#but I need to because my meds just aren’t cutting it

[yellobb]

I am doing unwell ✨psychologically✨

[mssorceressupreme]

hello love! Can I please get a minho x medjack!reader where minho gets really hurt out in the Maze and the reader fixes him up, but is yelling at him and fussing over him and he gets mad that she cares so much and is like "why do you care so much dammit?!" And she's like "Because I love you! That's why."

Thanks pokie!

Love your woek btw❤️

oooo yessss the classic heated argument where someone confesses trope 😩🤌🏼 thank you lovee, I’m excited to write this for you 🥰💓

——

Because I Love You

Pairing: Minho x Reader

Summary: Minho returns from his run severely injured, and you, the med-jack on duty tends to his wounds. Unlike treating any other glader, this glader was special to you, arousing a confession during his treatment.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

——

It was late in the afternoon, the sun casting its scorching heat upon the gladers who were hard at work. The glade was a bustling affair and you were no different, treating injured gladers all morning.

You were waiting at the med-Jack hut, organising supplies and preparing for any injuries that might need tending.

Your heart always clenched a little tighter when you thought about Minho out there, facing the dangers of the maze. He was your best friend, you didn’t know what you would’ve done without him by your side. It was him who brought you out of your shell during your first week in the glade, and you truly appreciated him for that.

Just as you were about to take a break, the alarms sounded. The maze doors were closing, and you rushed outside to see Minho stumbling through, supported by Thomas and Newt. Blood dripped from a deep gash on his side, and his face was pale with pain and exhaustion.

“Get him to the hut, now!” You shouted with urgency, heart pounding heavily upon being greeted with that uneasy sight.

They laid Minho on the bed, and you immediately got to work, your hands steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you.

You tore away the blood-soaked fabric of his shirt to get a better look at the wound. The cut was deep, dangerously close to his ribs.

Minho turned his head, glancing at you while you focused on his body. “Hey.” He smirked. “Will my scar after this look sexy at least?”

“Stop it, this is serious.” You scolded, eyes still focused on tending to his wound.

He let out a sigh of relief, “Just glad it’s you helping me.”

“Hm?” You were so engrossed in treating him that you didn’t catch what Minho said.

“I’m glad you were the one on duty today. Clint and Jeff would not be as gentle as you are.” He complimented, but for some strange reason, you felt your cheeks heat up from his comment.

“Oh, uh, thank you…I think?”

“What? You should be flattered!—Ow!!” He grunted in pain, clutching the sides of the bed.

“Sorry—” you bit your lip, losing slight focus because of the way he was acting. It did not help that he looked so damn handsome, lying on the bed shirtless.

“Stop complimenting me—it’s distracting!”

“Whatever you say greenie.” He teased, he was the first person to call you that and you hated it, but over time, it kind of grew on you. Almost became a special nickname from him, and it only sounded good when he called you greenie. Maybe the reason it only sounded good coming from him, was due to the fact that you might have developed feelings for him but you brushed it off.

“The cut is deeper than I thought…” you muttered to yourself, “Damn it, Minho. What the hell happened out there?”

“I got careless,” his eyes glazed with pain, as he sighed. “Never underestimate grievers.”

“Careless? You could have died!” You snapped, pressing a cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding. “Do you have any idea what that would have done to me? To all of us?!”

“I’m back though, aren’t I?!” He pinched his nose bridge, rubbing circular motions between his brows to relief tension from his head.

“You have to remember that you’re human Minho, not some super glader! You must know when it’s time to come back instead of lounging around with the grievers!” You lecture him, fixing up the last few bits of the bandage on his wound.

“Gosh, it’s like you enjoy running towards danger instead of away from it!” You fumed.

“There was an opening, I had to explore it a bit more!” Minho countered, defending himself.

“Explore it another time then!” You finally finished cleaning his wound up, and bandaging it. You motioned for him to sit up, helping him as he did so.

“It’s my job to find a way out Y/N, you have no idea the weight this job puts in my shoulders!” He was upright now, sitting on the bed with his legs on the ground.

You stood between his legs, cleaning up any dirt on his face from the maze with a wet cloth. “And we love and support you for it.…but you must know when enough is enough! You lost a lot of blood today! What happens if you don’t make it on time one day? How could I live on?!”

“Why do you care so much dammit?!” He shouted back, in frustration and pain, “Why do you always care so much?”

You froze for a moment, your hands trembling as you held the cloth against his forehead. Your eyes met his, and you saw the confusion and anger in his gaze, mirrored by your own turmoil.

“Because I love you, that’s why!” The words burst out of you before you could stop them, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotions. “I love you Minho. And it scares the hell out of me to see you like this!”

Silence fell between you. Minho’s eyes widened, the anger draining from his face to be replaced by something else—something deeper and more vulnerable.

“You…you love me?” He whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“Yes,” you said softly, “I love you, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

He reached up, his hand trembling, and cupped your cheek. The touch was gentle despite his pain, and it felt comforting.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, regret lingering in his voice from his outburst, “I didn’t know.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing as the tension eased off, “Just promise me you’ll be more careful. I can’t lose you, Minho. I can’t.”

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling you down to press a tender, loving kiss to your lips.

The kiss spoke emotions you’ve never told each other, the longing, mutual pining and secret attraction to each other. It was a kiss that spoke the fragility of life in the glade, of the need to hold on to each other in the face of constant danger.

As you pulled back, you saw the determination in his eyes, a promise to fight harder, to survive for you.

“Let’s get you up and back to your hammock to rest.” You returned to your task with renewed focus.

Minho watched as you helped him up, his eyes never leaving your face. His body ached with every movement, he let out some soft grunts but was determined to be resilient.

The pain was still there, but so was something else—a connection that had always been there, but now was stronger than ever.

You put his arm around your shoulder, helping him towards his hammock with slow steady steps as you didn’t want to injure him further.

When you finally reached his hammock, he sat up and you sat beside him, your fingers intertwined with his.

The area was quiet, as the other gladers were still working and busy.

“I love you too,” Minho said, his voice a soft promise. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

[hanasnx]

How do you think hayden would react to period sex? Your cramps are the worst they’ve been all cycle and you’re sensitive all over, pain meds aren’t helping and neither is a heating pad. You read somewhere online that sex can help. Orgasms, can help. Touching yourself isn’t cutting it, So you gently figure out a way to bring up the idea of him fucking you through the pain.

MINORS DNI 18+

truthfully, i think he went though that phase that boys go through where they think a period is unsafe and/or unsanitary. and then becoming a man who'd had plenty of actual relationships with real women taught him how to be normal about it. you may not be the first one to request period sex, but he wouldn't be the one to suggest it first. instead, he'd start out with the normal stuff. ibuprofen/motrin, ice pack, heating pad. he'd be especially tight-lipped and agreeable during your moodiness because that's the path of least resistance and he knows there's nothing personal about it.

he'd avoid babying you, unless you taught him otherwise. he regularly checks in with you, asks about how much water you've had, and if you need some food that he'll make for you.

but when you tell him about how orgasms can help, he's not skeptical because he doesn't believe you but because he doesn't want you to feel taken advantage of. he's not a stranger to period sex, but it's not something he seeks out, and this is the first he's heard that it helps.

so he's behind you, smoothing a big hand over your ass while you're folded over pillows. your poor pussy looks pitiful, spattered in blood and shed uterine lining. the flat of three of his fingers stroke gently against your cunt, and you suck in a breath as he distributes the moisture around. brows furrowed, focusing on your tense hole. "you're a little tight—"

"it's because of the cramps!" you insist over your shoulder in a defeated whine.

"i know, sugar, i know. let me work you open." taking his time in rolling those fingers across your clit, getting it used to being touched. in his mind, he still believes himself as an intrusive force in this situation. not to be condescending, or haughty, but he does his best to respect a menstrual cycle because he wouldn't understand having one himself. it's a sacred thing in his eyes, and introducing the touch of another, especially a man, even if it's your lover, makes him believe he's tainting an otherwise pure experience. but you asked for his help, and you're in control here, so he does what he can to help you. "are you sure you don't just want my fingers?"

"no, baby. i need you, please, it won't work if it's not you. my fingers didn't work, and yours'll feel different, but i just need dick right now." he winces at your crude words, but he understands your impatience to feel better. when you're loose enough, he introduces his tip, fisting the shaft and pushing his hips forward to feed it to your hole, swiping it through your slit. a groan leaves your lips, anticipating the stretch. so he advances, his head pushing through, and he watches your little toes curl from the delicious sting.

there's an ache that has yet to be satisfied, and your hands reach behind you to palm his hipbones, drawing him closer. he inclines towards you, sinking inch by inch into you, and the sensation of being filled helps you. that pain in your abdomen is dulled by his cock massaging your insides.

[janeyseymour]

hellooo i hope you’re well!

i would like to make a request, a melissa x reader. where they’re married and the reader has always struggled with sleeping. they’re on meds but sometimes they honestly don’t work or help. so mel has gotten into the routine of staying up with reader and eventually r will fall asleep on the couch, in mels arms etc.. one night ava decides to have a sleepover at the school for teachers and the students (like the field trip ep in abbott). the r freaks out a bit because they won’t have the routine with mel like they usually do.. after what feels like hours of fun the r passes out in mels arms as they are in the floor with the rest of the staff (telling story’s to each other).. mel goes into loving wife mode (basically saying to everyone to be quiet so her wife can sleep). SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE I JUST THINK THIS IS SO CUTE.

lots of fluff, lovey mel, overprotective mel..

I intended on writing a different fic tonight, but this one just started writing itself so... as always, not edited in the slightest.

Insomniac's Lullaby

WC: ~2.5k

You’ve always struggled with sleep. It was just a part of who you were. Insomnia haunted you late at night, and you would be lucky to get three hours of sleep most nights. You had tried melatonin early on into these sleeping problems, and it didn’t help. You didn’t feel like going to the doctor about this though- not when you were perfectly functional with the amount of sleep you got.

Melissa, your wife, has come to understand this about you, and with a little pestering, convinced you to go to the doctor for it. They were able to officially diagnose you with insomnia, and they were able to prescribe medication for you.

The first day that you were supposed to take it, you flat out refused.

“Mel, what if it really knocks me out and then I’m not up for work tomorrow?” you asked her hesitantly.

She sighed. “We’ll try them over the weekend, okay?”

“I really don’t think I need it to begin with,” you told her.

“Amore, it’s rather unhealthy the lack of sleep you get, and I would like to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t need the rest of your life to be cut short because you don’t get nearly the proper amount of sleep,” she pulled you into her arms. “Please, just try them over the weekend.”

So you did. And they worked magically. You took your medication religiously for about two months before it stopped working its magic with 100% efficiency. 

On those nights where the medication doesn’t work, Melissa has made the habit of staying up with you to let you know that you aren’t alone. Or at least, she tries.

“Babe,” you sigh. “You really don’t have to. I know you’re tired, and you deserve to sleep.”

“I am a dedicated wife,” she tuts as she settles into the couch with you. “If you’re up, I’m up. If you’re heading to bed, I’m heading to bed.”

“I can just watch tv in bed,” you tell her.

“But I know that isn’t super comfortable for you,” she rolls her eyes. “I’ll be fine. We have a big couch, and we can sprawl out.”

“But your back-”

“Will be fine,” she raises a brow. “Don’t call me old.”

“I said no such thing,” you raise your hands in surrender.

“Just lay down,” the redhead huffs.

You lay down, and she lays down and holds you to her chest. You turn on the television, and you lay there for hours. You know Melissa is still awake because you can feel the way that her right hand is lazily tracing your hip bone. So you start to feign sleep.

“I know you’re still awake,” she mumbles into your neck.

“I am,” you admit. “But you need sleep.”

“So do you,” she mutters. “How can I help you relax- without sex? I’m too tired for that right now.”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and turn to face her. Her eyes are half open, and she’s clearly fighting the sleep that wants to take her so desperately.

“Roll over,” your wife tells you as she helps you lay on your stomach. Before you can ask what she’s going to do, you feel her warm hand start to draw patterns on your back. It lulls you to sleep rather quickly, and as soon as she’s sure you’re out for the night, she too gives into her slumber.

That becomes a habit, but even then, that doesn’t always work. On those nights, after seemingly forever, you can convince her that the two of you can lay in bed so she’s more comfortable. She begrudgingly agrees, but she insists on carrying you.

“I can walk, Mel,” you roll your eyes as she fireman carries you up the steps and gently lays you on the bed.

“But then you’ll wake your body up, and we’re so close to getting you to sleep,” your wife tells you as she turns on the overhead fan and crawls into bed with you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you chuckle softly.

“Yeah, and you love me,” she huffs as she starts to spoon you. Her arms find their way around your waist, and you feel as her fingers trace delicate patterns on your stomach. Melissa kisses the back of your shoulder, and lulls you to sleep with her gentle humming.

Nights like this continue, and the two of you are set in your routines. Get to sleep however you can, and if it’s a particularly late night, you’re in charge of making sure the redheaded teacher has enough caffeine in her system to keep her going through the day.

The two of you are rather content in these routines- even if it means your wife can be testier on days where she isn’t as well rested as she’d like to be. You apologize to both her and the staff for her cranky attitude on those days. None of them know you suffer from insomnia and just assume the two of you had a wild night the previous night. Melissa’s stupid smirk does not help put these assumptions to bed.

But it all changes one day when Ava comes sauntering into the staff room during the lunch period claiming that she has a foolproof way to get everybody to bond. A staff sleepover with the students. 

Your eyes widen, and they meet Melissa’s. She can immediately read your mind and understand that you’re internally freaking out because your routine will get messed up, and you thrive on routine. The second grade teacher also understands that you won’t be able to take your medication because that usually knocks you out pretty well, and you have to be somewhat coherent if something happens in the middle of the night with your students. She lays a gently hand over your thigh and rubs her thumb back and forth to soothe you until the two of you can get home and talk it over.

“I don’t think I can do it, Mel,” you mumble tearfully that night. “I just don’t think I can handle our routine being messed up.”

“I’ll figure it out… Ava owes me a few favors,” the redhead tries to assure you.

Unfortunately, she can’t deliver. She tells your wife regretfully that they can’t have substitutes stay in overnight, and she’s already sent out the school wide newsletter announcing this plan. So the two of you are stuck doing this lock-in. She promises you’ll be taken care of.

The day of the lock-in comes quicker than you would have liked, and you’re beyond nervous. The two of you head home quickly to eat dinner and pack your things before returning to the school. The kids are beyond happy to see you, and you’re able to forget about your worries for quite a few hours as the students participate in activities with you. It’s all laughs and smiles, and you can tell Melissa is thrilled to see that you’re having a good time.

At some point, a few of the students who had Melissa in second grade and you in third grade flock around you, giggling.

“What?” your wife rolls her eyes. “Oi, I thought I got rid of youse years ago,” she teases them.

“Mel,” you playfully smack her arm. “Be nice. They’re just saying hi.”

“Actually, we have a question for you two,” Jada giggles.

“Oh good lord,” you mumble before looking to her. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“How did you and Ms. Schemmenti get together?”

“Mrs. Schemmenti, now,” your wife corrects.

“How did you and Mrs. Schemmenti get together?” Jada repeats her question. 

You tell them the child-friendly version of your love story, and by the end of it, the kids are giggling with glee.

“Thanks, Mrs. Schemmentis!” the group of girls hug the two of you before running off and sitting down in a circle a few paces away. They’re clearly talking about their own love lives, and you can hear one of them say that they hope they find a partner like the two of you.

Eventually though, the students start settling down, some in the gym and some in the cafeteria. A few of the other teachers have volunteered themselves to stay in the different rooms with the kids, and your usual crew somehow gets hallway duty together.

Your wife was smart enough to bring one of your blowup mattresses from home and gets it set up while you make sure that your kids are settling down well enough to not give the other third grade teachers a hard time. When you get back, your bed is made, she’s in her pajamas, and she’s propped up by the wall as she chats with Barb. The two of them are watching is Janine lays out a sleeping bag, telling the two of them that she’ll actually be fine sleeping on the floor because the tiles are cold and it’ll help her sleep better.

“Yeah kid,” Melissa laughs. “Don’t complain when your back is killing you tomorrow.”

You grab your bag from next to Melissa before heading into the bathroom to change. When you’re finished, you settle on the bed next to your wife, but she has different plans. She gestures for you to sit in between her legs and prop yourself up against her. The two of you take up this position at home quite often, but you’re shocked she’s allowing you to do it at school in front of your coworkers.

The teachers that you’re sitting with all trade stories and reminisce about their years at Abbott. Every once in a while, you put in your own little quip, but you mostly let your friends do the talking.

You feel Melissa’s arms around you, her right hand tracing patterns on your hipbone like she does at home, while she uses her left arm to hold you up, her left hand finding it’s place to rest on your stomach. 

Barbara is telling some story about the first year that her and Melissa started, a story that you had heard hundreds of times between the two, when you feel your eyelids get heavier.

“And then Melissa-” and that’s the last thing you hear before you fall asleep in your wife’s arms.

It takes a bit for your wife to realize that you’ve fallen asleep. She had noticed your breathing start to even out, but she just assumed that you were relaxing for once.

“Aw,” Janine coos. “Y/N is so cute when she’s sleeping.”

“She’s asleep?” Melissa raises a brow as she looks down at you. Sure enough, you’re sound asleep in her arms. “No more stories. Goodnight.”

“What?” Jacob asks. “But we were just getting to-”

“I said good. night.” the redhead silently challenges him to argue back.

“Melissa dear,” Barb says softly. “We’re all just having a good time, and Y/N has been asleep for the last fifteen minutes. Surely, us continuing to chat won’t wake her.”

“Barb,” Melissa grits out.

“What’s the fuss?” the kindergarten teacher asks.

Your wife bites her lip before glancing back down at you and kissing your temple. “None youse better tell Y/N I told you this.”

They all cross their hearts silently.

“She struggles a lot with sleep. She takes medication to help her, but sometimes it don’t always work. On nights where she really has a hard time, the only thing that can really get her to sleep and stay asleep is me.”

“How cute,” Jacob says softly.

“Y/N was pretty nervous about tonight, knowing she couldn’t take her medication with the kids being here and having to respond to something if we have to. We also have routines for when she can’t take her medication or when it just isn’t working.”

“Sex?” Ava chimes in.

“No,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But she really thought tonight was going to be a sleepless night for her. So if she’s sleeping, youse need to shut up so she can stay asleep. And if she wakes up, there will be hell to pay. Woman needs it after only getting two hours of sleep last night.”

Barbara nods and starts to get herself comfortable on her own mattress.

“Is that why she always comes in looking exhausted?” Gregory asks.

“On days when she can’t sleep, yeah.”

“And you come in looking exhausted too?” Janine clarifies.

“Yeah. I stay up with her and try to find ways to get her to sleep.”

“Damn,” Ava sighs as she lays down. “I just thought y’all were freaky.”

There’s a chorus of a hushed, “Ava!” before everyone else lays down and gets ready to sleep.

“If any of the kids need anything, Y/N is last resort,” Melissa warns as she gets you to lay down. She curls up next to you, kisses your temple, and lets her eyes flutter shut.

You wake up the next morning feeling absolutely refreshed. There’s no chatter around you like you thought there would be.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Melissa whispers as she brushes a few hairs away from your face. You blink your eyes open, and there is your wife looking as gorgeous as ever holding her coffee mug. You glance around- there’s no students.

“Everyone else is up with them, and they’re all having breakfast in the classrooms,” she tells you as she hands you your mug.

“Crap,” you mumble as you go to sit up. “I guess I gotta get to my room so they can-”

“Mr. J has our classes handled,” your wife tells you.

“How did the kids get around me?” you ask as you run your fingers through your hair.

“Silently,” she chuckles. “I pretty much told them that if you woke up, everybody would get a demerit, and the offender would get a detention. That kept them quiet.”

“Mel,” you sigh.

“You needed sleep.”

“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you guys last night,” you sigh as you take her mug out of her hands and take a sip. The coffee tastes perfect.

“You needed it. The others knew you needed it too, so they told me they would help wrangle the kids back to the classrooms for breakfast.”

“They knew?”

“They see the way we walk in here sometimes… after long nights,” the redhead clarifies. “I kind of had to tell them when I threatened that if anyone woke you up, there would be hell to pay.”

“Oh good god,” you mumble.

“Jacob already gave me an herbal tea recipe that supposedly helps with sleep, so we can try that tonight,” your wife rolls her eyes in good nature.

You nod and take another sip of her coffee. “Okay, let’s go deal with our kids.”

“Mr. J has it.”

“I don’t need Mr. J telling my kids that Illuminati runs the world,” you roll your eyes as you climb off the air mattress. The two you get into the room just as Mr. Johnson finishes writing the word.

[nixie-writes]

Hello! Could I request headcanons for Blitzø x (gn)Reader x Stolas (poly) where Blitzø and Stolas' s/o doesn't always take care of themselves? For example, They won't take pain meds if they have a headache bc they should "tough it out" or they forget to eat?

I understand if this may be a bit sensitive so please don't feel pressured to write it.

Much love to you 💛

And much love to you too!! <3

You awoke in the bed you, Blitzo and Stolas shared, all wrapped up in their arms, Stolas cooing in his sleep and Blitzo snoring softly. Your head pounded violently with a crushing headache, making your vision blurry. Stealthily you crawled out of the cocoon Stolas and Blitzo had formed around you and lifted the bottle of Tylenol Stolas kept on his night table for his own headaches. You considered taking a couple, it would certainly help. But unlike Stolas you didn’t feel deserving of the relief and put down the bottle. Fake it til you make it, you told yourself. 

Walking to the kitchen you pulled a piece of meat out from the fridge to feed Stolas’ plant. It gnawed on the meat like a dog would, grinding its teeth and chewing the meat to a bloody pulp. It wasn’t a pretty sight. You didn’t want to wake any of the butlers to make breakfast. You would just be a burden to them. Instead you fired up the stove and grabbed the ingredients for pancakes. Simple but a classic, Stolas and Blitzo would love to wake up to pancakes. 

As you were cooking the pancakes your headache worsened, every little sound sent shock waves into your eyes, blurring your vision for just a moment. You felt the need to sit down but you didn’t want to take a break from the pancakes you knew Stolas and Blitzo would be excited for, so you just took a drink of water and carried on. 

It was as you were finishing the second batch of pancakes that Blitzo walked into the kitchen, wearing a jacket much too large for him, followed by Stolas wearing his robe. “That smells lovely, dear,” Stolas complimented. You blushed, flustered at his complement. Blitzo took a deep sniff. “Smells better than the food the butlers and buttresses cook,” he said as he went into the fridge. “Stolas, why do you only have fucking almond milk?” He asked as he pulled out the carton and opened it, chugging the milk. “Octavia likes almond milk in her coffee so I keep it in stock,” Stolas replied. 

You sat down the two plates in front of Blitzo and Stolas. Blitzo immediately grabbed a fork and shoved as much of a pancake into his mouth as he could, and Stolas politely grabbed his silverware and cut a piece off. “You’re not eating?” Blitzo asked as he swallowed his bite. You shook your head; “no, I’m fine, I ate plenty last night,” you responded. Your head pounded again and you put your hand to your temple, groaning. Stolas set down his silverware and walked up to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Are you alright?” He asked, gently massaging your shoulders. You nodded your head, vision blurry. “Yeah, I just need to… Sit down,” you replied, plopping down in a chair. Stolas pulled a couple of Tylenol from his robe pocket. “My dear, why aren’t you taking medicine for your headache?” He asked as he made you a cup of almond milk to take your Tylenol with. You sighed. “I didn’t feel like I deserved it, or deserved to eat,” you replied meekly. Stolas shook his head and Blitzo pushed half of his pancakes to you. “You probably have a headache because you’re not eating,” he suggested. You nodded your head; “yeah, maybe,” you agreed as you took your Tylenol and took a bite of pancake. 

“You should never feel like you don’t deserve something you need,” Stolas told you firmly. “Yeah, at least eat,” Blitzo added, pointing his fork to the pancakes he gave you. “Don’t let those go to waste,” he told you. You smiled at Stolas and Blitzo. You knew you were still going to feel like you don’t deserve things, but you knew also that they would always be there to assure you that you deserve it. 

[skyloftian-nutcase]

By some miracle, a good portion of the crew managed to actually get together at the coffee shop that Legend had mentioned. It had a nice, comfortable ambience, small and intimate without being claustrophobic. 

Hyrule hobbled over excitedly, managing to walk fairly well now that he was finally off crutches after annihilating his leg in a bike accident. “I think I got everyone’s order right.”

“Never mind that, we need to get to the heart of the issue now,” Wind brushed aside while receiving his coffee. He did have to study for exams later, after all. “We all agree I’m the judge.”

“No one agreed you’re the judge,” Warriors immediately countered with a roll of his eyes.

“I am the most unbiased opinion you’re all going to get!” Wind fired back. “I’m the judge.”

“He does have a point,” Time noted, sipping his coffee.

“Let’s just get to it,” Legend said impatiently before taking several gulps from his triple shot espresso like his life depended on it. “ED first. AC is always the best access.”

“Heck no!” Four immediately snapped, pointing accusingly at Wars and Legend. “You people in the emergency department send up patients with IVs in their ACs and it’s a nightmare!”

“Access is access, Four, and AC is big and obvious access!”

“Yeah, and every time the patient vents their arm, the pump alarms and says the line is occluded!”

Wind debates the matter, looking between the two sides. “I don’t know, Four, emergency’s got you there.”

Four huffed, offended. “The patient will never get their medication if the IV pump stops the medicine every five seconds because the line is occluded!”

“If they’re dying and need rapid fluid bolus, they won’t be bending their arms anyway!” Wars fired back.

“You act like all your meds are life saving and ICU isn’t like that! You think pressors aren’t important?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s so hard to keep their arms straight while they’re intubated and sedated,” Legend teased while Warriors cackled.

“We’re getting off topic,” Wind interrupted. “Round 1 is AC vs other sites for access.”

“Ultrasound IV on the upper arm is best,” Four concluded, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.

Wind glanced at Time. “What’s your opinion?”

Time shrugged. “I’m not an anesthesiologist. My job is cutting, not IVs. I’m afraid the heavy task of deciding the winner falls to you, Nugget.”

Everyone stared at the student while he deliberated with a furrowed brow. Humming, Wind finally said, “I’m gonna have to give it to ED.”

Four let out a grumble, but didn’t debate further. Legend and Warriors shouted in triumph and gave each other a high five.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Out of Touch: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: angst, injured!reader, fluff at the end

Request by @paarthurnax59: Hi! I hope you are doing alright! was wondering if I could do a part 2 to "Out of Touch" Where Reader realize that her and her son are in worse danger than she thought and are forced to stay at the bunker and her and Dean hunt down the demons that want Carter because he's Dean's son. Lucifer escaped and wants him as his vessel. Dean gets to see Reader in action and is impressed even tells Satan off. Reader starts to have feelings for Dean again and he nearly died protecting his family. Maybe not a happy ending but a more hopeful one where Reader gives him a second chance?

Summary: After being discharged from the hospital, you stay with your ex and his brother in their fortress of protection. Everything you do, you do for son... even if the devil himself wants him.

PART ONE

Square Filled: sam winchester (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The hospital discharged you a couple of hours ago even though your wound is still fresh. They were hesitant to let you go home alone but after convincing them you wouldn’t be alone, they let you go. You didn’t lie; you’re not alone. It's just not another adult with you.

The only place you and Carter can lay low is in a motel you were able to get for cheap. This will have to suffice until you can move on your own without the fear of bleeding out. The hospital gave you a prescription for pain meds even though they aren’t doing much for you.

You’re resting on the bed when your son walks over with the blanket from the bed next to you. He drapes it over your body as best as he can before tucking you in.

“It should be me taking care of you,” you sigh tiredly.

“It’s okay, Mommy. I don’t mind.”

“Can you get me some water? I need to take my medicine.”

Carter does what he’s told without question. You hate that he’s in this position in the first place. He should be out playing and making friends and going to school. Instead, he’s stuck with you while you heal. Before dealing with the wendigo that hurt you, you tried giving Carter a childhood as normal as possible. You took him to amusement parks and aquariums, and you allowed him to get whatever toy he wanted even if you didn’t have the money for it.

“When am I gonna see Daddy again?”

The thought of Dean brings you to tears. You don’t let them fall for the sake of your son. Seeing him in the hospital brought back so many feelings that you thought you buried. He hurt you, there’s no question about it, but the reason why you were so hurt is because you still have feelings for him… you think. Will you give him a second chance? You’re not sure. You’re not even sure how you feel but you know it’s not resentment.

It’s harder now that Carter has met him. Had he not, you could have lived in the bubble you tried so hard to create.

“I don’t think being around him is a good idea, baby.”

“Why not?”

Before you have a chance to answer him, someone knocks on your motel door. Carter is about to go answer it when you stop him.

“No, let me. I got it.”

You bite back a moan of pain as you get up and approach the door. You look through the peephole and sigh at who is standing there. If he’s standing there, then that means his brother isn’t far behind. Are you ready to face him again? You open the door to let Sam in, and you go back to the bed to rest.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he closes the door.

“I’m here to take you and Carter to the Bunker.”

“Why?” you sigh.

“Come on, you want to stay here? There are resources at the Bunker that can help you get better.” You open your mouth to protest when Sam cuts you off. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re both coming with us.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“I know you, Y/N. I know what you were going to say. Come on, let me help you up.”

You have no choice but to accept Sam’s help. You’re still in a lot of pain that when you move, you can feel your blood seeping through the bandages. Carter gathers what he can and follows you and Sam out to the Impala. Dean is sitting behind the wheel watching and waiting for you and his son. When he sees you limping out of the room, he faces forward and grips the steering wheel. Sam brings you to the front seat, but you point to the back with a shake of your head.

“No, backseat.”

Sam looks at his brother and does what you ask him to do, and your son climbs into the backseat with you.

“Hi, Daddy,” Carter smiles.

“Hey, buddy.”

Dean looks in the rearview mirror and sees unshed tears in your eyes. He hates himself for what he did to you. He wants to make it right if you’ll let him but he knows it’ll take a lot of time. Sam comes back with the rest of your things so that your motel room is empty. Once you’re all in, Dean takes off toward the bunker.

You’ve never seen the inside of this Bunker much less knew about it, so when Dean pulls into the garage, you’re impressed with all the cars there. Carter hops out of the car once it’s parked and runs around excitedly, and you get out with a groan.

“Carter, stay close, okay?” Sam escorts you into the kitchen with Carter and Dean behind you. “Wow, you’ve got quite the setup here. I can’t wait to see all of it when I’m feeling better.”

“That might be quicker than you think. Follow me.”

You and Carter follow Sam into the massive library where there is a man in a trenchcoat. You pull Carter into you so that he doesn’t leave your side. You have no idea who this is or what he is, and you’re not about to let your son approach him.

“This is Castiel. He’s an angel.” Sam must see the panic on your face so he quickly eases your concerns. “He’s a good angel. He’s family.”

Castiel walks over to you and places a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly, the pain in your side is gone, all your aches have magically gone away, and you feel one hundred percent again.

“Whoa. You’re good. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he nods.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Y/N, Dean’s--” You stop yourself short because what are you even going to say? You’re his ex-girlfriend? His baby mama? “I’m Carter’s mom.”

“Carter is Dean’s son?”

You nod twice before turning to Sam. Dean is hanging out by the entryway between the kitchen and the library. He has yet to say a word to you.

“Where can we put our things?” you ask Sam.

“Follow me.”

You and Carter leave the library so that Castiel and Dean are alone.

“She hates me,” Dean sighs. “What I did eight years ago was dickish, cowardly, and so fucking stupid. I wish I could take it all back.”

“Give it time. I have faith it’ll work out in the end.”

“Yeah, thanks, Cas,” Dean scoffs and leaves.

Sam takes you to the room in the hall where his bedroom is as opposed to the hallway where Dean’s is. The room is bare but has the opportunity to look more like yours if given love.

“Look, Carter can stay right across from you in the other room.”

“Thank you, Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam turns to leave when he pauses by the door. “You know, he really does love you.”

“Sam, please don’t,” you sigh. “I’m already tempted to leave. The only thing stopping me is Carter. He knows you two now, and I can’t do that to him. Don’t make this worse for me.”

“Sure. I’ll leave you alone then.”

Sam closes the door behind him so that you’re alone in your room. Carter is probably with Sam or Dean, and you let him bond with either one for the time being. It’ll be hard to pull him away from his dad later on, but that’s a bridge you’ll cross when you come to it. You take off the bloody gauze and change into clean clothes before picking up the notebook you carry with you everywhere.

The entire notebook is filled with pictures of you and Dean over the years of your relationship. When you two were together, he was so good to you. He made you feel like you were the only one in the world. Despite whatever he put you through, despite him kicking you out of his life, you still love him like a goddamn idiot.

Over the next week, you and Carter got used to living in the Bunker. Sure, you’re healed and are more than welcome to leave but then you’d be taking Carter from his dad and uncle. He’s gotten rather attached to both of them fairly quickly. What kind of mother would you be if you took him away now?

You’ve got the opportunity to explore the Bunker at your leisure without an eight-year-old attached to your side. This place is extremely impressive, you have to admit. It’s a bitch to clean, that’s for sure, but you’re not going to be some freeloader even if the brothers don’t think that you are. You cook, clean, and do laundry where you can so you feel like you’re doing something with your life.

It makes you feel better, so they kind of leave you alone about it.

During one of your breaks, you wander the Bunker until you come across the basement where the gun range and the dungeon are. Yes, they have a fucking dungeon which is pretty cool. There are sounds of guns going off in the gun range, so you walk inside to investigate. Dean and Carter are in with protective eye goggles and ear protection on. Carter is the one shooting a gun that looks very dangerous to begin with. 

“Really, Dean?” you sigh and lean against the door frame.

Both of them stop to look at you. Dean can see the worry on your face which he eases immediately. 

“It’s a BeBe gun.”

“Look, Mommy! I can shoot a gun!” Carter says happily.

“Yeah. Good job, baby.”

They go back to practice shooting while you stand there and watch. Carter is way too attached to Dean and this place. If you’re going to leave, it’s not going to be with Carter.

The next day, you and Carter decide to go on a grocery store run to get more food for the Bunker. You thought Carter ate a lot, try living with him and the brothers. They are all vacuums, and you don’t know where they put them. The store isn’t too busy where you have to fight with someone while walking down the aisle, so you take your time and make sure you get everything on your list.

Carter is set on putting treats and snacks in the cart while you get meat, fruits, and other things to make meals with. It’s a damn good thing the Men of Letters have a virtually never-ending bank account to help with the cost of all this food. Carter grabs both cookies and donuts but you put your hand out to stop him from putting both into the cart.

“You get cookies or donuts. You don’t get both.”

“Okay.”

He drops the cookies into the cart before putting the donuts back. You walk away from your cart and approach an item on the shelf that’s on your list, and you look back at Carter to see him clutching the side of the cart patiently. After getting the item, you walk back to the cart but end up bumping into a man. 

“I am so sorry,” you gasp.

“It’s fine,” he grumbles. You think that’s the end of the interaction but he stops and sniffs the air as if he smells something unusual. “Winchester.” He looks at Carter and his eyes flash pitch black. “Winchester baby.” You pull your son behind you so that he’s trapped between you and the aisle shelf. Another man with pitch-black eyes blocks the path on the other end of the aisle so the only way you’re getting out is through one of them. “He’s coming with us.”

“Over my dead body,” you growl.

“Fine by us.”

“Carter, get in the cart.” Carter does as he’s told without question while you unsheathe your iron knife from your pocket. Ever since he was born, you’ve always carried silver and iron on you at all times. You never know when you’ll get attacked. You twirl your knife and look between the two men. “You want him? Come and get him.”

The demon you bumped into rushes at you with his arms outstretched, and you take this opportunity to take him down in one move. You grab his arm and stab the iron knife in his forearm causing him to cry out in pain. You kick him in the chest and he goes flying away from you. Carter screams and you turn to see the other demon only inches from him. 

You run at him before he has a chance to touch your son, and you drop down to your knees at the last second so you’re sliding toward him instead. Thank God for linoleum floors. When you reach him, you shove the knife into his thigh. He bends down in pain so you grab the nearest thing on the shelf that can be used as a weapon which is a glass jar of pickles. You ram the pickle jar into the man’s skull and he crumbles to the ground. 

You get up and grab the handles of the cart to escape when you see the first demon get to his feet. Without thinking, you run at him with the cart in front of you. You hit him at full force which sends him back to the ground. You abandon the cart to approach the man and grab his hair. You yank it back and slice the man’s throat which burns like hell. It’s not the demon knife so it doesn’t kill him, but it does send a message.

Both men realize they aren’t getting out of this alive so they tip their heads back and smoke out. Taking the easy way out. Of course. You’re not sure if more are coming so you have to go now.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go.”

You pick Carter up and carry him out of the store. You don’t look back, not even when you get back to the Bunker. Sam and Dean are in the kitchen drinking beer when you rush in with your son in your arms.

“Where’s the food?” Dean asks. Both of them look over and see the fear in your eyes. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Two demons caught us at the store.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“No. They smoked out. I couldn’t kill them.” You turn to your son who has a smile on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Mommy, you were totally awesome! Slicing and cutting those demons! Like the people in my video games!”

You chuckle, glad he isn’t scared.

“Go play in your room. I’ll be right there.” Carter runs to his room and you turn to the brothers with a worried look. “They wanted Carter because he’s Dean’s son. They want a Winchester. They told me.”

This pisses Dean off. He clenches his jaw in anger and makes a fist with his hand.

“I’ll make some calls.”

Dean turns and leaves the kitchen, leaving you and Sam alone. He sees something on your arm and frowns. He grabs your hand and inspects your arm.

“Are you alright?”

You look to where Sam is and see your blood seeping through your clothes. Sam rolls your sleeve to see a cut that’s not too deep. You must have gotten hurt in the small battle.

“I’m fine.”

Sam grabs a small towel and wets it underneath the faucet. He starts to clean your wound and take care of you since Castiel isn’t here to do it.

“Did you really fight off two demons?” You nod twice and he smiles. “Way to go.”

“Thank you,” you smile back.

Dean comes back an hour later looking more stressed than before. You’re all bandaged up with Sam in the library.

“I spoke to Crowley.” Dean sees the confused look on your face. “He’s a demon. He’s a dick but he’s a frenemy. Anyway, looks like Lucifer is looking for a new vessel since Sam rejected him.”

“He wants Carter?”

“Crowley put it as ‘fresh meat’ and a new start.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” you growl. “What are we gonna do?”

“We’re gonna talk to him.”

“Talk to him? You want to talk to Satan himself?”

“We have a… complicated relationship,” Sam shrugs.

“Who is going to stay here with Carter?”

“You,” Dean says.

“Uh, no. If my son is in danger by the devil himself, I’m not staying her. I’m fighting for my child.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Sam quickly volunteers.

“Fine. We’ll both go.”

“Fine.”

You and Dean get ready while Carter stays with Sam. If you’re going to up against the devil himself, you’re gonna want some weapons to protect yourself with. By the time you’re done, Carter is in the war room with his uncle. You kneel on the ground in front of him and kiss his cheek.

“Be good, my love. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

“In one piece?”

“I promise,” you smile. You and Dean leave the Bunker where his beloved car is parked outside. “So, how do you contact the devil?”

“Like this.”

Dean starts the car and drives to the nearest crossroads that is safest. He doesn’t want to get too close and have demons up the ass, especially if his son is back at the Bunker. Once parked, Dean gathers what he needs inside a tin container and buries it in the middle of the crossroads. Five minutes pass and a crossroads demon appears behind you two.

“Winchesters. How am I not surprised?” You two turn to see the man with red eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here talking to you two.”

“Save the theatrics,” Dean rolls his eyes. “We want to talk to your boss. I’m sure if he hears Dean is looking for him, he’d want to meet. Why else would he send his thugs after my son?”

The demon looks between you two and sighs. If Lucifer knew he’d turn down you two, then he’d get the bad end of his temper.

“Fine.” The demon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small card. “Meet him here. He’ll be expecting you.”

The address is to a hotel on the other side of the state. If Lucifer wants his son, then it makes sense to have a home base in the same state as him. It takes five hours to get to Lucifer, and you see it’s a rundown hotel that doesn’t seem to be in use. The parking lot has trash everywhere, the trees are dead, the windows are boarded up, and the place looks like it’s gonna collapse any second.

Two demons meet you in the lobby with black eyes. They turn and leave without a word, and you look at Dean in confusion. He shrugs and decides to follow them to a room down the hall. Inside the room is two more demons and Lucifer himself who is in front of some computers that has all kind of information on them. Scanners, pictures, articles, and other things in his interests.

“Ah, Winchesters. I am so glad to see you,” Lucifer smiles and turns. “How is that son of yours?”

“Stay the hell away from my son,” you glare angrily.

“Yeah, not gonna happen. I need a new vessel.” Lucifer gestures to his own body. “This one is wearing thin.”

“Why my son? Why not anyone else?”

“The younger they are, the better, and it’s a plus that he’s a Winchester.”

“I’m only going to say this once,” Dean steps forward. “Come near my, Y/N, or my son, and I’ll kill you dead.”

Lucifer lifts his hand and snaps and in an instant, Dean is chained to the wall with rope. You’re about to go to him when two demons hold you on either side of your body to prevent you from moving. When you struggle, their grip tightens.

“You think you’re tough?” Lucifer asks and walks over to Dean. “How about now?” 

The Archangel punches Dean in the jaw so hard that Dean gets blown back from the attack.

“Stop it!” you gasp and struggle some more.

Dean looks up with a glare and spits blood onto the floor.

“You’re being tough for your girl, huh?”

Lucifer punches Dean yet again, drawing blood on his cheekbone.

“Get your hands off him!” you yell hopelessly.

“I don’t know why you hang out with these chumps. They’re bad news.” Lucifer turns to you with a smile. “I’m much better company.”

“Some angel you are,” you scoff. “No wonder God cast you out of Heaven. You’re a lowlife and a coward.”

The smile on the angel’s face disappears, and he stalks over to you with a glare. He grabs your chin tightly and forces you to look up at him.

“No! Don’t touch her!” Dean gasps from the pain.

“Say that again,” he whispers.

You conjure up enough saliva in your mouth and spit right in his face.

“You’re a fucking coward who picks on the weak. No wonder God doesn’t love you.” Lucifer smirks and wipes your spit from his face. His cool demeanor is kind of scaring you but you’re not going to back down, not when your son is at stake. He snaps his fingers again and Dean coughs up blood. He doubles over in pain and spits a pool of blood onto the ground. “Leave him alone!”

“Why?” Lucifer lets go of you and takes two steps back. “We’re having so much fun.”

He turns back to Dean and punches him in the face again, right in the same spot as before.

“You want someone to fight? Fight me! No powers, just me!” Lucifer pauses but doesn’t accept your challenge. “What, are you scared you won’t win against a human?”

Lucifer gestures for the two demons to let go of you, and they listen obediently. He grabs an angel blade off the table and walks over to you. You think he’s going to stab you with it but he twirls it in his hand so that the handle of pointing toward you.

“Take it. I’ll make it fair. You know, for when we fight.”

You grab the blade and stare at it before throwing it off to the side.

“I won’t need it.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Show me what you got.”

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” Dean groans and looks up from his spot on the floor.

“Let’s make this more interesting. If I win, I get your son,” Lucifer smiles. “If you win, you walk out of here.”

You immediately run at Luficer. You make yourself come across as weak and inexperienced when really, you’re nothing like that. When Carter was a baby, you took self-defense and karate classes to be a better fighter. Monsters were everywhere, and Carter needed you to be able to protect him. This is no different.

When you get a couple of feet from the angel, you drop to your knees and slide on the wood floor toward him. He goes swinging to hit you but you drop out of the line of his attack. It’s cliche, but you punch Lucifer right where the sun doesn’t shine as hard as you can. He doubles over in pain as you hop to your feet. You jump onto his back when he is hunched over so that your entire body is wrapped around him. You wrap your arm around his neck to put him in a chokehold and tighten your grip.

“Angel or not, you men still have the same weaknesses.”

The cross necklace you always wear touches the back of his neck and his flesh sizzles from the contact. Before he has a chance to attack you, you yank the necklace off and shove it right into his face. The cross comes into contact with his eyes, and Lucifer howls out in pain. He grabs your arms and throws you off him from the front. You go flying over him and onto the ground and you groan in pain from where your head made contact with the floor.

Dean struggles against the rope but there is no way he’s getting out of those without help. Lucifer wants to use his powers but he is a man of his word. He rears his fist back to pummel your face when you roll out of the way at the last second. You scramble to your feet and reach into your pocket for one of the weapons you snagged from the Bunker.

They are Enochian Brass Knuckles. You read that these hurt even Lucifer and weaken him, and that’s exactly what you’re going to do to him. Lucifer rushes at you but you punch him in the jaw with the brass knuckles on your hand. He is flown back by the impact and into the table containing a bunch of documents.

You walk over to him and punch him in the nose, effectively breaking it. You step on his chest and apply pressure. The power from the brass knuckles is enough to take him down since they severely weaken even the strongest of archangels. Lucifer coughs and gasps from the pressure but doesn’t have enough strength to get you off him.

“Stay the fuck away from my son or I’ll do more than just punch you.” You get off him only to punch him in the chest with the brass rings. That seems to be enough to keep him down, and you turn to the demons who watch with wide eyes. “Anyone else want to go?” All four demons make the smart decision and smoke out of their bodies. You turn to Dean who is seriously impressed with your skill. You take out your pocket knife and cut him free of the ropes. “Come on, let’s go home.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way his heart flutters when you say “home”. The entire ride back home is silent since neither of you knows what to say. Sam has been early waiting for your return so when he hears the car come into the garage, he rushes out to you.

“What happened?” he asks when he sees the state both of you are in.

“I beat the hell out of Satan but not before he got in a few on Dean. Where’s Carter?”

“Asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to go to the infirmary.”

“Y/N, I’m fine.”

“You’re going to the infirmary.”

Dean knows better than to argue with you. You take him down to the infirmary where you’re able to patch him up. He has cuts on his face that you get to work on cleaning, and he sits still and watches you. He’s done a good job of bottling his feelings up when it comes to you but after seeing what you did tonight, it causes that door to bust open. He can’t help himself when he lowers his head and cries.

“What’s wrong? Are you still bleeding?”

“I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds so small, and you know exactly what he’s talking about. Your heart hurts but you let him continue while you lift his face and clean his wounds. “I am so sorry for what I said to you. I never meant it.”

“Then why did you say it?” you ask quietly.

“Because I’m insecure. Everyone around me dies and I didn't want you to end up that way. I knew you wouldn’t have left so I said shit that would make you leave. I saw what you did back there. You’re not a bad hunter. I never meant for any of this to happen. I am so sorry.”

You set down the bloody rag and grab a cotton swab for the hydrogen peroxide. It’s minutes before you’re able to respond.

“Who are we kidding? I was a pretty bad aim back then,” you chuckle. “I couldn’t hurt a fly much less a monster.”

You dab the wet cotton swab on his wounds, and he hisses in pain.

“I’m sorry I missed out on our son’s life. I wish I could take it back.”

You sigh and put your cleaning supplies away. You grab a small butterfly bandaid to put over the largest cut over his cheekbone.

“Well, I guess staying here wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Carter loves it here… and so do I,” you whisper.

Dean catches you're eyes and smiles.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.” You stick your hand out to him. “Hi. I’m Y/N.”

Dean shakes his head and pulls you closer to him.

“Come here,” he smiles.

His kiss awakens something in you. His kiss is like coming up for air after being underwater for so long. His kiss is like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. His kiss is like stretching after being in one position for too long. His kiss is like scratching the itch that’s been bothering for you hours.

His kiss is like… home.

x

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[princelylove]

Part two of my interpretations of la squadra esecuzioni. 

Ghiaccio is like a smaller Risotto. He doesn’t have a very distinct waist. He’s so picky with his food that it’s a wonder he even got that much distinct muscle- or maybe it isn’t, cutting is effective (in moderation, starving will only set you back on your progress). He mainly works out for his job, Ghiaccio doesn’t really care what he looks like. 

He has a strong nose, and although his lips are small they aren’t quite in the thin category, he has really nice bone structure… He just doesn’t realize it because he’s horribly insecure and feels inferior. He copes by not trying, so he can always rely on the ‘Well if I actually tried it’d be better’ type of logic. Once a year Prosciutto gets to wax his eyebrows. 

Not only does he know what mogging is but he knows where it originated. Because he was there. I’m dying on the hill that Ghiaccio knows what green text is. He’s appealed countless bans that all sounded like “I’ve never even fucking been on /mu/ you stupid fucks” (that all got approved the night of). He fills his mind with toxic masculinity, but isn’t into alpha male bullshit. Somehow he thinks hunter eyes are a thing but he draws the line at “smooth brained jock bullshit.” 

I cap Ghiaccio’s height at 5’9” or 175 cm. 5’10” or 177 cm with his shoes on. He’s got fantastic posture for someone that sits at a computer all day. Ghiaccio’s sensitive about it, teasing him about his height is a death sentence. What a good way to end up in a freezer. 

While he has a horrible temper, he cools off the second he gets it out of his system. Just moves on after smacking the shit out of his designated rage pillow like nothing happened. At least he’s coping. Not well, but an outlet is an outlet. It’s the same when you piss him off- he gets upset, says things he doesn’t mean, and then moves on. He apologizes like a father would- none at all, but brings you a snack or buys you something you’ve been asking for. He’s a big fan of the “Check if there’s mail.” approach. He genuinely does feel bad, but he’s not a little bitch that’s gonna tuck his tail in between his legs because he made his darling a little sad. 

He smells like absolutely nothing at all. It’s actually a bit frightening. Zero smell presence. 

Melone keeps every medicine known to mankind in his room, under his bed. He’s a great person to befriend if you find yourself in the hands of one of his roommates, but to be entirely honest with you, he’s selfish. He doesn’t really care about your agony because it’s got nothing to do with him, how does it benefit him to give you meds when he doesn’t even know you? (He budges if you belong to Prosciutto or Ris- he’s not pissing off his pseudo mom and dad.)

Melone is thin and mainly gets his exercise from running. His stand takes care of hits for him, he just needs to worry about the set up, so it isn’t really an issue. There’s no need for him to lift heavy, or really lift at all. Doesn’t really matter if he’s stronger, he just needs to be faster than you are. Sure, bash his head in, pick him up, aren’t you getting tired, though? Real sleepy? Go to sleep, it’s gonna be ok. 

Mel’s stand is possessing an actual computer he modified. He runs tests consistently with the blood samples he’s managed to store in his room- he knows the best combinations to get him what the boss wants, and as long as he’s got ample blood left over, what’s wrong with killing a few juniors off in the name of science? 

I classify Melone as apathetic and a bit mean. He’s an asshole. He gets a lot better once he’s comfortable with you, look at how much he plays with the rest of his ‘family.’ It’s just that he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to waste time on you if you’re going to get in his way long term. When you do spark his interest, of course, he gets obsessed and oh-so-curious. 

He’s still very playful- Melone likes to hang off of Formaggio’s shoulders and tease Ghiaccio, but he’s calm. He’s not very smiley, he’s not very giggly, he just can’t force himself to react in the ‘correct’ way most of the time, but he’s totally having fun! Melone loves you a lot, he just doesn’t look like he’s having fun most of the time. It’s hard for him to care about things, but you quickly rotted his brain- isn’t that testament enough? 

His seemingly cold nature makes it hard for him to form genuine bonds. Melone thrives with other difficult types- he shares a room with Ghiaccio (alternatively Formaggio) because they’re short on space and Prosciutto won’t share a room since The Incident they get along surprisingly well. 

In the beginning of your new life, it isn’t uncommon to hear Formaggio gently push Melone in the right direction. “Come on, Mel, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. Smile a little.”  (Which is normally met with “I’m running tests, go away, Formaggiooo…”) Melone’s shy- he’ll just stay off to the side, and speaks to you in a very formal manner. You might feel like you’re being tested on by a medical student. Which is wrong! Melone doesn’t have any medical experience! I mean, he’s taken classes, but he’s a genetics student. Oh, yeah, he’s in university. 

Once he gets used to you, he falls into his normal, playful routine. He still doesn’t smile too much, but he’ll speak more openly, which… is it better to not know what the iv in your arm is, or to fully understand? Melone’s quite the talker, and is happy to (over) explain. 

Melone doesn’t hide you like the others would- it isn’t shameful to him to kidnap a whole person, and he needs them to keep you here when he isn’t. Morals aside, you need to be socialized. It isn’t good to keep someone isolated and cramped in a room they don’t like. If you don’t want to talk to him, talk to anyone else. You’ve got options. Maybe not Prosciutto, or Illuso, they’re not going to play host as easily… (Although Prosciutto might ask what Melone’s “little friend” is gonna be having for dinner)

Formaggio’s body type is similar to Guido’s. He’s fairly bulky. Formaggio spends all of his free time playing whatever sport he can think of, neglecting to do his chores (You’re starting to think he likes Prosciutto yelling at him), annoying Melone, and blowing your phone up. He spends a lot of time working out, but he considers that to be more of a daily ritual than a hobby. 

Since his only real responsibility is taking care of his cat and his job, he’s not stressed at all. He’d be a lot more stressed if he had to cook, and clean, and, I don’t fucking know, be an adult or whatever- like the shit Pro and Ris do all day!

If you ever ask him about it, he’ll go “I mean, it sucks that Boss is watching us and all, but to be honest, who cares? You don’t like being on camera? It loooves you.” and leaves it at that. 

His psychology is a bit odd. He seems like a typical, immature guy- the type of guy you meet at college that does sports and seemingly nothing else. No interest in philosophy, religion, general culture, etc. While I think that his personality is close to a casual type like Guido or Squalo, he seemingly lacks any depth at all. There’s no “Oh, he’s actually very smart!” thing going on here, Formaggio is painfully average. There’s no reason for him to be a mafioso other than bad timing and a lack of drive to get away from it.

He’s actually pretty simple. He’s just a guy that wants to relax and have a little fun- who doesn’t like fun? But Formaggio is crazy insecure. He takes almost every negative reaction as a jab- neutral ones, too. If you’re not into his lifestyle, what, he isn’t fuckin’ good enough? Huh? You think he’s some fuckin’ nobody that doesn’t have the real talent it takes to be where he is? 

You can calm Formaggio by stroking his ego, and by that, I mean stroking him. He’ll forget about any transgression if he finishes a few times. 

He only speaks italian, and will “Huh?” you to death if you do not. He’ll buy you an italian-english dictionary to help you understand him, but won’t make any real effort to learn english.  

Formaggio’s kitty was a stray before he snatched her up. She’ll try to comfort you while Formaggio is gone- but she’ll abandon you if he comes back. Little traitor. He calls her a ridiculous amount of pet names- sometimes he’ll reuse whatever name he calls you on her, and will pretend he’s always called her it. Awww, my little pwincess, my cuuuutie, my baby, my angeelllll. He treats her very well- she’s a bit pampered.  While Formaggio’s cat is able to relax fully in his arms, you probably will not, unless you’re a masochist. He loves good, old fashioned sadism- no prissy mind games or punishments, he does it for absolutely no reason other than how funny your reactions are. He’s like that asshole boyfriend that throws a basketball into your face and laughs when you groan. Come on, it’s just a ball, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a joke. Aw, your face stings? You want some ice? Hey, that’s a great idea, why don’t you go get him something from the fridge?

[am-i-interrupting]

please could you do something for arcane where reader comes home in a sling and is like "haha funny story" and it turns out they fractured their elbow? i fell off my bike at 8am yesterday morning and biked for idk how may miles and did farm work before going to the hospital roughly 7 hours later. turns out it wasn't a bad bruise like i thought lol. now im in a sling for 6 weeks and it was kinda sus that i was losing mobility in my arm throughout the day before i went to the hospital

Caitlyn

She will go into protective mode immediately.

She is by your side as much as you’ll allow her, getting you everything you need and more.

She will buy you sweets and get you your favorite drink every day during your recovery.

Will be giving you a lot of face kisses when she gives you something or does something you can’t do at the moment.

If anyone gives you the pity look and starts treating you differently she is glaring at them with a stare so hard and cold they stop immediately. Don’t say anything just half, turn around, and walk away.

Ekko

He will immediately check you over for any other bruising or cuts as soon as the news is broken.

He’s extra doting during your recovery, many kisses and cuddles, will fret over whether or not you’re actually comfortable laying with him.

He’s not the tallest individual so if he can’t get something for you, he is asking the other Firelights to get it for you.

On that topic, when he’s not around he has asked several of the Firelights to not smother you but stay near in case you need something.

Just super sweet and helpful during your recovery all around.

Jinx

She is immediately asking who hurt you and when you reveal that it was your own clumsiness, she takes a breath and jokes about it.

She will try to act like it’s no big deal but always has you in the peripheral of her vision.

She’s not as good as she thinks she is at hiding her hovering habits during this time.

She is making and stealing you so many pretty things during this time just to see you smile.

She will also do your hair for you if it’s long enough to style and she is joining you in the bath to wash and brush it.

Silco

When you explain what happened, he will act like he’s scolding you but in reality it’s simply a rouse to disguise his concern. It’s not easy at the best of times, much less when you’re injured.

He will be giving you the best medicine available for any pain.

He’s also making you teas that are supposed to help soothe pain as well. Where he got such high quality tea? He won’t tell you but it’s there.

It’s also like he can read your mind because if you even think of getting something it’s already on the table in front of you.

You’re also not going to work for the entirety of your recovery. It doesn’t matter if you work for him or someone else. If you work for someone else and they refuse to be accommodating, fine you’ve got a new job with Silco waiting for you when you’re better.

Viktor

He is absolutely worried for you but understands how annoying it can be to have people try to do things for you because you’re in pain.

He will only get things for you if you ask and he is happy to do so.

He will massage your shoulder if it starts to hurt from the sling.

Is giving you alternative pain meds to try if the ones you have aren’t working.

He will also hold ice to your elbow so you don’t have to since it can be a pain.

[copperbadge]

Oh god I got a discussion of therapy all over that poor person’s post about ADHD.....did not mean to spill quite that many personal beans but I queued it when I was tired and it posted before I noticed it was inappropriate. 

I wanted to reply to the comments individually but I felt like I’d be disjointed about it and maybe some people don’t want their comment on one post blasted to 30K people on another post, so in a general sense... 

I know there are different modalities to therapy -- I have no idea what mine were but I doubt it matters since it was twenty-five years ago and I was a child. Part of the problem is that the modalities which are clear-cut in theory seem unhelpfully loose in practice. I’ll look through a directory of therapists and a half-dozen will give different modalities from each other but talk about the same handful of therapeutic techniques, or address the same family of issues, or both. And most of the modalities both in the clinical and practical sense seem extremely unpleasant, so that is perhaps a Me Problem. 

I end up asking myself, “What’s my goal in doing this?” and I picture myself sitting down with a therapist who asks what I’m looking to address, because that would help narrow down my options. But I never have a good answer. So I think, “That seems like an hour a week that could be spent doing something less expensive” and close out of the search window. Then a few weeks later I think “Well, that might be useful, I’ll look around” and the cycle starts again. 

There are so many good uses for therapy, but a lot of what people say they use therapy for, I've done on my own for years, or am working on now and don’t feel like I need help. I don’t really have any problems identifying therapists who aren’t going to work for me for one reason or another, but it’s an issue if I can only tell a therapist what I don’t want to do. Saying “I’m not interested in doing roleplays” is fine as boundary-setting but if I can’t say “Because I want to accomplish this different thing” then all I’m doing is insulting someone’s profession, really. 

So what’s left? Just the vague sense that other people I like and admire find it useful, and my experiences were very much outlier, so maybe I should try it again. But if I can’t identify why I should try it again, and if I’m going to be aggressively combative about it (which...I don’t want to be but I do know me) then all I’m really doing is paying someone to be insulted by me for an hour, and I can do that to people who deserve it more, for free, on the internet. 

niennanir

The thing with therapy, speaking as someone who was a counselor for a period of years, is that it is a tool that supposes a baseline function. Going to Therapy when you have ADHD is very similar to being handed a hammer and told to use it when you have no arms.  

I did want to respond to this comment specifically because a) that’s very validating and b) it means that if I do want to continue looking I guess a good place to start would be asking my meds psych, because he at least deals with adults with ADHD on the reg and can be like “Well, first we gotta get you some robot arms.” 

I just like the idea of having robot arms, really. The hammer’s a bonus! 

...my meds psych is a very nice man but he’s also super earnest and will probably not understand why I find the robot arms thing so funny. 

[iguessitsjustme]

Takara's Treasure Ep 1 & 2 Thoughts

 Okay so I just finished Cosmetic Playlover (here is the start of my liveblog if you want to read) and I’m still on the JBL train so it’s time for Takara’s Treasure. I know so little about this show it kind of feels like I’m going in blind but I do know some things. Kind of. Under the cut:

That is my exact question baby boy. What constitutes “a wrong crowd”

NOT THE CHERRY BLOSSOMS WHEN HE APPEARS LKSJDGHKDJFHGKH

Oh he loves plants. I’m obsessed. Love him. 

So because of how I do these liveblogs, you guys do not know how long it takes me to watch each episode. Y’all can just read the next bullet right away but I need to mention how doing these has helped me notice a pattern for myself. It always takes me sooooo long to start getting into shows. I started this episode about an hour ago and I’m not done yet. The episode is 23 minutes long. It takes me so long because I either get distracted or interrupted, but the second I start feeling very attached to the characters, it’s game over and I start flying through the episodes. Especially on a binge. It’s just fascinating to me and I’m kind of glad you guys can’t tell because it is genuinely very frustrating sometimes to want to watch a show and have to fight my brain to keep going because it got distracted (or sometimes it’s because I’m having a flare up and I need to break from the show to deal with it). Anyway, with that said, time to get back on track. I can at least finish episode 1.

Aw the poor baby who lost his bird. I saw this coming but it hurts. I lost my pets a few years ago really tragically (do not ask me about this I will not answer any questions) and it hurts so bad still. I struggle with pets/animals in shows that pass away. It is one of the very, very few things that is actually likely to make me cry. So I get it. Sitting on the mountain and crying all day? Good. Let him process that grief. Let it out baby boy let it out.

What has this man been through? What traumas has he suffered? That is a look of a man who has dealt with some shit. Which means I am going to love him. I am going to absolutely adore him, aren’t I?

Yeah I’d fall in love too. Look at this soft, quiet smile.

Oh sweetie baby he made friends! I’m attached now.

Well since the episodes are short, let’s also do episode 2! Wooo! (send help I feel unwell in multiple ways)

As it turns out..feeling unwell made me fall asleep and it is now the next day. But now I’m about to BINGE. God bless. (pain meds my beloved…yes, I was at cvs at 7 this morning don’t look at me)

I love her AND her pants.

I’m not gonna lie guys, I kind of miss the god awful wigs in Japanese BL. Give me wigs like the ones in Seven Days.

I just spilled cheez-its ALL OVER MY COUCH. It is 9 in the morning. I think I’m actually done with the day now. *eats my last applesauce*

Nooo baby don’t tell him to get rid of the hoops. I like the hoops. Don’t change to studs booo

This baby is so cute asking if he can talk to Takara on campus (It’s Takara and Taishin, right? Also I hope I don’t have their names swapped in my head)

Anyway. He’s so cute. Most people would just start talking to him on campus but he asked if it was okay. Oh my precious baby insecure about How to Friend and it’s just delightful.

What a nice man giving up his seat on the bus. I wish I could do that. I mean I can but it hurts me to stand sometimes. But I love when shows give us tiny little human moments like that. It’s so wholesome and beautiful.

Girl he doesn’t owe you an explanation for not dating you. If he said “no” that’s all the info you are entitled to. Just because he’s single doesn’t mean he’s yours. Gosh that really irks me. I think that’s why I have a problem with the faen fatale trope in a lot of BLs. Because the other person never seems to view our BL boy as an actual person with wants and desires. They project their wants and desires onto them and I don’t know…it’s just annoying to watch. I’m glad it’s not as prevalent as it once was.

Mr. Man on the sidewalk. It is 9:30 in the morning. What could you possibly be screaming about?

Oh I am so smart. Takara is so smart. Took the words right out of my mouth. Literally.

I want all of those umbrellas.

Okay okay I can forgive this show for swapping out the hoops for studs if it’s because Takara likes glassware.

I love this man that Taishin keeps meeting at the bus/bus stop. He’s just so human and kind.

I’ve seen Takara smile twice now and both times the smile has been soft and gentle and aimed at Taishin and I love them both so much.

Whelp. Time for episode 3 methinks

[massivedrickhead]

Can you do 19 please? 🥹

I sure can!

19. “Stop fighting it.  You need sleep.”

Prompt taken from here

Read on AO3

-

Chloe hadn’t felt right about leaving Beca home alone so soon after getting back from the hospital, but Beca insisted she’d be fine and that Chloe should go to work.

Chloe didn’t want to, but she also knew she couldn’t really ask for any more time off. They’d been understanding to an extent, but it had been weeks now, and Chloe had long run out of PTO and favours she could ask.

What should have been a simple appendectomy had resulted in complications and even a follow-up surgery.

And Beca was on the mend now, finally allowed to recover at home, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still in a lot of pain.

“I’ll be fine,” Beca said, wincing as she lowered herself to the couch, one hand pressed against her side. “All I’ll be doing is sitting on the couch and watching TV. I won’t even open my laptop if that’ll make you feel better.”

“What if you need something? What if you can’t get to the bathroom, or you trip, or-”

“Chloe, I’m okay,” Beca said. “I don’t want to be the reason you get fired. If something happens, I’ll call you.”

Chloe huffed, but Beca didn’t cave.

“Fine,” Chloe said. “But you need to make sure you eat something. You can’t have your pain meds on an empty stomach. There are leftovers in the fridge, you just need to heat them up.”

“Go before you’re late,” Beca said, trying to hide the discomfort from her face as she adjusted her position on the couch.

After a quick kiss goodbye, Chloe left for work.

She’d messaged Beca periodically throughout the day and received a response each time, but it didn’t ease the knot of worry from her stomach. 

When she finally got home that night, she practically sprinted through the door and to the living room.

The sun had set, but it seemed that Beca hadn’t gotten up to switch on the light.

The knot of worry in Chloe’s stomach turned into panic very quickly.

“Bec?”

Chloe switched on the light. Beca was in the exact same place she’d left her.

In fact, it looked like she hadn’t moved at all.

“Beca?” 

Chloe moved quickly until she was kneeling down beside the couch.

Beca was pale, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, her fists gripping the sofa so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.

“Baby, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Beca said, her jaw clenched. “It just hurts. Can you… I need the bathroom, can you help me up?”

Chloe did, and she half-carried Beca to the bathroom.

“Do we need to go to the hospital?” Chloe asked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, waiting for Beca to finish.

“No,” was Beca’s response.

“You shouldn’t be in this much pain,” Chloe said. “Maybe your meds aren’t working, or maybe-”

“I didn’t take them,” Beca said, cutting her off. 

Chloe pulled open the door at the sound of the toilet flushing.

“What do you mean you didn’t take them?”

Beca washed her hands and moved past Chloe to return to the couch.

“Beca, we need to talk about this,” Chloe said. “You’re in pain - so much pain that you couldn’t get off the couch - you need to take your meds. If for nothing else then at least so you can sleep. The doctor said you need rest.”

“I don’t like how they make me feel,” Beca said, wincing again as she sat on the couch. 

“Is it worse than the pain you’re in right now?” Chloe asked.

Beca sighed and shook her head. “I thought I could start at least reducing the dose, but by the time I really needed them, I couldn’t get off the couch to get them.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because you’ve missed enough work because of me,” Beca said. “And I thought, well, if I can’t get them then I can’t take them. I thought the pain would pass eventually.”

“Beca, you got out of surgery a week ago,” Chloe said. “We’ve been home from the hospital for two days, now is not the time to go cold turkey on your pain meds. You need to give your body a chance to heal first, and you need to get some rest. The doctor wouldn’t have prescribed them if he didn’t think you’d need them.”

“I get all… dizzy and confused,” Beca said. “They make my head hurt and I feel like I can’t think straight.”

“It isn’t forever, Bec,” Chloe said. “It’s just until you’re better. You can’t possibly get any sleep when you’re in this much pain, and you need to sleep in order to heal.”

Beca sighed. “Fine,” she said. “But only for a few more days, and then I want to start reducing them.”

Chloe felt her shoulders relax, and she kissed the side of her head. “I’ll call your doctor and talk to him about it,” Chloe said. “Did you eat today?”

Beca bit her lip and gave a guilty shake of the head.

“Bec, you’re not making it any easier for me to leave you on your own, you know that right?”

“I’m sorry,” Beca said. “I just really wasn’t hungry. I promise I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“I’m gonna make you something,” Chloe said. “And you’re going to eat it, and take your meds, and go to sleep like a good patient, okay?”

Beca couldn’t help but smirk. “Yes doctor,” she said.

“Hmm, you can look at me like that all you want,” Chloe said, “but tomorrow you’re getting a babysitter.”

Once they had eaten and Beca had taken her meds, Chloe helped her back to their room and got her settled in bed.

“Will you stay?” Beca asked. 

“Of course,” Chloe said, kissing the top of her head.

She turned on the TV because she knew background noise helped Beca settle, and climbed onto the bed beside her.

She ran her hands through Beca’s hair, and watched as her blinks got slower. It seemed to take more and more effort for her to pull her eyes open, and at one point she let out a soft groan, her eyebrows furrowing as the dizziness started to kick in.

“I know you don’t like it,” Chloe said. “I’m sorry that you’re having to go through all this.”

Beca groaned again and reached for Chloe’s free hand, gripping it tightly to try and ground herself against the sudden vertigo she was feeling.

“Stop fighting it,” Chloe said, her thumb rubbing across Beca’s knuckles, as her other hand continued to play with her hair. “You need to sleep, baby. Close your eyes.”

“I hate this,” Beca mumbled, finally letting her eyes shut, her brows pulling together as she did.

“I know,” Chloe said.

Eventually, the tension left Beca’s body, and her face relaxed, but Chloe didn’t move from her spot, and she wouldn’t for the rest of the night.

Beca had asked her to stay, so that’s what she’d do.

[saintsenara]

How has being a doctor influenced your writing or ig your viewpoints/person? Currently I’m a med student - haven’t really come across many doctors who also write ff (perhaps I’m not talking to the right people haha). Can you tell me a little more about what meds like for you?

thank you for the ask, anon - and i hope your training is going well.

i'm not going to talk about my speciality etc., for internet safety reasons, and i've received another ask which i will one day get around to answering on wizarding medicine as a science. but i will talk about how medicine has affected my experience in fandom and influenced my writing.

my writing process looks, i think, fairly ruthless from the outside. i’m not somebody who tends to agonise over things like word choice, i never have anything beta-read or seek advice on plot lines as i’m writing, i don’t need little routines or dedicated time to write [i’m a whenever and wherever girly], i hit publish and move on, and i’m generally good at not getting upset by criticism. and that decisiveness is undoubtedly a skill which has been honed by working in medicine, but, like other aspects of my personality which affect both my writing and my career - e.g. that i’m extremely good under pressure, someone with good intuition, able to hyperfocus, a lateral thinker, possessed of a very strong stomach, someone who doesn’t need to stick rigidly to a routine, and emotionally resilient - i’ve always been like this.

and i’ve also always been someone who has a preference for characters who aren’t the good guys.

my writing tends to favour the flawed, the lonely, the grieving, the furious, the self-destructive, and so on. i find the virtuous quite boring, and i really dislike the puritanical streak which a lot of fandom discourse [and, indeed, all media discourse] has developed in recent years. i think it’s incredibly dangerous that liking particular themes, tropes, or characters in fanfiction has come to be equated with the reader’s real-world views and morals, and i think it’s equally dangerous for us to have any assumption that moral purity is possible from either fictional or real people.

that i think this is partially because i’m not fourteen - i remember well the righteousness of youth, and i’m glad that social media wasn’t anywhere near as pervasive then - and i am sympathetic to the fact that a lot of this purity discourse is just teens trying to self-actualise.

but it’s also because it’s something that's completely impossible to do as a doctor if you’d like to be capable of doing your job properly. you will never have a perfect patient, you will never like a perfect character, you will treat them anyway.

when you’re training, i think it’s easy to end up with the assumption that your difficult patients will either have reasons for their difficulties which are so understandable that you can have compassion for them with ease [e.g. the nice young person being slowly locked-in by als who lashes out in grief and rage at how their life is being cut short] or so cartoonishly malicious that you will enter a state of clinical detachment and treat them with nothing more than cool professionalism [e.g. the elderly racist who refuses to be treated by a black doctor]. and you certainly will have lots of patients who fit these extremes of the spectrum.

but you will mostly have people who are very messy and complicated and human. who will be incredibly unpleasant and yet will also tug at your heartstrings. who will be in pain and will be afraid and will be funny and interesting and grieving and who will also have done things in their lives which are horrifying.

your patients will be cruel. they will be sleazy. they will treat the nurses with contempt [do not be the sort of doctor who does the same]. they will be bigoted. they will be rude. they will be annoying. they will be sly. they will lie to you. they will be malicious. the list is endless.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will make bad decisions again and again - the sixty-a-day smoker who needs oxygen to breathe is probably still going to light up the second they’re out of the building, the person who barely survived covid because they didn’t get the vaccine is going to continue to refuse to take precautions to protect themselves - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just not making that bad decision.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will choose to be and to remain ill-informed - they will tell you that vaccines can turn children trans, or that the pharmaceutical industry is suppressing the truth that homoeopathic remedies cure cancer - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as just changing your worldview overnight.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital for reasons which are directly and incontrovertibly their own fault - they will be the eighteen-year-old who thought they’d be fine to drive after a couple of drinks and has now killed their friend and given themselves irreversible brain damage, they will be the drug dealer who got stabbed by a rival in a robbery-gone-wrong - and you will be infuriated and you will understand how it’s never as simple as making a different choice when so much in life is a coin-toss.

you will treat them anyway.

your patients will end up in hospital and also be bad people - they will be the child molestor brought in from prison in cardiac arrest, they will be the parents who went to the bar rather than watch their child in the pool and are now having to be told that all resuscitation attempts have failed - and you will be infuriated and you will understand that even the very worst people in the world can be afraid and in pain.

you will treat them anyway.

you will also learn a very important lesson: it is tremendously easy to kill someone.

you will see one failure to check the mirrors while driving, one punch in a pub brawl, one bump of mdma offered to a friend on a night out, one instance of seeing red, one split-second decision which takes a life. and you will recognise that the killer probably thought of themselves as a good person, but that isn’t how this works.

because, of course, the cold, hard truth is that you probably think of yourself as a good person. but you’re going to kill someone too.

not intentionally - I hope. but you are going to act too slowly to begin treatment, or be convinced that someone’s pain can’t be as bad as they say and triage them wrongly, or assume that a patient with dozens of instances on their records of trying to score opiates by claiming to have abdominal pain is lying again, or think that you know better than the patient and their family, or be misled by the charming demeanour of people who are abusing their children. you are going to make a mistake in surgery, or because the lab was backed up, or because you’re tired, or because a&e is at breaking point. and somebody is going to die because of it.

the only thing you can do to stave off that inevitability for as long as possible is to never believe yourself infallible. don’t think of yourself as flawless, or righteous, or moral, or a brilliant genius who works alone. question your expectations; examine your biases; listen to patients properly; be aware of the realities of medical misogyny, racism, and ableism and never think yourself incapable of them; show your unpleasant patients as much compassion as your nice ones; be good to the nurses - they will save your bacon - and be just as good to the porters and the cleaners and the people who work in the morgue; stay educated; inform yourself about the actual experience of people who have, for example, been sectioned, or otherwise treated without respect by the medical system; leave your own problems at the door when you step onto the ward; don’t keep silent if you think one of your colleagues is dangerous; get a second opinion whenever you need to; accept that failure is inevitable; keep trying; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

treat them anyway.

so too in your life in fandom. never think that you alone have spotless interests, nor that your favourite characters are flawless. examine why tropes or interpretations of characters which allow them to be imperfect make you uncomfortable; examine your biases - is your slash heteronormative? is your portrayal of a non-white character stereotypical?; be nice to your commenters, and take as much as you can of what they say in good faith; remember that people writing fic are real and have complex motivations and experiences; regard it as your duty to confront portrayals of the violent and the cruel with as much compassion as you can; keep writing; recognise that nothing and nobody is ever simple.

write them anyway.

[zombbean]

Hazbin Hotel Boyfriends/ Girlfriends going with you for an Endometrial Biopsy

Adam

He wanted to throat punch the doctor with as much pain you were in. The last time he saw a woman in this much pain, in this particular position she was giving birth to his child. The fact this pain came without the joys of an infant made his whole body tense up, made him angry, made him sad. But fuck anger was the worst part of it.

“You okay babe? You aren’t hurting too bad are you? Cause I can-”

“Adam please just hold my hand…” you begged.

He did as he was told, and for the first time in the years you knew him he was quiet. Leaning near you and letting you squeeze his hand. It hurt but it was nothing compared to what you were going through.

Once the doctor was done Adam kissed your hand, pulling you up as carefully as he could and helped you get dressed.

“I can punch the doctor if you want?” he smiled, almost begging for you to let him beat the man that hurt you.

“Adam…. No,”

“Fine…”

Alastor

He went pale. It was bad enough that you were in so much pain, but the fact that you were in pain DOWN THERE? The fact that you were clenching his hand because the pain hurt so much was making his heart hurt. While he wasn’t one for sexual affections he still greatly cared for you and he wondered if it would have been easier on you if he WAS one to have sexual affections.

Would it have helped make everything slide in easier? Would it have hurt less? He felt a little guilty, but when you gave him a reassuring smile he could only focus on you.

“I’m sorry my dear… everything is going smoothly, they’re almost done… right?” The last part was a growl, as if it were a threat for them to hurry it along.

When you were done and no longer sprawled out on the table Alastor carefully helped you get dressed after the doctors left, his ears flat against his head.

“It’s not your fault at all Alastor, it would have hurt regardless,”

He hated that you could read him like a book.

“You couldn’t have stretched that part of me if you tried. Nothings meant to go that far,”

“Then why let them do it?” He knew nothing of the female human body other than what cuts tasted the best.

“Because the healthier I am the longer I can be with you,”

Well… okay… perhaps the exam was acceptable. Though he still hated it.

Charlie

Charlie knew how uncomfortable an exam could be, but she’d never had a BIOPSY before. But from the look on your face it looked so painful and it hurt her heart to see you like this.

“It’s going to be okay… just take deep breaths…” she reassured you, brushing your hair out of your face, and gently smiling at you.

You could see that Charlie was trying not to cry, just wanting everything to hurry and be over with. She knew it was essential for your health and that was the only reason she wasn’t begging the doctor to stop.

Once the doctor was done, and left the room, she helped you sit up before hugging you and petting your hair, whispering sweet nothings and telling you how perfect and wonderful you were. How brave you were. How much she loved you and would always be there for you.

Helping you get dressed she followed up with, “Do you want to get ice cream? I’ll buy,”

“Of course I want ice cream,” you took a deep breath, still reeling from the pain.

“Then let’s get ice cream!” she chimed, a joyful look on her face.

Husk

The man knew women. He knew them like the back of his hand. But that didn’t mean he knew that women had to go through something like THIS. The look of pain on your face told him everything he needed to know that this SUCKED. It sucked hard.

He held your hand, feeling you squeeze periodically as the doctor took samples. He watched them fucking baste you like a god damned turkey and that pissed him off.

Again he calmed himself down, trying to relax and focus on you.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. How about we get you some pain meds and a cold drink afterwards?”

“That’d be nice,” you winced, then relaxed as the doctor finished up.

Helping you get dressed after the doctor left the room, the man was smart enough to grab a pad, knowing that, from the samples they took, you’d be bleeding for the rest of the day.

Taking your hand, he helped you walk out, and although he said nothing, you could feel the warmth of his company as he went to fetch you what you needed.

Lucifer

For some reason Lucifer was the one squeezing your hand, sweat pouring down his forehead. He wore a smile as he looked at you, watching as the doctors took samples.

You were waiting for them to actually TAKE the samples, but you didn’t really feel anything. Just the motion of their hands and a little pressure from the suction and scraping. It was probably the easiest biopsy you'd ever had done.

Something was off, and you could tell by the bloody instruments that the doctor put away to be incinerated that you SHOULD be in a lot of pain.

When they finally finished and you were left alone with Lucifer, you could see him panting, gasping as he held his stomach.

“What are you doing?” you curiously asked.

“I didn’t want you to suffer,” he smiled weakly, “So I took the pain away,”

Your eyes widened, “Lucifer why would you do that!?”

“Because I love you, and as long as I’m here nothing will hurt you… I never want to see you cry,”

Those words alone made you tear up. His actions were the actions of a true king.

[ratsoh-writes]

(I'M FUCKING DYING, NOT THE VILLIAN CHAIR TURN, IM ACTUALLY CRYING LAUGHING)

We both share *the* look with one another as we see the three of them turn around. We both know we're fucked..

Before Mal can lay into cash, I walk in front of cash, waving my hands out

"waitwaitwait..!" I say, though now it's just the three of them staring at me, all of us in silence. After a moment I continue with an awkward chuckle

"okay so...Mal, it's not Cash's fault..." I say, before giving a awkward grin.

"okay so, uh, as you may have noticed, I havent been able to see these past couple days.." I start, which, to be fair is accurate, especially since i never explained to mal my lack of glasses

"to cut a long story short," I continue, "I got bitch slapped at the airport on my way home and my glasses broke, so I really needed to go get new ones today."

I pause for dramatic effect to make sure I have their attention...perhaps I can get the judges to hear me out...

"But cash wanted to go. I did, and hear me out, I DID tell him no...at first...but I figured a short trip wouldn't do any harm."

"He stayed with me the whole time, and wasn't running around doing stupid shit in there...we were only gone for about 45 minutes."

Before on of them I speak up, I throw in my last ditch effort for effect.

"and! and! not only did I get new glasses and contacts, this trip was a benefit to the both of us, because cash apparently needs glasses too. He's farsighted.."

I elbow him to show them the glasses

"babe, show them..!" I whisper

-edgy.

Mal: B*TCHSLAPPED??? WHO DID THIS

Wine cheerfully pulls a notebook out of who knows where and starts writing

Wine: I CAN PULL UP THE SEAT NUMBERS, BUT IF YOU WANT TO MAKE MY JOB EASY, A NAME OR DESCRIPTION WILL HELP~

Mal nods gratefully and you internally feel sorry for the lady now. Even if you didn’t tell him, he’d have to your flight plans and will have her identity by the end of the night.

Mal: GLASSES ISSUE ASIDE, WOULD IT KILL YOU TO SEND A TEXT?? I THOUGHT YOU HAD SKIPPED YOUR MEDS AND WENT DELUSIONAL AGAIN!!

Snakesphere (wines snake) in mals lap makes a low hiss as mal had stopped petting his head. Mal continues the patting for the spoilt snake

Mal: YES, EVEN THE WORM AGREES WITH ME!

Wine looks at mal a tad annoyed

Wine: HES MORE DIGNIFIED THAN A MERE WORM MAL.

Lord: … ARE WE DONE YET?

Mal/Wine: SHUT UP- IN A MINUTE DEAR~

Cash who had been wisely hiding behind you squirms reluctantly when you tell him to show off the glasses. At the mention of them, all three of the sassy shorter skeletons look up attentively

Lord: GOOD STARS, GLASSES? AREN’T YOU 25?

Cash: hey! I’m not that young!

Lord: *smirking* SORRY, 23?

[abbatoirablaze]

Locked Up, Chapter 2

Word Count:  2.7k

Warnings: noncon, manipulation, dangerous situations, mention of bodily harm, oral (f receiving), mention of being stabbed, threats.

You cut your appointments after that.  When you had come stumbling out of the room, you were grateful that neither of the guards had been waiting directly outside.  It gave you time to collect yourself and get your bearings. 

They walked around the corner a few minutes later, talking about the latest game that had happened. 

“Done already doc?”

“Bet he scared the shit out of her!” The first one chuckled, “that inmate is an animal…they all are.  Y-“

“He’s been silent,” you lied, shaking your head, “di-did Reyes ever get him to speak?  I notice he never had many notes about him.”

“Never said much,” Connors admitted to you, clearly oblivious to your state of anxiousness, “Want us to take him back and grab the next one?”

“You can take him,” you said simply, “I-I think I’m going to get some lunch myself though…pushed it back after Drysdale, because the warden asked me to meet with him during my original lunch break…”

“Yeah, you watch out for him!” Connors chuckled, “he’ll talk your ear off if you let him.”

“I barely made it back in time for you to bring me, Everett!” you laughed awkwardly, hoping that your own high emotions would fade by the time they checked on the inmate in your office, “anyways…I think I’ll finish up the notes on him and study up on the others I was supposed to meet with today…I-I’ll throw them on the books for tomorrow.”

“You think Everett was bad, wait til you meet up with Barnes…” the first one scoffed, “that guy is really fucked up.”

You felt yourself paling, “W-what?”

“Don’t worry doc, you’ll see…him and Rogers…you were supposed to meet with them two next, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Don’t go scaring the doc,” Connors chuckled, nudging his partner, “Come on Adam, let’s get Everett back to the block before meds go out.  Last thing we need is him fully coherent…”

“Meds?” you asked, confused over what he was saying, “I-I didn’t see any notes that any of them were on meds.  Let alo-“

“Warden’s been doing it for years…gives em all a pill at the end of the night to make it easier on us,” the first guard chuckled, “we tell em all they’re vitamins, but…some of those psychos really need it.”

You felt horror in the pit of your stomach, “wh-what if one of them were allergic?  You should neve-“

“Doc…it’s fine…you do your job, and we’ll do ours,” the first guard scoffed, rolling his eyes at you.  He gently backhanded his partner’s chest, “come on, kid.  Let’s get Everett back to the block, yeah?”

“Well, well, well…aren’t you a pretty, young thing!”

Your head snapped up as the guards led your first patient of the day in. 

“Mr. Rogers.”

“Steve, sweetheart,” he smiled sweetly, “Mr. Rogers was my father…”

“Good, god.”

Steve shot a glare over his shoulder to Adam, and you bit back a giggle.

“Don’t you two have anything better to do?”

“Doc?” Connors asked, giving you a look as Steve sat down on the chair, “want us to stay in here?”

You took a moment to try to get a read on the seemingly charming man.  You had read his profile, just like the others you were supposed to meet with today over and over.  But the man in front of you didn’t seem like the man that had been described in the folder. 

“Is it necessary, doc?”

You looked to the two guards once more, letting your guard down.  You shrugged, “I guess it’s not necessary…you two can wait outside if you want…or grab a coffee.”

“Whatever you say, doc!” Connors smiled. 

Adam followed him after, and you heard the condescension in his voice as you were ‘letting your pussy do the judging’.  Steve shook his head.  When the door closed, he reached out and touched the desk, a sincere look in his eyes, “I’m sorry he spoke about you like that.  That guy’s the worst.”

“Tell me about it!” you laughed, already feeling comfortable around him.  He gave you a soft smile before pulling away from the desk and crossing his hands in his lap. That was when you noticed they hadn’t locked his chains to the bolt in the floor, securing him to the singular spot. 

His eyes followed yours, and he shrugged, “would you feel safer if I was bolted?  I’m sure they’re not too far.  You could call them back.”

Not wanting to kill the trust in the room, you shook your head, eyes falling away from it, “no-no…it-it’s fine.  I don’t want to-“

“I don’t mind….” He sighed, “I’m used to people seeing me as an animal.  Especially in here.”

“Why do you think people see you as an animal, Mr. Rogers?”

“You’re joking, right?” he chuckled, the puff of air making it seemed as though he scoffed at your question, “I’m sure you’ve read my file.  You seem like a smart girl.  A girl who does your homework on her patients…”

“I-I looked at your file.”

“They say I’m a psychopath…” he said slowly, his cerulean eyes shifting up towards yours once more, “they say I’m a danger to those around me…I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”

The air in the room shifted, and suddenly, Steve didn’t seem so comforting.  You felt your throat dry up as you thought about what was said yesterday, “I-I have…”

“What did they tell you about me, little bunny?” he asked firmly. 

You felt a tightness in your chest. 

It was like you were compelled to answer him, “t-that you cut off your business partners arm when he was about to take a deal in your trial…”

His eyes held yours.  And for a moment, you lost your breath.  You took a shaky breath in, and it was like he was watching you so intently, waiting for you to run so that he could pounce on you, “And what do you think about that?”

“Wh-why would anyone cut someone’s arm off?”

He only smirked, making you feel like you’d made the wrong decision in letting the guards go for a little while, “Because bunny, Buck signed the deal with his left hand.”

“I-Is now a bad time?”

You looked up from your desk, surprised to see one of your patients standing there, sans a guard.  Surprise laced your features, “J-Jake…what are you doing here without a-“

But you stopped your words when you noticed the IT cart that he’d had with him, “guards usually secure me on a floor then do whatever while I update the firewalls and fix any issues that they have IT wise.”

You gave him a sad smile, “did you need something?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “you just-you looked upset…I heard Officer Connors and Magda talking about you earlier…you seemed like you were shaken up after you met with Rogers…a-at least that’s what they said.  I mean you cou-“

“I was…”

This time it was him that gave you a sad smile, “I-I’m sorry…some of the guys in here…they-it’s a really hard place to navigate.  I mean, I can’t even imagine how difficult it must be for you, and for the other women that work here.  I-“

“Jake…stop.”

His cheeks turned rosy, and he bit his lip, looking away from you, “I-I’m sorry, doc.”

“Don’t be…you’re just being honest…” you sighed, feeling bad about the small bout of reject he was no doubt laced with when you told him to stop speaking, “I know that it’s difficult in my position…and I know that the inmates treat me…differently than if I were a man.”

“Well…i-if you need to talk…”

You giggled and Jake nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck.  He turned, reaching for his cart once more so that he could leave, “I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t leave…”

Jake turned, surprised at hearing you call out for him, “What?”

“Di-did you want to…come in?” you asked nervously, “I really could use someone to speak with if you were being serious.”

Your lips parted, a whimper escaping the back of your throat as your nails gripped at the edge of the desk to stop from gripping onto the blonde tipped hair of the man under the desk.

“Just needed to relax was all,” Jake purred as he nipped at your inner thigh.  You moaned as his fingers dipped into your soaked core once more, and he leaned forward, his nose bumping softly against your clit.   He was nearly breathless from having spent the past twenty minutes between your thighs.  His lips ghosted over your clit, and you shuddered, “god, it’s been so long…fuck, I needed this, doc!  Ever since she stopped letting me…I-I need this…I-I need you, doc.”

Your door opened and your hands slipped down to his face.  Your eyes met with the two guards, Connors and Magda.

“You seen inmate Jensen?”

“J-Jensen?” you asked breathlessly.  Jake’s tongue lathed over your clit, and you shuddered, “J-Jensen.  Oh…uh…uhmmm…”

“You okay, doc?” Connors asked, brow raised, “look a little shiny…”

“Heat!” you gasped quickly while he sucked your clit back into his mouth.  You gasped and immediately started fanning yourself with one of the folders on your desk, while your other hand tugged on Jake’s hair, “s-so-so hot!”

The words were breathy, and you released a moan, but both of the men seemed disinterested in you, figuring you weren’t used to the summer heat in the prison, “You seen Jensen, or what?  His cart is right here outside your door?”

“Hmmmm!” you hummed, not wanting to give your indiscretions away.  Your head looked to the bathroom that was attached to your office, “he-he’s there.  Busy…”

The two men chuckled, not thinking anything of it, “well...you let him know that Jay over in medical wants his software done when he’s…finished.  Guess the guy didn’t finish when Lila was in last month.”

“Mhmmm!” you whimpered, nodding along, while trying to keep your composure.  The two guards chuckled, closing the door behind them, and you weren’t sure what exactly they were laughing at.  You looked back down at Jake who was happily in his own world, lapping at your cunt, “Ja-Jake…stop.  Sto-stop…oh, god…”

He smiled, pushing himself away from your core, only to nip at your thighs once more.  His hands, which had been tucked under your legs, and wrapped around your waist to hold you still slid back down to your thighs and he began massaging the flesh, while his stubble grazed over your tender skin. 

He licked his plump lips and gave you a sinful smile, “feel better, doc?”

“Y-yes…” you nodded breathlessly.  He unwrapped his arms from you, and you pushed yourself out of the chair, but when you attempted to stand, he held you in it.

“Don’t go getting up quick or nothing,” he said with a blush rising to his cheeks.  He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and you blushed, seeing the darkness from your own slick now on his uniform, “had ourselves a hell of a time…”

“Th-that can never happen again, Mr. Jensen…”

Jake’s blush got deeper, and he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, but reached onto your desk with the other, slipping his glasses back on, “w-was I that bad?”

“No…god no…you know that…that’s not-that’s not what I meant,” you tried to explain, “but you-you’re a patient Jake…a patient who has emophilia…y-you form these bonds with everyone you meet of the opposite sex an-“

“I know!  D-Doctor Ellis told me about it when she told me to stop,” he said quickly, cutting you off.  He dropped back to his knees in front of you, his hands splaying over your thighs, “doc…I-I know that I-I know what I am…but I-I jus wanted you to feel better…I-“

“You’re a patient, Jake,” you replied firmly, “a patient and an inmate…I crossed so many lines by-“

But you were cut off when Jake’s lips met yours.  You gasped against his lips, and his tongue invaded your mouth. 

You were quick to push him away, “Jake…”

“I-I just want you to feel okay, doc…” Jake said sadly, “d-don’t transfer me to the other doc…d-don’t throw me away like everyone else…don-don’t do what Lila did to me…please…”

Your heart sunk in your chest, “Jake…I-I wouldn’t throw you away.  Th-that’s not what this is.  I just-I was feeling overwhelmed…and we-wait…Lila…as in Doctor Lila Ellis who helps run medical with Jay?“

Jake nodded, “sh-she was my girlfriend…and Ari is our boyfriend.  An-“

“Jake-“  

“I ate you out!” he said firmly.  You bit your lip, nodding along.

“Yeah…”

“D-do you feel better?”

“Honestly?” you asked sadly.  Jake frowned and nodded, “I just feel worse…I used you Jake…an-and that’s not okay!”

“But I don’t mind…”

“But I do,” you said quickly, sadly, “I-I’m sorry Jake…but I think I’m going to transfer your care to the other doc.  I-I don’t think what we did was okay…”

Your heart ached as you stared at the man in the medical ward’s bed.  You looked over to your colleague, guilt weighing heavily in your stomach, “I-is he…okay?”

Sanjay gave you a sympathetic look, “it was nothing that you did…unfortunately, it happens all the time.  He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

You bit your lip as you looked at the sleeping inmate.

It had been two days since you last saw Jake Jensen.  After he left your office, you started the paperwork of transferring his care to the other prison shrink.  Unfortunately for you, since she was taking one of yours, you had to take one of hers. 

But you hadn’t heard anything about Jake in those two days. 

Not until you happened to get out of your session with Sam Wilson when you were forced back into the office by a CO who was rushing with Jake Jensen bleeding out down the hall.

He’d been stabbed. 

By who, no one seemed to know. 

“I-it does?”

He frowned, nodding once more, “unfortunately.  Though, it doesn’t usually happen to someone like Jensen!”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Well, Jake Jensen is low inmate on the totem pole of power struggles around here,” Sanjay shrugged, “he’s quiet.  Keeps to himself.  Doesn’t have any gang or mob ties.  One of the few.  Usually, people just leave him alone…even the guards.  I’m sure you’ve seen him do the IT work here…and up until last month he volunteered in the wing with Dr. Ellis and myself…”

The guilt gnawed at your stomach even more remembering not only the conversation you’d had where you told him he was done with you, but also of Dr. Ellis.

“He must have really pissed someone off,” he shrugged, “say…wasn’t he a patient of yours?”

“T-traded him to Jeffries…”

“Shame,” he said with a sigh, “seemed like he’s been happier the past week you’ve been around…thought someone was finally getting through to him.  You know, we’ve had the poor kid on suicide watch a few times since he’s arrived…always says people are ‘tossing him away.’  Think he’s just got issues with women and when one finally tells him no he goes off the deep end…last time it was with the female CO on D block…she got him transferred to A because of it…and he stopped hanging around once Lila told him he was crossing lines with her…he was writing her little love notes and such.”

You frowned, not really having a comeback for the conversation. 

For a few minutes you and Dr. Sanjay stood, staring at Jake, “has Dr. Ellis been informed of the attack on him?”

“She was down here before I had the chance to text her.  It was during the shift change so she was doing some last minute paperwork…while she wasn’t overly affectionate with Jensen, that really seemed to rattle her.  I gave her yesterday and today off.”  

You nodded, “Oh…”

“Well…I’m sure you’ve got to get back,” he said firmly, “thank you for checking on him even though you switched him to Jeffries.  She hasn’t been in once.”

You nodded, before you finally got the courage to leave, heading back towards your office. You were surprised when the door was wide open.

You could have sworn you locked it. 

Furrowing your brows, you looked around.  Sliding your head into the room first, everything seemed like it was the way that you’d left it.

Except for the envelope that sat on your desk. 

Your name was scrawled across it in bold calligraphy writing.  Gently opening the envelope, you gasped at how the heavy cardstock weighed you down.  Especially when you saw the words penned onto it.

‘Every sweet ounce of you belongs to me, doc.  Let Jensen taste you again, and he won’t wake up.’

Chapter 3

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @prokey16, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @teambarnes72