Got7 | You Being Really Protective Over Your Newborn
hi hi hi 💋 Hot7 father reaction to their s/o being really protective over her newborn please ??
*I did this in like what I would like to call “first time mom syndrome”
Mark: “But I already bought the tickets and told my parents that we would go and visit,” Mark said confused when you had said that there was no way you were traveling to LA, “We agreed on this 3 months ago.”
“A plane is just a flying can of recycled air full of people who don’t know how not to not sneeze on other people,” you said, “And I am not sticking our baby in a can of germs for 13 hours.”
Jaebum: “What’s with the outfit?” he questioned seeing your daughter looking like she was ready for a rainstorm.
“Weather report said that was a thirty percent chance of rain…have to be prepaired for anything,” you replied.
“We’re walking to the corner store and it’s quite warm out…I think she’ll be fine,” he said.
“You think she’ll be fine. Are you a meteorologist? Last time I checked you weren’t. If there is a thirty percent chance of rain, there is a thirty percent chance of rain!”
Jackson: “Are you ever going to let me hold him?” Jackson questioned as you moved your son away from him.
“Not after what happened last time,” you replied, holding your son close you as you basically stared Jackson down, “You almost dropped him.”
“I was crying and was nervous, what do you want from me, woman?”
Jinyoung: “I haven’t eaten…can’t I eat first?” Jinyoung asked when you started lecturing him about double checking all the baby safety features you had put in place.
“No…you have to make sure the house is safe…baby safety first,” you said.
“He isn’t even crawling yet…I think we’ll be fine until after I eat,” he said.
Youngjae: “I just wanted to take pictures of him,” he pouted after you had confiscated his camera. The baby had been sleeping and Youngjae was attempting to take pictures of him when you snatched the camera saying that the flash was bad for the baby. “The flash was off and he was asleep…how bad could it be?”
BamBam: “Wash you hands for three minutes with warm water and anti bacterial soap, dry with a paper towel, use a wet wipe, and then hand sanitizer. Oh, and go up to the elbow…”
“Y/N…I want to hold our daughter, I’m not performing surgery,” BamBam said, starting to get worried.
“There are germs everywhere BamBam and you are a big giant germ unless you sanitize.”
Yugyeom: “What do you mean I’m too tall to hold our son?” he questioned.
“What if you accidentally dropped him? That’s a long way down for such a small baby…” you replied.
“I…I don’t even know…I just want to hold him Y/N.”
The team was working on a case in New York. You and Reid were currently working on the geographical profile and eating pretzels, the bag being passed between the two of you every once in a while as he drew on the whiteboard in front of you.
You dropped one of the pretzels on the floor, muttering, “5 second rule!” before picking it up and popping it in your mouth.
“Y/n! Don’t do that!” Spencer exclaimed as you chewed and swallowed. “God, what?” you asked, not seeing what the big deal was.
“Germs take less than 5 seconds to transfer. Bacteria can survive on floors for a long time, you know.” He said as he wrote on the board.
“Spence, I’ve done that all my life and have never gotten sick from it.” You said, giggling at the way he immediately told you a fact to back up his statement that you shouldn’t follow the 5 second rule.
“Yeah, yeah. You better watch it. If you get sick, don’t bother calling me because I’ll just keep telling you that you shouldn’t eat food off the floor. Tragic.”
Fear? Fear is easy. Flash a razor in someone’s face, boom, you’ll see fear. And killing is even easier. I mean, come on, it’s humanity’s oldest problem. “Man, I wanna fuck that guy up. How do I fuck that guy up?” Fists, sticks, stones, knives, spears, bows, swords, guns, cannons, bigger guns, bigger cannons, big fucking nuclear bombs, germs, chemicals…every few generations we find a new way to solve that ancient riddle, it’s really nothing new.
But making someone happy? Now that’s playing on hard mode.
You ever make a mobster cry? I have. The guy was a low-level thug. Often a bodyguard, sometimes an arm-breaker, occasionally a gravedigger. Scars all over his face and arms, nose squashed, tough as an iron stereotype. You’ve seen his kind before in a dozen movies and TV shows.
Well Mr. Tough Guy had a young daughter. More specifically, he had a young daughter who’d been in a car accident a few years back and hadn’t walked since. So I fixed her, and it was not a fucking easy task. Do you know how hard it was to get all of the right people in touch with each other? This nurse talks to that administrator who talks to that aid organization who talks to that other nurse who talks to those specialists who…you get the idea. But do you know how much harder it is to pull all of those strings to make all of those conversations happen without anybody figuring out that you’re the puppeteer behind it all? Yeah I didn’t think so.
I was an orderly in the hospital at the time, and I made sure I was on-shift when that girl took her first step in years. Her thug-scum daddy started bawling like a baby, thanking God for this miracle, swearing that he’d go straight…and last I heard, he’s kept that promise. Works security in an office building, pulls an honest paycheck, has gotten a little bit chubby from his easy life, but I won’t judge him for that. It took me two years of planning and string-pulling to break him. Any of the other freaks could have killed and mutilated what, two dozen hookers in that time?
Who cares. I go for quality over quantity.
Like with Sherri. Sherri was a twenty-something forgettable woman with full-blown depression and suicidal tendencies. In fact, she was on her way to tendency herself right off of the tallest bridge in town when she comes across a stray dog with a broken leg, whimpering and dragging itself along the sidewalk while everyone else takes a wide berth around it. She brings the dog to the nearest vet, and runs into an old friend in the waiting room with a sick cat. The old friend mentions how she’s just started therapy and how much better she’s been feeling…and when Sherri gets back to see the vet, he’s the cutest, nicest guy she’s ever met… You know where this is going.
Six months later, with some regular therapy (recommended by a friend, who knew), Sherri’s dark thoughts have started melting away. A year and a half later, she’s getting married to the cute vet, and her rediscovered friend is the maid of honor. Now she’s pregnant with her second, and she can’t remember what it was like to feel so low that she wanted to take her own life.
Who do you think put an advertisement for that vet on her doorstep that morning? Who do you think broke that dog’s leg? Who do you think poisoned her friend’s cat? It wasn’t Jeffrey fucking Dahmer, I’ll tell you that much.
Fear is easy. Death is easy. Happiness is hard, and I’m the best at making it. All of those humanitarians and charity workers that you see are bullshit artists and that’s it. They do nothing but prolong a series of miserable lives that aren’t worth living. I take misery and turn it into something that others might call beautiful.
Ha. I don’t believe in beauty. But I do believe in doing the hardest work that you are capable of.
Now I just have this headcannon of Dean Winchester at 4 years old, sitting in a motel room with a dad who sips too much on grownup juice and a baby brother who cries without a mom who will hold them, and Dean feels all alone. And suddenly there’s a friend, a friend that dad doesn’t see who shows Dean how to help his little brother stop crying and tells him he’s doing a good job taking care of sammy, and tries to get Dean to talk since he hasn’t since the fire, and makes silly faces to try and make Dean laugh and smile
But it doesn’t take long for Dean to grow up, since he’s got a family that depends so much on him. The friend did everything to help Dean, but helping didn’t mean preserving his childhood. And soon Dean’s too “old” for an imaginary friend, he’s lost that childish optimism and hope for a better life, hope for the future. All he see’s is his responsibility, taking care of Sam, helping Dad, saving people, hunting things. The friend is forced to leave, even if Dean needs a friend more than ever.
And when Sam gets Sully as a friend, and Sully gets frustrated with Sam’s big brother the “germ”, Dean’s old friend knows the truth, tells Sully that Dean’s “not a germ at all”
and Sully doesn’t see it at first, too upset that Sam still idolizes a brother who dismisses imaginary friends so easily. That this boy who acts tough and cool is Sam’s hero, and Sully just doesn’t understand why
Can you do a wincest prompt and Sam has a cold and dean attempts to take care of his baby, thanks!?
“De,” 15 year old Sam sniffles, trying feebly to push Dean’s hands away as Dean attempts to take his temperature. “I’m fine. Lemme alone.”
“Look at you, you are not fine. You—you’re one big bag of germs and snot.” Dean grumbles unhappily, giving up trying to check Sam’s temperature and pressing a hand to his forehead instead—it didn’t feel like he was running a fever. Actually, though clamy, his skin was pretty cold.
At the warm contact, Sam sighs and pushes into Dean’s hand. “Warm,” He mumbles, sniffling again.
Dean’s eyebrows push up in worry. “You cold?” He asks, already reaching for the comforter, peeling it off the motel bed.
“Just a ‘lil.” Sam mumbles.
Dean lets out a quiet sigh, sliding easily in behind Sam on the couch, the big spoon, and swaddling them both with the comforter.
Sam turns around instantly so they’re pressed chest to chest, tucking his face under Dean’s chin and shuddering. Dean presses a kiss to Sam’s hair, his arms wrapping around his little brother protectively. “S’okay, Sammy. You’ll warm up in no time. Try to get some sleep.”
Sam nuzzles his chest, and then sneezes, all over Dean.
Dean grimaces. “You are totally lucky I love you. Otherwise that would be, like, mega gross.”
Sam sniffles again and lets out a little cough, that for some reason reminds Dean of a kitten, and he smiles a little, because Sam never lets him take care of him like this. The 15 year old would much rather be independent, doing things on his own verses the 10 year old Sam, who refused to do anything without Dean. Back then it had been a little annoying, Sam always wanting to be with him, always needing help. Now, Dean longed for the days when he was Sam’s hero.
“Thanks.” Sam says suddenly. “Warm.”
“Yeah,” Is all Dean says. After a moment, Sam’s puppy-soft snores pick up, and Dean pulls Sam impossibly closer, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. “I love you too.”
to put this modestly:
GREEN DAY AND FALL OUT BOY ARE NOT PUNK
examples of punk rock bands:
The Ramones, X, NOFX, MDC, The Clash, Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Sex Pistols, Circle Jerks, Minutemen, UK Subs, Buzzcocks, The Descendents, The Germs, Big Black, Poison Idea, The Adicts, Dead Milkmen, Minor Threat, Crass
ok so on runs house remember when diggy was really big on germs
there was a scene where rev said “dig why do you have a bottle of lotion by your bed who leaves a bottle of lotion by their bed” well i thought a bout it and maybe diggy had that bottle there but not for his legs and arms