Tumgik
#instead of doctors slapping loose weight onto everything without so much as a second glance
hazel2468 · 3 years
Text
So, something I see (and say) a lot is that fat/plus size folks should be able to go to the doctor to get medical treatment and not have everything be made about their weight. And I hear a lot of pushback to that- “Shouldn’t doctors bring that up? A doctor is SUPPOSED to care about your health!”
So I figured I would give y’all an example of what I mean when I say “I want to be able to get medical treatment and have it not be made about my weight.”
I’ve been to the doctor for breast pain twice in my life. Once when I was in my first year of college, and once during my last year of grad school. The two experiences were vastly different.
First time around, I go in because I’m having pain in my left breast. I don’t feel anything, but something hurts. I sit down in the doctor’s office, in she comes. I tell her what’s going on. And right away she hits me with “Well, maybe losing some weight would help.” Didn’t examine my breast. Didn’t ask me much else. Just spent the next ten minutes telling me that it probably had something to do with me being fat and then sent me on my way. I learned basically nothing, just that I “probably” didn’t have fucking breast cancer.
Second time. I’m in grad school, and this time I actually feel a lump, so of course I panic. I go to the doctor. She has me take off my shirt and all that, and then asks me some questions. When did it start? Is the pain worse or better than when I called about it? Can I still feel the lump? Has this happened before? I answer, she gives my boob a few good pokes and all that. Checks the other for good measure. And then gives me answers.
She tells me I have fiberous breasts, which is normal. Tells me it was probably a cyst, since that happens sometimes and, given my symptoms and the exam, it seems to be gone now. I tell her I get those in other places a lot and she nods and says “Yeah, probably a cyst.” She tells me to keep an eye out and call her if I feel any more lumps- even if it is just another cyst, she wants to make sure. She says I could go for a mammogram but because I’m only 24 and the symptoms are subsiding it isn’t needed, in her opinion, but she would be happy to set one up for me to put my mind at ease. Then she shakes my hand and leaves. We spent about 30 minutes together.
This is what I mean when I say “I want medical treatment without it being made about my weight.” The first doctor assumed, right away, that the problem was because I am fat. And because she assumed that, she didn’t check me, didn’t ask me questions she should have. There are horror stories out there about people who had treatable illnesses that later killed them because they weren’t caught in time.
“Shouldn’t doctors care about your health?” well, only one of these doctors actually seemed to. The one who did her job, who checked me out, who gave me answers and not only made sure I didn’t have something serious going on, but who put my mind at ease about my health. Who gave me signs to look out for and things to DO if this ever happens again. The other... The other lectured me about my body size and then shooed me out of her office without saying the words “lump” or “exam”. That, to me at least, doesn’t sound like caring about my health. The words “health” and “body size” are not synonomous and, in this case, my size didn’t have anything to do with it. There was no reason to bring it up because it wasn’t part of my medical concern.
I want to be able to walk into a doctor’s office and say “I have a problem” and have the doctor go “Okay, let me take a look at your problem”. I’m lucky and privileged that I have managed to find doctors who do that- who address my issues and history and ME as a whole person. But I’ve also had a lot of experiences with doctors who respond to “I have a problem” with “Well try losing weight”, no matter what the problem is. And that’s not okay. That KILLS people. And that’s why quality medical care for fat/plus size people is such an issue.
16K notes · View notes
2-cute-4-school · 4 years
Text
Fatum
Group : NCT
Pairing : Park Jisung x gn!Reader
Genre : fluff, a bit of angst in the beginning
Word count : 2K words | M.list
‘A fire that could burn down the entire world, but could never touch you.’
Tumblr media
Before finally asking you out, you and Jisung had been friends for years. You always concluded that the time you’ve spent together was when you felt most alive, feeling your erratic heartbeat against your rib cage or the heat rising to your cheeks and forming a pink hue that spread across your face. Your bond with Jisung was so pure, like a modern fairy tale, a budding love story blossoming shyly under the soothing moonlight.
You told each other everything, every secret, every hidden truth you were too scared to reveal to the rest of the world. You trusted Jisung with your heart and in turn, he gifted you his on a silver plate. Despite the years spent attached at the hip, you still cherished every moment spent together, relishing in the other’s presence. So when you didn’t turn up at school one day, without a word to him or any of your other friends, he had every right to boil with worry.
“Look, I’m worried too, Jisung, but if you don’t stop bouncing your leg I’ll cut it off, don’t try me.”
Jisung forced himself to stop at Chenle’s hissed demand, but not even a minute later it resumed its action. Chenle sighed gravely beside him.
“We’ll go over after school, just stop already.”
“I just don’t get it. We always tell each other if something comes up.”
“I’m sure you’re thinking too much, it’s not good for your brain, you’re using it too much at a time.”
Chenle’s joke didn’t seem to light up his friend’s mood as he continued to stare blankly at the messy notes scribbled across the pages of his notebook. The doodles on the desks, made with your Sharpie seemed to glare back at Jisung, burning holes through the worn-out wood they decorated.
“Try to survive a few more hours without your sweetie pie, honeybunch, sugar plum.” Chenle’s tone was sickeningly sweet and Jisung couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Shut up, Chenle, not my fault your love life is drier than my grandma’s skin.”
Chenle gasped dramatically before slapping Jisung’s shoulder in fake hurt.
School hours seemed to drag on for longer than usual without your presence. Jisung dragged himself through class after class, his mind wandering the entire day to the visit he owed you as soon as school finished. Jisung swore the moment the bell rang, signifying the end of his last period, he bolted from his seat so fast the room spun for a few seconds. He barely had it in himself to wait for Chenle in front of the gate, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other as he waited for his friend. He had to admit that patience wasn’t one of his virtues, but Chenle should have known that already when he decided to make him wait in such a situation. As soon as he was close enough, Jisung grabbed him, dragging him through the sea of tired teenagers, cursing at their teachers and homework.
“Slow down, slow down, Jisung.”
Of course his words fell on deaf ears as Jisung only seemed to speed up his pace and by the time they arrived in front of your house Chenle was already panting, leaning his hands on his knees, but Jisung didn’t spare him a single glance as he approached the door and rand the bell, hoping to see your face as soon as the door cracked open.
“So much for keeping fit.” Chenle grunted out before moving to stand by Jisung’s side.
They heard shuffling from inside and the doorknob turned downwards a moment later, allowing them to come face to face with your mother, whose tired features morphed into a soft smile at the sight of the boys. They both greeted her politely and before Jisung could ask about you, your mother beat him to it.
“Hello, kids, come in, I thought you might come around.”
She moved away from the entryway, allowing them to step inside the familiar house and take their shoes off before following your mother in your living room and sitting down on one of the sofas. Jisung pursed his lips, used to you skipping cheerfully as soon as you heard the door opening, knowing that it could only be them coming over. Instead, he was met with silence this time which unnerved him even further.
“Y/N hasn’t been feeling well.”
The boys’ heads snapped towards your mom, concern washing over their features. Their eyes ran over her stance, slouched over with dark bags under her eyes, they could tell she probably wasn’t sleeping well and stayed up to watch over you.
“I thought it would be better by now, but the fever isn’t going away. They’ve been in and out of it for a while. A doctor came over earlier and assured us that we can treat it from home, but if things don’t go well soon, we should go to the hospital.”
“Since when?”
Jisung’s voice wavered, worry settling deep down in his chest. You hadn’t told him anything about not feeling well so a twinge of hurt swiveled around, tickling his wavering heart.
“The fever appeared yesterday evening, but it was mild. It progressed overnight.”
Jisung fiddled with his fingers, torn by the desire to see you, to put out the fire in his soul, soothe the storm in his soul with just the sight of you. Chenle looked over at Jisung who was lost deep in between his jumbled thoughts and spoke up on account of both himself and his friend.
“Can we please go in?” He motioned towards your door, enlarging his eyes and jutting out his bottom lip at the sight of your mother considering his ask. The question seemed to also snap Jisung out of his frenzy.
“Please, we won’t take long.”
Your mother still hesitated, worried about the boys also getting sick, but once she met their pleading gazes she could only let out a sigh.
“Alright, I guess a quick visit won’t hurt.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
They both jumped up from their seats, turning towards the hallway leading to your room with rushed steps.
“And Jisung!”
Said boy stopped in his tracks at the mention of his name, craning his neck to look back at your mom who regarded his with a playful smile.
“No smooches today.”
His face heated up faster than he could turn back around as he stumbled over his words in an attempt to mumble out a reply. His ears were bright red, forming a contrast with Chenle’s hand that reached out to grip at them gently as the older boy let out a snort.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Y/L/N, not on my watch.”
Your mother let out a quiet chuckle as she retreated back into the kitchen, leaving the boys to their business. Jisung didn’t hesitate to twist the knob of your door and push it open, but he almost regretted it when his eyes landed on you. It wasn’t the first time he had seen you sick, of course not, but never to this extent. His heart fell and it felt as if he stepped on it with every stride he took forward. As he neared your bed, he felt all of his happiness drained from him. You looked so frail, paler than your usual healthy skin tone. You seemed to be sleeping, but it was anything but peaceful, a frown furrowing your eyebrows together, your fingers twitching from time to time.
Jisung shakily sat down on the edge of your bed, afraid that if he jostled you too much you would break into pieces right under his fingertips. He brushed his hand against yours, curling protectively around your freezing own, despite the sweat shining on your forehead. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Jisung was scared out of his mind seeing you like that.
The light of the sun shimming its way through the clouds seemed to fade even further away and the colors splayed around your room didn’t seem nearly as bright in Jisung’s eyes. The world looked duller from his point of view, paling at the same time as you, leaving him behind with a stuttering heart.
He barely acknowledged Chenle striding up to you too, his eyes fixed on your frame, too scared that if he dared to move away his eyes, you would vanish right before him like sand in the wind. Chenle threaded his fingers slowly through your hair, pushing away the loose strands covering your face and regarded you with soft eyes. Your frown seemed to diminish as you recognized the presence of your boys even while buried deep in your fever dream.
“Their lips are dried, where’s the water bottle?”
Chenle shuffled around for a bit, one of his hands never leaving your head as he stroked your hair gently in an unconscious attempt to lessen your pain. He bent down to pick the bottle once he located it but sighed at the sight of it almost empty.
“I’ll go fill it up, stay here.”
Jisung merely nodded at his words, his full attention never leaving you. His thumb caressed the skin of your knuckles, trying to somehow show you he was there, right beside you, loving you unconditionally and waiting for you just like a puppy waits for its owner with nothing but loyalty and unadulterated fondness. 
He sighed and attempted to sit up and bring your chair in order to rather sit down on it than supposedly squeeze in beside you on the side of your bed, but he froze as he felt your shaky but firm grip on his index finger. He stared in awe at the way your fist curled around his large finger, his hand dwarfing yours, reminding him of the way a baby holds onto their parent when unsettled.
His once faltering heart burst with overwhelming affection for you at your small action. The way you held onto him as if he was your lifeline, as if his presence could cure everything and shoo your pain away. Jisung let a grin spread across his face for the first time since he had arrived at school that day, lowering his forehead bashfully to rest atop your intertwined hands. as he cradled them with his other one, engulfing them.
“Oh my God.”
He couldn’t even put into words how much you affected him, the way you could play him on your little finger and he would be too caught up with loving you to ever complain. Warmth spread into his whole body, sparkles running across his skin delightfully and lighting up another fire in his heart. A fire that could burn down the entire world, but could never touch you, just the way he would stand through anything as long as he had you. He let out a breathy chuckle, in disbelief at himself for only realizing now just how whipped he was for you.
“Oh my God, Y/N, you can’t do this to me now when you’re sick.”
He littered kisses anywhere in his reach, soft like a butterfly brushed against your exposed skin. Jisung nuzzled his nose in your crooked palm, seeking out the familiar feeling of your skin pressed against his. He needed you the way he needed oxygen, the way a swallow needs its wings to feel the wind threading through its feathers and leading it to freedom. He needed you unconditionally, not even a breath in between the two of you.
“Get better soon, baby. Come back to me so I can love you properly.”
Jisung pressed a long kiss to the back of your hand, still gripping his finger firmly, grounding yourself. His lips lingered over the cold skin that slowly warmed up due to his touch, brushing it as he spoke to you in hushed tones, promising you the moon and the stars as nothing mattered to him other than having you back in his arms, healthy and smiling. 
And in that moment, with your fates knotted together, Jisung swore he would hold onto you until his last breath.
179 notes · View notes
Text
((Vintage fic from The Old Blog!))
He wasn’t surprised Newton showed up. He’d been expecting it, bracing himself for it. What did surprise him was how quiet his colleague was being. Usually when Newt was upset or nervous, he had a tendency to ramble. Today, he’d followed Hermann out to the train platform without a word.
Hermann shifted a bit uncomfortably under the weight of his second bag. “Here, dude, let me take that,” said Newton.
“No, Newton, it’s…”
“Let me take it. Your knee’s going to get stiff as it is from sitting for…” Newton took the bag off Hermann’s shoulder without so much as a by-your-leave. “…however the fuck long it takes to get to London.”
Newton’s hands brushed against Hermann’s shoulder as he took the bag. Hermann tried not to wince away from the touch. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. Don’t. You’ve made your choice, Gottlieb, time to stay the course…
“You’ll be fine,” said Newton abruptly. “I’m surprised schools aren’t falling over themselves for you already.”
“Hmm.” Honestly, the potential jobs waiting for him in London had been the last thing Hermann was worried about. “A few universities have made me some promising offers.”
“See? There you go.” Newton wasn’t looking at Hermann. He had his gaze fixed on the train tracks. “Tell me who hires you, I’ll let you know if their math nerds have some kind of rivalry with our math nerds.”
“MIT is definitely taking you back, then?”
“Well, there’s nothing official, I mean…I haven’t, I haven’t actually asked yet?” Newt shifted from one foot to another. “But they said I could have my job back when this thing is over, and, well, it’s over.”
Over. No movement from the Breach’s previous location, all the loose ends tied. There was no more space in the world for people like Newton Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb. So back to academia they went, though perhaps with a bit more clout behind their names than before. And with some other things changed, added that irritating voice in the back of his head that always sounded a bit like Newton. The most infuriating part was that it wasn't wrong. The job offers hadn’t concerned him, nor had his lack of a definite, permanent place to live in London. What was concerning him was…
“Everything goes back to the way it was, huh?”
Hermann stared at Newton. The man was still looking out onto the train tracks. The purposefully blank look on his face was shockingly painful to witness. “I…”
A train pulled up the other track with a deafening clatter. Newton finally looked at Hermann. What?Even if Hermann couldn’t hear him, he could read Newton’s lips.
Hermann shook his head, but waited until the train had stopped to speak. “It was nothing. I was just thinking out loud.”
Newton didn’t look away. They just stared at each other for what was only a few moments, but felt like much longer. Newton had that look, the I want to say something but I know if I do you’ll start yelling look. Hermann almost asked him for an explanation. Newton, it’s all right, you can tell me…
The clattering of the departing train threw off Hermann’s train of thought and broke the moment. Newton was the first to look away. That bothered Hermann more than it should have. “Were you going to say something?”
“Nah.”
Now it was Hermann’s turn to look at the train tracks.
What was concerning was that he’d been living alone for a week, not speaking much to anyone in the PPDC, but instead focusing on finalizing the London move and finishing up his reports on the Breach. And it was only here and now, with Newt standing quietly next to him, that he had stopped feeling so wound up. Everything felt normal,blessedly normal. That was concerning.
Everything was going back to normal? “Perhaps not,” Hermann said quietly.
“Huh?”
“I said, ‘what’s it like at MIT?’”
Newton clearly didn’t buy the excuse, but he humored Hermann. “Pretty awesome. Boston’s a great place, little crowded, but you know, you get used to it. I love it.”
“I’m sure.” Hermann glanced Newt’s way again. “I submitted a proposal for a dissertation on abstract mathematics to MIT before K-Day.”
“Seriously?” The confession was enough to get Newton to finally look at him again. “Did they accept it?”
“They did. I probably would have gone if it hadn’t been for the attacks.”
Newton smiled. Hermann was startled by how relieved the gesture made him. “Weird…maybe I would have seen you around…”
“It’s possible. Do you think we would have liked each other a bit better if we’d met that way?” Hermann added with a wry tone.
Newt snorted. “I dunno, man…I mean, I was just starting to feel functional that year, you would have just missed all that adjustment to meds and the crying.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
Newton’s smile only lasted for a few seconds more before he looked away. Why did that frustrate him so much? Hermann fought the urge to grab Newton’s shoulders, shake them, tell him to just look at him, damn it. “Maybe I should try again,” Hermann said.
“To get another phD? Yeah, I mean…that works, too.”
“Do you think they’d accept my proposal again?”
“Who, MIT?” Newton glanced at him briefly, almost hopefully. “Sure, definitely, I’m just…”
There was that silence. There was that blank look. “You just…gotta do what you want, man. Whatever makes you happy.”
There it was.
“The phD might.”
“Sure, but that depends on how you feel about cities.”
“Boston wouldn’t be the first city I’ve lived in.”
“Sure, but…then you’d have to put up with me being in the area.”
“Newton…”
“You deserve a break, dude, it’s been like how long?”
“What if that didn't matter, Newton?”
“Wh-” Another glance, another lengthy pause. “Of course it does.”
Hermann could slap him right now. He seriously considered it. In the end, he decided against it, but he did step directly in front of Newton. Look at me, look at me. “Do you really think things can go back to normal?” Hermann asked, perhaps a bit more earnestly than he would have normally, but it was Newton. The only way to get this through his head was to say it directly. “That some things wouldn’t be different?”
“It’s…” Newt stepped back. “Hyperbole, dude…what’s up with you?”
What was up with him was that he hadn’t looked at apartments, not due to lack of time, but lack of motivation, that his job offer letters had been sitting at the bottom of a stack of papers for weeks so he didn’t have to look at them, that even buying the damn train ticket had felt wrong…
“You don’t like that I’m leaving.”
Newt’s eyes widened. Hermann could see the denial forming, and he killed it with a withering glare. “No, I don’t, I don’t…” Newt swallowed hard. “I don’t. Fine. But what am I supposed to do, say,  'Hey, Hermann, want to come with me to Boston, it’ll be fun’, that would be fucking nuts…”
“Did you think about asking me that?”
“Wuh…well, yeah, but I didn’t. knew you’d say no…”
“Newton.”
“What? You would, because, because I’m a pain in the ass and you have bigger things ahead of you, stuff that’ll actually make you really happy, and you…” Another train pulled up, but Newt just shouted over him. “You deserve something good after all this shit, something you actually want…”
“How do you know this is what I want?” Hermann shouted back.
“You’re going, aren’t you?!”
Hermann didn’t answer. Newt’s eyes widened slightly. “Now you decide to become perceptive,” Hermann grumbled irately. Judging from the look on Newton’s face, he hadn’t heard. “How do you know I would say no?” he added aloud. “You. Didn’t. Try.” He emphasized that last word with a sharp prod to Newton’s shins with his cane. “You didn’t try.”
“I…” Newt swallowed his words and glanced at the train. “This one is yours.”
Damn you, Newton Geislzer. “Newton, do you want me to stay?”
“What?!”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes!”
There. It had been said. Newton was looking at him now, green eyes wide and afraid. Hermann barely noticed the look. That one word had been enough to throw off the balance of pros and cons he’d been working on for weeks now. His mind was re-evaluating things, then and there beside the train tracks. It was completely ridiculous. Completely.
But then, when hadn’t his life been ridiculous lately.
As the last boarding call went out, Hermann realized he had made his decision. Stay the course, Doctor Gottlieb.
When the train pulled away, Hermann was still standing on the platform.
Newton stared at Hermann, then at the retreating train. “That was…”
“I know.” And Hermann found that he felt slightly liberated at the sight. Then annoyed. All that planning he’d put into this trip…
You didn’t want to take it anyway, said that Newtonian part of him.
Oh, be quiet, he told it.
But, again, it was right.
“You’re covering the cost of that ticket,” he said aloud. The sentence came out in a heavy, irritated sigh, but he was sure the look on his face made it half-hearted ire at best. The slowly-forming, completely ecstatic grin on Newt’s face didn’t help in that regard. “Well, come on, then. Let’s go.”
Hermann left the station and Newton followed, with the bag still slung over his shoulder.
5 notes · View notes
jimlingss · 7 years
Text
Student Council Prez [9]
Episode 8 - Episode 9 - Episode 9.5 OR Episode 10 Words: 5.6k Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au
Tumblr media
Yoongi didn’t completely break his wrist.
When you went to the private doctor with him, they told you it was more of a severe sprain, some of his ligaments damaged from the fall. And now he had a cast wrapped around his entire arm. It would take anywhere from two to eight weeks to heal and they told you, very specifically that he was not to put any pressure on it and alleviate all heavy weights.
Yoongi on the other hand, told you that you should be happy he wasn’t suing you.
But no matter how much disdain you felt for him, you couldn’t help the wash of guilt that drowned you whole.
You were the one who pushed him after all.
“Pack up kids.” You burst into the apartment, Sohyun and Sungjae looking at you with big eyes, utterly confused. “Bring everything that you need for the week with you. Put it in your backpack, like your clothes, toothbrush and your homework.”
“Where are we going, noona?” Sungjae frowns, slowly starting to follow your order.
“To Yoongi’s.” You sigh.
Sohyun’s eyes light up and she immediately begins packing with enthusiasm, a huge grin on her face. “What? Why?” Sungjae asks.
You sigh again. “You’ll see, just hurry up.”
//
The three of you make it to his small mansion, Sungjae gasping and marveling at the home every few seconds and Sohyun bunny hopping up the steps with a filled backpack. “Is this where he lives?” Sungjae’s taken back, eyes as big as saucers.
“Yup.” You nod. “It’s a pain to clean.”
You ring the doorbell three times and when it begins to take too long, patience running thin, you pound the cherry wood door. You wonder if he’s sleeping and if he was, you might have to climb the fence outback and scream at his window - even then it might not wake him up.
But thankfully the door swings open. “I’m here jeez - oh...it’s you.” He scans you from top to bottom with a smirk. “No wonder. Are you planning to break my door? What are you doing here? Gonna break my other arm while you’re at it?” He teases but the words are too sharp, rippling a tsunami in the internal ocean of your guilt.
“No.” You frown, looking at his arm that’s plastered in a blue coloured cast.
“Hi.” Sohyun appears from behind you with a big smile and a wave.
Yoongi smiles, his brows twitching. “Hey. But what are you doing here?”
“I heard we’re staying.” Sungjae pops his head through the door, looking at Yoongi with mischief.
“Staying?”
“We’re staying.” You declare, pushing your way in and the two kids follow.
Yoongi chuckles. “So now you’re self-inviting yourself into my house? What a maid you are.”
You set down your backpack and small suitcase, Sungjae gasping at the surroundings and diving onto the hamburger chair. Sohyun stares at the creepy clown painting on the wall, transfixed. “You don’t have anyone to take care of you.”
“Who said I needed taking care of?” He lifts a brow.
“You broke your wrist.” You huff out, pointing.
“No.” He smirks. “You broke my wrist.”
“Exactly, okay?!” You stammer out. “So let me make it up to you.”
He smiles, lips drawn into such a huge grin that his eyes disappear and you can see his gums. Your heart shifts uncomfortably. “Do you actually feel bad? I didn’t know you had it in you.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. He presses his free hand against his chest. “It’s almost like you care about me, Y/N. I’m touched.”
“Shut up.” You grumble, shutting the door. “Don’t pride yourself on it.”
//
It only takes a few moments for you to settle down.
You scold Sungjae for running up and down the stairs, diving head first into the plush couches and marvelling at each object. You’re not here to play. When you hand him a mop and tell him to get started, he only glares at you, complying reluctantly. You peel Sohyun away from the creepy clown painting since she had been standing there and staring as if hypnotized ever since arriving.
“Isn’t this too much?” Yoongi sighs out, chin rested in the palm of his normal hand. He’s sitting on the dinner table, his casted arm elevated on top of a pillow and an icepack on top it. Sohyun is sitting next to him colouring while Sungjae is mumbling under his breath, mopping the floors. Yoongi watches as you begin to fix up some kind of dinner in the kitchen.
“No. I don’t want to be held responsible if it doesn’t heal well.”
“I already said I wouldn’t sue you.” He drones out lethargically.
“Just leave it!”
“The ice is so cold!”
“The doctor told you to ice it!”
“Well the doctor isn’t here!”
“Min Yoongi!” You drop the pan onto the counter and it clatters loudly, echoing through the high ceilings. The both of you have a heated stare, sparks almost igniting and neither of you blink. It’s only broken when Sohyun turns around and looks at you. “Just. leave. it.”
He breaks away, gazing out the window instead. “Fine.”
Dinner finishes rather quickly, Sungjae rolling on the couch in exaggerated agony after finishing mopping and you get Sohyun to help you set the table, glaring at Yoongi every time he moves.
“Can I watch TV after?” Sungjae asks in a mouthful, worried that he has an entire list of chores to do.
You look at Yoongi and he smiles at your brother. “Fine by me. We have a lot of channels.”
Sungjae looks at you and you sigh, slowly nodding. “Yes!” He begins eating quickly, the food barely making it into his mouth before he talks again. “Is there no one else in this house?”
You hum in agreeance. “Shouldn’t your dad be with you?”
Yoongi pouts his lips, struggling to get the rice on his spoon. “My dad has too many loose screws.”
“Still sleeping at school?” You hold up a piece of meat at the end of your chopsticks to his lips and he happily parts his mouth, eating it right away.
“Still sleeping at school.” Yoongi confirms in between chewing. You take his spoon from his bowl, scooping it full and feeding him again. “At least we’re not both immobilized this time.” He quips with a smile and you’re instantly reminded of being handcuffed to Yoongi, him having to feed you. It was rather ironic how the tables have turned.
You sigh. “Ugh, don’t remind me. Taehyung should be happy that he’s still breathing.”
“He was so terrified when you yelled at him.” Yoongi chuckles. “I think he might’ve wet his pants.”
“Good.” You mumble. “Damn kid.”
“Maybe you should be handcuffed to be again as your punishment.” He says seriously and you stop, face flushing green. After a moment, he laughs again. “I’m kidding.”
You frown at him, wondering where all this energy was coming from but you don’t say anything more, scooping up a spoonful instead. “Ah.” He smiles, parting his mouth and gobbling up the food.
“It tastes better today.” He hums. “Maybe it’s because you’re feeding me?” Your frown deepens and his smile widens. His free hand raises and he messily ruffles your hair. “Aigoo, what a good slave.”
You slap his hand away and he tilts his head at you. There are curses on the tip of your tongue, ready to roll off but with one glance at his cast, you bite the words back. Yoongi notices and he laughs yet again.
You quickly shove another spoon in his mouth.
//
After dinner, you wash the dishes and your siblings crash on the sofa to watch TV. You spruce up the house, wiping the counters and dusting quickly to make your job a little bit easier the next few times you have to come over. In an hour, Sohyun and Sungjae decide to explore the mansion and you warn them sternly not to break anything.
“Or you’ll shave my head. Yes I know.” Sungjae rolls his eyes at you.
Yoongi mysteriously disappears after dinner and after you’re done everything, you go looking for him, wondering if he needs anything.
You knock on his bedroom door twice and he grumbles something incoherent. When you finally open it, he’s rolling around on his bed, almost yelling. “What are you doing?”
“It’s fucking itchy and I can’t scratch it.” Yoongi whines out, nearly crying. He sits up with his hair sticking out in different directions, looking at you in plea. “Can you stick something down there and scratch it for me?”
“I’m not gonna do that!”
“Why not?”
“What if it gets worse? You’re not suppose to stick anything down your cast!”
“But it’s so fucking itchy!” He wails out and you sigh.
In a few moments, you’re sitting on his bed with him, pointing a blow dryer down his cast; on the cool setting and he practically sighs out of relief. “That feels so good.”
You hum. “Sungjae broke his arm too a few years back. This helped a lot.” Taking the opportunity, you soak in the surroundings of his bedroom. You had never been in it before and it was strange to see where the demon resided.
The bed was humongous, taking the center of the room and probably able to fit four people on it. His walls were a dark shade of blue, matching the curtains that hung on the big window. He had a closet and wardrobe but it was all messy. Papers and books stacked up on his desk, rolls with elastic bands on the floor and his clothes thrown onto his chair. You wonder how thick the layer of dust is on his bedside table.
“Is it better now?” You ask and he sleepily opens his eyes.
“Hm? Oh, yeah.”
You switch it off. “Is there anything else you need me to help you with?”
Yoongi takes in a huge amount of amusement of how obedient and caring you’re being, contrasted to the usual sharp tongue and cursing but he guesses that it all stems from the immense guilt you feel. He isn’t wrong.
He tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. “I still have to shower. Will you help me out with that?”
What Yoongi doesn’t expect is that you take his request...all too seriously.
“WAIT! WAIT!” He screeches out as you tug the hem of his shirt upwards.
“Calm down.” You sigh out, looking at him. “I used to bathe Sungjae all the time. Trust me, I’m pretty familiar with male anatomy.” Without needing to say much else, you carefully but swiftly peel off his shirt over his head, gentle when it gets to his casted arm. You press new clothes to his chest which he takes. “You can take off your pants though, right? I won’t go that far.”
Yoongi stares at you. “What?” You frown.
“Look down.” He says but you don’t - eyes glued to his eyes instead and then he smirks. “Are you embarrassed?”
“Shut up Yoongi.” You roll your eyes, still refusing to look below his chin.
He snickers. “Ah, see? You’re only looking at my face right now. I can assure you that if you took a peek, you would finally realize why all the girls love me.”
You tilt your head, stepping forward and pressing your body against his, challenging him. “Do you want me to look?” Your warm breath fans over his lips and Yoongi immediately shuts up, becoming stiff. “That’s what I thought. Now go hurry up! I don’t have all day for you.”
He clicks his tongue in annoyance before walking into his bathroom, knowing full well that you’ve won this round.
//
Ten minutes later when he gets out, there are shorts barely on his hips and his hair drenched. You waste no time in plopping a short sleeved shirt on him, getting him to sit on the bed as you blow dry his cast, only slightly moist from his efforts of avoiding the water. “Blow dry my hair.” He complains. “Why are you so worried about my cast?”
“Because your cast will heal your wrist.” You move it back and forth, the hot air coming out. “I could give less of a damn about you or your hair.”
He scoffs. “So you don’t care about me after all. You’re only worried about getting sued.”
You roll your eyes. “Technically your wrist is part of you, so think whatever you want to think.”
Just then the door opens and you turn around. Sohyun’s got her head in the doorway, peeking in with Sungjae above her. “Woah! This room’s big too!”
You switch off the blow dryer putting it on the bedside and the door widens, Sohyun barreling towards the bed and flopping on top of it. With lots of giggles, she stands on the mattress and begins jumping. “Sohyun! Don’t jump on his bed! Be careful!” You shout at her as she nearly slams her foot down on Yoongi’s arm, toppling over.
“Noona! Noona! Did you see the pool table room? Did you see the huge bedrooms?! There are like ten of them!”
“There’s not that many.” Yoongi laughs.
Sungjae’s eyes are still as big as saucers and you can’t help but smile. “Does that mean we can all sleep in separate rooms tonight?”
You glance at Yoongi and he shrugs. “Yes.” The two kids begin dancing and screeching with joy. “But don’t get used to it! We’re leaving the moment he gets better!”
“I hope he never gets better!” Your brother sing-songs.
“HEY!” You shout at him but he only snickers.
“Me too.” Yoongi hums out and you bolt your head around to glare. He laughs. “I enjoy spending such quality time with my slave.” You give him your most unimpressed expression that you can possibly muster but his smile stretches. “You’re like my actual servant now.”
You can’t even refute. “Shut up Yoongi.”
//
Sungjae runs between the rooms, picking one to reside in while screaming out with joy. Every time he brushes past Yoongi, he hugs him and then hauls all his things into the room of his choosing; it’s a massive bed with two windows. Sohyun on the other hand skips around and settles for a smaller room with bunk beds. You choose a room closest to Yoongi, just in case he needs something. No other reasons.
With the biggest grins, both your siblings say their early goodnights to reside in their own bedrooms; a reminiscent feeling to the times when your parents were still alive and before you had to sell the big house.
You settle in yourself, for once having a proper mattress and not a thin one. Turning off all the lights, you begin to melt between the toast blankets, ready to drift off into sleep….until the door suddenly bursts open. “What the hell?”
“Y/N.” Yoongi’s shadow is looming at your doorway and he switches the light on. You flinch at the piercing brightness flooding the room.
“What do you want?”
“I’m thirsty.” He states expressionlessly.
“What?” Your head falls back onto your pillow. Your voice is barely an exhausted whisper. “Why can’t you get water yourself?”
He doesn’t answer and it only takes a few seconds before realization hits you. He can’t. Well, at least one of his arms can’t be used and you’re to blame.
“Ugh. Fine.” You peel off the blankets.
He moves out of the way and you walk all the way downstairs into the kitchen, pouring him a glass of water and giving it to him. He drinks the whole glass excruciatingly slow, eyes glued on to you the entire time. “Are you done yet?” You ask him after a whole minute, ready to take the cup away but he hums, grip still tight.
After a minute, he sets the empty glass down onto the counter with a “Ah! Refreshing! Thanks Y/N.”
-
You crawl back onto the bed, ready to pass out but then the door opens again. “What is it now?”
“I need to be tucked in.” He complains.
“What?” You frown. “Are you Sohyun? Are you five years old?”
He scoffs. “I can’t grab the blankets properly.”
You sigh. “Fine.” And he follows behind you to his bedroom. You turn around to glare at him and for a moment, you thought you caught a smile.
Yoongi falls on top of his bed and you grab all his covers, covering him to his neck and borderline choking him with how tightly you wrap him in. “There. Better?”
“Wait.” He calls when you turn around. He smirks when you give him your most disgusted expression.
“What?”
“Fix the pillows. They’re too flat.” He says and you shuffle your feet over as he lifts his head. You pat down his pillows three times.
“Better?” He hums in approval and you sigh. “Goodnight Yoongi.” He closes his eyes as you switch off the lights and close the door.
Silly you thought that was the end of it, that Yoongi would really leave you in peace but when you’re residing with a demon, peace is unattainable.
He bursts into your room ten minutes later. “I’m hungry.”
You make him a sandwich to which he eats agonizingly slow, not letting you leave until he finishes so you can ‘wash the dishes. If you leave it overnight, you’ll attract pests’, he says but it’s rather ironic considering he’s the biggest pest in your life.
You can already begin to feel the dark circles and eyebags drag down your face; almost dozing off on the counter, watching Yoongi eat but when you finally shake yourself awake again, you find him smiling at you. He was watching you the entire time with a sort of hateful smile; you almost slap him across the face.
Whether he’s actually experiencing issues or literally making up excuses for whatever reason, maybe sabotaging you or taking revenge, for the entire night Yoongi does not spare your soul. He comes into the room, telling you that he’s too cold and makes you walk with him all the way to the basement to grab extra blankets. Then he tells you it’s too hot. When you scream at him to just throw off the extra blankets, he tells you that he wants the thermostat turned down instead and you again, have to walk all the way downstairs with him.
“I thought I heard something in my room.” He tells you impassively, his expression dead serious. “Can you check for me?”
This time you scream into your pillow and you had locked the door before, but he knocked until it drove you absolutely insane and his knuckles were bruised. But no matter what, you couldn’t refuse - you broke his arm after all and he knew that.
“My back is itchy.” He comes into your room for the seventh time that night, the clock displaying that it was two in the morning. You wondered why he had so much damn energy when you were absolutely exhausted. He even had the audacity to smile at you while you both walked (you technically limped) to his room. This time you didn’t hold back your scowl and his smile only brightened.
“You know what?” He mumbles, stomach on the mattress as you’re on the bed with him, scratching his upper back. “You should just stay here….in case I need something else, I don’t have to make the trip all the way to your room.”
The offer sounds tempting, when his bed is softer than yours and the spare pillow beside his is right there, right in front of your eyes and unoccupied. His blanket is ready for you and you’re just so tired that if he even allowed you three hours on the floor, you’d take it in a heartbeat. “You know what Yoongi?”
You stand to your feet, walking to the door. “Fuck you.” You switch off his light and then quickly run, doing a dive into his covers.
He’s right, you can’t help but think - unable to stop from giving in to the demon who whispers such seductive words.
“Please...I’m begging you.” You can’t even stop your voice from sounding whiny and desperate. “Just let me sleep.” You shuffle so that you’re more comfortable, leaning on your side and holding the pillow tight to your head.
Yoongi smiles, facing you, though you never see since it’s pitch black. “Goodnight Y/N.”
You only respond with a distant hum and for the first time that night, Yoongi finally closes his eyes too.
//
“What’s going on?” Taehyung frowns, his lips lifting into a smirk as you haul Yoongi’s backpack and yours on your back, stacking his textbooks in front of you. “What happened to your arm?”
“Nothing.” Yoongi speaks, glancing at you for a moment with a smirk.
“Do you need help with that?” Jimin asks.
“No. I’m okay.” You huff out.
“She’s okay.” Yoongi repeats after you and you send him a sharpened glare.
“Sorry about that whole thing on Sunday, Jimin.” You manage between pants. “I should’ve stayed.”
“No, it’s alright.” His eyes shift to the ceiling, as if deep in thought. “If anything you helped me. My parents understand now.”
“Jimin’s not getting married anymore.” Taehyung makes an exaggerated sad face, throwing his arm over his friend. “Aigoo, what should we do?”
When you drop Yoongi’s textbooks and backpack off at his desk, the student around you shoot you strange looks but you don’t mind. The hostility in their stares are long gone, replaced with simple curiosity and a bizarreness but you’d think by now, you and Yoongi doing strange things wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. You and the entire Student Council for that matter.
And things continue like that, you carrying his textbooks to every class and running back to yours, barely making it in time before the teacher starts. You follow him in between periods, even at lunch like a real slave - even you’ll admit it, you’re starting to become an actual slave.
Only a little while. Only a little while until he gets better. You repeat, gritting your teeth to make yourself feel better.
Thankfully he can still write and can go to the washroom himself. “I can help you.” Hoseok smirks evilly and Yoongi immediately brushes him away.
But the routine repeats for two weeks on end. You carry all his things for him, following him around in school and at home, you clean and make dinner, finishing homework and sometimes just copying from him when he’s not looking - it’s the only plus and you deserve it anyways.
At night, he continues to bother you, bursting into your room until you finally give up, crashing beside him for the rest of the nights where he strangely doesn’t ask anything from you at all and lets you sleep peacefully.
Your siblings adjust well too, almost too well. Instead of walking to school, they take the bus since his house is farther away but they enjoy it, as if on a ride at an amusement park. They love sleeping in their own rooms, despite Sohyun getting scared on the occasion. They obsess over the high definition television with the booming stereos, the billiards room and the home theater.
You’ll admit that it’s pretty nice, especially after that one Wednesday evening where all four of you stayed in there to watch a movie.
Yoongi, on the other hand, his fondness over your siblings only seems to grow. On an afternoon where you brought him grocery shopping to finally fill his fridge and so you can make better dinners, he picks up numerous snack items, remembering what your siblings like and dislike. The three of them whisper behind your back mischievously, quieting down when you shoot them a glance. And little did you know of their scheme to scare you, hiding in nooks and crannies everywhere you went and popping out when you least expected it, screaming at the top of their lungs.
You’re not one to get scared much but sometimes it really does catch you off guard, especially the times where Yoongi tries and you accidentally slap his cast one night. He doubled over in pain, maybe a bit exaggerated but you fell to your knees in horror while clutching onto him. He giggled at your reaction and you stomped on his foot before marching away.
He even allows Sungjae and Sohyun to doodle across his cast. Sohyun draws lovely flowers and hearts while Sungjae draws poops, giggling immaturely while doing so. Upon the Student Council seeing the artwork, they try to make their own marks, only for Yoongi to screech and scramble away. But they manage and slowly but surely, their signatures are entrenched in the plaster.
“Are you going to draw something?” Yoongi asks you with raised brows and a marker in his other hand.
You tilt your head. “Do you want me to?”
Silence. He finally shrugs. “I don’t care.”
You scoff, grabbing the marker and signing your name massively on an empty spot. He stares at it for a moment and then nods in satisfaction, turning and leaving you in the dust.
But even as more time passes, the guilt of breaking his arm never ceases. You even begin to wonder why you feel this way, if you’ve gotten weak over the months. Back then, you would’ve never thought twice of beating someone up and crippling both their legs, leaving them shrieking on the top of their lungs for their mother. You’ve even held a gun before and it wouldn’t take much for you to pull the trigger.
Yoongi was wealthy and pampered, the fall wasn’t much and yet he even went to a private doctor and got a cast. There was no reason for you to feel worried or evenly remotely bad. But you still did. Even if it was unexplainable.
You asked him at one point that he should stop your pay, at least until he got better. Though you were still cleaning every day, it didn’t make sense since you were staying over, your siblings even crashed at his house. Wasn’t that enough repayment? But he simply shook his head and said that it was fine, he was neither going to increase nor dock what was the regular.
With a somewhat soft smile and a crinkle in his eyes, he warned you that if you ever broke another body part of his again, he would most definitely not only fire you but bring you out to the courthouse to sue.  
You reluctantly agreed to his terms.
Two weeks pass and on the third week, Yoongi changes his cast into a wrist splint.
“Aww, we can’t draw on it?” Sungjae pouts, head falling onto the table.
“Unfortunately not, champ.” Yoongi smiles, ruffling the younger boy’s hair.
As if a light bulb flickers on in Sohyun’s head, she bounces quickly to her backpack, taking out one of her colouring books. Climbing onto the chair again, she flips it to the back where there’s a colourful sheet and she peels one off, sticking a Hello Kitty sticker to Yoongi’s black wrist splint. “Pretty.” She giggles with a big smile and Yoongi grins.
“Hey, did you ask him if he likes that?” You frown at her and she looks up at him.
“I don’t mind. I also think it’s pretty.” He quips and you sigh.
Sohyun giggles again and continues sticking on colourful rainbows and cats onto Yoongi’s fabric splint. At one point, he peels one off and sticks it to your cheek. You swat him away but with Sohyun’s bright laughter, you keep it on for the rest of the day.
When she’s finished with her masterpiece, the entire thing is coated with pink and purple stickers. Yoongi compliments it and keeps it all on.
The student council members laugh hysterically when they see it, other students shooting more odd looks but he keeps his head held high with pride. “Hello Kitty is the shit, didn’t you know that?”
Somehow after that, you begin seeing other students, both male and female, carry around Hello Kitty bracelets and charms, pencils, notebooks and even lunch bags. With one simple sentence, the Sanrio stocks raised by 2%.
//
“What did the doctors say?” You ask him while scrubbing the floors with the mop.
He sighs, throwing his jacket onto the sofa until you glare at him. He slowly picks his jacket up again, hanging it up in the closet slowly with his spare hand. “I need to stretch my fingers more. It should be good in a few days.”
“A few days, huh?” You hum and he hums back, a silence following afterwards.
He flops down on the couch, raising his arm and squeezing the empty air with his healing hand. You finish up, placing the mop back and heading to the kitchen afterwards. “Can you come here for a second?” He calls out to you and you sigh.
“What?” You stand in front of his laid down form and he raises out his arm.
“Give me your hand.” He deadpans and you reluctantly lift it. He takes your hand, intertwining his fingers in between yours and he squeezes tight. Your face flushes but his grip carries too much strength for you to pull away.
“What are you doing?” You stare down at your interlaced fingers. His larger hand is slightly cold but slowly warming up to your touch. It’s also a little rough, calloused compared to yours despite the difference in physical labour you both do.
Your face rises with heat and you can feel your palms getting sweaty. “Just testing out my finger strength. How is it?” He looks at you, eyes connected to yours.
“Normal.” You muse out, curious at how you’re both connected in a sort of odd sense. You dare say it’s almost comforting the way you can feel his knuckles and each crevice, how your fingers are knitted so closely together.
Just then the doors open, Sungjae and Sohyun come into the house and you pull back from Yoongi’s hand. “How was school?” You quickly scurry after them, cheeks flaming.
Yoongi stays on the couch, moving his arm to lay on top of his eyes. A tiny smile sneaks up his lips as his ears burn red.
Tumblr media
“We have to go.” You practically drag Sohyun by the hood of her sweater. She flails, screaming and thrashing against you at the front steps of Yoongi’s house.
It had been another entire week and he was better now, fully able to function on his own.
Even if you wanted to stay like your siblings did, you didn’t have any excuses anymore.
“Stay!” She screams. “I want to stay!”
Your grip loosens in shock for a moment, how she just said her first full sentence in over a year. But caught off guard, she tries to take the opportunity to try to run into Yoongi’s arms - you tighten your grip on her before she can escape. “We can’t! We have our own home.”
“Wouldn’t call that dump our home.” Sungjae mumbles and you scowl at him. He smiles apologetically and then reaches over to help you, restraining Sohyun’s other arm. “We have to go.”
She continues to cry, whining and wailing loudly. “No!”
It pains you to see her so physically upset, never throwing tantrums before. Her snot is running down her nose and her arms raise to Yoongi who’s standing at the doorway, looking on with an expression that mimic hers.
He quickly shuffles on some slippers and steps outside in his pajamas, arm no longer wrapped in any bandages or fabric. The moment you let go of Sohyun, she practically leaps into his arms and he winces. “Sohyun!” You shout at her, afraid that Yoongi’s still not completely healed.
“It’s fine.” He tells you with a small smile. He turns to face the little girl, crouching down to her level. “I’ll see you again, dumpling. Don’t worry. You can come over and play lots, I’ll come over to yours too.”
She sniffles and Yoongi searches in his shirt pocket. Within one second, he takes out a small sticker sheet. He peels off a brown cat and presses it to the top of her hand. She leans in whispering something in his ear and he chuckles.
It amuses you how much Sohyun has become attached to Yoongi, for reasons you won’t ever understand but it baffles you even more how gentle he is with her. You never thought the demon would have it in him.
Sohyun nods and then wipes her tears, slowly walking back to you with head downcasted. You sigh, taking her hand and glancing behind to Yoongi. “See you.”
“Bye Yoongs.” Sungjae smiles and he nods.
Yoongi watches as the three of you make your way down the street. “Bye slave and family.” He calls out with a grin and a big wave. He catches your slight frown and he can almost hear your scoff in his ears.
He wonders if he should somehow devise a scheme for you to break his legs next. Except you’d probably get a heart attack or if you ever found out he did it on purpose, you’d run him over with a bus. Either way, he’d like to keep his limbs mended and attached to his body.
Yoongi lingers a few more moments outside the door before turning in, feeling a bit more lonely with the quieter house.
569 notes · View notes
Text
Like Me
Tumblr media
Request: If you haven't already written something similar, and if you are up for it: what about a story where the crew of the enterprise meet another person who is part human and part Vulcan, but they were raised by their human family members and they know very little about vulcans, so Spock tries to explain it to them. Sort of a Nature Vs Nurture kind of thing? - Anonymous 
A/N: I loved this! I have so many thoughts on this that I couldn’t fit in. Nature vs. nurture is one of my favorite topics especially when it involves aliens. 
People walked leisurely about the promenade. They moved in small groups, chatting and going in and out of stores. You weaved between them, doing your best to avoid having to shove your way past anyone. The clock sounded to let you know once again that you were going to be late. A hushed curse fell from your lips as your feet kept up their steady pace across the metal floor. Finally reaching the lift, you screeched to a halt.
The ride to the docks was short but provided enough time for you to catch your breath and adjust your uniform. You knew a professional appearance twenty minutes late in the game was about as good as slapping some duct tape on a broken engine and calling it fixed, but you still weren’t going to go out there looking like you just got out of a particularly sloppy session of seven minutes in heaven. As soon as the doors opened you picked up a brisk pace. You didn’t stop again until you reached the ship you were looking for. The U.S.S Enterprise. If the situation had been different, you would have taken a moment to admire how impressive she was. But instead of the state of the art technology catching your eye, a pair of men did. One was pacing back and forth with his jaw clenched tightly. His impatience was evident, but his co-worker however, simply stood at the entrance. He was completely blank.
Holding your station required that your deal with quite a few people who were impatient or angry with you, but this? This blankness was something new.
“Good afternoon,” you greeted the men, coming forward, “So sorry I’m late. You would not believe the week we’ve had. We’ve been having dealing with a bit of an outbreak of thought controlling parasites. Fascinating but somewhat troublesome.” Shifting your PADD from your right hand to your left, your stuck out your hand for the blond man in yellow to shake. “Captain Kirk I presume?”
Giving your hand a firm shake, he nodded, “Yes. This is my lead science officer, Commander Spock.”
You felt yourself straighten up, your eyes widen, and your mouth fall open slightly as you turned to look at his associate. Your hands dropped to your sides, causing them to swing a bit. You were sure you must have looked like a child, but you couldn’t help it. And you couldn’t do anything but gape at him for far longer than what was considered appropriate.
“Do you need a minute?” Kirk’s voice came through the slight haze that had filled your mind.
You shook your head, getting the thoughts loose and your head clear. “Sorry. I’m not usually this unprofessional.” The moment you were set free from your trance, you could feel the heat start to rise to your cheeks. You knew that there was a noticeable green tint by now. “I’ve just never met anyone like me before.”
“You’ve never met another Vulcan?” Spock asked.
A smile stretched across your face, barely containing a laugh.
You weren’t sure exactly what it was about the question that was partially funny. It was a genuine question. He had every reason to ask it given the circumstances. It took you less than a second to realise it wasn’t what he had asked. It was the way he had asked it. He was completely emotionless. From his face to his voice. Just like in the bedtime stories your dad used to tell you.
“No, I haven’t, but that’s not what I meant,” your smile shrank slightly as you fought to remain businesslike, “I’m only half Vulcan. Half human. Like you.”
He raised his brows. Then nodded like he understood. “I assume you were raised by humans?”
“That’s correct.” The businesslike state had lost the battle once again, leaving you with a giddy grin and a slight bounce that you could do nothing to contain.
“Ok, if neither of you are gonna say it, I will,” Kirk said, taking a half step between the two of you, “this is really weird.”
A laugh bubbled out of you, clearly shocking both of them, “Captain, we live in space. This doesn’t even make it on to my list of weird things to happen today.”
“Well, it’s weird for me.”
“It’s amazing for me,” you beamed, “I want to know everything. Your people- our people. Your- our culture. Your planet. I want to hear about all it.” The cool weight in your hand suddenly became noticeable to you again and you glanced down at your PADD, pulling it up to rest on your rib cage. “After you show me the sample.”
“I think teaching you about our culture would be beneficial.” Spock motioned for you to enter the ship.
You chewed on the edge of your lip as your eyes moved back and forth across the screens set up before you. Every ten minutes or so another person was coming up to you with a new piece of information or PADD for you to sign and over half of them came from the infirmary. If the note passing wasn’t keeping you from your work enough as it was, you would have gone down there to have a few words with the good doctor.
A presence behind you caused your attention to falter. It wasn’t someone you knew. That was all you could tell without turning around. You had always had an innate ability to sense who was around you even if you couldn’t see them. Something that never failed to unnerve your friends.
“It’s creepy to watch people like that,” you informed whoever it was behind you, while you finished filling out the form you had been working on.
“Not as creepy as when you act like you have eyes in the back of your head,” the tactical officer jibbed, handing you the passenger and cargo reports. His remark earned him a quick glare accompanied by a scrunched up nose from you.
“My apologies,” Spock’s voice sounded, “I did not want to disturb you.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know it was you, Commander.” You got to your feet so that you could face him. With your back pressed into your station you studied him. You couldn’t imagine ever being that emotionless or getting used to being around someone who was. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing in major operations?”
“I’m looking for you.” When you seemed surprised by this response, he continued, “Your Commander told me you were here. You were supposed to meet me on the promenade for lunch half an hour ago.”
“Oh.” You handed a the form to an ensign along with a strong warning for the doctor. “I got a little caught up. Still dealing with that outbreak.”
“Would you like to eat now?”
“Love to,” you grinned.
“Are you finally taking your lunch break?” the tactical officer asked, watching you go to join the other Vulcan with the smallest of smirks on his face.
“I would have been able to take it early, if you had done your job right, you squashed banana,” you accused. You saw his smirk falter as you stepped onto the lift, which only made one slide onto your own face. Rolling your shoulders to loosen them up after hours of work, you looked at Spock. “Have you ever had Acamarian food?”
“I cannot say that I have.” He had straightened up during the brief conversation with your co-workers. Every muscle stiffening ever so slightly. He barely looked at you and when he did it was only out of the corner of his eye as if looking at you fully would cause some kind of damage to his retinas. The fact that you made him uncomfortable was painfully clear to you, even if he was great at suppressing his emotions. You tried not to take it personally.
“You’re gonna love it. They haven’t been here for long and I doubt they’ll be here much longer- kinda cultural flakes - but their foods pretty good.” Your dad had mentioned that Vulcans weren’t big on talking. Now you were seeing first hand that he was right. Unfortunately, you felt the need to compensate for his silence by talking more. And he was letting you.
It wasn’t until you had made it through the line and had to stop to order your food that you were finally able to put a halt to the word vomit you had been spewing. This was not going nearly as well as you had hopped it would.
“Lieutenant,” Spock’s voice voice was more tentative than it had been. You knew he wanted to ask you something even before you looked up from the food you had been pushing around your plate.
“You can call me (Y/N). This is pretty informal,” you smiled, lowering your fork and resting your forearms on the table.
“(Y/N),” he complied to the correction. “I do not understand how you have not met a Vulcan before. There are plenty at the academy.”
“I didn’t go to Starfleet Academy,” you shrugged, reaching for your glass. “After my dad decided he didn’t want to live or raise me on Vulcan, we lived on his research ship until he thought I need something more concrete and we moved to the planet below. I went to the Science Academy there. Graduated top of my class. Guess that’s what happens when you spend your whole life doing the job your major is training you for,” you joked, running your thumb up and down the side of your cup. “I came to work here when my lab ran out of funding.”
“You were born on Vulcan?”
“Yeah, I was.” You were finding it hard to look at Spock instead of down at your food, but you forced yourself to anyways. “What was it like? My dad… he didn’t really like to talk about it. At least not honestly.”
He looked down at his hands, clearly struggling to find the words to best answer your question. “It was strict,” he said, after half a beat, looking back up to you, “Everything had a proper way to be done.”
“Damn.” You dropped your head down to rest on your hand. “And here I was thinking Vulcan was the party planet.”
“It takes years of training for us to not be… what is the term you would use? ‘Party animals’?” he told you as straight faced as ever.
A snort escaped you. “Yes, that’s the term, but I’m going to have to ask you for the good of the universe not to use it again,” you laughed. “I’m also going to have to ask you to tell me all about this anti-party training.”
You scooted closer, looking at him intently. Spock took the incredibly unsubtle hint and started talking. He started at the beginning, with how their children were raised. The longer you talked the more comfortable you felt. Every couple sentences you would interject with a question, making sure you soaked up as much information about your shared culture as possible.
When the sound of your communicator interrupted his explanation on the Vulcan betrothal ritual, your face fell. The second it went off you knew what it meant, and you got the feeling that Spock did too.
“(L/N),” you said as you held the reservoir up.
“You’re needed in command.”
Taking a breath, you fought the urge to curse. “I’ll be there right away.” You snapped your com shut and gave Spock a half smile, “Duty calls. This was really nice. It’s different hearing it from you than reading it on the Starfleet database. Thank you.”
“If you have the time later, I have scripts on the katra that I believe you would be interested in,” he told you.
A full grin stretched across your face as you got up. “I would love that.”
“I would also like to hear about how you have been able to keep your emotions in control without suppression them.”
“I was taught to channel them into something good.” You picked up you tray. “But, um, don’t look at my record to double check that.” You winked and walked off.
The sense of belonging you already got from this one man was almost overpowering. It was something you had never felt before. It felt like he finally was putting puzzle pieces in their place. You felt light and at peace and you knew you would never be able to repay him for that.
272 notes · View notes
chasingthecosmos · 4 years
Text
Three Hearts to Own
Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 11/12 Read on AO3 here.
A (sort of) season re-write centering around the Doctor’s touch telepathy and the many ways that it makes his life difficult while he attempts to move on from the loss of Rose Tyler. This work is based around Seasons 3 & 4 and the Tenth Doctor. It’s the final entry in the “A Hand to Hold” series, but it can also be read as a stand-alone. The first four or five chapters will just be short excerpts from the Doctor’s time away from Rose, but there will be a Journey’s End fix-it and a happily ever after at the end. Tags will be updated as I go. Chapters will vary in length.
Chapter Eleven: Journey’s End (Part Three)
They all ended up escaping with their lives only because of Rose's brilliance and Donna's nimble fingers. In fact, the Doctor found that he really didn't need to do much work at all when he had his two fantastic girls at his side working with him, and with the added help of Jack, Sarah Jane, Mickey, and Jackie (yes, even her), Davros and the daleks really never even really stood a chance to begin with.
They ended up leaving the whole horde of daleks spinning helplessly and completely disabled after Rose, Donna, and the Doctor sent the twenty-six planets in the Medusa Cascade home and then prepared to handle the remaining twenty-seventh themselves. Even though the Doctor may have preferred a more fiery end to the remaining ship full of hateful robots, he had Rose in his head reminding him of just how far he had come since the Time War, and he found that he simply couldn't muster up the same level of hate and anger that he had had all those years ago when they had first come across a broken down dalek buried underneath the sands of the Nevada desert.
Instead, the Doctor merely extended one last half-hearted attempt to save Davros, but when his offer of mercy was vehemently and predictably denied, he gladly shut his TARDIS doors on the whole bloody crucible and set it resolutely behind them.
Rose didn't have any additional words of comfort or reassurance for him, in the end - though the Doctor didn't really think that there were enough words in the universe that could heal the complexities of the Time War and all of the damage and destruction that it continued to leave behind, even now. But his brilliant, beautiful girl still managed to overshadow any lingering despair and anger with her feelings of love and peace, which she projected into his mind until there wasn't room for anything else.
With Rose filling his thoughts and the rest of his companions filling his TARDIS, the Doctor's hearts were more full than they had been in a very, very long time - though, of course, the knowledge that goodbyes were inevitably around the corner did dampen the mood somewhat.
Sarah Jane went first - she was eager to get back to her son (a story that she still didn't bother to tell him completely, though the Doctor suspected that he would find out the details sooner or later). She was followed close behind by Jack and Martha - then, to all of their surprise, Mickey.
"There's nothing in that world for me, now," the young man proclaimed decidedly as he left Pete's World behind him and set his sights on the new world that lay before him, "certainly not Rose."
The Doctor shared a weighted look with the young man who he had spent an inordinate amount of time being jealous over in the past. It all seemed like such a long time ago, now - even though he knew that, in reality, it had only been a few years. Mickey had grown up and changed so much from that frightened kid cowering in a back alley just because a couple of plastic dummies were attempting to threaten his life. The Doctor still couldn't admit it out loud - not even now - but there was no denying the fact that he was proud of him.
When he finally ran off after Jack and Martha, the Doctor knew that he wouldn't have to worry about Rickey the Idiot anymore - he already had all of the resources that he would need in order to make a successful life for himself all over again. However, the rest of the Tyler family was another story.
"Time for one last trip," the Doctor announced as he swaggered back into his TARDIS with an air of easy confidence that he didn't really feel at all. Rose and Jackie didn't meet his eyes as he moved back to the TARDIS monitor, but he caught Donna's look of pained sympathy that did nothing at all to improve his mood as he declared resolutely, "Dårlig Ulv Stranden."
--------------------
"Oh, fat lot of good this is. Back of beyond - bloody
Norway
?" Jackie moaned as soon as the TARDIS touched down again and they all stepped out onto that cold, cloudy beach once more.
"Couldn't you have gotten her a little bit closer to home?" Rose agreed, sighing heavily as she scowled out at the horizon. The Doctor could sense that she was just as wary at seeing this place again as he was. There were simply too many bad memories of half-formed sentences and rushed goodbyes.
"Do you ... have someone who you could call?" the Doctor asked awkwardly, not quite sure how to phrase his question without sounding completely ridiculous as he subtly attempted to learn as much as he could about the life that Rose had made for herself here without him.
"Mum could always phone Dad," she replied with an off-handed shrug. "How long can we stay? I'd like to make sure that she's alright before we head back."
When the Doctor's only reply was a beat of unsure silence as he silently gauged her expression and thoughts, Rose rolled her eyes dramatically and added, "I mean, of course I'm coming back with you. What, did you think you were just going to drop me off on this sad old beach again and leave me behind forever?"
"I thought ..." the Doctor tried weakly, not really sure how to explain the many different doubts, fears, and anxieties that he was feeling in that moment.
"Oh, no. You're not getting rid of me that easily," Rose cut him off simply. "I just ... need to explain to her everything that's happened." She paused for a moment as she tore her gaze away from him and glanced at her mother over her shoulder, her expression falling as she silently prepared herself for the last, momentous goodbye that still lay ahead of them.
Do you want me to come with you ...? the Doctor asked hesitantly, his hands shoved into his pockets as he shifted his weight awkwardly in the sand. He had always been bad at the goodbyes, and he had always been bad with his companions' mothers. He suspected that those two negatives wouldn't exactly cancel each other out - especially when it came to Jackie Tyler.
But Rose's smile was confident and infection as she met his gaze and slowly nodded in assent and gratitude. "Might want to wait a minute, though," she suggested blithely as she moved to follow after her mother. "Probably don't want to be within slapping-distance if her first reaction isn't exactly ideal."
--------------------
However, Rose needn't have worried - her goodbye to her mother was heartfelt and satisfying, leaving absolutely no loose ends like the Doctor was notoriously known for doing. He and Rose were able to explain quite clearly that Rose's lifespan now far exceeded her mother's, and that she really would be safer and happier in a place where she wouldn't constantly be having to explain to people why she wasn't aging. Jackie even took the "Bad-Wolf-leading-them-all-to-this-point-and-changing-Rose's-body-specifically-for-him" part better than he had expected.
"Always knew it would come to this, one way or another," she sighed ruefully through her tears. "From the first moment you stepped into that bloody box with him, I knew I'd never get you back completely."
"It's better this way, Mum," Rose insisted gently, blinking through her own watery eyes. "You don't need me anymore. You've got Dad and Tony and everything you could ever want here. You'll all have a long, happy, normal life without me."
"I'll always need you, Rose," Jackie muttered, bringing her daughter into a crushing hug before they parted ways for the last time. "But you need him - and we all know how he's completely rubbish without you. So you go, and you live the life you've always wanted. Just know that I love you - no matter how far you go or how long you travel, just know that, Rose. Know that I love you."
The Doctor's hearts broke in sympathy for his bondmate when they finally turned their backs on Pete's World for the last time, but he took comfort in the fact that Rose was able to say goodbye to her mother in the end, and he was pleased to find that she didn't have a single ounce of lingering regret left in her as he fired up the TARDIS engines and set their course back for their home universe.
However, as per usual, Donna couldn't let the quite, reflective moment last, and the three of them were left standing in silence for only thirteen seconds before she piped up sarcastically, "Well, there's at least one person who's still fully human on board, and she is honestly very, very tired. do you think I can trust you two not to go running off into any explosions for a few hours while I take a quick kip?"
"Of course," the Doctor replied gently at the same time that Rose grinned and teased, "No promises."
Donna heaved a weary sigh as she glared at the two of them, but she didn't offer any more warnings or advice before shuffling off deeper into the TARDIS in the direction of her room.
"Speaking of explosions ..." the Doctor muttered as casually as he could while flashing an assessing gaze in Rose's direction out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes, yes, I know ..." Rose sighed dramatically as she rolled her eyes at him with a long-suffering expression. It seemed that she knew without him having to tell her that he was still intensely curious about her new state of being and was eager to dissect the issue down to its molecular roots as soon as possible.
"I'll meet you in the infirmary," Rose muttered as she ran the tips of her fingers over the Doctor's arm on her way past him before following Donna's path deeper into the TARDIS. He didn't miss the sudden exhausted slump of her shoulders as she went, but before the Doctor could even attempt to ask her what was wrong, she tugged teasingly against his thoughts and quickly assured him that she was fine.
Don't keep me waiting, she reminded him as soon as they were out of ear-shot from one another. It's been two years and we have a lot of catching up to do ...
0 notes