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asxgard · 20 days ago

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Companionship | pt. 8

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

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Summary: An ER visit and a long awaited conversation.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: a variation of the hospital scene has been in my head since the beginning, and the one that convinced me to start this in the first place. Obviously it changed a bit after I figured out where it took place in their relationship. Thankful to be finally sharing it with y’all! The scene after that? Uhhhh👀😭

Special shoutout to @cherriready for being so extraordinarily amazing and helping me with the end bits!!! Thank you for letting me vent about the show and this series💜

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: age gap, ANGST, feelings, still avoiding those feelings, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, little to no comfort

not beta read

Michael was thankful this shift was nearly over, just under two hours to go and he could go home to crash. He really needed it, spending sleepless night after restless night, thoughts turning over and over in his head. He should not have cared so much, or felt so deeply about not talking to you. You should not have mattered nearly as much as you did.

But he had laid in his bed night after night, thinking only of you. Feeling stupid. Feeling perverted. Feeling like he wasn’t good enough. You had walked out, after all. You were the one who had stood and chose to leave.

So why did it feel like it was all his fault?

He remembered the warmth of your lips, how your eyes had held him so tenderly, how soft your hands had been. The rush he had felt when you finally connected. Like something had finally clicked into place.

With a long breath, Michael tried to get back to work. Maybe check out triage, or chairs and just grab anyone to take you away from his thoughts. He stopped by Central to check on a few patients, turning around to make his way back towards chairs.

And like the universe had finally taken pity on him, there you were. Hair pulled from your face, one hand held upward. Still in your work clothes: a pair of chinos, a light blue sweater and a jacket slung over your other arm. Any thoughts he had been having about anything crash landed. He had to be seeing things. He had to be seeing things; if you were here, then something had happened and you were hurt. That thought moved his heart into his throat — couldn’t he have just gotten more nurses if the universe had taken pity on him?

Then you looked up, your unmistakable eyes met his and his heart stopped.

—

Michael was on you in only a few long strides, next to you in only a blink. Taking your hand — gently, but firmly — into his, he looked over your wound with careful eyes. You held your breath, watching him, assessing him. His eyes, focused and unreadable, lips in just a hint of a frown, his hands warm and rough against your own skin.

It had been nearly a week since you had seen each other, and worry sank low into your gut. How had you ended up at the hospital he worked at? You were never supposed to be anywhere near his professional life. That was the deal.

…was there even still a deal?

“Dr. Robby?” Dr. McKay asked tentatively, glancing between you.

Robby? Who the hell is Robby? Is Michael a fake fucking name—

“Sorry, this is Doc—”

“I got it.” Michael—Robby—muttered, releasing your hand.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows furrowed, “Boss, I think—”

“VIP, I got it.” He said again, harder this time, looking at Dr. McKay and not allowing any room for argument.

Dr. McKay’s eyebrows raised, glancing back at you, you were still staring at Michael dumbly. Giving a curt nod, Dr. McKay handed over the tablet and walked back towards the waiting room. You only spared her a glance before you moved into the room, Michael on your heels.

“What happened?”

Mild anger flared in your chest, “Was Michael a fake name, was nothing real?”

His eyebrows came together and his frown settled deeper onto his face, “What?”

“Robby.” You stressed, annoyed.

Realization flashed over his face, “No, no. It’s short for Robinavitch. Michael’s my first name.”

“Oh.”

Michael Robinavitch.

Well, at least it felt like you were on a more level playing field; all of your information was on that tablet now in his hand. At least now you knew his full name and where he worked. But did it matter?

Michael moved to close the door, before turning around and just looking at you. He was wearing a blue hoodie over his scrubs, a stethoscope around his neck. You hated how your mind went to how good he looked. You squirmed under his gaze, glancing over your shoulder at the exam table.

“What happened?” Michael tried again, stepping closer.

You looked at him, and let out an embarrassed sigh. “I was chopping vegetables for dinner. Knife fell, tried to catch it. Clearly caught the wrong end.” Your lips pulled up momentarily, finding it so stupid.

He nodded. You got onto the exam table, minding your injured palm, and looked back at him. The air between you felt tense enough to cut with a knife, both of you resorting to awkward movements that had once been behind you.

Michael sat on the wheely stool, scooting closer to you, reaching for your palm again. “Let me see.”

You held your palm out to him and he held it delicately in his hands. He turned to pull the tray toward him, a few things scattered across it, but you kept her focus solely on him. You hoped any of his expressions might give something away to what he was thinking, but he was painfully neutral.

“You’ll need a few stitches and then I’ll get you outta here.” He said, not looking up from your palm, grabbing some blue latex gloves.

You frowned, not thrilled this was how your night was turning out. But whatever divine deity was out there had decided to hand him to you on a silver platter. You swallowed thickly, anxious mind running rampant on all the things you could say to him.

“Pin prick and some burning.”

You noted the needle and glanced to the other side of the room until it was done. Your heart was racing and you feared he might have heard it. The last thing you needed was for him to know the effect he had on you. The air was heavy with all the things unsaid and you had the urge to run again, but his hold on your hand never wavered.

“How have you been?” You finally got out, cheeks hot.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours before looking back down to his work. “I’ve been okay.”

It stung, it had no right to, but it hurt somewhere deep in your chest.

“Good, I’m glad.” You bit out, rougher than normal.

He paused for a long moment, needle hovering over your open palm before resuming the stitches, his movements calculated and precise. You looked away from his face and swallowed your feelings. They were bitter as they went down.

“I’m sorry about the other night.” Michael told you quietly, still not looking at you.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I should’ve stayed.” You whispered back to him, hoping maybe he’d catch the hint this time.

Michael’s eyes quickly snapped to yours, holding you steady in his gaze. You did your best to hold it, captured by how soft his brown eyes were — pulling you deeper. It could have been hours that you held like that, his hand on yours making a heat crawl up your spine.

“Dr. Robby—”

Both of your eyes snapped to the opened door, the bubble bursting. The man who had interrupted was leaning into the room, hands on either side of the doorway, one leg slightly bent and the toe of his shoe tapping against the tile. His brown hair was swept up in a nice style, blue eyes flickering between you and Robby.

You released a breath the same moment Michael opened his mouth to speak.

“What?”

The man blinked, “MVA inbound, three minutes out. Do you want me to finish this?”

Michael frowned, “No, I got it, Langdon. I’ll be there in a minute.”

The man—Langdon—studied you carefully for another moment before turning and walking back down the hall. You watched him go, your breath stuck in your throat. You inhaled shallowly, trying to keep your feelings at bay, but you picked up the scent of him. Sandalwood and vanilla, and the burn of antiseptic.

“Don’t let me keep you,” you said, looking away from him, “I’m sure anyone could finish up.”

“Let me take care of you.” Then he coughed awkwardly, “I’m almost done, anyways.”

You nodded, trying to savor the feel of him just a little longer and hating yourself for it.

Michael hummed, “I’d like to…talk tonight, if you’re available?”

You looked at him and blinked, “We can do that, yeah.”

A small smile cracked at the corners of his mouth. “Good, I can come to yours so you don’t have to travel with your hand. But you can still come to mine, if that makes you more comfortable.”

Your face burned at his consideration, “Oh, thank you. Yeah, I’ll text you my address.”

He finished, placing the needle back onto the tray table and removing his gloves, “I’ll have a nurse come in and go over wound care, but then you can be discharged. Take Tylenol as needed, but don’t exceed 1500 milligrams in a twelve hour period.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Michael.”

Michael stayed a few moments more before lingering in the doorway, looking like he wanted to say something. He only spared you a last glance before rushing back the way he had come, likely to assist with the MVA.

The nurse who had come in to go over a few details on your wound care was an older woman, with blonde hair tied up and a smile that made you feel at ease. She introduced herself as Dana.

You visibly relaxed after Michael had walked out, but your mind was still reeling from your interaction. Dana made a few notes in her chart, eyeing you occasionally from the corner of her eye in an expression you couldn’t quite read. It made you tense up, like your secrets were spilling all over the floor.

Dana sent you on your way shortly after Michael had left, with specific instructions and a timeframe to come back to get your stitches removed. You felt awkward, knowing you might have to come back. Add in the way Dana was looking at you like she could read all your secrets like they were written on your forehead, you were happy to head home.

You pulled out your phone and sent your address to Michael, anxiety churning in your gut.

—

Since getting back to your apartment, you had only snacked on a few things after cleaning up the mess you had left. You were grateful no blood had gotten on the kitchen rug. You attempted to tidy the best you could with one working hand, not knowing when he would arrive.

You pulled out the Visa card and stared at it for a while. You went to a kitchen drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors and cut it in half, deciding you were done with it, no matter what Michael had to say tonight. You struggled with using your non-dominant hand, but it halved easily enough. Placing it back in your wallet to put into the shredder at work, you let out a long breath of air, putting it in your pocket.

Michael texted around 7 to ask if you wanted him to bring food.

Only if you haven’t eaten.

He showed up with Thai food, having remembered your order from their time previously. It warmed your heart, and your stomach was thankful for him, grumbling impatiently.

Michael looked around your apartment, taking it in. It was considerably smaller than his, with a rushed paint job and lackluster appeal. But hey, it was cheap.

You sat across from him at your dining table, the kiss lingering in your mind and making your hand ache more, even after taking two Tylenol. Your heart was pounding and your mouth felt dry, worried any comment would be a complete misstep.

Did he want you in the way you were thinking? Was this going to be his way of letting you down easy, over your favorite Thai food? Did he want to scold you for forgetting the agreement? Did he want to apologize for doing the same? Did he want to say fuck it and throw caution to the wind?

Your stomach churned uneasily, flickering your eyes to his face and back to your to-go container. The quiet was eating you alive.

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but each time thought better of it and closed it, attention going back to his food.

“How’s your hand?” He finally settled on.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, “It’s…fine. A nice doctor patched me up real good.”

A smile flickered on his lips, “Just nice?”

“He seemed to know what he was doing.” You said, eyes not wavering, a smile of your own hinting at the corners of your mouth, suddenly feeling bold. “He was handsome, too.”

You immediately noticed the blush blooming on his cheeks.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

The smile grew on your face, “Yeah.”

His big brown eyes glanced away from you and back to his food, “Let me see your hand.”

You raised a careful eyebrow, but gave your hand to him, palm facing up. It was still well bandaged from when Dana had wrapped it up for you.

“Dana tell you everything—”

“She did. I wrote it all down.”

He nodded, placing your hand back on the table and letting go.

“So…you wanted to talk?” You ventured, hoping he would speak his mind first so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself.

“Well…the agreement. I think some wires got crossed—”

“You do?” Hurt bloomed.

Michael met your eyes, a long pause extending between you. He looked so unsure, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed.

“I’d like to think this is more than just the agreement now.” You said softly, not looking at him.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t even be here if I wasn’t paying you.”

You recoiled like you had been slapped, getting to your feet, your eyes snapping to his, “You really think that?”

“You mean to tell me you would’ve seen me somewhere and come up to me? A man almost twenty years older and what? Flirted with me?” He stood from the table, his tone harsh.

“Would you have?” You rounded back at him, knowing he never would have even considered it.

“I don’t want to pretend this could ever be more than it is. It’s unfair to both of us.” He said, frowning, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pockets.

“Pretend?” Your voice was shrill, a laugh escaping your throat. “We’re way past pretending.”

“Do you want me to still pay you, then? Still pay for your companionship? Maybe some nice clothes—”

“Fuck you.” You snarled, grabbing your wallet from your pocket. You threw the two pieces of the Visa card at him, watching as they landed beside his shoe.

They landed with the weight of a brick rather than a flimsy piece of plastic.

Michael looked dumbly down at it.

“If that’s what you really think of me, take the stupid fucking card and get out.”

Surprise bloomed across his face, and something strikingly similar to regret, or insecurity, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. It took all your strength not to shove him out the door.

You had been so stupid thinking tonight might have gone differently, like your stupid, far-fetched fantasy might’ve come true. Your heart began to ache, taking away all the pain in your hand.

Michael leaned down quietly and picked up the pieces of the Visa card, eyes glossed over and unreadable. You watched him silently, breathing heavily and trying to calm your racing heart. Trying not to scream. Trying not to cry in front of him, but it burned your eyes.

He walked past you without a word and stepped out of your apartment, closing the door behind him — he didn’t slam it, but it rattled through your apartment like he had.

You crashed to the ground and sobbed.

[ Next ]

want to join the any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @ksyn-faith @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange

All Dr. Robby Content Taglist: @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys

All The Pitt Content Taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc

I’m so sorry😭

but hey, the worst is over (mostly)

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x reader #michael robinavitch x female reader #dr robby x reader #female reader #companionship series #asxgard writes #sad brown eyed boy #you’re my weakness #I promise it goes back uphill from here #…mostly

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i2sunric · 10 months ago

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gynecologist sunghoon who checks up on you and makes you think that the way he touches you is part of his job and that he needs to what the problem is with you down there with touching you like that. reader is naive and nonstop apologizes for moaning and for it making her feel good. eventually she realizes because she can’t be that dumb lmao and they both just enjoy in the end

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓 (p.sh)

a/n: let me just make this a drabble cause i don’t have the inspiration to make it long. hope you like it tho <3

“Just relax.” Sunghoon’s voice soothed when you confessed that it was your first time at the gynaecologist “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You slowly nodded, feeling ever so small and exposed, sitting on the chair “Okay, doc.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and tugged the waistband of your panties “Let me take this off for you, mh?”

You helped him by raising your hips as he slid them off your legs and gently folded onto the table beside you “Now, put your legs here.” He told you as he pointed at the small stands on the chair.

You complied “Good girl.” He murmured and with a knob, he parted your legs until he could rest comfortably between them “Is it okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded , “Tell me.” Sunghoon’s deep voice made you shiver “It’s okay. You can continue.”

Sunghoon nodded and started the visit, his gaze fell on your pussy and fuck— if it wasn’t the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.

Seriously, you were so perfect, from the way you squirmed as the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin to how you seemed so oblivious of it clenching whenever his fingers brushed against it.

“You’re healthy.” He reassured you, watching as your shoulders finally ease, tension slipping out of your body.

“Thank you—“ You were about to say but he cut you in “I need to make some more investigations, is it okay for you?”

You nodded and as you met his dark gaze, you remember you had to tell him “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Sunghoon murmured and slowly brushed his finger against your clit, making your hips jerk at the contact.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the foreign feeling your body reacted “S’okay.” Sunghoon smirked.

His finger kept brushing against it and he watched as your eyes grew half lidded at the feeling. He slowly gathered your juices “I need to check if it gets wet alright.” He said a shitty excuse and brushed his finger against your sensitive bud once more.

You let out a soft hum, though you weren’t sure if it was for the strange feeling or as a reply.

“Does it feel good?” He questioned, quickening his pace just a little “I need to know.”

He also knew that if someone ever found out what he was doing, he would be fired and maybe sent to court, but how could he resist when you were literally so innocent and oblivious to his nasty acts?

You nodded, your grip on the armchair growing ever so strong when you for the itch to reach for his hair and pull his head close to your pussy “Good.”

“Bet it does.” He tsked and looked up at your beautiful face, the way your eyes struggled to keep open and your mouth fell agape. Cheeks already flushed.

“And this?” Sunghoon asked and slipped one finger inside you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

You let out a moan and widened your eyes. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t think that was an appropriate act from Sunghoon.

“D-doc?” You said and moaned out loud when his single digit brushed against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Found it.” Sunghoon murmured.

“Doc!” You exclaimed, frustrated with yourself for feeling such strong pleasure “I— I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Of course, you were naive but not stupid.

“No, I shouldn’t.” His finger brushed against your g-spot again “Do you want me to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, debating your answers. His skilled finger moved inside of you in such a perfect way that you couldn’t even think straight, your mind clouding blissfully.

Nobody had ever touched you that way, and you had only faintly heard about how good sex was. But that was your prepping and if it felt like heaven already, you could only imagine what the afterwards felt like.

“No.” You answered, arching your back in the chair “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed at the eagerness in your voice and added a second digit, struggling to even make it fit.

“You’re so tight.” He commented, having to spit on your pussy to make it wetter, so that it wouldn’t hurt to thrust his digits inside of you.

You moaned, head falling back. You felt so full, so good.

“D-doc.” You murmured “Call me Sunghoon.” He demanded and you complied “Sunghoon!”

He felt you clenching around him “Fuck, you’re almost pushing me out at how tight you are.” He bit his bottom lip, feeling his pants growing restrained by the minutes ticking.

“Mh.” You hummed in pleasure, your back arching from the chair “Sunghoon..”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked and the way his name rolled out of his tongue, so sinful, it made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Feels funny.” You frowned and Sunghoon chuckled, knowing very well what you meant “Does it, now?”

His fingers rubbed against your spongy walls and thrusted in and out, trying to bring you closer to the edge.

You cried out as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach “Don’t stop.” You panted as pleasure started overtaking your senses.

“I won’t stop.” He reassured “Just let it go, baby.” Your eyes rolled back at his pace quickening, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy filling the whole room.

Fortunately, you were the last patient of the day and no one was most likely to be in the waiting room.

“Cum for me.” At his words your whole body squirmed in the sit, moaning out. Your orgasm washed you in a such a delicious way, little trembles rocked through you.

Sunghoon rode you out of your orgasm, his fingers still slowly moving inside of you until you calmed down and he slipped them out, making you moan at the loss.

He looked at his cum-coated digits and almost came on spot himself. He put them in his mouth and sucked them clean, humming at your sweet feeling.

“You even taste so good, don’t you?” He chuckled and got up, handing you back your panties.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” You nodded, a little sweaty from the act.

Thank you, doc.” You blushed “For everything.”

Sunghoon just smirked at you “I’m looking forward our next meeting, Y/N.”

#casey’s talks <3 #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen drabble #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon hard thoughts #park sunghoon hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon park #sunghoon enhypen #park sunghoon enhypen #sunghoon enhypen smut #sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon imagines

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onelittlespiral · 9 months ago

Text

FML: Confidence

I had decided it was finally time for a change. A few years after college and sitting all day at the office had taken its toll. Twink death was here, but I wanted to have a chance at a few more wild nights before I hit my thirties. So, on a buddy’s recommendation I called up Dr. Webb. He had been touted to me as one of the best in his industry, able to help with all kinds of health and wellness. In my consultation, we discussed my goals. I talked about my concerns around aging and some of the weight I had put on. He probed a bit about my health and family medical history. He was so calm and gentle. It was so easy to talk with him I may have even disclosed more than I wanted to about my college days and conquests. At the end, he leaned back and read over his notes:

“If I am being honest, I am not sure what you are too concerned with. You may not be your youngest, but I wouldn’t say you are deviating too much from a health body at your age.”

“But Doc, I don’t want to just slide into my thirties. I want to get out there like I did just a few years ago.”

“There is nothing wrong with aging my boy. It’s scary for us all but we aren’t stopping the clock any time soon.”

“I don’t want to stop the clock. I just want to feel confident in my body again.”

He stroked his beard and thought for a moment, “Now that is maybe something I can work with.” The rest of the visit was boring. But by the time I left his office, I had a pack vitamin supplements, a list of recommended exercises, and a follow up appointment in a few weeks.

Over the next couple days or so, I diligently took the supplements, followed the exercise routine, and logged my daily progress. It was strange, I didn’t really see a difference, but did start to feel a bit better. The biggest change I think I felt though was a kind of hormonal rebalance. I think doc mentioned it. My sleep was slowly becoming more regular, mood swings improved, and my flexibility was improving as I followed my exercise routine. However, I think it was also starting to create a fixation. I would just need to see my progress, check if I was improving. Whenever I got a small chance I would just stare at myself and focus on my curves. Were they any smaller?

I mentioned it to Dr. Webb at our next meeting. He laughed it off, said it was nothing unusual. But he did send me home with some meditation files to help me relax and center my mind. Help me let go of my worries and all that. And I will confirm they were effective. I popped on the first tape that night, listening to breathing exercises and ambient white noise. Woke up an hour later feeling refreshed. I don’t think I thought about my body much that night. In fact, I hardly thought about anything. My mind felt so clear.

It continued like that for a week I think. To be honest, the days started blurring together a bit. The routine was really sinking in, abs became an almost unconscious part of my day. At some point though, I don’t know when, I did start to notice a change as I would finish the tapes. I would always come to hard as wood. My appetite for sex was off the charts, quickly becoming a nuisance to take care of myself, several times a day. I even had to take a break at work one day. That is, until one day I saw myself in the mirror.

I was getting ready for the day, and suddenly something in me shifted. I stopped pulling down my tee and stared at myself in the mirror.

Damn, had I always been this hot?

Something about the way my jeans hugged into my sides and the thick matted carpet stretching across my stomach felt new and exciting. My mind said it should have felt off, but staring at my gut and feeling its weight ripple as I rubbed it up and down, I was entranced.

‘I felt big, strong, and masculine’, a voice echoed in mind, and I couldn’t agree more. Instantly my plans for the day were shot. I needed to get out there and find someone to share this body with. I couldn’t keep it all to myself. I popped my top off and went on the prowl for a piece of ass to demolish. A few quick photos and I had some nameless twink on his way over for an afternoon delight. Within moments of his arrival, I felt a shift in energy between us. I was used to a kind of back and forth, pull and push as people met and flirted. This was all pull. It started slowly, as he sat next to me on the couch. Then, he placed his hand on my thigh and gently rubbed. I was soon no longer talking to him, I was giving him commands:

“Scoot closer to me.” He scooted.

“Rub my belly a bit, don’t be shy.” He hesitated for just a moment before gliding his hand over my furry belly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He nodded limply. He was fixated on other things

‘A man gets what he wants,’ rang the voice in my head. And my patience was running thin.

The commands flowed from my mouth quickly:

“Take off my shirt”

“Take off your shirt”

“Lay on me a bit”

“Don’t mind the smell, I’m wrapping my arm around you.”

He quickly followed commands, even started taking huffs of my musky pits as he curled into my arms. I didn’t tell him to do that yet, but I felt so in control as this man was getting hard practically in my lap. It was time.

“Pull out my cock.”

“Put your head right there.”

“Open wide.”

“Suck, boy.”

It was just so easy to get him to comply. He was like putty in my hands. He just bent to my authority as I guided his willing throat, mouth, and tongue through the best blow job of my life. By the time I was ready to move on, a damp spot had formed through his shorts at the tip of his throbbing cock. It bobbed in the air a bit as I turned him around and pulled down his shorts. I took a moment to press myself against him, let him feel the power of my body.

“Bend over.” And he went down on all fours.

By the time my next appointment came up, I already had a small selection of boys willing to come over when I needed them. They were so small, I was almost worried I would break them in half. But it felt so freeing to discover this side of myself. Nothing could beat a twink sitting on my dick, begging for me to cum in him. I reported back to the Doc that I didn’t think I needed his services anymore. He said that he couldn’t agree more, and that even he was shocked at how much progress I made in such a short period of time.

“Now would you kindly put your shorts back on? They did not need to come off for this examination.”

“No,” I replied, “gotta take care of some business first. You want to show me that cute ass of yours.”

“I don’t think so, I…”

“Please doctor, with a body like this? I’m confident you’ll find your work satisfying.”

#hypnosis #transformation #male transformation #fml #reality change #bear tf

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kimikitti · 8 months ago

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Hi! Sorry if there’s a lore doc or something I missed but I saw your new Obi design and the overblot doodles and would love to know the lore! From my understanding, Obi can consume magic? Did he use that to tame overblots? I’m completely enamored by the idea that all these big scary monsters are just hanging out in Ramshackle. Are the house wardens comfortable visiting with them around?

Co-parenting with the manifestation of your childhood trauma is always better with a smoothie.

(LOL there is no lore doc. It's just me cryptically posting about Obi and the phantoms and then bouncing. Thank you for the wonderful opportunity for me to rant about the lore I have bouncing around my brain. Also, I probably should make a tag to make all this lore stay in one place. Rant below the cut (May contain slight spoilers))

Obi and the phantoms:

To answer your first question: Yes, Obi can consume magic. In fact, he needs to consume it to survive. When he consumes magic, they taste like words and information. If he eats a spell, Obi gains an understanding of the spell's nature and effects. Repeated consumption of the same spell can lead to greater revelations. Obi is not totally conscious of this ability, as the information he gains seems to have always existed to him.

Did he use that to tame overblots?

No, the phantoms are not really beings that can be tamed. Obi devoured them during the overblot. And wakes up with a book in his clutches. Said books are how he summons the phantoms once again.

Each phantom takes on a personality and ability separate but similar to their original creator. Some phantoms are more willing than others to be cooperative.

Obi doesn't really mind much. Unwanted creations should stick together. It's better than being alone.

Are the house wardens comfortable visiting with them around?

Some of them are, for some it takes more time to warm up to the idea of the phantoms. After all, its hard to be totally ok with a being born of their worse moments. I can run through some general attitudes.

Riddle: Absolutely terrified at first. But seems dedicated to "educating" his phantom. He comes around a lot. (The phantom loves this)

Leona: Comes by frequently but he does not seem to show a strong interest in his own phantom, brings meat. (The phantom also appears uninterested in its creator, but has been seen curling around leona while he's taking a nap)

Azul: Does not come by at all. (The phantom hates this, but understands)

Jamil: The phantom often seeks Jamil out frequently, seems to have a strong desire to bring gifts to its creator. It is unclear how Jamil feels about this. (Jamil is unsure about this, Kalim loves this)

Vil: The phantom hides from Vil. It is ashamed. (Vil dislikes this, but is trying to coax it out)

Idia: Ortho... sleeps most of the time. He wishes to be near his brother but is often not strong enough to be the dominant desire among them. Idia and Ortho visit frequently they love to play video games together. (Ortho loves this)

Malleus:

(I honestly love coming up with the phantoms and their respective lore so if you're interested to learn more please let me know! Thank you for the questions)

#twisted wonderland #twst #my art #twst oc #twst mc #twst fan art #twst riddle #twst trey #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #twst: obi

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omgfangirlland · 26 days ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 26

Every time Batsis does something that otherwise would have ended with the genocide of a whole race, Kregg gets a gray hair.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 26 >>next

Your little tell-all stirred the pot- a lot. So much so that the internet, a week later, was still talking about it. Now, the crowd wasn’t in your favor at first, people are willing to suck billionaires off for less, but Bruce “the good one” Wayne? Most were quick to jump down your throat and call you a liar, but the Gothamites weren’t having that. It took all but three days for them to find every public article on you, and lo and behold- the public opinion swayed.

Years of missed achievements, a compilation of your kid pics showing how you slowly lost your smile, and compilation videos of you stopping looking in the crowd for your family were enough to pull a few heartstrings- the interviews of the teachers who knew you settled the knife in and the interview you gave Lois hammered it in.

“I appreciate my fans, but my job isn’t to be loved or liked- I’m a hero. My job is to save lives, even if that day it’s one- my job is to help as best as I can, whether or not I’m liked.” Your voice rang through the batcave. “Maybe I was in the wrong for punching him, but I’m not sorry for it. That man, the one he presents publicly to you, isn’t the one I grew up with. I find it beyond insulting how he thinks now because he feels guilt or desperation, or whatever, he can put that fake ass mask on and try to win me over when he just realized I wasn’t even in the manor, to begin with. I lived with him, and even if he didn’t see me, I saw him.”

“I stand by what I said that night. I have given you the proof I have, Ms. Lane, and I’m sure you’ll find everything checked out. My reasons for hating him and his monthly crew have a foundation, and that foundation is rock-hard cement, especially when compared to the way Nolan and Debbie raised me. Omni-Man was a better father than Bruce Wayne. Do you realize how fucked up that is?” Lois tried her best to give the Waynes some grace, but she just couldn’t. All she could imagine was Jon or Kon in your position, and it was all she needed for tears to be brought to her eyes. The medical records a Crime Alley doc went out of his way to hand to her personally, only settled the tone of her article.

“I’m not a good man, madame. I have taken bribes, done nasty things, and straight-up robbed people blind. But I can’t stand and let that girl get wronged like that when I know the abuse went beyond what she publicly said. The one rule I keep standing by is no kids harmed.” Was his only comment. The documents stating your terrible health occurrences, and personal musings on you possibly being underfed with signs of depression and anxiety, were enough to stir a ruckus of people calling for CPS to visit the manor and for Cecil to start nagging you with a therapist.

“I’m not a therapist or professional to comment on my mental health, but about being underfed, I can comment. I wasn’t deliberately starved- I was just doing too much and simply kept forgetting to eat, you can even ask mom, and she’d tell you the same. [REDACTED] is simply a worrywart who still nags me to eat three meals a day with snacks in between. They did terrible things, but let’s focus on the true stuff.” Was your only follow-up comment on the matter. “And while at it, Bruce was the adult who should have been there. Not Damian, Richard, Tim, or any of the other kids I have seen people comment on. They weren’t nice, but they were kids with their own shit going on. Bruce was the adult who should have known better, who should have acted upon his other kids pushing me to the side. At the end of the day, they did what they saw him do.” The Waynes did not comment.

Bruce was tired. And Dick was losing it even more. “It’s those other Graysons- they brainwashed her-“ He muttered, and Duke scoffed. “Man- it’s us! We did that, we made her hate us! You’re being obtuse on purpose.”

“And delusional,” Stephanie added. “Just because she’s a Grayson now doesn’t mean she’s your Grayson- It’s like all you heard is that she has your last name, so that must mean you’re forgiven and it’s a free pass for taking that you’re the favorite and only sibling.”

“Please,” Tim snorts as he grumbles, deleting and rewriting the chart over and over, cutting Dick’s protest. “Jason is the favorite sibling on our branch of the family.” That made Barbara finally turn from the computer. “Speaking of- where is he- why isn’t he helping us? And how come he was forgiven?” As Cassandra’s siblings started arguing over Jason’s lack of help, her eyes strayed to Alfred and Bruce.

Both men were defeated- Bruce caressing the bruise on his jaw, blankly staring into space as Alfred was just pure sadness, his eyes unmoving from the monitor that was just dedicated to you and your achievements. Cassandra’s training isn’t something she could forget, even if she wanted to- her eyes moved to Damian- and she saw in you what she saw in some of her siblings, what she saw in Jason a long time ago.

Her fingers twitched- like before she pushed the thought away. She was wrong about you being in London, she was wrong about this suspicion, too. She hoped she was. “She’s coming to Gotham.” Her words stopped the arguing and brought Bruce’s attention. “Heard her mention it to Jay… He insisted on housing them.” Damian clocked how his father’s spirit seemed to lighten, and he immediately commented. “Don’t get excited, father. She hates you more than anyone here.”

“She hates the Brucie persona he puts on-“ Richard tried to defend the man, but Stephanie snorted loud enough to interrupt him. “And she hates him-“ Duke nodded. “Coming to her with the media personality when she lived here and knows your brooding self is kind of a slap in the face.”

“Like you think she’s stupid enough to fall for it.” Tim finished, making Bruce slump back in his chair. Barbara’s lips pursed at the comment. “We all have kind of treated her like that… Like she’s not smart enough, not good enough. We didn’t even tell her about the vigilante stuff.” Alfred sighs as he finally looks away from the screen. “Treated like a stranger in her own home after such a traumatic event... We’re lucky she isn’t a rogue.”

“You’ve treated her like that.” Damian scoffs, making Tim stop short of pressing to delete the whole document to look at the young boy. “… That sounds like you’d be willing to throw us under the bus, Dami.” The youngest Wayne simply raised an eyebrow before looking at his father. “Since we’re all here and talking- I want to ask for less time as Robin.” The words left everyone speechless, well- except Tim, who let quite the loud “what” out. “I have decided I want to focus on my studies since I’ll be going to college soon, specifically to become a doctor. I will succeed where you and mother failed.” Bruce slid down in his chair at the chaos that erupted at the simple answer Damian gave.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“No, I’m not sorry for punching him. Yes, I stand by everything I said. Maybe I could have gone about it in a better way, but it’s too late and honestly? I feel like my shoulders have gotten lighter, so fuck you-“ You flip off Batman before turning back to the JL members who have been staring at you since you walked in with Cecil, Slade, Lex, and your father and brother. “Any more questions about my family drama or can we go back to the Viltrumite treaty thing, because I want to go back to my vacation, thank you very much.”

“It was a clean punch, good job.” Diana’s comment got a few reactions, mostly snickers and Hal almost choking on the coffee he was drinking, but her smile was due to the way you puffed out your chest. “Thank you- I’m glad someone can appreciate my skills.” Cecil huffed at the look you threw at him. “Anyway-“ He cleared his throat. “Here are the terms we’ve come up with: Mandatory psychological evaluations, mandatory history classes and modern-day integration-“

“Don’t want to hear more of that arranged marriage to stop wars thing-“ Cecil continued, unbothered by you cutting him off as he handed out the papers. “- followed by tracking depending on scores to the mentioned things, weekly or monthly follow-ups, help with education, and slash or job opportunities.” Clark furrowed his brows. “Those are pretty light terms.”

“They are. J’onn would be doing the psychological evaluation, I trust him to be a good judge. It’s a test for them and a show of willingness from us not to be like them, all militia, no compassion. Based on their willingness and openness to learn to integrate, we’ll be able to sort out the ones who will be a danger or not. It’s not a foolproof plan to them seeping through the cracks, but measurements are being put into place to alert to seeps.” Green Arrow looked over the detailed paperwork. “What kind of measurements?”

The man flinched at the show of light that appeared behind him. “The magical kind, mate.” John Constantine huffed as he dropped into a chair close to you. “Every major city and what we’re calling key cities have been magically reinforced. Everything that appears out of thin air or that comes from outside the ozone layer, we’ll be notified of.” Zatanna continued for the man as she went to greet you, pulling you into a hug and slightly swaying you from side to side.

“Seems good enough for me.” Hal shrugged before he and everyone else turned to the paranoid man known as Bruce Wayne. “Batman?” Superman started slowly as he nudged the man who hadn’t stopped staring. “… I trust your judgment, Sorceress.” Bruce nodded. You just raised an eyebrow, eyes full of suspicion. Wonder Woman locked eyes with Clark before clearing her throat at the awkward silence. “We’ll be sure to be an active factor in this by following your lead. We’re clearly not versed enough on the matter to go do our own stuff.”

“Great.” Cecil turned to Lex and Slade. “Call them.” Slade just sighed as he pulled out a device and started typing, making Mark sputter. “Wait- right now-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everyone was looking at you as you climbed Conquest and sat squatting on one of his shoulders while you explained the terms to him, Thragg, and Kregg. “-I’m even willing to sponsor Grandpa Morgan.” The league and Kregg seemed to do a double-take as you patted the oldest Viltrumite. “He’s a killing machine, not a-“ You quickly interrupted Thragg. “To you- I see the potential beyond that. He’s like those rescued fight dogs-” You quickly turn to the balding Viltrumite. “Do not test my trust and kindness, I will put you down like a rabid dog if you become a problem.” The man just snickered and gave a toothy smile.

“Sponsorship is a good idea, actually.” Cecil hummed. “Anyone willing to try it?” He looked at the Justice League. Constantine immediately slid down his chair under the table, but Diana did seem interested. “I’d like to give it a try. I would have appreciated some personal guidance during my first time here.” Cecil nodded, making a comment about reaching out to more heroes to see if anyone else would be willing.

“It’s settled then.” Thragg nodded, his eyes following your form as you jumped down from Conquest’s shoulder. “I will see you and your family during this- sponsorship, Nolan.” The comment thrown as the Viltrumites left made Nolan stutter over his words, wide eyes meeting his kids’ own surprised ones. “Oh, mama’s not going to like that.” You sigh, and Lex huffs with amusement. “You and your mother will run that man like a dog.” You wanted to argue… but your whole plan to educate them was just dog training 101, clicker and water spray and all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“So, what’s Gotham really like?” April asked you as she distracted a grumbling Oliver. “Sky pollution and eccentric people- don’t drink from the tap, Professor Crane likes to contaminate it with his fear gas at random. And stay away from the sewers, Uncle Waylon and Uncle Bundy don’t like people trespassing.” You shrug, making horns out of Oliver’s hair. “So- just New York City.” Debbie joked as she made sure your little alien plant was strapped well in the front seat.

Nolan patted the top of the car as he leaned to peer in the window. “You ladies all set and ready for take-off?” With a resounding yes, Nolan and Mark were left to deal with the transportation of the van. The take-off was always shaky, but both men were surprisingly good at keeping the car from rattling like a baby's toy. So it was no surprise that after a while, you fell asleep to your mom’s and April’s talking, the easy atmosphere luring you and Oliver into a much-needed nap.

Both you and Oliver woke up to the sound of the door slamming as Nolan entered the passenger seat and Mark climbed in next to April. “Sorry, kids.” Your father threw an apologetic smile back at you as you grumbled. “Oh- here, put in the address to your brother’s house.” Your mom handed you her phone, the GPS app already open.

The drive was just as peaceful, which was weird considering it was Gotham. Must be a Tuesday. “Why is every pedestrian looking at us like the car is about to explode?” Mark’s musing made you look up from your phone. “Hmm? Oh, because they do think that. We’re following the driving rules, so by Gotham’s rules, we either have drugs, bodies, or bombs.” You shrugged, going back to your phone as everyone in the car looked at each other. “Oh…”

“Mhm- oh, when we get to the crossroad take the right instead of going straight like the GPS says, we’ll need to get the back entrance to stow away the car.” Mark looked at you with worry. “Please stop using those words for roofed parking, especially now.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Mama boss!” Oliver cooed, immediately followed by Mark and you with serious faces parroting his words while nodding. Jason’s eyes met yours before he smirked and looked at Debbie. “Mama boss.” Was heard once more from all four, making the woman sigh with exasperation, but the smile couldn’t be wiped from her lips. “That doesn’t stop you three from helping unpack.”

“Aww.” Oliver watched you three whine, and he too, followed with a short aw. “No need, already unpacked,” Nolan said as he went and pressed a kiss to Debbie's forehead, doing so to you, Oliver, and Mark too. Nolan cleared his throat as he almost did for Jason, too. He patted his shoulder instead, a tight smile on his face. “Good man.” Jason gave a grunt and a weird look in response. “Right… Fair warning- the bats will be weird about all of this.”

“When have they ever been normal about anything? Bruce dresses up as a bat.” Roy laughed before introducing himself to your parents. “Yes- hello, Lian Harper his kid- still not trusting you-“ The young girl pointed at Nolan, walking right by him straight to you. “You’re The Sorceress! You’re my favorite hero!” Her giddiness got to you, meeting her smile with one of your own. “Really? Did it hurt your daddy when he got dethroned?”

“Ha! It did not-“ Roy scoffed, but Lian interrupted him. “He was devastated. Tried to bribe me with Red Arrow merch for weeks, even tried pulling Unc Jay into it.” You laughed at the grumbling man. “Can you fly me around? Are your powers really magic? Like Zatanna? Are you single?” At the girl’s rapid-fire questions, Mark grumbled something about never meeting his fans.

“Easy there, kid-“ Roy jumped in as you processed the questions, trying to coax the teen to calm down. “Sorry, she really wanted to see you-“ You shook your head. “It’s fine. And the answer is yes, to all questions.” Lian smiled at you, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Do you like redheads?” Roy almost choked on his breath as he covered his daughter’s mouth, deliberately ignoring the way Jason’s head snapped to him and the way Mark and Nolan seemed to tense up. “Alright, that’s enough-“ In one quick move, a giggling Lian was under his arm, and Roy was moving back toward the door. “We’re getting takeout, have fun!”

“Cute kid.” You snickered once the redhead left. “He’s-“ The crime lord choked, “Please. Don’t date my friends.” Jason mutters, fingers twitching. “I don’t know Jay, the kid’s real cute.” You couldn’t help but tease him. “Going to take a nap, wake me up when they come back with the food.” And like that, the family went their own ways, Mark agreeing that a nap would be nice.

Jason just sat down on the couch, his eyes settling on his hands, brows furrowed. That- Why was he about to say that? Jason would never use his friends’ pasts against them, and especially not something like Roy’s addiction. He knew better, he was better than that- And yet he almost did. “Hon’?” Debbie’s voice gained his attention. “…Are you okay?” Jason blinked at her. He just smiled and nodded.

Debbie didn’t quite believe it, but she wasn’t going to push it. “Alright… how about you show me how your TV works, I was never good with technology-“ She wasn’t going to leave him alone either, and despite her terrible lie, Jason couldn’t help the genuine smile appearing. She reminded him of both Selina and Talia.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger @pinkluv29 @br33zy-blizzardz @victoria1676 @of-poetry-and-dreams @djpuppy-kittens @wizzerreblogs @galaxypurplerose @burningkittenprince @swanluver @ohnoivefallen @eyeless-kun @bunniotomia

Sneak peek ch 27:

Oliver looked between you and Bruce as you slammed the glass down. His eyes remained on the older man’s tired face. Bruce, sensing eyes on him, turns his attention from your whining form to the toddler sitting in his highchair. As the man gives the kid a small smile, Oliver isn’t having any of it, his little face scrunching up as he points at Bruce. “Ugly.”

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #yandere batfam #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #yandere nolan grayson #yandere mark grayson #wandere debbie grayson

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nishayuro · 2 months ago

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Dr.Stone Stanley Snyder’s S/O getting harassed by Ibara

A/N: I am back…? Idk i’m trying to get out of a writer’s block again. Been playing a LOT of Minecraft! Me and my friends made a Dr.Stone realms and I’m playing as Xeno lmaoo, we are recreating KoS and the American colony’s base (its big as fuck????) anyways, here’s the prompt I wrote and special thanks to @animeotakuf0rlife for sending in this ask and furthering the idea! I accidentally deleted the ask when I was layouting this post 😭

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warning: Manga spoilers, harassment, Ibara himself should be a warning, violence, use of guns,

Fem!reader (or Fem presenting, reader will be called a girl, use of they/them is still present but Ibara will refer to reader as she/her)

With society back up and running again faster after the moon mission’s success, people have been getting revived left and right. You were part of the American colony back before the 2nd petrification happened and was revived to help out with the rocket for the mission. As time passed, you grew closer with the members of the Kingdom of Science, they’d tell you all about the adventures they’ve been on, sailing the world, and the fights they faced before they set foot to America. You learned that a lot of the kingdom’s members were once their enemy, like Tsukasa, Hyoga, Moz, Kirisame, and others. Quite ironic because at some point, you were also their enemy.

When the people of Treasure Island visited Japan, Kohaku and the others were furious to see a tall, middle aged man with a weird goatee. “Oi! What is Ibara doing unpetrified?!” Ginro exclaimed, pointing at the man with fear. “When did this happen?!” Chrome added, also shocked to see the guy. “Who’s that?” you asked Ryusui who was next to you in the docks, helping unload cargo. “Ibara. The biggest enemy when we were at Treasure island.” he said, voice was void of its usual cheer.

“I’m so sorry! One of the newly depetrified islanders thought he was another innocent person. He’s been tame lately after revival and kind of helping around. But we couldn’t leave him at the island, who knew what he’d do without us to guard him?” A bald man, who you presume is Soyuz from what the others have described, said. You looked up at this Ibara man and saw that he was already looking at you, for some reason, you felt a chill down your spine. “It’d be best if you stayed away from him, y/n.” Ryusui warned, you nodded. “Y/N! Xee needs you in the lab.” your boyfriend, Stanley called out to you. “Oh, alright. Bye guys! Doc called.” you bid farewell, glancing at Ibara who was still eyeing you.

Stanley, who decided to assist in the unloading of the cargo, was approached by Ryusui. “Hey, Stanley!” the sailor called, “I’d look out for that man, Ibara, if I were you. He doesn’t have a good track record.” Ryusui informed. “Huh, why?” answered Stanley. “He petrified their island’s leader and tricked everyone in the island. He has harassed multiple women when the “harem selection” was happening in the island. He’s not one to respect women. And from the looks of it, he has his eyes on Y/N. My sailor’s intuition is never wrong!” Ryusui explained. That made the soldier’s eyes darken. “I need info on the enemy.” Stanley said, to which Ryusui told him everything.

Ibara claimed to have changed his ways, now that everything was too much for him to understand, he claimed to not have interest in ruling the world anymore, which was met by doubts, yet he was still tasked to help around the area with small work. He seemed okay at first, no incidents, no bad things. Your interactions with him were normal to a fault; he seemed friendly, too friendly. You still kept interactions with him brief, remembering what Ryusui and the others told you.

One afternoon in the lab, the science team and Stanley were working on an experiment, Stanley there as the “bodyguard” and you as Xeno’s assistant, like you were back in the modern day. “Y/N, mind grabbing some materials from the storage? Here’s the list.” Xeno asked, handing you a piece of paper. “Sure, I'll be back shortly.” you said, walking out of the lab and towards the storage area, you didn’t realise that Ibara was near and saw you walk into an empty room and decided to follow you. As you were gathering the materials, you heard the door open, revealing the tall man. “Oh, Ibara-san? What brings you here?” you questioned, uncomfortable about the fact that he was in a room alone with you. “Ah, hello y/n-chan! I’m here to pick up some materials for the 3rd floor. “Huh? But you’re on the basement floor, each floor has its own storage unit.” you questioned, wary of his movement.

“The unit upstairs was out of the material, they told me to check here.” he answered, a smile on his face as he moved closer to one of the shelves. He looked to see that your cart was mostly ores, and jars. “They’re letting a pretty girl like you do the heavy lifting?” he asked, a shiver ran down your spine as you looked up to see him staring at you. “Wha- no, it’s normal. I’m working as Xeno’s assistant after all.” You answered, defending yourself. “You have a nice figure y/n-chan~ don’t damage it by carrying heavy things~” He said.

The man moved closer, you started to move farther, trying to focus on gathering your materials. In a flash, the man was directly behind you, body sticking to yours caging you between him and the shelf. He was reaching up the shelf, presumably also gathering materials. You tensed up, and Ibara took this opportunity to hold onto your shoulder. “Why don’t we get to know each other better, hmm?” he whispered into your ear. “Get off of me! I have a boyfriend!” you tried to pry him off of you, as you shouted, hoping someone would hear you. “Kukuku~ back on my island, it didn’t matter if the girl was married.” He said with a smirk as he gripped your arm. “Let me go!” you screamed, thrashed, and tried to move away.

When Xeno sent Y/N to get materials, he didn’t think much of it as it was a normal occurrence as Xeno’s assistant. However, the usual 5 minute wait time became 7, then 9, then 10 minutes. He got concerned, and told Xeno he’d go see what’s taking y/n long. As Stanley exited the room, he bumped into Tsukasa and the others, “Have y’all seen Y/N? She should have been back 5 minutes ago.” Stan asked, “Nah, we just got he-” “LET ME GO!” a scream was heard, a voice familiar to the group which made them run towards the storage area.

BAM!

The door flew open as another man entered the room, “GET AWAY FROM THEM!!” Stanley shouted, his voice booming as he rushed towards the man on you and yanked him off hard, followed by a punch, making Ibara land on the floor. A few other people reach the door, those being Tsukasa, Ryusui, Kohaku, and Sai. “Stan!” you exclaimed, glad to see your boyfriend here. “You dirty piece of shit!” Stan held Ibara down when he tried to get up. “Stan! Not here!” you shouted, holding onto him. “Bring him out of the room, please.” You asked the bystanders, Tsukasa coming in and restraining Ibara. “Bring him to the yard, I'm gonna teach that piece of shit a lesson.” Stan ordered, his commanding voice leaving no room for arguments. “All right, we’ll be waiting for you.” Ryusui answered, leading the group.

Stanley directed his attention towards you, holding onto you and scanning you. “You ok? Did he hurt you?” he started fussing. “Stan, I'm fine. You got here on time.” you said, hugging him with your face on his chest. He hugged you back. “Fuck, I’m glad you’re safe.” he muttered into your hair. “I’ll go back to Xeno, you go handle Ibara.” You whispered and he nodded, escorting you back to the lab door and giving you a kiss before you entered.

“What took you long?” Xeno asked, still focused on his work. You bring the materials to him, “Ibara cornered me in storage, Stan is dealing with him now.” your confession got Senku, Xeno, Chrome, and Suika to look at you. “Ah, well, I wouldn’t mind having a human guinea pig. That is if Stanley doesn’t break him first” Xeno said.

When Stanley reached the yard where they usually trained at, he saw Tsukasa and Ryusui there with Ibara tied up. “You dare touch my partner and think you’d get away with it? Let me get you off your high and mighty self throne. You.are.powerless.here.” Stanley’s voice was cold as he pointed his gun at Ibara, who recognised the item as similar to the thing that shot him back then. Fear crept up his whole being. “N-no! Don’t!” Ibara begged. BAM! Stanley pulled the trigger, but aimed it at the target just behind Ibara’s head. The other man looked behind and saw the bullet hole in the middle. “You see that? that will be you if you dare touch y/n again.” Stanley said. Ibara was panicking at this point, he doesn't want to die. “S-she was giving me signs!” He tried to reason.

That angered Stanley more, sending another punch towards the man, “signs…? SIGNS?! You dare blame them?!” Stanley raged, punching Ibara to the ground, and kicked him hard. He knelt down and gripped at Ibara’s jaw, making him look up at him. His eyes were clouded with pure rage. Not even Tsukasa would want to intervene with this. “You dare touch, talk, or even breathe near them again, I will offer you up to the science team as a gift. And I’ll tell you now, Xeno ain't above using humans for his crazy experiments.” He tightened his grip on the man, “understand?” he asked, Ibara was choking at this point. “un.der.stand?” Stanley repeated, to which Ibara forced a ‘yes’. He asked the others to lock Ibara up for the time being as he talks to the leaders about what to do with Ibara. Stanley let go of him and walked off, but not without his final words to the man.

“Just because you almost succeeded before with taking down the team, you think you’d succeed in taking it down again. I’ll kill you if you try anything else to harm us. And don't take this threat as a bluff, because I can.”

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#stanley snyder #dr.stone x reader #dr.stone fanfic #stanley snyder x reader #dr stone #dcst #dr. stone #stanley snyder headcanon #dr stone stanley snyder #dr.stone headcanon

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m4rv3l-girl · 1 month ago

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Not the kind of partner I’m used to..

Bucky is referred to a paired therapy program..

Warnings: None, little bit of angst…Kind of?

The chair was too small.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched like a caged animal. The walls of Dr. Raynor’s office were the same off-white shade of every other government-sanctioned therapy clinic he’d been forced to visit, and the fluorescent lights hummed in a way that made his teeth itch. He hated it here. He hated therapy. And, most of all, he hated whatever new hoop Raynor was making him jump through this time.

"This is stupid," he grumbled, voice low and flat. "I don't need a - what do you even call this? A therapy buddy? A trauma pen-pal?"

Raynor gave him that look. The one that said she was just barely tolerating him. "It’s a paired therapy program."

Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You agreed to try," she reminded him, flipping through her clipboard. "The point is to help people with… let's say, complicated pasts, to build social connections. Get used to interacting. Being normal."

"Great. So you’re admitting this is a group project."

"Not a group," Raynor corrected, sitting back in her chair. "Just the two of you. One-on-one. You can do that, right? Make one friend?"

Bucky sighed through his nose, glaring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him.

"Well, lucky for you, she’s not thrilled about this either," Raynor continued, glancing at the door as voices echoed from outside the office. "I warned her to be civil, but fair warning - she's not exactly a social butterfly."

Bucky’s interest piqued at that. He listened, keen ears picking up the muffled sound of a woman’s voice.

"Look, Doc, I’m just saying - do I actually have to?" The voice huffed. "I don’t need a therapy partner. I’m doing just fine avoiding people all on my own."

Bucky smirked.

"Y/N, you promised," the other doctor’s voice responded, a familiar level of exhausted patience in her tone.

A pause. A groan. The sound of a doorknob turning.

Then she stepped in.

Y/N had the kind of posture that screamed reluctant participation. She entered the room like it physically pained her to do so, crossing her arms and scanning the space with an expression that read: ‘this was not my idea, and I hate it here.’ When her eyes landed on Bucky, she froze for a fraction of a second - just long enough for him to notice. He was used to that reaction. The pause. The flicker of recognition. Like she was debating whether to acknowledge who he was or pretend he was just some guy.

Bucky arched a brow. "You must be thrilled about this."

She gave him a flat look. "Over the moon."

Raynor clapped her hands together, the universal therapist signal for ‘let’s begin.’ "Great! Now that you’ve met, let’s set some ground rules. The goal here is casual interaction, low-pressure conversations. Just get to know each other."

Y/N’s mouth twitched like she had about ten sarcastic things she wanted to say, but she bit them back.

"I’ll leave you to it," Raynor announced, already making for the door. "Try to keep the glaring to a minimum."

Then she was gone.

The silence stretched. Bucky stared at Y/N. Y/N stared at Bucky. The tension between them was less hostility and more… mutual disinterest. Like two kids forced to work on a school project together, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence.

Bucky sighed. "Guess we should start with the basics. Name’s Bucky."

"Y/N," she responded, shifting her weight. "But I already know who you are."

He tilted his head, not really surprised. "Yeah?"

She gave him a look like he was an idiot. "Because you’re Bucky Barnes. The white wolf. The Winter Soldier. Avenger. Internationally recognized brooding champion."

Bucky blinked, caught off guard. "Brooding champion?"

She shrugged. "You do have a very… ‘resting murder face’ thing going on."

Bucky stared at her for a beat, then snorted. "That’s a new one."

Y/N shifted again, looking slightly less miserable than before. "So, uh… what exactly are we supposed to do? Just talk about our feelings until we magically become better people?"

Bucky smirked. "Pretty sure that’s the idea."

"Gross."

"Agreed."

A beat. Then-

"Wanna get out of here?" Y/N blurted out.

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Not, like, run away forever," she clarified. "Just… sneak out. Get a coffee or something. We can pretend to do the therapy thing and check it off the list."

Bucky considered this. On one hand, Raynor would definitely give him hell for it. On the other… he really didn’t want to sit in this room for an hour talking about his feelings.

He stood, stretching. "Alright, partner. Lead the way."

Y/N looked surprised for a split second before masking it with an easy smirk. "Try to keep up, Grandpa. We have an hour."

They stepped into the hallway, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. It reminded him of old missions—sneaking around, trying to keep a low profile. Only this time, there were no explosions or rifles. Just the muted sounds of people trying to put their lives back together. The smell of over-brewed coffee and sadness.

"This way," Y/N whispered, jerking her head towards the stairs. "The café's less crowded." They descended the stairs, Y/N moving with the kind of ease that came from spending too much time in places like these. Bucky followed, watching the way she moved—like she was trying to be invisible, but couldn’t quite pull it off. She had a presence about her. Something that made people look, even when she didn’t want them to.

When they reached the café, it was indeed quieter than he’d expected. A few patients nursed their drinks, staring into the abyss of their pasts. The barista looked up, giving them a nod that suggested he’d seen this sort of thing before. Bucky couldn’t blame them—therapy was a weird gig.

They claimed a table in the corner, far from prying eyes and eager ears. Y/N slid into a chair, her eyes scanning the room with the kind of wariness he understood all too well. She was checking for threats, even though the biggest threat here was probably someone asking how their week had been.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "What’s your damage?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" "Your tragic backstory," she elaborated, rolling her eyes. "You know, the reason you’re stuck in that soul-sucking building." He leaned back, arms crossing over his broad chest.

"You first."

Y/N’s smirk grew. "Okay, fine. I was in the military. Mission went tits up, ended up with a few too many pieces missing. Now I’ve got metal where there should be meat and therapy where there should be… well, anything else."

Bucky nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He liked her. "Sounds like a blast," he said, voice dry.

Y/N chuckled, a low, dark sound. "It was. Literally."

The conversation flowed from there, surprisingly easily. They talked about their military backgrounds - Bucky’s HYDRA days, his time as a SHIELD agent. It was like two old soldiers swapping war stories, except the enemy was less about bullets and more about inner demons. She had a sharp wit, he noticed, and a way of cutting through bullshit that was refreshing. No pep talks, no pity. Just raw, honest words that stung a little.

As they talked, Y/N’s defenses slowly started to lower. She spoke about her past missions with a passion that was palpable, her eyes lighting up with a fierce intensity that made him want to lean in closer. And as she spoke, he realized that she wasn’t just some girl with a tragic past - she was a fighter. A survivor. And she’d earned every single one of those metallic scars.

Bucky found himself telling her more than he’d ever told anyone else. Stories of Steve, of the Avengers, of the endless nights spent trying to drown out the echoes of his past with a bottle of whiskey. The words poured out of him like they’d been damned up for too long, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel the need to censor himself.

Y/N listened, really listened, without judgment or the need to fix him. It was a strange feeling, one that made him feel both exposed and oddly at ease. They talked about their fears, their regrets, their hopes for the future - things that Bucky hadn’t allowed himself to think about in a long time.

The bell over the door chimed, and they both looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion of reality. The café was emptying out, the sun setting outside the window in a wash of orange and pink. They’d talked for hours. And they’d be in deep shit. Oh well.

Y/N’s eyes searched his, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you," she murmured, voice low. "For not making me feel like a freak." Bucky’s smirk grew into a small smile. "You’re not a freak," he said softly. "You’re a survivor."

They stood, gathering their things. As they made their way back to the clinic, Bucky realized that maybe, just maybe, this therapy buddy thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all. It wasn’t fixing his life - not by a long shot. But it was a start.

They re-entered the building, the sterile air hitting them like a slap in the face after the brief taste of freedom. Y/N’s shoulders squared up again, the wall sliding back into place.

"You know, Bucky," she said as they approached the elevator. "I didn’t hate that." He chuckled. "Me neither, kid." The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the all-too-familiar corridor. Y/N stepped in, punching the button for their floor with a little too much force.

"So, what now?" Bucky asked, leaning against the railing. "We just go back to her office and pretend we talked about our feelings?" Y/N rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "If that’s what it takes to keep them off our asses." The elevator lurched to a stop, and they stepped out into the hallway. As they approached the room they were supposed to be in, they could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation - Raynor’s voice, and another therapist, discussing their patients.

"Looks like we’ve got company," Bucky murmured, glancing at the clock. They were cutting it close. Y/N nodded. "Let’s make it look good." They both took a deep breath and stepped into the room, trying to look like they hadn’t just blown off their session.

Raynor looked up from her notes, raising an eyebrow. "You two look… enlightened." Bucky and Y/N shared a look, the unspoken challenge passing between them.

"We had a breakthrough," Y/N said, deadpan. "A real emotional rollercoaster." Raynor’s gaze flicked between them, trying to gauge their sincerity. "Well," she said, after a beat. "I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?" Her voice was skeptical.

They sat, and Bucky launched into a half-true, half-exaggerated story about their heart-to-heart. Y/N filled in the blanks with sighs and eye-rolls, and somehow, it was convincing. They had a rhythm, a way of finishing each other's sentences that made it seem like they'd been friends for years instead of minutes.

"So, you've discovered the importance of sharing your feelings," Raynor said, scribbling on her clipboard.

"It's life-changing," Bucky deadpanned, and Y/N snorted. This might not be so bad…

——————————————————————————————————

Here you go, My Lovelies! I just love the thought of someone matching Bucky’s energy in total contrast to the usual grumpy/sunshine trope 🫶

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #marvel #bucky fluff #bucky angst #soft bucky #Bucky in therapy

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months ago

Text

How to have cancer

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I've got cancer but it's probably (almost certainly, really) okay. Within a very short period I will no longer have cancer (at least for now). This is the best kind of cancer to have – the kind that is caught early and treated easily – but I've learned a few things on the way that I want to share with you.

Last spring, my wife put her arm around my waist and said, "Hey, what's this on your rib?" She's a lot more observant than I am, and honestly, when was the last time you palpated your back over your left floating rib? Sure enough, there was a lump there, a kind of squishy, fatty raised thing, half a centimeter wide and about four centimeters long.

I'm a 53 year old man with a family history of cancer. My father was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer at 55. So I called my doctor and asked for an appointment to have the lump checked over.

I'm signed up with Southern California Kaiser Permanente, which is as close as you come to the Canadian medicare system I grew up under and the NHS system I lived under for more than a decade. Broadly speaking, I really like KP. Its app – while terrible – isn't as terrible as the other apps, and they've taken very good care of me for both routine things like vaccinations and checkups, and serious stuff, like a double hip replacement.

Around the time of The Lump, I'd been assigned a new primary care physician – my old one retired – and so this was my first appointment with her. I used the KP app to book it, and I was offered appointments six weeks in the future. My new doc was busy! I booked the first slot.

This was my first mistake. I didn't need to wait to see my PCP to get my lump checked over. There was really only two things that my doc was gonna do, either prod it and say, "This is an extremely common whatchamacallit and you don't need to worry" or "You should go get this scanned by a radiologist." I didn't need a specific doctor to do this. I could have ridden my bike down to the KP-affiliated Urgent Care at our local Target store and gotten an immediate referral to radiology.

Six weeks go by, and my doc kind of rolls the weird lump between her fingers and says, "You'd better go see a radiologist." I called the Kaiser appointment line and booked it that day, and a couple weeks later I had a scan.

The next day, the app notified me that radiology report was available in my electronic heath record. It's mostly technical jargon ("Echogenic areas within mass suggest fatty component but atypical for a lipoma") but certain phrases leapt out at me: "malignant masses cannot be excluded. Follow up advised."

That I understood. I immediately left my doctor a note saying that I needed a biopsy referral and set back to wait. Two days went by. I left her a voice message. Another two days went by. I sent another email. Nothing, then a weekend, then more nothing.

I called Kaiser and asked to be switched to another Primary Care Physician. It was a totally painless and quick procedure and within an hour my new doc's intake staff had reviewed my chart, called me up, and referred me for a biopsy.

This was my second mistake. When my doctor didn't get back to me within a day, I should have called up KP and raised hell, demanding an immediate surgical referral.

What I did do was call Kaiser Member Services and file a grievance. I made it very clear that when I visited my doctor, I had been very happy with the care I received, but that she and her staff were clearly totally overloaded and needed some kind of administrative intervention so that their patients didn't end up in limbo.

This is a privilege. I'm a native English speaker, and although I was worried about a serious illness, I didn't have any serious symptoms. I had the ability and the stamina to force action in the system, and my doing so meant that other patients, not so well situated as I was, would not be stuck where I had been, with fewer resources to get un-stuck.

The surgeon who did the biopsy was great. He removed my mass. It was a gross lump of yellowy-red gunk in formaldehyde. He even let me photograph it before it went to pathology (warning, gross):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54038418981/

They told me that the pathology would take 2-5 days. I reloaded the "test results" tab in the KP website religiously after 48 hours. Nothing was updated. After five days, I called the surgical department (I had been given a direct number to reach them in case of postsurgical infections, and made a careful note of it).

It turned out that the pathology report had been in hand for three days at that point, but it was "preliminary" pending some DNA testing. Still, it was enough that the surgeon referred me to an oncologist.

This was my third mistake: I should have called after 48 hours and asked whether the pathology report was in hand, and if not, whether they could check with pathology. However, I did something very right this time: I got a phone number to reach the specialist directly, rather than going through the Kaiser main number.

My oncologist appointment was very reassuring. The oncologist explained the kind of cancer I had ("follicular lymphoma"), the initial prognosis (very positive, though it was weird that it manifested on my rib, so far from a lymph node) and what needed to happen next (a CT/PET scan). He also walked me through the best, worst and medium-cases for treatment, based on different scan outcomes. This was really good, as it helped me think through how I would manage upcoming events – book tours, a book deadline, work travel, our family Christmas vacation plans – based on these possibilities.

The oncologist gave me a number for Kaiser Nuclear Medicine. I called them from the parking lot before leaving the Kaiser hospital and left a message for the scheduler to call me back. Then I drove home.

This was my fourth mistake. The Kaiser hospital in LA is the main hub for Kaiser Southern California, and the Nuclear Medicine department was right there. I could have walked over and made an appointment in person.

Instead, I left messages daily for the next five days, waited a weekend, then called up my oncologist's staff and asked them to intervene. I also called Kaiser Member Services and filed an "urgent grievance" (just what it sounds like) and followed up by filing a complaint with the California Patient Advocate:

https://www.dmhc.ca.gov/

In both the complaint and the grievance, I made sure to note that the outgoing message at Nuclear Medicine scheduling was giving out false information (it said, "Sorry, all lines are busy," even at 2am!). Again, I was really careful to say that the action I was hoping for was both a prompt appointment for me (my oncologist had been very insistent upon this) but also that this was a very broken system that would be letting down every patient, not me, and it should be fixed.

Within a couple hours, I had a call back from KP grievances department, and an hour after that, I had an appointment for my scan. Unfortunately, that was three weeks away (so much for my oncologist's "immediate" order).

I had the scan last week, on Hallowe'en. It was really cool. The gadget was awesome, and the rad-techs were really experienced and glad to geek out with me about the way the scanner and the radioactive glucose they infused in me interacted. They even let me take pictures of the scan visualizations:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54108481109/

The radiology report was incredibly efficient. Within a matter of hours, I was poring over it. I had an appointment to see the doc on November 5, but I had been reading up on the scans and I was pretty sure the news was good ("No enlarged or FDG avid lymph nodes are noted within the neck, chest, abdomen, or pelvis. No findings of FDG avid splenic or bone marrow involvement").

There was just one area of concern: "Moderate FDG uptake associated with a round 1.3 cm left inguinal lymph node." The radiologist advised the oncologist to "consider correlation with tissue sampling."

Today was my oncology appointment. For entirely separate reasons, I was unable to travel to the hospital today: I wrenched my back over the weekend and yesterday morning, it was so bad that I couldn't even scratch my nose without triggering unbearable spams. After spending all day yesterday in the ER (after being lifted out of my house on a stretcher), getting MRIs and pain meds, I'm much better off, though still unable to get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time.

So this morning at 8:30 sharp, I started calling the oncology department and appointment services to get that appointment changed over to a virtual visit. While I spent an hour trying various non-working phone numbers and unsuccessfully trying to get Kaiser appointment services to reach my oncologist, I tried to message him through the KP app. It turns out that because he is a visiting fellow and not staff, this wasn't possible.

I eventually got through to the oncology department and had the appointment switched over. The oncology nurse told me that they've been trying for months to get KP to fix the bug where fellows can't be messaged by patients. So as soon as I got off the phone with her, I called member services and filed another grievance. Why bother, if I'd gotten what I needed? Same logic as before: if you have the stamina and skills to demand a fix to a broken system, you have a duty to use them.

I got off the phone with my oncologist about an hour ago. It went fine. I'm going to get a needle biopsy on that one suss node. If it comes back positive, I'll get a few very local, very low-powered radiation therapy interventions, whose worst side effect will be "a mild sunburn over a very small area." If it's negative, we're done, but I'll get quarterly CT/PET scans to be on the safe side.

Before I got off the phone, I made sure to get the name of the department where the needle biopsy would be performed and a phone number. The order for the biopsy just posted to my health record, and now I'm redialing the department to book in that appointment (I'm not waiting around for them to call me).

While I redial, a few more lessons from my experience. First, who do you tell? I told my wife and my parents, because I didn't want to go through a multi-week period of serious anxiety all on my own. Here, too, I made a mistake: I neglected to ask them not to tell anyone else. The word spread a little before I put a lid on things. I wanted to keep the circle of people who knew this was going on small, until I knew what was what. There's no point in worrying other people, of course, and my own worry wasn't going to be helped by having to repeat, "Well, it looks pretty good, but we won't know until I've had a scan/my appointment/etc."

Next, how to manage the process: this is a complex, multi-stage process. It began with a physician appointment, then a radiologist, then a pathology report, then surgery, then another pathology report, then an oncologist, then a scan, then another radiologist, and finally, the oncologist again.

That's a lot of path-dependent, interdepartmental stuff, with a lot of ways that things can fall off the rails (when my dad had cancer at my age, there was a big gap in care when one hospital lost a fax from another hospital department and my folks assumed that if they hadn't heard back, everything was fine).

So I have been making extensive use of a suspense file, where I record what I'm waiting for, who is supposed to provide it, and when it is due. Though I had several places where my care continuity crumbled some, there would have been far more if I hadn't done this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo

The title of this piece is "how to have cancer," but what it really boils down to is, "things I learned from my own cancer." As I've noted, I'm playing this one on the easiest setting: I have no symptoms, I speak and write English fluently, I am computer literate and reasonably capable of parsing medical/technical jargon. I have excellent insurance.

If any of these advantages hadn't been there, things would have been a lot harder. I'd have needed these lessons even more.

To recap them:

See a frontline care worker as soon as possible: don't wait for an appointment with a specific MD. Practically any health worker can prod a lump and refer you for further testing;

Get a direct phone number for every specialist you are referred to (add this to your phone book); call them immediately after the referral to get scheduled (better yet, walk over to their offices and schedule the appointment in person);

Get a timeframe as to when your results are due and when you can expect to get a follow-up; call the direct number as soon as the due-date comes (use calendar reminders for this);

If you can't get a call back, an appointment, or a test result in a reasonable amount of time (use a suspense file to track this), lodge a formal complaint with your insurer/facility, and consider filing with the state regulator;

Think hard about who you're going to tell, and when, and talk over your own wishes about who they can tell, and when.

As you might imagine, I've spent some time talking to my parents today as these welcome results have come in. My mother is (mostly) retired now, and she's doing a lot of volunteer work on end-of-life care. She recommends a book called Hope for the Best, Plan for the Rest: 7 Keys for Navigating a Life-Changing Diagnosis:

https://pagetwo.com/book/hope-for-the-best-plan-for-the-rest/

I haven't read it, but it looks like it's got excellent advice, especially for people who lack the self-advocacy capabilities and circumstances I'm privileged with. According to my mom, who uses it in workshops, there's a lot of emphasis on the role that families and friends can play in helping someone whose physical, mental and/or emotional health are compromised.

So, that's it. I've got cancer. No cancer is good. This cancer is better than most. I am almost certainly fine. Every medical professional I've dealt with, and all the administrative support staff at Kaiser, have been excellent. Even the doc who dropped the ball on my biopsy was really good to deal with – she was just clearly drowning in work. The problems I had are with the system, not the people. I'm profoundly grateful to all of them for the help they gave me, the interest and compassion they showed, and the clarity and respect they demonstrated in my dealings with them.

I'm also very grateful to my wife, my parents, and my boss at EFF, all of whom got the news early and demonstrated patience, love, and support that helped in my own dark hours over the past couple of months.

I hope you're well. But you know, everyone gets something, eventually. When you find yourself mired in a broken system full of good people, work the system – for yourself and for the people who come behind you. Take records. Make calls.

Look after yourself.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/05/carcinoma-angels/#squeaky-nail

#cancer #medicare for all #m4a #health #socialism or barbarism #oncology #kaiser #kaiser permanente #kp

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totalswag · 1 year ago

Note

can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''

stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON

authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.

warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing

Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.

Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.

You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.

The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.

She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.

What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.

There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.

That was the deal.

After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.

you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you

rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too

rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."

"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.

When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.

You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.

Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.

"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.

His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.

In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.

He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"

Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.

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bobbedazzled · 28 days ago

Text

LADS As College Majors

pairings: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x reader content: lads and their college majors a/n: I did not properly proofread this, something short and just for fun hehe. I have drabbles to pair with this that I might post before the idea slips from me

──⠀. ⋆ ⭒ ˚ . ⋆⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Xavier - Undecided

Class sleeper, always there before everyone else

Visits the cafeteria at odd hours

A commuter but has friends, including you, that let him sleep in their dorm

Is the reason why the microwave was removed from the dorm kitchen (forgot to add water to his ramen)

Falls asleep and misses class with you

The two of you share a word doc to exchange notes

Eats snacks that you leave unattended (in your drawer)

You first crossed paths with Xavier on the rare occasion he arrived late. Without realizing it, you had taken what was his unofficial assigned seat. You settled in comfortably, only to sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere when he wordlessly took the spot beside you. The silence between you felt weighted, thick with an unspoken tension.

The next day, in a quiet attempt to make amends, you chose the seat next to him, sliding your notes from the previous class across the desk as a peace offering. At first, he barely acknowledged the gesture, his indifference seemed difficult to breach. But over time, as your paths continued to cross, that wall began to crack. Gradually, he came to rely on you not just for lecture notes and deadline reminders, but as an easy excuse to escape social obligations he had no interest in.

Despite his erratic sleep schedule, he excelled in his studies, something you both marveled at but never questioned.. The two of you found a rhythm in the long nights spent together in the library, bonded by shared exhaustion and the frantic rush to meet page counts before midnight.

── 𓂅 ⋆ ❅ ‧ ₊ ˚⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Zayne - Biology Major on pre-med track

Childhood friend that you didn’t know attended the same school

Knows your schedule and scolds you when you miss class

Breaks questions down instead of sharing his answers

Rarely at the cafeteria (hides snacks in his dorm)

Responds to texts at odd hours

Can only convince him to go out when finals are over (he won’t make it past the pregame)

Goes dark on his lab days

You never expected to see such a familiar face so soon after moving in. Yet there he stood just a few feet away, his gaze flickering toward you with reluctance. He looked the same, yet different. Taller, sharper, more worn down by the weight of the semesters that’d passed before you. The reunion was brief and awkward, slipping through your fingers before you could find the right words. But just as quickly as he slipped away, somehow, after that moment, he was always around.

At first, it felt like coincidence. The passing glances in the hallways, the quiet presence of him in the same cafés, the way he always seemed to be just within reach. It took you far longer than it should have to realize how much he enjoyed your company. He never said it outright, but it was there, in the way he tolerated the chaos you brought into his otherwise structured life.

But come midterms and finals, he would vanish. While everyone else crowded together, cramming in last-minute study sessions, he was nowhere to be found. You figured he had simply grown tired of you, that the effortless companionship you had fallen into had been nothing more than passing amusement.

What you didn’t notice was subtle. The way he lingered just a moment too long after class, how his scoldings about your attendance had less to do with academics and more to do with wanting to see you. To you, Zayne was distant, unreadable—but to him, you were the one distraction he secretly craved.

── .⋆｡𖦹 . 𓇼 ˖°⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Rafayel - College of the Arts/Art history

Just as uninterested as you are in the class

Hogs notes just to be annoying

Takes it personally when you go anywhere alone

Frequents the writing center to volunteer

Lives in off-campus apartments but practically lives with you

Has argued with TA!Sylus more than once

Emails professors to opt out of group projects

You can’t quite remember how it started—how your conversations with Rafayel first began. It was seamless, almost too perfect, like slipping into a story already in motion. One day, you greeted another classmate, and suddenly, there he was. And then, he was everywhere. What started as casual run-ins in group settings soon became something else entirely. Before you realized it, he had shifted from being a friend of a friend to someone you sought out on your own, someone whose absence felt noticeable.

He had a reputation for being difficult, stubborn, impossible to work with. And yet, there you were, walking across campus with him at your side like he belonged there. He hated studying when he wasn’t “in the zone,” and had a talent for persuading you to abandon your academic responsibilities in favor of something far more enticing. A trip to the activity center, window shopping at the mall, wandering along the beach with no real destination in mind. He always had an excuse, always a reason why class could wait. “You can always get the notes later,” he’d say, completely unbothered by the consequences. And, of course, it worked out for him. He had no trouble collecting notes from others with his pretty privilege.

You, on the other hand, stuck with him as your only connection in class, you found yourself relying on his promises—his casual assurances that he’d help you catch up. And he knew that. He knew exactly how much you depended on him, how easily you fell with his whims. But that didn’t mean he made it easy for you. He relished in the way you gave in to his games without even realizing it.

── ˚° ⋆ 𓍼ོ. ݁ ☕︎ ˖ ོ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Sylus - Teacher’s Aide

Grad student who volunteered to help a past professor

Probably a College of Engineering student with a Business minor

A flirt

Offended when labeled a flirt

More helpful than the professor

Instigates arguments about class topics to “keep students engaged.”

Uses his past assignment as submission examples

Carries “coffee” in his tumbler

Sylus puts the "T" in TA—meticulous, composed, and wholly invested in his students' success. His dedication to the role contrasted with his sharp gaze and broody voice. He’s the type of person who commands attention without trying, the kind of academic character that turns into a common campus crush. And yet, despite the longing glances and hopeful advances sent his way, he remains firmly out of reach, turning down confessions with an ease that only adds to his allure.

He entertains the occasional banter, of course. Just enough to keep the classroom lively, to hold his students' attention. “It keeps engagement up,” he insists, but you’ve noticed that his charm never quite extends past the surface. He plays the part well, but never too well. He knows when to hold back.

That’s why you can’t quite make sense of the subtle favor he seems to show you. It’s nothing overt, no obvious favoritism, but it’s there, tugging at the edges of your curiosity. You do well in class, contribute to discussions, never give him a reason to doubt your understanding of the material. And yet, he’s insistent that you visit his office hours, always dropping the suggestion so casually, as if it were nothing.

You don’t question it at first, chalking it up to his thoroughness as an instructor. But after a while, you start to wonder. Does he truly think you need the extra guidance, or is there something else lingering in the spaces between his words? Sylus never lingers on the answer, leaving you to puzzle it out for yourself.

──⠀ᯓ ✈︎ ⋆✴︎˚ ｡⋆⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Caleb - Mechanical Engineering

Walks you to class

Hypes you up for your 8am

Sneaks you in his dorm room (he booked a single for a reason)

Always in the middle of dismantling something

Stays ahead on assignments

Says he’ll help with your homework but becomes a major distraction

Only goes out when you’re invited

It didn’t take long for people to start labeling you as Caleb’s. The whispers spread almost instantly. How he, semesters ahead and loyal to the nonexistent girlfriend he constantly referenced, was suddenly always seen with you. RAs sighed at the sight of you two, sneaking each other in and out of your respective rooms, shaking their heads as if they already knew the battle was lost. It didn’t matter that your interactions were innocent, it’s widely believed that you and him have something going on.

His major was brutal, demanding hours of his time, yet somehow, he always found a way to carve out space for you. If given the choice, he’d rather have you curled up in his room, doing absolutely nothing, while he worked through his assignments than spend a single day to himself. There was something about your presence that made the stress bearable, made the long nights at his desk feel a little less suffocating.

But when midterms and finals rolled around, you knew better than to stay near him. Studying was so much faster without the weight of his gaze, without the way he’d drop his pen just to look at you like you were far more interesting than the notes in front of him. He never outright asked you to stay, but those puppy eyes of his did all the pleading for him. And if you weren’t careful, you knew you’d cave.

┈┈┈┈┈┈

anon asks: can you write a story for each? sylus | zayne | more soon…

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pink-ladybugs · 1 month ago

Text

Harvest Moon Ch. 2

Farmhand Abby Anderson x Femme Reader

See ch.1

Inspired by:

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Description: Fluff, angst, friends to lovers, time skip. Abby Anderson farmhand AU. Modern AU.

Plot: You and Abby had been best friends since childhood. You basically grew up together in a small town in eastern Washington. However, a vicious fight separates the two of you. Only the most unpredictable circumstance can bring you back together. This is the second installation.

Author’s Note: Just some character/story building in this one.

─────── current day ───────

The last time you were driving down these long, winding roads was on your way to California. The fields and flowers used to be so vibrant then. Not now.

Rain pelts your windows as you think about all of the things from your childhood that you’ll have to face again. Your childhood home, white paint peeling off the old wood. The fields of wheat that rippled like waves on a windy day. And… Abby.

You planned to stay as far away from her as possible on this trip. You weren’t staying long. Just enough to get Dan back on his feet again.

The only doctor in Dry Creek had called you when you had just finished up your finals at Stanford.

“Dan had a heart attack. He’s been working himself to the bone on the farm. Refuses help from anyone. Said he doesn’t want to hire someone he doesn’t know personally.” He had said.

“Is he okay?” You asked panicked. The doctor sighed.

“He’s alright now but he shouldn’t be alone on that farm. It would be a good idea to come and take care of him. At least until he practices a healthier life style. He has a lot of blood clotting. If this continues, he could have a stroke…”

You knew it was true. Dan worked himself way too hard. Harder than a man of his age should. The fact that he only had a steak and a beer for dinner most nights probably wasn’t helping.

And that’s how you ended up taking your last semester off, frantically packing a suitcase to drive back to Washington and get him up and running again.

You pull into the long driveway leading to the farmhouse. No animals wait by the fence to greet you like they usually did. They all take shelter from the rain instead. You turn the car off once you reach the house. Your body doesn’t let you move.

What do I even say? “Sorry I havnt visited you in years and I only call you on birthdays and holidays. Sorry Ive been too busy to know about your heart condition. Sorry Im the worst niece in the world.”

You sigh and rest your head against the steering wheel. Then all of the sudden you hear your name called out.

Your head shoots up to find Dan on the porch waving you over.

“Get out of that car right now young lady!” He barks. Just like he used to when you did something wrong as a kid. You step out of your car and run through the rain until you get under the cover of the porch.

You stand in front of Dan like a child in trouble. Your tail tucked between your legs. Dan stands there for a moment. His stance is weaker than when you left. His beard is now more salt than pepper. You brace yourself for an endless guilt trip about how you abandoned Dry Creek… and him. Something you could never forgive yourself for.

Instead, Dan walks towards you and gives you a hug. A warm, tight, bone breaking hug.

“I missed you kid.” He says in his usual raspy voice. Your eyes sting as you pull away to look at him. You wipe the formation of tears from the inner corners of your eyes.

“What are you doing outside? You should be lying down and resting!” You say trying to ignore the heap of emotions you feel from his unexpected welcomeness. You swing your arm around his waist and walk inside. The smell of your childhood hitting you like a brick.

“Doc can’t tell me nothing.” He says giving you a crooked smile. You roll your eyes.

“Doc told me you’ve been a real dummy.” You say leading him to his leather recliner. “Don’t worry Im gonna have you healthy as a horse for harvest alright?” You say as you put a blanket over him.

“Im already healthy as a horse!” And with that, he bursts into a coughing fit. Your eyebrows stitch together in concern.

“You can’t work on that farm anymore Dan. It’s literally killing you. You’re not a young buck. You can’t go lifting hay bales and corralling the cows like you used to.” You say.

Dan looks away from you for a moment. A look of guilt passing over his face. “Well I may have gotten some help.” He says sheepishly.

“You did? Doc said you refused to hire anyone because you didn’t know them.” You say confused.

“Well er… I changed my mind. Just hired someone a couple days ago.” He says obviously hiding something. You quirk an eyebrow. You begin to ask him what he’s talking about before something in the kitchen falls and causes a huge crashing sound to ring out through the house. You rush to see what it is.

Pots and pans litter the kitchen floor. “The pan rack fell!” You call out from the kitchen. As you pick everything up you notice the horrible state of things. Ingredients and utensils sit on the counter, never put away. Old coffee stains decorate the kitchen island. It looks like no one had cleaned it in months. “Jesus, what happened to this place? It’s like the second I leave a tornado hits this house.”

Dan lets out a course laugh. “An important man like me cant trouble himself with chores.”

You walk back into the living room and place a hand on your hip. “Or general hygiene I see.”

Dan’s eyebrows furrow as he smells his armpit. His face breaks into a smile as he realizes you’re right.

“Shower.” You say pointing towards the bathroom. He nods. “Im making you dinner too!” You shout as you walk back into the kitchen.

“Steak with gravy and potatoes please!” He shouts back. “Crack open a beer for me too would ya?”

Is this man insane? You think to yourself.

“Not a chance!” You yell as you hear the shower turn on. You shake your head as you open up the fridge to find some vegetables. Surprise, there are none. You groan as you slam the fridge shut. You’ll have to go shopping. You grab your coat and your keys.

“I’ll be right back! I gotta go to the store!” You shout as you make your way to the door. You stop as something catches your eye.

Next to the door are Dan’s old, muddy work boots, but that’s not what caught your attention. Next to them are a tinier pair. The little cowgirl boots register in your mind as you realize Dan never got rid of them once you were too big to fit them anymore. Your heart clenches as you look at them for a second longer. Part of you misses when you fit into those boots. When things were simpler.

You lock the door and leave the house, hopping into your car to go to the nearest grocery store. A thought occurs to you as you drive down roads you know like the back of your hand.

Maybe I do still belong here.

You let yourself imagine being here again. Making more memories in a place that means so much to you.

But no, you have a different life now. One far away from here. Which is what you wanted…

This is only a short trip. You remind yourself.

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Thank you for sticking around for the second chapter!! I really appreciate everyone who reads these.

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equallyshaw · 14 days ago

Text

the Inbetween | dr robby. pt I/III

⚘ abbott's daughter x dr.robby - ish fic. slow burn. ⚘ age gap ofccc. hehe. ⚘ dr langdon x Dr bianca; old enemies. ⚘ warnings: death, abuse victim & swearing. ⚘ word count: 5.4k..

Masterlist.

6:25 am.

today was bianca's first day at ptmh- for the week, as a traveling pediatric doctor. she had just finished up two weeks in new york at mount sinai, and before that, a month at university of chicago. she was a bit of a wild and free spirit, never staying too long in a place once and that was exactly how she liked it. and, it meant that her dad - dr. jack abbott, couldn't track her down and beg her to come visit or worse- live in pittsburgh and at a nearby hospital.

she and him, unfortunely, have never had the greatest relationship, specifically because of how he and her mom had broken up years ago and the fallout. she always resented him and how he didn't call, didn't reach out for birthdays, milestones and simply reach out to ask how she was doing. but now. but now- he only cared or reached out because she was now one, an independent adult, two, a doctor and three, because he saw himself in her. Which ofcourse, she resented and deflected.

She smiled at a nurse as she made her way across the peds floor, up on the fourth floor, she was on her way to visit with a four-year-old who they believed was just having a simple skin allergy. She pulled back the curtain with a large, warm, and bright smile. "Hi Maggie! How are you feeling, sweetie?" She questioned warmly as she sat down next to the girl who clearly had been crying recently. The little girl's lip quivered, and Bianca's heart just broke. She quickly went to rub her arm, trying to bring some sort of comfort to the frightened girl. "How long has she been presenting the skin allergy?" Bianca asked her parents without looking away from the girl. She did her usual check of eyes, ears, temperature, and nose, making sure nothing else was wrong. The parents explained that she'd had the rash for almost a week, but the pediatric nurse that they'd been seeing since she was a baby, just said to give her allergy medicine and put cortisone cream on, and that should be all. "Well," she paused, trying to pick the correct words, "I think it's time you find a new doc." She stated boldly.

"Im gonna lift up your shirt real quickly, okay, Miranda?" she questioned, and the little girl nodded. As soon as she lifted the shirt, she saw what she had expected, and she smiled at the girl, pulling her shirt back down. She turned back towards the group of nurses, "Please call the Peds Rheumatologist. Just to confirm the diagnosis for me," She paused to turn back to the parents. "Your daughter is presenting with Sjögren's syndrome. She has the classic dry eyes, fatigue, dry mouth, chronic low-grade fever, and rashes in multiple areas," she paused as the mother spoke up. "How did you get that from just looking at her?" the mother questioned. Bianca nodded, "Her CBC is elevated, her white blood cell levels are very high, and SDR rate is higher than what it should be for her age, even if it was a simple infection." Bianca explained as caringly and empathetically as she could. She looked back down towards Miranda and pushed some hair back from her forehead.

"I hear the rheumatologist is quite nice, and gives the best hungs Miranda," she began as she heard the doctor's voice getting closer. "I wish you all the best, you are gonna do great, ok?" Bianca smiled, and Miranda nodded. She turned back to look at the parents, "Dr.Ronada is fantastic, and you are in great hands." She said with a comforting smile. Dr.Ronada took two steps in and, without a missing beat, he got Miranda to crack a smile and a giggle. Bianca took that as her cue to leave. She stood up, pulling off her gloves and walking out of the room. "How did you diagnose her?" The nurse at her side questioned and Bianca shrugged, "She's got the classic symptoms of it. But, I did a residency at the Mayo Clinic for two years before switching to another hospital, and well, we had a lot of autoimmune cases in babies, toddlers, adolescents- you name it," She began as they began to walk towards another patient. They paused right outside the door, "It's unfortunate the way our health system is. No one can figure their fucking shit out and diagnose properly and in a timely matter. Fucking assholes think its just 'anxiety'." She finished in a mocking tone. The nurse nodded in agreement, and as Bianca was about to step into the room- someone called her name.

Melanie, the longtime captain of the Peds floor, waved her over as she spoke through the corded phone. "I'll be right back." Bianca said before making her way over to the desk. Melanie put down the phone, "The Pitt needs a Peds doc, and everyone has volunteered you," Melanie said with a playful smirk. Bianca's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Melanie grinned, "The Pitt also known as the hellhole, or ER." The older woman explained. Bianca nodded, holding on to her stethoscope, "Alrighty. Can my nurse come with me?" She questioned back towards Abby, the recently promoted nurse. Melanie nodded, motioning towards the elevator. Abby and her quickly made their way towards the elevator, and the dark brown haired girl sighed heavily. "You ok, Abby?" Bianca questioned softly as they stepped into the elevator. Abby chuckled, "Oh girl, you're gonna regret coming to this hospital." The nurse stated, and Bianca's eyebrows furrowed.

The elevator dinged as they reached level zero, and Bianca stepped out and quickly looked around. It did look like a hellzone here, and it was barely 7 am. Abby pointed towards the nurses' station, "Dana will help us out. She's Melanie but on steroids. She's a fucking bad ass." Abby explained, and Bianca nodded, weaving in and out of people's way.

As soon as she stepped foot into the main dome of the ER, her head whipped around to people crying out in pain, screaming, and the sound of beeps, which was overstimulating to many, but energizing to the young doctor.

"Abby!" The blonde middle-aged woman - Dana - called out, and the two of them stepped up counter, and Dana did a double-take at Bianca, who quickly saw the screen up above them, filled to the brim. "Dr-?" Dana paused, and Biana met her gaze, "Dr. Costa - Bianca Costa." She stated, and Dana nodded.

"Room 3, South Bay. Little boy, presenting with bruising," Dana said, flipping through the clipboard. "Initial thought was maybe a bleeding disorder—Von Willebrand or something—but…" she hesitated.

"But?" Bianca echoed, her brow lifting.

Dana lowered her voice. "But the bruising is in weird places. Not your average elbows or knees from playing." She flipped the folder around and pointed to a body chart. "Lower back, behind the thighs, shoulder blades. The story doesn’t match the pattern."

Bianca nodded slowly, her expression tightening as she took the chart. "And how old is he?"

"Five. Came in with his dad. Mom’s not around—‘working out of town,’ apparently. Kid’s real quiet. Won’t make eye contact."

Dana added with a roll of her eyes, "The dad wanted a peds doc, not an ER. Apparently ER doesn’t know shit about kids. Lucky us."

Bianca was already walking toward the room before Dana finished speaking. "Let’s get vitals, run a basic CBC and clotting panel, just to cover our bases. But I want to talk to him alone." She explained to Abby, slipping on her plastic gloves she picked up on the way towards the room.

Bianca smiled softly at Marcel as she sat beside him, gently folding her hands in her lap. "How are we doing this morning? I heard we’re not feeling the greatest?"

Marcel blinked up at her, still looking a little unsure. His wide eyes flicked briefly to her coat, drawn to the small plush tiger peeking out from her front pocket. It was tucked in just enough that only the tip of its little tail and tiny ears showed, but it was enough for Marcel to notice. His lips curled into the faintest smile.

Bianca’s gaze followed his, and she couldn’t help but chuckle softly. "Oh, you like my tiger?" she asked, her voice warm and playful.

Marcel hesitated for a moment, then, with a cautious look, he reached out. Bianca gently pulled the little tiger out of her pocket, handing it to him. His small fingers wrapped around the soft fabric with a shy, relieved smile.

"He's my buddy," Bianca added, lowering her voice. "I carry him around whenever I’m working. Makes me feel a little less lonely sometimes. You know?"

Marcel nodded slowly, his smile growing just a bit as he held the tiger close, almost like it was a small secret between the two of them.

Behind her, the father’s voice was growing louder, but for just a moment, Bianca allowed herself to focus on the connection with the little boy in front of her.

“I asked for a pediatrician, not some ER reject who doesn’t know a damn thing about kids!”

Dana, who stood calmly in the doorway, didn’t flinch. Arms crossed. Expression unmoved.

Now she looked like she was staring through the man, deadpan and unaffected.

“Sir,” she said flatly, “your tantrum’s been logged. Continue, and security gets to read it out loud during your exit.”

Across the hall, the morning shift huddle was wrapping up. Dr. Robby looked over at the commotion.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

Dr. Langdon followed his gaze—and then did a double take when he saw Bianca standing calmly, beside the boy.

His jaw dropped. Realization and familiary swarmed him.

“No. No fucking way,” Langdon muttered.

Robby frowned. “What?”

Langdon turned a little, still staring. “Is that… that’s Medusa Costa.”

“Medusa what now?”

“She was two years behind me at med school,” Langdon explained, his tone casual but there was an edge to it, like he knew more than he was saying. “Quiet, reserved... but terrifyingly smart. Diagnosed a professor mid-rounds—no second thoughts, just cold precision. Heard she once flunked a fourth-year out of cardiology for misreading an EKG.” He shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “She disappeared after Mayo, switched specialties like four times, then just... ghosted.”

Robby narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering. “Wait—her name’s Costa?”

Langdon’s gaze flicked to Robby, his smile deepening, a touch darker now. “Bianca Costa. But everyone called her Medusa.” His voice dropped slightly, as if the next part was a secret meant for only him. “Not because she was cruel—no, no. It was more like... one look, and you knew you were wrong. And for other reasons, too.”

Just then, they both watched as Bianca gently tucked a strand of hair behind Marcel’s ear and spoke in that calm, soft tone again. And for the first time that morning, the boy didn’t look scared.

Robby let out a low whistle. “She doesn’t look like she’s here to play.”

“She’s not,” Langdon muttered. “She’s here to find the truth. And ruin anyone who got it wrong.”

"Well- let's stay out of her way, shall we?" Robby said, turning back to the group, and they all nodded. Besides Mohan, who was still gazing with a small smile, they were gonna get along- the young doctor thought. The group disbanded after that, but Langdon and Robby now fully turned back around to watch the young woman. Robby watched the small moments and small movements she took. He could already tell she was one hundred percent on the money with the diagnosis, and had already clocked the father.

"Sir, if you do not lower your voice, I will have security escort you to another room," Bianca stated loudly, confidently, and boldly. She took one last look at Marcel before standing up and squaring up with the father. No falter. No blinks. No hesitation. She put herself between him and the little boy, and would gladly put the father in his place.

"You fucking bitch! I know what you're insulating!" The father yelled at the 5'6 doctor who only crossed her arms, "You can keep screaming at me, but that will only hurt your son's chances at getting the help he needs, wise guy." She spat. The father turned and yelled out before lunging towards the young doctor. Langdon and Robby were already lunging forward to help out, but Bianca was quick- and very smooth.

She flung him in the ribs and his windpipe all in one move, and he quickly doubled over in pain. "You laid hands on a doctor in front of your kid." Her voice was low, razor-sharp. "And after what I saw on that exam table?" She shook her head, eyes never leaving his. "You’ll never see your child again. I’ll make fucking sure of it."

Langdon watched with a strange sense of déjà vu, as if the scene unfolding before him was one he'd seen before- or lived himself, in a different time. He slightly winced, an old memory tugging at the edge of his mind, something about two a.m. and a quiet moment between him and another, a movement shared, unspoken. It lingered there, but he didn’t allow it to surface. He just watched her, as calm as ever, and the moment passed.

Bianca turned back towards Marcel, who was crying, and before Langdon and/or Robby could intervene, Abby flung the curtain shut.

"Hey now, it's ok. I promise," she said softly but just loud enough for the two could hear; she pulled Marcel in for a hug, "It's ok, I promise." Bianca stated once more, attempting to comfort the boy. The nurses gave him a small sedative to let the boy sleep, as they transferred him to the Peds wing upstairs, so they could do another evaluation, and then add in a social worker to work on the case.

Marcel fell asleep in her arms, and she softly pulled him away, and her eyes fell upon the little tiger that sat right by her hands. She smiled softly, pulling the tiger back into her white front pocket along with her stethoscope. She pulled off her gloves and threw them away before pulling the curtain open a bit for her and Abby to leave. Bianca sighed, placing her hands on her hips, staring at the paneled floor.

She hated cases like that and hated the confrontations that came with it.

She licked her lips and looked up at the screen in curiosity and wonder. How the hell did they juggle this? How the hell did they run things down here? Confidantly and quite possibly arrogantly, she believed she could run this ship like the military. Unfortunely, a side effect of growing up in a military-esque household.

Her gaze flicked towards the ER doors, but her eyes quickly widened as she saw the motherfucker she thought she would never see again, Franky Wanky. He was talking to a taller, older, and very wise doctor, who had her back towards her. Bianca quickly turned to face Abby, trying to block her face from Frank but it was no use. The two had already locked eyes. "Do you know Dr.Langdon? he can't stop looking at you.." Abby trailed off, and Bianca growled. She despised that boy.

"Long story." That was all that was stated.

Bianca turned towards Dana, who asked if the girl wanted to stick around, but she shook her head. "im good, bu-," Bianca froze mid-sentence as she felt the room begin to spin.

That voice. She knew that voice. She prayed she'd never hear it again.

A chill ran down her neck as the voice got louder and closer. She swallowed harshly, turning quickly towards the elevator. Abby followed behind her as they heard Abby's name being called, but Bianca didn't stop.

"Costa!" She heard her name being yelled from near where she had just been. She froze immediately and rocked on her heels once before walking straight towards the elevator. Her arms crossed as she waited for the elevator to make it to her level, allowing her to escape this hellhole. She was nasty, her breathing was shallow but deep, and she felt like the room was spinning. She was dissociating. She didn't need to look back to confirm that Langdon had called her. And definitely did not need to look back to confirm that her father, Jack Abbott, had just walked in for his shift. It was too much; she needed to get out of there.

The elevator dinged, and she quickly stepped in, praying to the non-existent gods that they wouldn't be able to reach the elevator before the doors closed. She pressed the floor six button and pressed the doors close button. Once, twice, three, four times, and the last thing she saw was Langdon running towards the elevator. But the door closed right as he was about to put his hand through to stop it.

8:32 am.

Bianca found an empty hallway on the pediatric wing and slowly slid down the wall with a heavy, exhausted sigh that echoed through the quiet space. She pressed her hands to her face and let the tears fall, her body shaking with the sobs she couldn’t hold back. She had just lost a patient to a viral infection, and there was nothing anyone could do. The sound of the flatlining machine still rang in her ears, lingering long after the moment had passed.

After a few moments, she pulled her hands away from her face, wiping at her eyes with slow, tired movements. She bit her lip so hard it nearly drew blood, trying to regain control. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, seeing her mom's contact flash on the screen. She hesitated for a moment, then answered, her voice barely a whisper, "Hi, momma."

Her mother’s voice was immediately filled with concern. "Bia, what's wrong?"

Bianca’s sobs returned, catching in her throat. It took a lot for her to cry, especially at work. She was the kind of doctor who kept everything locked inside, never allowing herself to show weakness. It was the same way she’d been with her father, Jack, which was why they’d broken up two years after Bianca was born. Isabella had always hated how Bianca shut everyone out, especially when it came to Jack. Bianca hated the idea of sharing anything in common with him—he was just her biological father, nothing more.

"They died... I couldn't do anything, Momma. I couldn't stop the infection from reaching their brain," Bianca said, her words tumbling out in shaky fits.

Isabella's heart broke for her daughter, remembering those same painful moments from her own time as a pediatric doctor. She’d been through them too many times to count. "I know you don’t want to hear this, and I know it doesn’t help right now, but this isn’t your fault, Bia. Everyone has their time. And it was their time to go home. Science can’t change that, my love."

Bianca cringed at the words, the familiar sentiment of spiritual talk, feeling more layered than comforting. She sniffled, wiping her tears away, and cleared her throat, trying to find some semblance of control. "It's fine. I gotta go, Mom. I'll call you later."

"I love you, Bia," Isabella said softly, and Bianca nodded, her voice barely audible as she stood up.

"I love you too," she murmured, before hanging up and heading back to her shift.

Bianca felt her pager beep, signaling that she was needed in the Pitt again. She groaned, frustrated, and hit the wall beside her with a soft thud.

"Girl! I've been looking for you everywhere!" Abby's voice echoed down the empty hallway, and Bianca quickly jogged to meet her. As they waited for the elevator, she pulled her stethoscope on and cracked her knuckles in anticipation.

"What's the case?" Bianca asked, the elevator dinging as it arrived at floor zero.

"Rash, muscle weakness, fluid in the lungs, elevated CBC, all the usual. No one can decide whether to perform surgery for the fluid, go with antiviral meds, or just make her comfortable," Abby explained.

Bianca nodded. "Sounds like a tricky one."

Abby grinned as they stood outside the patient's room, slipping on gloves. "Are you sure you didn’t miss your calling?"

Bianca grinned back, “I’ve been told that once or twice,” before kicking open the door. She flashed a smile at the rheumatologist standing on the other side. Ignoring the loud chatter coming from the three doctors in the room, she already knew who they were—one was her father, and the other was Langdon.

"Can you get me Methotrexate and Methylprednisolone?" Bianca began, but her voice was drowned out by the noise in the room as she began feeling around for the little girl’s nodules, which she suspected were in her throat now. She turned toward the three doctors, irritated. “Jesus Christ, shut the hell up or get out!” she yelled. Langdon immediately grinned, clearly trying to suppress laughter. Robby raised an eyebrow in curiosity, while Abbott’s mouth fell open in shock.

Bianca ignored them and turned back to the rheumatologist. "She's got a post-viral-induced autoimmune disease," Bianca explained, flushing the IV with saline before adding the Methotrexate. "We saw three similar cases up at Mayo with the same signs and symptoms, thankfully." She paused as her vitals raised. "She won't need surgery, just post-follow-up care, and definitely not a four-walled interior," she added, not bothering to look at the three docs.

"Good job, Dr. Costa," Dr. Winston, the rheumatologist, commented with a chuckle. "You sure you didn’t miss your calling?"

"The world will never know," Bianca replied with a smile, her gaze returning to the child. She turned to the parents, explaining, "She'll be asleep for a bit. I added a sedative so she can rest before waking up. It’ll give the meds time to work before she wakes up, keeping her comfortable in the meantime."

The parents thanked her, and Bianca quickly pulled off her gloves before heading out the door to grab Abby, eager to get back upstairs.

"Medusa!" She heard the beloved nickname and turned towards Langdon with arms crossed and her famous scowl.

"Oh, looky here, we've got Frankie Wanky. How did you manage to flunk out and get a nice cushy job and position here?" she flared, and Robby, observing from the side, realized it was actually Frank—Langdon—who had been flunked out. He chuckled to himself, clearly entertained by their exchange.

"God, I missed our fantastic banter," Langdon began, his voice carrying that familiar teasing tone. But Bianca didn’t give him the satisfaction of a full response.

"I'm sure," she hummed, her voice laced with sarcasm before turning back around. "Definitely didn’t miss you," she threw back, flicking him a middle finger over her shoulder as she walked away.

She and Abby paused at the elevator, and Bianca pinched the bridge of her nose. God—she was so glad her shift was almost over.

Her and Abby paused by the elevator, and Bianca pinched the bridge of her nose. God, she was so ready for her shift to be over. Between Langdon’s presence and the weight of everything else, she needed a break.

"Bianca?" She heard her name from behind her just as the elevator dinged. Her heart dropped along with her blood pressure.

She licked her lips, trying to steady herself. "I'll be up in a minute," she replied, watching as Abby stepped inside. Abby nodded before the doors shut.

Bianca sighed, her gaze turning towards her father. He looked older, much older than she remembered—worn, miserable.

His eyes widened as they took in his only child. She had his nose, that was it. Everything else about her was her mother.

"Hi, Dr. Abbott," she said flatly, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You think I’d call you 'Dad'?" she questioned, her voice dripping with dry humor. "You're funny," she added with a slight chuckle.

She turned to walk away, but his hand reached out, gently grabbing her arm. "Bianca, please. Let me say what I need to," he begged, his voice soft but pleading.

She hesitated, every instinct in her screaming to pull away, to fight it. But the chaotic energy of the ER tugged at her, pulling her back to the present. She couldn't afford to dwell on this now.

Her father and she looked towards the two gurneys that had just been brought in, a little girl and her father. Bianca bolted towards the scene, following the little girl. No doctor had stepped in yet, so she did.

"What happened?" Bianca asked, her voice steady despite the chaos.

"Dad and daughter got into an accident off I-65. The daughter was crushed in her car seat while the dad was hit from the side. The little girl's stats are all normal, except her heart rate; we’re having trouble keeping it stable," the EMT explained.

Bianca nodded, not realizing that she and her father were now working together in this unexpected situation. They found themselves silently across from each other, the tension thick in the air.

"Oh God," Bianca muttered, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for her father to hear. His eyes darted to her, then followed her gaze. There, clearly visible, was a massive blood clot on the side of the girl's rib cage. If they didn’t act fast, she wouldn’t survive.

Bianca met her father’s gaze and quickly turned back to the girl. "I need someone on your side with me to control the balloon to stabilize her heart rate. I need someone else to help me drain this blood clot before it travels into her airways and lungs," she explained, her voice calm but urgent.

Abbott immediately called out, "Robby!" Moments later, the older man she had seen earlier with Langdon appeared.

Bianca was already administering an IV medication to prevent the blood clot from traveling. "Blood clot, right side rib cage, unstable heart rate. We need to drain it now, before we head to the OR," she explained to Robby, who quickly moved to help. As he reached for the patient, his hand accidentally bumped into Bianca’s, but she didn’t flinch.

Robby barked orders at the nurses while Bianca grabbed the scalpel to drain the clot. She worked quickly, and they switched spots so Robby could monitor the girl's vitals and administer any necessary medications.

Abbott and Robby stood silently, watching Bianca work tirelessly. The seconds felt like hours as she did everything in her power to save the little girl, but the situation was growing more critical by the second.

"BP is crashing," Robby announced, as the monitor's beeping grew louder. Bianca’s heart sank, hearing the echoes of the flatline from her earlier patient in her mind. That sound—the one she hated most about this profession—death, and the cruel reality that sometimes, no amount of science could save a life that deserved to be lived.

"Bianca—" her father warned, but she wasn’t listening. She was too focused, trying her hardest to beat the clock.

"Costa!" Robby called out sharply, his voice full of urgency as Bianca continued to work.

She slipped the tube into the small hole she had created with the scalpel, but when she checked the girl's vitals, her stomach dropped. It was no use. Even after Robby added the medication, there was no change.

Everyone in the room froze as the monitor flatlined, and before anyone could say a word, Bianca turned around and kicked the metal trashcan in frustration before slipping out of the room. She marched past Langdon, who had just finished working on the father, and then he heard the monitor. Fuck, he thought.

Tears poured from her hazel eyes as she stumbled into the stairwell. She collapsed on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her coat was soaked in blood, and her gloves were still on. Another patient died on her watch—her second in a row. She hated herself. She felt like a failure, a disappointment. The sobs wracked her body as she stayed frozen, her mind consumed by the grief. She prayed no one would come looking for her.

But then, the door above her opened. Footsteps neared, and Bianca cursed under her breath. She didn’t look up, ready to bolt, but then she heard a voice. “Don’t go,” Robby called, his voice laced with concern. She sighed, sitting back down on the cold floor, kicking her legs out in front of her, her hands laced together. Robby sat beside her without a word, offering quiet support, letting her be.

"Costa, hmm?" Robby muttered after a while, breaking the silence. Bianca glanced at him, intrigued.

"Jack never mentioned he had a daughter with a different last name," Robby continued, a slight shrug in his voice.

"I’m sure he didn’t mention how much of an asshole and deadbeat he is," Bianca replied dryly. Robby chuckled, cocking his head slightly.

"Definitely didn’t lead with that," he said, amusement in his tone.

Bianca sighed, her eyes shifting toward the floor as she removed her gloves. "Costa is my mom’s maiden name. When I was born, my mom gave me her last name since they never married. They were engaged, but my father never wanted to pull the trigger on commitment," she said, a bitter edge to her voice. "Which is absolutely fitting for me," she muttered under her breath.

Robby turned toward her, surprised by the shift in her tone.

"Abandonment issues, y'know?" Bianca said, a sharp edge of sarcasm in her voice. "Studies show that if a child grows up without a father figure, they’re more likely to never believe in commitment because they think everyone they love will leave them. So, they end up in a field of work that promises to leave no one behind. No one abandoned." She shrugged as she stood. "Gotta love being a statistic," she added, her tone too casual, with a hint of cynicism. She took a few steps toward the stairs.

"Bianca—" Robby called softly, and she froze before taking the first step. "What you did back there was perfect. What happened was not your fault; you did everything that was needed and expected," he said, trying to comfort her.

She glanced back at him, her voice thick with emotion. "But it wasn’t enough, was it?"

"Just because you lost a patient today—"

"Two patients," she corrected, dread seeping into her voice, a wave of nausea washing over her.

Robby paused, his voice soft but firm. "That doesn’t make you less than. It doesn’t take away from the fact that you are a brilliant doctor. Who, for sure, did not miss her call." His words were full of warmth, genuine concern.

Bianca sighed, looking away as if trying to distance herself from the older doctor. "Besides," Robby continued, with a small grin, "I heard you flunked Langdon... Always wondered how he got into Emergency Medicine." He chuckled lightly.

Bianca’s frown turned into a smile, and she giggled softly, the moment lifting her spirits. It warmed something inside Robby, a flicker of light in the midst of their tense atmosphere. "Someone had to do it to that ass. He had it coming. It was either going to be me or God, and I took it upon myself to be the one." She grinned, crossing her arms.

Robby chuckled, shaking his head. "That was definitely one of your callings," he mused.

Bianca pointed at him cheekily. "Right about that, Dr. Robnavitch."

He raised an eyebrow. "Robby. Everyone calls me Robby. Or Michael, if I’m being reprimanded."

She grinned. "Well, hopefully, I won’t have to do that within the next week, Dr. Robby." Her teasing tone slipped effortlessly into something more playful, perhaps even subtly flirtatious.

Robby’s gaze softened, though he didn’t let on that he noticed.

"Alright, Dr. Robby, I’ll see ya around," she said, her voice trailing off. She took a step up, then another, but turned back to him, her cheeks flushed along with her ears. A sudden rush of warmth spread through her, and she jogged the rest of the way up the stairs, her pace quickening as her heart skipped a beat.

Oh, well, you know what they say—those who grow up without fathers... tend to fall for the older guy. & the wrong ones.

eeek, ok ok. ok -- theyre is gonna be so much to unpack in pt 2!!! just yall wait lol

Please like and reblog, if you enjoyed!!!!

Also, I know this isn’t 100% medically accurate - but bare with me lmao

#dr robby #dr robby x oc #frank langdon #langdon x oc #the pitt #the Pitt blurb #the pill imagine #dr robby blurb #dr robby fic #dr robby imagine #jack abbott #dr abbott #⚘ anna writes #equallyshaw masterlist

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burreauxsss · 7 days ago

Text

why me? part 3

background: a causal hookup turns into you becoming his baby mama, or so you thought.

notes: this last part really bored me writing due to me not wanting to do a epilogue so enjoy (also grammarly decided to turn fancy halfway through on google docs and start using other words sooo..)

word count: 623

warning: this is a alternative universe, joe would never do this (most likely).

<- Part 2 -> Part 3

It had been a month since Joe first laid eyes on Kailani, his daughter.

Since that time, he has been attempting to make it right with you by being a good father and taking her everywhere. But in social media, many still hate. When you revealed Joe was the father, everyone said he was a deadbeat. Okay, sure, you two were apart, but you could not accept he was your baby daddy, after all. The NFL season was looming, and everybody knew that you would be attending the suites, in his Burrow jersey, with his family. So when the season initially began at the season opener, all of the tea pages followed your social media, expecting a story. For a good part of the time this season, you made an effort to remain out of the spotlight and avoid drawing attention to yourself. However, when the time finally arrived, you took the opportunity to let it be known that you were there and ready to be seen.

But in the highly publicized season opener against the Patriots, Joe was a completely different person. Joe was visibly filled with fear; it was his first game back after his serious injury. Getting his wrist surgery to end his season when he was playing his best destroyed him, and so did his attitude towards you. So after a home loss of 16-10, he knew what awaited him. The post-press conference was his worst nightmare, especially after a loss to a terrible team that could not get yards and catch the ball. So when Joe came into the conference, he felt the eyes upon him and the microphones in front of him. He took a seat, his hair soaked from the game, and his undershirt wet and clinging to him. He adjusted the microphone as the questions started pouring in. The questions varied from the offseason work going into week 1 to his injury to the upcoming season. But there was one question that stirred something in him.

So, do you ever get the feeling that your offseason life has affected your training?" A journalist asks, staring directly at him. "What do you mean, elaborate?" he replies

"Well, we've observed your child when you're with them and their mother, and we did find ourselves questioning whether perhaps you were a bit distracted or preoccupied because it does appear that you were."

“ I think that it is not your business to ask that specific question, particularly given the fact that we are only in the very first week of the season, and there is such a wide range of possibilities that can happen as time goes on. I want to reassure you that I will always have an unconditional love for my child, no matter if I am in season or not." The blonde states into the microphone firmly and then exits the press conference in utter frustration.

A couple of nights later, when Joe had visited his daughter, he was placed in a situation where, after she had fallen asleep, he could not help but engage you in a conversation about something that had been troubling him quite considerably for a while.

“Y/N," he confirms with a genuine tone.

“I know what this is about; it's about where we stand. That press conference is everywhere, you sticking up for me wasn't anything that I needed. But Joe, im sorry but I don't see a future with us except coparenting." Your voice is spiking through the house echo.

You saw the very moment Joe's heart sank; at that moment, he came to the painful realization that he had indeed made a terrible mistake. Sadly, he realized that he should have taken the little relationship very seriously before the unplanned pregnancy. With a heavy heart, he nodded, knowing very well that it was now time for him to go and crush the hope of trying once again with you.

y/n posted a story

caption: day out 🐅

notes: well this is the end! i plan on doing a lsu joe fic soon so watch out for that.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow blurb #joe burrow fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow insta au #joe burrow smau #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow one shot

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corpsedogs · 14 days ago

Text

Jason Todd X Reader

angst, reader fakes death (spoilers?)

✿ francis forever — jason mourns you, but then he sees a familiar figure in an alleyway

It's been six months since you left. Jason has been lost in your absence. He can’t eat knowing that the food in front of him isn’t made by you. He can’t sleep because there will be no one to comfort him when he wakes up from a terrible dream. He can’t smile because there is nothing to smile about anymore. He misses your touch— and he misses holding you. He had hoped you thought of him when you died.

They said an assassin killed you. Jason woke up one morning to an empty bed, sunlight creeping across cold sheets. On the kitchen table: an envelope, photos, a letter. Rage consumed him. He vowed to hunt down whoever took you from him. He chased every lead, tore through every clue, only to slam into dead ends over and over again.

Every day, Jason visited your empty grave. He brought your favorite flowers, whispered updates about his day, left little gifts you’d once loved. Sometimes, he just sat there, fingers tracing your name carved into stone, willing it all to be a nightmare.

He hoped you noticed the things he still did for you. Washing the dishes. Buying groceries. Watching over Gotham from rooftops. Picking up the books, sweets, and records you used to stare at.

But there was one thing he regretted more than anything: not saying "I love you" enough. Words had always been hard for him. He hoped you knew how much he loved and adored you, but he would never stop blaming himself for not saying it more.

Of course, his family was there to comfort him. But he doesn’t want their reassurance, he wants yours. Your validation, your gaze, your love is what matters. He cannot bear your absence, he cannot believe you left the earth.

Last summer, quiet streets and solitary walks.

He remembers walking on the streets with you, no matter how awful looking the Gotham view is. He would always lead you to the other places like the docs or a walk around Wayne manor. You always insisted on Gotham’s streets in daylight—said the sun made even Gotham feel safe, just for a little while.. and it wouldn’t hurt exploring the city.

On Tuesdays, he would go out walking on the streets. Hands in pockets, no goal in mind— just hoping your ghost would be walking there with him. He goes to the Gotham park and walks in the treeline street. If you were here, he’d scribble the spot on a sticky note and slap it on the fridge—your unofficial invitation to join him.

He looks at the horizon on the tree-lined street. He misses you so much.

Then, Jason comes back to the ugly streets of Gotham. He walks to an empty alleyway, graffiti painted all over the walls. He heard a commotion ahead—fists hitting flesh. Instinct took over. But when he rounded the corner, he froze.

The figure fighting off the thugs felt… familiar.

“Sweetheart?” he called out, barely a whisper. The figure stilled. “You should leave,” you said, and Jason’s heart stopped. He knew that voice.

He walks forward with steady and heavy steps, the sound of his boots echoing through the empty and dirty alleyway, “It’s you?” he asks.

You turn your head, and there you are. Still beautiful as the day he lost you. You were a bit different of course— shorter hair, different clothes, different look in your eyes.

The way you looked back at him hurts. Fear flickered in your eyes— guilt too, but mostly you just waited. Silent. Bracing for the words he hadn’t figured out how to say.

You huff, “I know what you’re going to say.” you started, wiping the blood in your knuckles. “How could I have done this? Faked my own death, wondering why I never came back to you.”

He walks closer to you as you back away an inch, “I don’t know, okay! I wanted to keep you safe, I don’t want the thing that could’ve been my fate happen to you.”

He doesn’t utter a single word and you start to get frustrated, “Oh, stop with that. Go on, say something. Shout, scream— say something!”

He placed a hand on your cheek and the world seemed to stand still.

How could he yell or scream at you? How could he when you were right there in front of him. He could see you, feel you, touch you. It felt so real. His thumb slowly stroked your cheek while his eyes searched your face.

“Jason—“ you utter his name, begging him to say something.

His mind couldn’t wrap around it. You were in front of him. Breathing. Real. His heart believed it, but his brain told him this had to be a dream.His fingers traced your eyebrows, your nose, your lips—memorizing every inch of your face.

Finally, he spoke. Soft. Fragile.

“Why?” he asked. His voice was tight, his blue eyes locked on yours like he was afraid you’d vanish. “Why did you leave me?”

His hand slipped behind your neck, the other settling at your waist. He pulled you close, burying his face against your shoulder. His grip tightened—like he’d never let go again.

Tears welled in his eyes. All he’d wanted—for six long months—was this. To hold you. To feel you. To have you.

His fingers curled in your shirt, his voice muffled in your neck. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

He clung to the warmth of you. Your breath. Your heartbeat. The feel of you in his arms. It all hurt—it hurt because it was real.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

Now it was your turn to be speechless.

Despite the dark, grimy alleyway, Jason didn’t care. All that mattered was you. You closed your eyes. Pulled him close. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Just repeated your name softly, like he was trying to believe this was real.

When he finally pulled back, his face was streaked with tears. He looked at you, disbelief still painting his features.

Then the anger returned.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, his tone harsh. “Leaving me like that? Letting me think you were dead for months?”

You didn’t answer. Guilt weighs heavy in your silence.

“Six months!” he barked. “Six months I thought you were gone! I went through hell trying to accept it. And now you just show up, like nothing happened?!”

His voice cracked, rising. “Did you think I wouldn’t care? That I’d just move on?”

His chest heaved as he stared at you. Anger. Pain. Desperation.

“I spent every night wondering. Wondering if you were alive, if you were in pain, if you were alone. I didn’t know why. I just knew you were gone.”

He broke again. Voice shaking. “Why… why did you leave me?”

You grabbed his arms. “I was afraid. If they found out I was alive, they’d come for you next.”

Jason’s brows furrowed. “Afraid?” he repeated. “That doesn’t give you the right to vanish like that!”He pulled away, stepping back as he tried to rein in his emotions.

He clenched his fists, remembering that awful morning. The cold sheets. The letter. The silence.

He tried to move on. Tried violence, rooftop patrols, long walks in the park—but nothing filled the space you left behind.

“I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. I was a mess—all because of you.”

You snapped.

“Then leave me if I hurt you so much! If I don’t deserve you—then just go!”

Jason froze, eyes wide at your words.

He stepped closer, gaze locked onto yours. “You think I can just walk away from you? Like you never mattered? You’re out of your mind if you think I could give up on you.”

You shook your head. “How could you still love me after everything I did?”

He exhaled slowly.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I’m still waiting for you to come back. Because I know I can’t move on from you. I won’t.”

His voice softened. “I know you’re worth the wait. But do you even understand how much it hurt? How hard it was just to breathe without you?”

Another step closer.

“I need you. I need you, sweetheart…”

You looked at him. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“What… what do you want me to do?”

“You really want me back?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Jason said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. He lifted your face, thumbs brushing your cheek. “I don’t care about anything else.”

You stood still for a heartbeat—then broke, throwing your arms around him.

He kissed your forehead, breath hitching. “I love you,” he whispered.

i should be… studying……….

#✿ saf’s fics #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd dc

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