed, no, she was well aware how it was like being ill and alone. It wasn’t nice, to put it lightly, even if it was minor in the grand scheme of things.

[To: My Miri 💗] [txt] Give me a moment to get affairs in order and I can stop by, yes. [txt] Apologies if it takes me a moment, I’ll need to divvy the work today to others and it can take a moment. I may be hovering outside to finish that if I arrive earlier than anticipated. [txt] I’m already on the move, however, so I will have the driver reroute now. [txt] See you soon, love! 💗

Using emojis was, admittedly, newer. It wasn’t something she’d started doing until they’d officially became girlfriends, though seeing that little heart hovering on the text before sending it made her own flutter a tad. It was silly, really, for such a little thing to make her so elated, but... well, it did. She had someone she could send that to and mean it.

She taps a few times on Aurora’s thigh, who then rises somewhat from the seat to go to the front and give the message over to the driver about the change of destination. 

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 25

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is an Adult, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker, Passive Aggressive Canned Soup, Two Morons Trying to Try Their Best

Author’s Note: Yes, the dentist can actually tell.

--------

Chapter 25

--------

New Year's kiss aside, the start of the year brought challenges of various natures.

His initial annoyance over the return of a certain state-reprimanded psychologist turned out to be a bit more bearable than he'd anticipated.

Stephen was invited to - and declined - a welcome-back luncheon for Dr. Carter. He instead found himself out to lunch with Ben Grimm, Misty Knight, Nic West, and Len McCoy.

"I certainly wasn't going to celebrate," Len had scoffed when asked if he'd received the same invitation.

"Don't tell anyone I've poisoned you against her," Stephen warned. That was the last thing he needed to circulate around the hospital. Quashing rumors was a nightmare, and he still hadn't forgotten a few years back when an annoyed nurse he'd rebuffed had started claiming Stephen was sleeping his way through half of the nursing staff. (False. He knew better than to dip his pen in company ink.)

Len rolled his eyes. "You didn't. You may not realize it Strange, but there's not a whole lot of goodwill for her left in the hospital."

Nic and Misty nodded their agreement, while Ben looked contemplative. "She has the support of the board, though I wouldn't be surprised if she's removed from that position. Donors won't take kindly to learning their money is going towards paying a state-approved third-party reviewer for every record she creates for the next five years. It's going to put the rest of the hospital under scrutiny as well. She put Sanctum General in a tight spot."

"Her work should be reviewed," Nic stated. "Not only did she falsify medical records, that decision nearly caused a patient's death and delayed crucial care to another. Strange here was the only one of the hospital's representatives solicited for a recommendation by the state board of physicians that didn't vote in favor of letting her keep her license." He paused when Len grumbled something about "Damned majority-rule-happy idiots," and looked at Stephen. "You have no idea how many of us at Sanctum General appreciate you for that."

"There was no other recommendation I could give," Stephen said. He tried not to let his surprise at Nic's words show. "We swore an oath for a reason."

"I know I did," Misty agreed. "If management tries to move my pediatric psych patients back under her care I'll resign. Dr. Troi has done an admirable job since stepping into the role."

"I can't argue with that," Ben conceded. "Deanna is a joy to work with." He sighed heavily. "I don't wish Dr. Carter ill; I just wish there was an easy path forward in all of this and that professional friendships weren't a casualty."

Stephen felt bolstered by that lunch. He'd felt like an island regarding the Dr. Carter scandal of two years prior, but knowing that he'd actually had the support of many doctors, nurses, and technicians? It helped.

He was even in a good enough mood that when he saw Dr. Carter walking around the hospital with Dr. Xavier and Ms. Rambeau, he said a polite hello and continued on.

There. Civil.

Peter made sure to prepare a meal he knew Stephen enjoyed. He figured it would be a good way to help combat the bad mood Stephen would no doubt be in with the return of his least favorite coworker to the hospital. And he'd have four fingers of the preferred scotch poured instead of just two.

He was sure that Stephen would do his best to keep any bad mood to himself, but he wanted to help, if he could. Stephen took too much onto his shoulders and while he'd gotten better at striking a work-life balance, Peter would rather the home part of that life be happy, at least.

Making Stephen's home "happy" had not been high on his list of priorities a few months ago. He'd settled for tolerable, much like how he found Stephen... and how he'd thought Stephen found him. But things had shifted for the both of them as the months progressed. They'd started loosening their individual grips on their pride.

At the moment the only complaint he had about Stephen was that he was insisting on Peter seeing a dentist. He'd made the appointment while Peter had been sick with the influenza and no matter how much Peter did not want to go to a dentist, had argued loudly, vehemently against it - and earned a spanking for it - legally, he could not say no. Peter's healthcare decisions were Stephen's to make as the selecting spouse.

"I don't want to go," Peter had muttered with a sniffle, even as Stephen rubbed the usual after-spanking balm into his smarting backside.

"We all have to do things we don't want to do," Stephen had said. He hadn't sounded at all sympathetic. "I'll be with you the whole time and if necessary, I'll make sure they drug you so that you don't have to feel a thing."

"I liked the optometrist. Can't I just go back to her?" Peter had asked. He hadn't been to a dentist in three years. Even with his dutiful brushing and flossing, he doubted he'd emerge from the appointment unscathed. Plus, visiting a dentist always terrified him, not that he could admit that.

"Considering the optometrist can't examine, clean, and x-ray your teeth, no."

Peter had huffed but decided to let the matter drop. Stephen never compromised when the matter was someone's health - especially Peter's. He'd just have to be scared, he supposed.

As annoying - and unsteadying - as it could be, that kind of care and dedication directed at him was nice.

He was pulling the seasoned roasted vegetables out of the lower oven when he heard Stephen's usual routine of pulling into the driveway, locking the Buick, and opening the front door.

"It'll be ready when you get back down," he called.

Sure enough, Peter had the table set with generous bowls of chicken and dumplings, plates of roasted vegetables, and a lemon and cherry fizzy water when Stephen strolled in wearing his usual at-home attire.

"You didn't even come up to check to see what I'm wearing and if you want to jump me," Stephen teased.

Oh, he wasn't in a bad mood at all!

"And risk burning the vegetables?" Peter asked with a mock gasp. "It's hard enough to get you to eat enough of them when they're not burnt to a crisp.

"See, I'd buy that if it weren't for the fact that I know you blend them into the sauces you use every chance you get," Stephen said, sitting down. He saw the glass of scotch and raised his eyebrows. "If you do want to jump me, you don't have to get me drunk."

Peter blushed. "No, it's just, I thought today might not be a good day for you and wanted to be prepared."

"Ah," Stephen said with a nod. "Get me drunk enough I just pass out."

"W-what? No!" Peter sputtered out. "That's not- I wo-"

"I'm just teasing you," Stephen said patiently, reaching for Peter's hand and briefly squeezing it. "I appreciate the thought." He picked up the glass and used it to motion to the food. "Truly, I do."

A happy warmth spread through him at Stephen's words.

"Your day was good, then?" He sat and started to eat.

"It was," Stephen said. "I had lunch with some colleagues and followed up with some patients I've operated on this past year."

"Anyone I know?" Peter asked. "Colleagues, I mean."

"You've met all of them except for Dr. West. Knight, Grimm, and McCoy." He smiled. "It was nice to do something like that again; I haven't really done so since... well, it's been a while."

Peter wanted to push, wanted to know just why Stephen had grown so closed off at work. But he didn't; as much as Stephen was opening up to him, he knew the man wouldn't appreciate insolent questions.

"What did you do, today?"

Peter shared the day's exploits, including his grocery shopping and trip to the five-and-dime. "Oh, and Sharon called, and we talked for an hour or so."

"How is she?"

Peter sipped from his fizzy water. "Annoyed with Tony, the sixth new revision of the nursery he's planning, and his attempts to guilt her into not running."

Stephen chuckled. "I'll reassure him that moderate running is perfectly safe."

"I miss them," Peter admitted. "I know it sounds weird, because they were only here for a week and I barely know them, but I really like them."

"It's not weird at all," Stephen said. "And they really like you, too."

Peter was grateful for the good mood because it could very well go wrong with what had been delivered today.

"This arrived, today," Peter said, handing Stephen the thick envelope with a small plate of lemon bars. "I didn't open it!" He added.

"I can see that," Stephen murmured. He set the envelope with its unmistakable emblem aside. "We'll look at it after dessert, hmm?"

Peter nodded, even though he'd rather get it over with.

Once in the den, Peter sat opposite Stephen in the other armchair. Stephen had the letter and he'd slipped on his reading glasses. It was so unfair how stupidly attractive Stephen was when he wore those damned things. As if he needed to look even hotter.

"Okay. Let's have it, then."

With Peter's full attention, Stephen began to read aloud.

"To Dr. Stephen V. Strange and Selected Spouse,"

"I don't even get a name?" Peter interrupted. "That is so fu-" he caught himself. "Messed up!"

"It is," Stephen agreed. "Now, be silent."

He continued. "As you approach the Sixth-Month Mark of your Civic Marriage as facilitated and approved by the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections, we’d like to offer our sincere congratulations."

He spared Peter a glance, but Peter kept his mouth shut.

"Per Article 12, Chapter 3 of the Civic Spousal Act, you are hereby informed that you must report to the facilitating Bureau satellite office no later than five business days after the six-month anniversary of your union. During this visit both Selecting and Selected spouse will meet with Bureau custodians - separately and together - and have the opportunity to discuss the union thus far, file any domestic violence complaints, and/or provide feedback to the Bureau. The Bureau thanks you for your participation in this important program for civic engagement and progress. Regards, P. J. Coulson, Director of Office of Spousal Communications, Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections."

Stephen lowered the letter and removed his reading glasses. "Would you like to read it?"

Peter shook his head, even as he stared at the offending letter. "No, I know you read it right."

"I'll make an appointment for that following Tuesday," Stephen said.

"They didn't even use my name," Peter said quietly. "You get called 'doctor' and-"

"I am a doctor," Stephen interrupted. "And this is clearly just a templated letter that auto-fills the selecting spouse's name. There's not even a proper signature, look." He turned the letter around so Peter could see the printed signature.

"And I'm just property," Peter continued dully.

"You're not," Stephen said sharply, wanting to nip Peter's spiral in the bud. "You are not just property, or some object, Peter. We've been over this."

Peter huffed and Stephen could see just how badly he wanted to roll his eyes.

"It's to your benefit, Peter."

"How is only being referred to as the selected spouse "beneficial," hmm?" Peter asked heatedly, using air quotes.

"With the exception of your profile, the contracts signed, our marriage license, and your issued ID, your name doesn't appear on any official BCSS documents because during this year you are protected by my name. As the selecting spouse, I am responsible for you in every way, including legally. You could rob a bank or steal and crash someone’s vehicle and it would be me facing the harshest consequences and serving the longer sentence."

Peter was quiet for a long time. "It still sucks."

"It does," Stephen agreed kindly. "And I'm very sorry it makes you feel less-than."

Peter's sigh was heavy. "I'm sorry. I know you don't think of me like that." He must have still looked noticeably uncomfortable, however, because Stephen didn't let it drop.

"What else has you upset?"

Peter frowned, annoyed. "Since when are you emotionally aware?" He winced. "And I'm sorry for that, too!"

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," Stephen reminded him, ignoring the jab.

"What if we have our check-in and they annul us?" Peter asked. "I don't want to have to go back into the selection pool and do this again."

"That's not going to happen," Stephen said.

"They've annulled marriages before! They did it to Sharon's!"

"That only happens under very specific circumstances, like spousal abuse. I have no reason to claim I have an abusive spouse and unless you feel you have reason to argue otherwise, we'll make it through the assessment just fine."

"I'd never lie and say that you hit me," Peter assured him. "Like you said, there's a difference between spanking me because I broke the rules and hauling off and hitting me because you're in a bad mood."

"And I would never hurt you like that," Stephen said. "Not ever."

Peter nodded. "I know. You're not that much of a putz."

"But still a putz, then?" Stephen teased.

“Yeah,” Peter said, finally cracking a smile. “I’m sorry, I am. I don’t know why I’ve been so worried about this upcoming check-in with them.”

“It’s the government, Peter. It would be strange if you didn’t worry even a little about it.”

Stephen folded the letter, stuck it back in the envelope, and set it aside. “Why don’t we play a game to take our minds off the matter?” He motioned to the lower shelf of the bookcase where the games were stored. “Pick one and I’ll find a good radio station.”

All things considered, it was a nice little impromptu date-night.

The dentist wasn't fun at all, and Peter's panic almost sky-rocketed when the dental assistant, whose name tag read Aida insisted Stephen wait out in the lobby.

"No, and I will file a complaint that you're interfering in a BCSS marriage if you continue to make an issue of this," Stephen warned lightly when the assistant huffed in annoyance when he refused to leave. "He's entitled to have a third-party with him for his appointments if he chooses."

"Yes, him!" Peter said instantly. "Stephen can stay, please!"

Aida looked warily over at Peter, but his attention was focused on Stephen. He's keeping his promise, Peter thought, relieved. He promised he'd stay with me.

"I'm staying with my husband," Stephen said.

Thankfully Aida let the matter drop and Dr. Banner arrived completely oblivious to the fact that his practice had narrowly avoided a visit from the BCSS.

"Call me Bruce," the man said as he introduced himself. "The plan for today is to go ahead and get an updated set of x-rays, clean your teeth, and if necessary, set up a treatment plan going forward."

The x-rays Peter knew he could handle just fine. He'd had Stephen's cock in his mouth and throat multiple times so he wasn't worried about how uncomfortable the bitewings would be. When it came time to actually inspect Peter's teeth, however, he started to panic again. He took deep breaths to steady himself and it seemed to be working before Bruce commented that he was seeing some bruising and "petechiae," along Peter's soft palate.

"What's that?" Peter asked when Bruce moved to get another instrument.

"It's when blood vessels burst," he said. "It can happen from number of things," he added mildly, glancing at Stephen.

In his line of vision, Peter saw Stephen shift and Peter put two and two together, recalling just how carried away they'd gotten the previous night when Peter had gotten on his knees after dinner.

Fuck.

His face burned at the knowledge that someone could tell what he'd been up to and then he saw the next instrument - a perio probe - and he nearly had a fit. His trembling was so bad that Stephen called for a stop and then spoke with Bruce outside. When they returned, Peter was, to put it lightly, drugged out of his mind.

Once he slipped under a cloud of painless oblivion, he'd apparently ended up with two fillings and an otherwise clean bill of dental health.

"Did I say anything dumb while I was out of it?" Peter asked that night after Stephen cooked a simple meal of buttered noodles for Peter along with a roasted chicken breast for himself. Then for dessert he'd treated them both to milkshakes at the local diner, which Peter sucked down with an appreciative groan. He figured Peter deserved the pick-me-up, especially after the humiliation of knowing that his dentist knew he'd been sucking Stephen's cock. His young spouse was so prim about such things.

"No more than anyone else does under the thrall of lidocaine and nitrous oxide," Stephen said.

"That doesn't sound very reassuring," Peter muttered. Stephen almost grinned. Peter could be so adorable when he was put out.

"You said something unintelligible about someone named Quentin," Stephen said, tone carefully even.

Peter looked up sharply from his milkshake. "I did?"

Stephen nodded. "Then you mumbled something in what I'm assuming was Hebrew and that was about it."

"Okay then," Peter said, still looking a little shaken. "Okay."

"Is everything alright?" Stephen asked. He wasn't expecting any grand confession, given that Peter probably wouldn't want to detail a painful part of his life and the whole reason he'd signed himself over to the BCSS. They could cross that bridge later.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine," Peter said. "People say all kinds of random stuff when they're drugged, right?"

"They do," Stephen agreed easily, letting the matter drop. Peter's day had been trying enough. "I'm planning to read in the den once we get back. You're always more than welcome to join me."

"Yeah, definitely!" Peter said. "I've just started reading the murder mystery Clea loaned me."

"You two and your murder mysteries," Stephen teased indulgently.

"We love them," Peter said happily.

After the dreaded dental visit, their next pressing concern was getting through their appointment at the BCSS the following week.

Easy.

-------

[fizzingwizard]

Haven't vented about work lately, but not for lack of material, lol

Recently my peace of mind at work is shattered. You'd think that would have already happened, given all the stresses, but I was comfortable. Not stress-free, but I liked where I was at better than any other place I've worked before.

Our school felt like a team where each member cared about each other professionally. Not just people who work together by coincidence. There was drama sometimes. But not half as much as other places I've worked. And we always tried to make sure we reached out to each other to support each other, and thought about how our actions would affect someone else. We didn't half-ass stuff because we care about our coworkers and our students.

But there are a billion things wrong in how the school functions, and in what the company expects of us versus what a human being is capable of getting done in a single day, even using up her own break time, or staying late - despite a salary of peanuts and no paid overtime for "prep" work.

If that was all, it was bad, but I really thought to myself, "Every job sucks in some way. If you go somewhere else, it might suck worse." Because unfortunately I know that from experience.

But now we have all learned our assignments for the new school year. Out of ten teachers, four are quitting. A fifth left earlier this year for medical reasons and said she'd be back, but it looks like she won't - and it also is sounding like the reason she won't be back isn't medical. A sixth left in the summer, saying she had unresolved issues with the company and couldn't stand it anymore. And a seventh left in March of last year, which I'm counting in the list of recent exits because her reason for leaving was work stress.

So seven school staff leave in one year. Many of them are veteran teachers with ten years of experience. Three have leadership positions. We have had several other teachers come for one year and leave, or come for half a year and leave. The staffing issues are chronic. You'd think the company would try as hard as possible to hold on to the veterans. But instead they're blaming them. I got told that these coworkers formed a group to quit together and it sounds like it includes some teachers at other campuses. I don't know if it's true that they decided this as a group or not. I also got told that our leaders did a bad job of leading, our school manager did a bad job of keeping the head office informed of issues our school was having, and that other leaders disliked how our leaders ran our school to begin with.

They just blamed and blamed and blamed. But the problem is, even if some of it is true, what I know is that it's thanks to those leaders that we got through these past years, which were really difficult in many ways. One leader was absent for weeks at a time due to medical issues, and we all wanted to support her, but it's true that her absence was tough on us. But it was toughest on her co-teacher, who was left with all the work for her class up to her alone. All the prep and planning and looking after the kids and communicating with their parents and being responsible for everything about them. This went on for half a year. We kept asking for her to have a permanent sub, but the best we could get, we were told, was random subs who would sometimes show up and more than often wouldn't. Some of them could only stay for half days. They didn't know the kids. They didn't help with prep work. This teacher was totally bogged down with way too much to do, and despite doing it all with a smile, she finally broke down and cried. And THAT'S when the subs appeared - before that we were all taking turns leaving our own classes to help in hers, because we kept getting told there were no subs, there were no subs. And we kept having to help after the subs were assigned anyway, because the school got so many new students but was hemorrhaging teachers. It felt like we were all needed everywhere all the time.

After about a month the subs just stopped showing up. Then in January, a teacher from a different class was permanently reassigned to the partnerless teacher's class. It was not either of their request or demand. The company just couldn't find anyone to hire, so it plucked a teacher out of the class she spent all year bonding with and dumped her in another without even telling her in advance. She found out the same way we all day: in our daily meeting.

Guess who's among those quitting? The partnerless, overworked teacher, and the teacher who was removed from her class two months before the end of the year. And I'm supposed to believe the problems at the school are their fault?? These people who worked and sacrificed more than anyone???

As for the leaders. The one who is sick can't help being sick. A different leader is the one dumping all the blame, and she told me about this leader's mental health. I didn't ask because I would never do that. I don't know that the laws in Japan are about medical confidentiality, but I think it's gross that she told me about my coworker's mental health problems without permission no matter what. She seemed so desperate to blame my coworker and make me be on her side instead. The only side I'm on right now is my own, but I'm also going to defend the people I think deserve defending. The sick coworker wasn't perfect and did give me trouble sometimes, but she was a hard worker and could also be very nice, and certainly did a lot for our school.

The one that bothers me the most is our second leader. The new leader blames her for nearly everything. She didn't make our schedules right. She didn't inform the head office of things right. She didn't follow through. She didn't this and that and and and. Here's what I know: This second leader is my co-teacher, and she's one of the best people I know. She is an excellent teacher, amazing with little kids, super patient even with the most intense students - all of which by itself should be enough to make ANY company try as hard as they can to keep her. (By the way, the whole entire world to its own detriment INSISTS on undervaluing teacher skills, especially skills with very young kids. Please knock on your own heads, everyone, and ask yourself if it is really so simple to take care of little ones who are nonverbal, don't understand time, have no fine motor skills, scream at the top of their lungs for hours, and don't even know themselves why they're upset a lot of the time, and do it in a way that is always loving and kind and also just challenging enough to push them to the next milestone. ECE is HARD WORK. Not saying it's the same as working in a coal mine. Not saying it's brain surgery. But it's real work and everyone has such high expectations of their ECE teachers while also treating them like the lowest kind of teacher there is.)

But on top of all that, the second leader also did everything she could to help us deal with the understaffing. She found ways for us to take breaks on days when it seemed impossible. We are not paid during break time, so the fact that we are always working through at least half if not all of our breaks is literally us working for free. She went from class to class herself helping wherever she could, even though she missed being in her own class. She listened to the complaints and did what she could to alleviate them. She organized events and simply made sure our school functioned.

How am I supposed to believe this person is to blame for our problems? As far as I can see, she is the ONLY reason our school didn't sink totally this year. Literally THE ONLY reason. Our manager this year is brand new, always busy, and never on top of everything. I like her, but she really needed the second leader's help. And even though the new leader says the second leader didn't tell her about the issues at our school, we are doubtful, because they certainly knew about it the fall when they finally started sending subs. (In fact, the new leader was one of the subs who would come! How did she not notice anything when she'd stop by? To be fair she would only come for half a day, but still.) And the new leader says she didn't know about the first leader's chronic absences. But why? Whose job is it to look at the attendance?

I don't know, maybe more should have been reported about that, at least for the sake of the coteacher who was so overworked due to being alone. What happened to her was definitely not far. But at the same time, this company clearly has issues with anyone dealing with anything but perfect mental health. I actually warned a new coworker just the other day to be very careful about mentioning her personal mental health to management because thanks to this instance as well as others I just don't trust that this company gives a shit. I do! Don't get me wrong. I think my coworkers mental health matters a lot for their sake, and also for our students' sake! You know, if you have kids, and you're very angry, better to take some time apart and cool off, even if you're afraid to be seen as a loser for walking away from a fight, because adults are so much more powerful than kids and losing your temper for a minute can be terrible! It's important for teachers not to be at the end of their rope. Or, like the rest of us, just completely exhausted from doing a workload meant for several more people than are currently staffed.

But the new leader is acting like these teachers decided to get "burned out." That is the issue. It's not about the leaders or the other teachers. The reason we struggled is because we were understaffed and have been for years, and it's gotten worse. On top of the understaffing, more and more work was piled on too. Last year I broke down at one point, because we were so unbelievably busy that getting it all done felt totally impossible, and I had just been told that we now needed to plan and perform a teacher's skit for the holiday performance, which was like a week away. It was so irrelevant - I promise the parents don't want to see us perform, this performance used to be for the benefit of the older kids in the audience, but due to covid there weren't going to be any! It was so ridiculous so I said, "We don't need you to add more stress, we need you to take some stress away!" And the skit did end up vanishing into thin air, thank goodness. It's stuff like that that really pushes me over the edge because it's so unnecessary. Like this week a coworker is being sent to a different school to learn their routine because she is transferring there next term. I'm like why? Why does she have to go now instead of learning in April like the rest of us? Maybe there is a good reason, but the fact of the matter is we are understaffed and we need all hands on deck, especially if anyone calls in sick. Yet this teacher's being sent away to learn something she won't need to do until next term. If she COULD learn in April, they should have done it then.

But they are doing this sort of thing all the time. Just take our staff and make them do extra things, then act so shocked when we say we feel overworked and neglected. "How can you feel that way! We had no idea you were stressed!" No idea?? You thought this amount of work was reasonable??? That's what scares me. Because here is the 100% truth: I don't even get the bare minimum of my job done. We have lesson plans we turn in every month, and they include art projects, sensory projects, science experiments, dramatic play activities, phys ed activities, activities for fine motor skill development, and more. All of which we plan and prepare all the materials for by ourselves. Guess what? WE DON'T GET IT DONE. I don't have the TIME to do it all. I do as much as I can, but even then I'm hurrying through things or working on them while the kids eat lunch (and eating my own in three bits lol). We don't have the money either lol. Company has a very strange idea of how far our monthly stipend can stretch. Why does a class with ten students get the same budget as one with twenty, by the way???

And I'm just talking about the bare bones of my job. That doesn't include: planning and preparing events and assemblies, cleaning the school, making posters, putting together student crafts and photos, holding conferences, having school meetings, doing progress reports, doing other paperwork, and prepping and teaching electives (which we are required to do - I am currently doing one which I'm not required to as well, but me and my coworkers were basically guilted into it because the teacher at a different school who was doing it before unexpectedly needed longer paternity leave and after we helped out for a month, we were thinking of saying no to doing it longer, when we found out the teachers at that school were complaining about us not being willing to help. Like, my dude, we already ARE. Anyway, we kept helping for six months lol. This class is our "choice" to teach but it sure didn't feel like a choice.)

These things take time!!! I get at most an hour of prep a day, usually chopped up into 15 or 30 min blocks. And we don't have any space. All the rooms are in use at all times and the staff room is basically a closet. I've done work sitting on my butt in the hallway. And I don't even always get that hour. That's why I use my break. Because I don't want my kids to suffer - and I don't want to be told I'm a bad teacher because I didn't get my work done. But it's impossible to do it. Literally just impossible.

It's ridiculous. They are two years olds. When I taught elementary school I did NOT have this much to do lmao.

And the company finds ways to cut costs everywhere. There used to be a cleaning service: now we clean instead (during our break time!) and the school gets a professional deep clean twice a year. There used to be only one teacher on nap duty. Now local law requires two. Did the company do anything to make up for the loss of prep time? Nope.

Some things are so infinitely stupid it drive me crazy. Like how after taking the kids' temperatures when they wake up, we have to write it down in two different places, even though management AGREES that one of those is redundant and parents dont even look at it. It was a covid measure of extreme stupidity. We've asked for it to go. Nope - it stays, despite being useless! And instead of that going away, we have now been given a THIRD thing we have to start recording that we didn't before! We have to write all these things down while also changing diapers and taking kids to the toilet and giving them snack and watching so they dont choke and making sure allergy kids get the right snack and cleaning up the tables chairs and floor and sending kids home with their parents and talking to the parents about things that happened during the day without forgetting any of it. Meanwhile the kids are kids and are playing. Who do they think is watching them with all this endless other stuff to do?????

BIG SIGH

So the teacher who aren't quitting: One is becoming a sub and based at a different school. Three are being transferred to other schools. Only me and one coworker will be left. ONLY THE TWO OF US!!!!

We will have an ENTIRE new team in April. I'm told there will be a few experienced teachers transferring in. But most will be new hires. And on top of that... The company CAN'T FIND enough new hires! So we will be understaffed AGAIN. Which is a BIG PROBLEM because GUESS WHAT. We are going to have even MORE students next year! And events and assembles etc will be much bigger and more involved than they were before, because we are returning to the pre-covid school calendar. I'm absolutely buckling under the pressure of thinking about the workload. It's not sane.

That's why I had the talk with the new leader. I really wanted her to understand from a teacher's perspective how absolutely bonkers it is that they want us to take on this many students with a staff this is almost completely new and still isn't up to the number of staff we're supposed to have. AND we'll be minutes both leaders! We will have the new leader, but she will only visit us now and then. The previous leaders were on campus every day (when they were healthy) and knew the school inside and out.

Like always I wondered if I'm totally overreacting because I don't like sudden changes. But all my coworkers are too. The ones who are leaving have been going out of their way to do whatever they can to make things ready for April. The ones who are staying (aside from me and the other teacher, the manager is also staying) are stressing out same as me. That's why I talked to the new leader, because I don't like sudden changes without reassurance that all the necessary preparations have been made. And I am NOT reassured. Mostly she just blamed my coworkers for everything! She didn't assign any responsibility to the company at all. It's not the company's fault it hasn't been able to hire any help for the past three years apparently! Surely it's got nothing to do with the lousy pay they offer or the very high English ability they require -__- My gosh, if you can't raise the pay then lower the English requirement. For heaven's sake. You can't act like you're Richie Rich's school with only the best of everything if you don't have the money. You certainly don't pay your teachers like they're working there. We scrub toilets on our breaks and then get a fifteen dollar raise at the end of the year, lol.

I have so much more to vent about here but this is already long and infuriating enough. I have strawberries in the fridge so I'm going to eat them.

On the bright side my students are adorable and I love them to pieces. The weather today was so beautiful so I let them play outside for a full hour. Would love to do that way more, it's a matter of the outside play area being small and other classes needing a turn too. But today we were lucky and could have it all to ourselves. I had the most peaceful time sitting in the grass blowing leaves around with my students. There was no stress then at all. And they didn't fight or argue or cry. They even shared toys without needing help. Literally a picture-perfect class as long as we were out there. That is the reason I love this job and this age of kids. They are so creative and so unrestrained by the opinions of others. This is the only time in your life you can be truly yourself without needing to make a conscious effort at it, and without being afraid of how other people will treat you for it. Honestly that's why I like kids so much better than adults. Kids can be horribly mean. But at least they're honest. Adults are nice to your face but hating you under the surface. I've always hated that, I think most people do, but unless we follow the social contract I guess we'd all be killing each other all the time.

Anyway, this innocent age is so important. So I want to keep working with these kids, but I don't know how much longer I can do it. Here, anyway. We'll have to see what else is out there that could be better. I'm not a money-minded person, but it would be nice to get paid more than peanuts, because I hear there aren't enough white babies *eye roll* and if you want me to go start making some I'm gonna need to be able to pay for them. But it's my own fault for choosing a job which pays peanuts. Taking care of young kids is vitally important but economically worthless, and having a baby is vitally important but economically worthless.. go figure *eyes rolling down the hill over the bridge down the lane.........*

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hello, I wanted to ask if you know any unpopular podcasts with robots/AI characters that are important to the plot. Sorry if my english is bad.

I'm late to answer, here's 10 less popular audio drama with plot-important AI:

Erraticus*: Three people, one who's not a bomber, and one who's not an AI, who find themself on the same ship headed for the outer rim and directly into a conspiracy. Erraticus features an AI-like entity, though how they differ from one remains to be seen. The podcast is on hiatus and releases at the creator's own whims.

InCo: An interstellar information trader and her peppy bot find a mysterious boy floating in the middle of space and are drawn into more trouble than usual. I recommend this one a lot but for good reason.

Marsfall: A colony set to settle Mars wakes up mid-disaster to a very different situation than expected. This has one of my favourite AI but he has such a rough time of it you may want to get up and pace. Crisp sound design. Possibly too popular to be on this list but it doesn't get talked about much so who knows.

Lost Terminal: Hopepunk podcast following a lonely AI in a space station orbiting above a post-climate catastrophe Earth who just wants to make some friends. It takes a thoughtful and respectful look into mental health surrounding loneliness, anxiety, depression, DID, OCD, etc, and discusses many other interesting topics, such as D&D, radio, orbital mechanics, and plants.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: The only podcast on this list that isn't true sci-fi (new weird/weird fiction, supernatural). Friendly tour guide AI leads you through the Mistholme museum, showing you each item and telling you the stories behind them. It takes a while for the plot to start up, but I doubt you'll be bored in the meantime.

Tartarus: Sci-fi horror about an insecure astrobiologist who joins the the staff of a secret Antarctic monster containment facility, which consists of her, the tearse manager, and the ever-creative station AI. Only a few episodes out so far, but part 2 isn't far off.

Trial and Error: Scientist researching spontaneous sentience conducts interviews with various AI about their previous existence and functions. While the only AI who's there consistantly is Qwerty (who's anyway endearing), there are AI every episode (interesting mix of human and computer-generated voices), and some are more plot relevant than they initially seem. Currently on hiatus without a return date.

Under the Electric Stars: Desperate to secure the parts they need to fix their AI companion, a delivery driver's attempt at a heist finds them swept into a world of shady medical experts, aspiring gangs, and the occasional treasure hunt.

ROGUEMAKER: After a commercial space-flight experiences a major disaster, the survivors are left floating alone in the escape pods in a quiet part of space, with only the AI (who can't hear them), intermittent radio connections to the other pods, and snippets of stray broadcast for company. One of two podcasts that started airing since you sent this (the other being The Vesta Clinic (below), ROGUEMAKER is exceptionally well made.

The Vesta Clinic: As mentioned above, The Vesta Clinic is also very new, and very enjoyable. The Vesta Clinic consists of audio clips as the newest doctor and the clinic AI write and edit patient reports to send off. it showcases delicious chunks of alien design in a medical clinic setting, comfortable yet interesting, a combination I personally am very fond of.

[differentbuthuman]

The Villain Arc - The Incomplete Arc part 2

Chapter 1:

The Lowardian’s attack is the tipping point that shows Kim and Ron they can no longer go into every battle with non-lethal methods and hope to make it out alive. By consecutive agreement Team Possible takes a year off. Then they all fall off the face of the earth. For Wade it’s easy, he already only exists behind a screen. It’s the same for Ron, who is invisible to the rest of the world as only the sidekick can be, he tells his family that he is traveling, a gap year before college. For Kim, disappearing is harder. Global Justice is monitoring her as they always have been, her parents would never believe that she is taking a gap year and giving up hero work at the same time, and she has always been the face of Team Possible, but she manages. She tells her parents that she needs to figure things out, she avoids Global Justice with all the intelligence of a Possible, and she changes her looks to camouflage herself to the rest of the world.(She ends up having to cut her hair into a fashionable bob and dye it black. She also took to wearing blue contacts.)

They are all unaware of what the other was doing until the year is over. Kim had done the Possible name proud and completed a degree in criminology and finished EMT training. All while picking up more weapons related martial arts styles and incorporating that into her fighting style. She had also decided to finish learning sign language. Ron had gone back to the Yamanaka’s where he’d gotten a well balanced training into the things most Yamanaka’s spent a lifetime learning. The fact that he’d had the information already in his mind made training easier, otherwise he might have had to stay longer. As it was, they'd mostly trained him in things like ninja poisons, medicines, stealth, and other skills he might need like piloting a basic plane. Just things that knowledge alone couldn’t teach. As for Wade, he had spent the time upgrading most of their gear having had an idea as to what they would spend their year on. For Ron he had created his own personal suit, also without the neurolink, with button activated stealth and many of the same ninja tools he’d learned to use at Yamanaka’s, Ron did have to ask for a few things, but Wade did well all in all. For Kim, he’d completely dismantled the suit, as most of the gadget’s relied on the neurolink, and made a new one, this one with a gadget belt that had gun holsters for when she became certified. The new gadgets included a normal grappling hook, a pocket of lasers disguised as pens, and an extendable staff that also turned into a wakizashi and katana combo with the push of a button. He also drew up plans to add an attached backpack where Kim could keep her medical equipment. He had also begun working out so he would be more fit if Team Possible ever needed him out on the field and expanding his information servers by creating a shell company that sold computers, cameras, and other electronics to anyone who would pay.

When Team Possible goes on their first mission once they come back it’s a message. While they had been gone new villains had sprouted up, villains who had gotten cocky. Global Justice was stretched thin trying to provide relief to all hit by the Lorwardian attack. All they could do was send in hit teams to dismantle whatever attack the villains were planning and hope all of them made it back. Team Possible not only gets the information before Global Justice, but they are there and out before Global Justice could even prepare a team. They left nothing but broken bodies behind. The lab is completely stripped. Kim decided that her enemies’ inators were too dangerous for the government. They sell the less dangerous stuff.

Kim’s parents are surprised by the way she looks as she keeps the bob and the edges of her hair are still visibly black, but they welcome her back eagerly. They take her criminology degree with only a small measure of surprise. She had been saving the world since her childhood. Her mom almost cries when she hears Kim has become a trained EMT. Kim stays with her family for one day and is instantly sure that she needs her own place. Her brothers were off in college now too and her parents had spent a year alone. They were used to a quiet house to themselves now. She moves into an apartment with Ron who wants to have more freedom to come and go. He gets his job back at Smarty Mart and goes to a nearby community college. They live a pretty spartan life with only their rooms(bed/nightstand 4 Kim futon for Ron) and the kitchen fully outfitted with furniture. There is a dining table with two chairs in the dining room and a few mats in the living room for training. Kim practices her moves while wearing her medical backpack kit. Wade does his best to design a flexible bag that can seal and hold a lot without taking up a lot of space. He gets Moniques help.

The first old villain they meet is Monkey Fist and despite never defeating him before they destroy him so badly that he and most of his monkeys end up in the hospital barely alive and he instantly retires. Many of their other old villains take a cue and do the same. Drakken and Shego remained as inactive as they had been in the year gap. Shego saw no point in fighting useless GJ goons and three months into the year figures Kim took the time off to train and began to do the same. While Drakken was riding high off the recognition he earned after the Lowardian invasion.

[simplysummers]

Discussing Omega’s childhood on Kamino

Maybe I’m one of the only people curious about this as we’re all very hung up on Crosshair right now (understandable, I want our king back too), but I would really like a conversation between Omega and preferably Hunter, but anybody works fine, to delve into what her life was truly like on Kamino. How she was treated, raised, reprimanded, and how this all reflects on her relationship with the bad batch, and specifically in moments where their actions have fatherly intent behind them.

So, here’s what we know so far:

She was essentially raised by Nala Se.

She’s a first gen/holds unmodified Jango Fett DNA. Whether she was created at the same time as Boba, we don’t know, although it is unlikely.

Due to the fact she was unaltered, she must’ve been raised from infancy on Kamino.

She wasn’t allowed her own bedroom, so I speculate she either slept in the medical wing or had some sort of shared quarters with Nala Se.

She was frequently tested and experimented on, quite often against her will.

She was perceived to be property and nothing more than an evaluative source to help further Kaminoan research by everybody excluding Nala Se (potentially)

Her title role was a ‘medical assistant’.

She didn’t have a very warm relationship with the other clones, as we’ve seen they labelled her a “lab scrapper”.

She made friends with the existing medical staff, who were all droids.

And that is essentially it. Of course, we can make speculations, (a few of mine are: she must’ve been tormented by the other cadets for not being like them, she knew 99 and he kept her company whenever Nala Se left her alone, and that although she was educated accordingly for her medical training and basic education, she was very sheltered from things without ‘purpose’ to her life (as we all know, the Kaminoans don’t do anything without purpose) but we don’t actually know anything else about her time on Kamino!

First of all I really want to know WHY she was created. Taking into account she isn’t the same age as Boba (it’s very much suggested she isn’t, I mean she acts, looks, sounds and is treated significantly younger than Boba ever was), and Jango also didn’t request two unaltered clones, she must’ve been created a few years after Boba. Therefore, was Jango aware of her existence? And if he was, did he want her? Again, if so, what did Boba think of her? (We don’t actually see Omega’s reaction to being told she’s different, so although she might not have known of their exact relations to her, it’s very likely she could’ve potentially met Jango and Boba at some point.) So many questionsssss.

Moving on, I’d love to know more about her relationship with Nala Se. We’ve seen that the doctor has a soft spot for Omega, most definitely because she raised and grew to love her instead of deeming her a piece of property (not excusing Nala Se’s vile actions with the other clones, she can still rot, Omega has better parental figures now.), but was it always like that? Did she neglect smaller Omega for being just another clone? Before ‘Mega could show personality and differentiate herself, did Se still view her as nothing more then a test subject? How did that affect her relationship with Omega as a young child.

Speaking of which, what was Omega then like as a smaller child (hard to believe, she’s still so smol lmao), but I’m talking toddler age here. She is basically a regular person, going through regular human changes due to the fact she isn’t altered, which means she would’ve had all of those wretched toddler phases that parents dread. We can most likely assess that she was playful and curious, she still is now, bless her, but how was it received? Smaller children don’t have the complexity to understand the level of technicality that the Kaminoans work at, she wouldn’t have understood the necessity of sitting still and behaving, would she have been severely reprimanded? Was Nala Se nice to her about it? How was she raised to interpret mannerisms of other people in regards to this?

Furthermore, I want to know what tests they were performing on her too. She’s clearly important due to her first hand DNA, but before that was an asset, before the Kaminoans needed that, what were they doing to her? Why were they testing on her? How much pain was she in? Did she receive any comfort afterwards or was she expected to dry her eyes and get on with it? (I’m speculating it was the latter.) I need to know what they were doing and why. What was the purpose!

Her entire previous life is a huge mystery to us and I want to know more! And I hope I’m not the only one!

Just looking at her precious little face hurts because we know she didn’t receive the ideal childhood, if anything it was borderline abusive (I mean, not just testing on her, but the mind games the Kaminoans played with this poor kid, the fact she was well aware she was just an asset to their research and yet she constantly received mixed messages. It’s no wonder she idolised the bad batch so much; they seemed to be the only people who hadn’t either treated her like garbage at some point up until then, or died. Honestly despite the few slip ups, props to them for actually taking her in and being decent towards her.

I mean, this isn’t the purpose of this post, but just look at the comparisons.

She finally receives her own bedroom.

Said bedroom isn’t even a proper room, but they made do with what they could. She even acknowledges this and she still absolutely loves it. It’s decked out just for her with fairy lights, blankets and toys.

As said, she actually owns toys now, we don’t know if she ever did on Kamino, but I’m speculating it was most likely very few if any at all.

She has her own weaponry and equipment, she’s actually being assisted to defend herself and her squad, she’s gaining knowledge the Kaminoans wouldn’t have ever dreamed of giving her.

As we’ve seen with the amount of times she runs to Hunter for protection, she trusts them immensely. They’re doing everything right to gain her apprehensive trust so quickly.

And of course it isn’t just with Hunter (I’m a stan so pardon my consistency with bringing him up) but she’s the same with the entire batch, even Cross to a very mild extent! She trusts Wrecker with her life, she forgave him so easily after the Bracca incident because she knows the difference between someone purposefully trying to hurt her and them having no control over their actions.

We see she’s been patient with Echo and Tech, she loves to listen to them, she’s picked up on Tech’s dialect (as seen in episode seven) and she trusts him to help her whenever necessary, she has such a touching bond with Echo too, their little interactions melt my heart.

I could rant for hours about her bond with Hunter, so maybe that should be it’s own post at some point, but honestly just how she always seeks him out specifically for comfort, protection and reassurance. It’s so beautiful.

The way she’s addressed Crosshair over their few co-existent moments too. She’s tried to reassure him it isn’t his fault, because she knows it isn’t, she trusts him because she has no reason not too, everything he’s done and said to her hasn’t been within his control.

These are all severely different reactions to how she responds to both the Kaminoans on planet, whenever they’re mentioned, and from what we know in regards to how they treated her.

I’m repeating myself from a previous post here but honestly petition to give Megs all the hugs in the universe. She deserves ‘em. 💛