#circulating nursing

[pickapea]

my absolutely biggest online pet peeve is US centric people projecting their rich sorority girl bully stereotype of nurses onto everyone else, as if nurses aren't working class and mostly immigrants of colour everywhere else. and when did it become cool to hate on underpaid and exploited workers anyway

[muirmarie]

i'm at work but someone dare me when I'm off to write the cas/hawkeye/margaret (dean/cas & hawkeye/margaret) time-traveling post 15x19 ptsd fic that I suddenly very much want to write

[mainfaggot]

tw eating disorder talk, pt.2 to the last post in the tags (once again, no mention of numbers that could be triggering, just a heartfelt rant bc I've been so afraid of talking about these things on here, but i really just need to get everything out bc . I feel crazy)

[candypaintcolors]

don’t get me wrong i LOVE the operating room but i do miss the floor and that sense of autonomy i felt there. i’m heavily debating picking up a casual job on the side to get that feeling back. i still miss some aspects of caring for patients and being that ‘primary’ care giver that they see most frequently out of everyone on their team and getting to know them and take care of them. circulating and scrubbing is important but i miss being more hands-on with the patients. i’m even considering being a medic right now. i just want to be able to do everything and know as much as i can from med-surg to ICU, ED to OR. I’m still not ruling out trying to get to medical school as my graduate degree as opposed to a higher level nursing degree. hopefully once i’m off orientation and figure out what i want i can do everything i decide i want out of this career.

[porcelain-dollbones]

something i end up writing a lot in my job is that a given patient's capillary refill time is less than 3 seconds (very basic test for blood flow hydration etc). anyway this is expressed in writing notes as "cap refill <3 sec" and every time i write it i go like. <3 ♡♡ hehe in my head

[genderkoolaid]

In 2014, the Gloucester county school board voted to ban Grimm, then 15, from using the boys’ bathrooms, even though he’d been living openly as a boy for months and using the restroom without incident. The policy turned deeply intimate facts of Grimm’s life into a media spectacle. With the ACLU, he sued to defend his rights to use facilities that matched his gender, launching a groundbreaking national case on bathroom access. Grimm became an LGBTQ+ icon, celebrated by Laverne Cox at the Grammys and interviewed by Whoopi Goldberg on The View. He eventually won a landmark federal decision asserting trans youth’s constitutional protections against discrimination. [...] And while Grimm became a civil rights trailblazer, the case did not secure him stability or financial security. The Pride parade invites have stopped coming, and like so many other marginalized trans people, Grimm has faced significant mental health challenges and struggles with poverty. He recently lost his housing, and is now facing homelessness. “I’m someone who has had worldwide visibility. I represent an outer crust of privilege most people will never see, and I cannot make ends meet no matter how hard I try,” he says. [...] Much of his family rejected him [after coming out], but many friends and teachers were supportive as he entered 10th grade as a boy and clearly more comfortable in his skin. He initially used a private nurse’s restroom, but it was inconveniently located; peers and staff noted his long bathroom breaks, leaving him alienated and humiliated. So the principal and guidance counselor agreed to let him use the boys’ restroom, and for two months, he had no issues. But gossip circulated outside school and on a community Facebook forum, where people posted vicious comments. Friends defending him online faced harassment. “It was the adults who made it a problem, because their mentality spread to their kids,” recalls Evelyn Hronec, another friend. “These were grown adults talking about a 16-year-old’s genitals. It was vile.” At school board meetings in 2014, speakers stood feet away from Grimm, misgendering him, asking questions about his body and transition, calling him names and demanding he be kept out of boys’ facilities in the name of “safety”. In one speech, Grimm pleaded for the opportunity to “use the restroom in peace”. When a man called him a “freak” and likened him to an animal, Deirdre lunged out of her seat, she recalls. “I was fighting for his life.” [...] In 2021, the supreme court allowed Grimm’s victory to stand, and the school board was ordered to pay $1.3m in attorney’s fees. Grimm, however, only got a symbolic $1. To secure damages, Grimm would’ve had to give the opposition’s lawyers access to his medical records to scrutinize the cause and extent of his emotional distress, a process he couldn’t stomach after years of fighting. The idea he’d have to prove his anguish was unbelievable to his mom, who can’t shake the memories of her son becoming suicidal. Grimm doesn’t regret moving on without damages. But he desperately could’ve used financial help – especially as the trauma of his childhood began to catch up with him.

[gilverrwrites]

Fake Dating tropes with (some of) the birds and the bats. Ft. Babs, Bruce, Dick, Duke, Jason, Kate, and Tim.

GN!Reader, ≈200-250 words each CWs: None graphic mentions of sex, none-graphic injuries, none -graphic mentions of drugs, intentionally minipulative behaviours.🩷

Barbara

The two of you weren’t exactly not dating. Attached at the hip, making goo-goo eyes in person and inappropriate comments over the comms line when apart; it was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that something was going on there, you just hadn’t put a name on it yet. It’s something the two of you had made plans to nail down and discuss during your sort of but not really a date-date tonight.

But you had only gone and got yourself shot during what should have been a simple trip to the bank. It wasn’t life-threatening, but you’d been rushed off in an ambulance, you’d need surgery, a lot of meds, and months, if not years of physio to get your arms back into shape.

Barbara didn’t know that at the time though, she’d been panic-stricken from the moment she found out. Emotions getting the better of her, brain running at 100 miles a minute as she rushed to the hospital.

“Partners and family only.” The nurse had told her. And without hesitation, she’d responded: “I am their partner.”

Her lie paid off, allowing her access to your bedside, as well as a full update on your status. There wasn’t another face in any universe you would have rather seen upon waking up from surgery. Now you just had to keep up the appearance of being a married couple until you were discharged, maybe longer.

Bruce

It’s a well-organised and thoroughly thought-out publicity stunt. Bruce needed someone new on his playboy roster, and you needed the media to circulate literally anything other than the less-than-flattering leaks that had been sold to them without your consent.

All you had to do was follow the itinerary. A couple of soft launch social media pics, a few whispers to the looser-lipped socialites of your circles, and some ‘private’ candid photo ops of the two of you dating:

Snuggling under the shade of an oak tree in Gotham Park, wearing matching caps and sunglasses that do little to hide your identities as you read a shared copy of Romeo and Juliet together.

Sitting in his car, in the parking lot of Big Belly Burger, munching on an unseemly large order of burgers and fries together. Nobody questions why the previously tinted windows of Bruce’s car are now clear.

Intimately and provocatively embracing, tastefully half nude on the balcony of your uptown apartment. The press didn’t need to know that you’re actually renting an Airbnb for the weekend, for exactly this purpose, and nothing more.

Everything was carefully planned, right down to the T for maximum impact and minimal effort. The only thing that hadn’t been accounted for was one, or both of you catching feelings in the time you’d spent together.

Dick

He’s never been able to say no to you, you know it, he knows it. So when you ask him in an act of desperation to be your fake-boyfriend for your ex’s wedding he’s quick to inform you that this is the dumbest idea he’s ever heard, and that he’s 110% on board.

He takes you shopping for matching outfits, picks you up on the day in Bruce’s flashiest car, suprises you with something pretty, compliments you loudly and romantically at every chance and won’t take his hands off you all the way through the ceremony. He's attentive and outwardly passionate. Not only is he playing the role of the world's best-ever (fake-)boyfriend, he’s making sure everyone in the vicinity knows you’re a (fake) couple.

It’s during the reception when that funny feeling really starts to settle in. The hairs on edge, butterflies in your belly feeling. Maybe it’s the happy, romantic atmosphere, the soppy music, the way his hands sit so perfectly on your hips as he sways you round and around on the dance floor. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you with those mesmeric blue eyes but damn if you don’t want to kiss him, right here, right now.

Duke

It was a stupid idea, and his family would give him so much shit if when they found out, but you’d argued that “we’ll never know if it might actually work unless we try” and that had sold him on giving it a go. Even if he thought about calling it off at every turn.

What was the stupid plan, and why was it necessary? Well, your ex was dating his crush, and you’d figured fake-dating might redirect their attention to the two of you. And if not, no harm done, right?

Big harm done. Over the next few months, Duke and yourself had spent most of your free time in close proximity. Sharing clothes, food, and ‘plan-related’ intimate details about each other. When you weren’t together you were glued to your phone, awaiting his texts, refreshing his socials.

Somewhere amongst all the dinner dates, and ‘strictly-business’ public making out sessions, your plan worked; his crush took notice, how could they not, Duke was perfect.

Your ex did not. Not that you cared, you’d moved on, to someone who was about to become equally as unavailable.

Jason

He was trying to infiltrate an infamous drug ring so he could take it down from the inside and needed someone in the know who could double as arm candy to sell his story. You’d already been trying to get your foot in the door for weeks now, but lacked enough street cred for them to take a chance on you. It only made sense that you would join forces.

For a while it’s fun, hanging off his arm, letting his hands roam your body freely, loud-whispering all the things you wanted to do to him for anyone to hear. You really enjoyed pretending to be his devilish trophy partner. You enjoyed the nights where it wasn’t pretend even more. But all good things must come to an end.

He served his purpose of getting you where you needed to be, but now he was getting a little too close to building a compelling case against the ring, you couldn’t let that happen, you had much bigger plans for it.

What? You’d promised information, not loyalty.

Kate

You’re both socialites with fairly large internet followings who run in the same circles. Your relationship has always been that of friendly acquaintances until a photographer snaps an innocuous photo of you both entering the bathroom at the same time and the media goes crazy.

Despite putting out very clear, separate statements, clarifying that there is nothing going on, your respective followers grab the ball and sprint with it until you both innocently start to play along. Leaving flirty comments on each other selfies, acting appalled when the other is rumoured to be dating someone else, tagging each other in scenic snaps that could be considered romantic: graffiti hearts, colourful sunsets, starry skies from the candlelit table of a wine bar.

It’s completely harmless of course, it’s all a joke, until it’s not. Until you actually find yourself flustered by her comments, really wishing she was sharing your dinners, until you brace yourself and send the first DM.

Tim

He really is the whole package. Handsome, hardworking, dedicated, polite, and as smart as he is rich. You can understand why your grandma was so excited, calling you from across the country to confirm if you were the mystery person spotted out and about with Bruce Wayne’s second youngest. You hadn’t lied when you’d said yes, you’d just neglected to tell her that you were only friends. You figured it would get her off your back about finding a nice boy for a while. It kind of felt nice, talking to somebody other than yourself about your big fat crush on him and in your defence, you hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly.

One minute she’s bragging about her grandchild’s new boyfriend to the ladies in her swim aerobics class, the next she’s booked a flight to come and visit so she can meet him.

If you’d known what she was planning you would have confessed, but she’d already forked out the cash for her plane ticket so you swallowed your pride and begged Tim to help. He wouldn’t even have to do much, just spend the weekend nodding and smiling at an old woman’s stories and then he could reap the rewards of your eternal gratitude. You’d promised 6 months of undisputed lording it over you and a lifetime of freshly made cold brew.

Smile and nod, that’s all you expect, but apparently, that was too easy. Tim just had to make what was already an embarrassing situation, a million times worse. ‘Perfect grandson-in-law’, your ass.

[reidsdimples]

Feverish

Spencer Reid x Reader

18+ ❤️‍🔥

Spencer can’t keep his hands off of you in his fever induced delirium.

Inspired by a scene from The Tearsmith (on Netflix)

“What happened?” You ask Morgan who’s got Spencer’s arm draped over his shoulder.

Spencer is out of it, delirious, coated in sweat. Yet he grins at you.

“Popped for the flu, probably from those kids earlier this week,” Morgan answers as he puts Spencer in the passenger seat of your car.

“I knew the flu shot was a waste of time,” Spencer muses. “It’s an educated guess at best as for what strain will circulate through the population,” he scoffs and shoves on sunglasses.

“Wonderful,” you groan.

“You’ve already been sick this season, you’re probably fine,” Spencer mumbles and lulls his head back in the seat.

“I think that’s why he said to call you,” Morgan smiles.

“Well, it’s great to see you again. Stay safe,” Morgan hugs you by way of farewell.

Taking care of your sick ex boyfriend on your long anticipated three day weekend was not high on your bucket list. But here you were.

You drop into the car next to him and he’s already fast asleep. Feeling his forehead, you confirm that he’s burning up.

You and Spencer had ended things amicably four weeks ago. Your crazy schedule as a labor and delivery nurse didn’t mesh well with his chaotic FBI job. It didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. Perhaps that made seeing him so sick that much harder.

“Come on,” you help him from the car and into your house.

He stumbles up the front steps but you’re able to hold him up.

“Sorry, dizzy,” he murmurs.

“It’s okay,” you place your hand at the center of his chest, pushing yourself under his arm further to support his tall frame. The heat coming off of him could almost burn you.

You had never been more grateful that you opted for a one floor house. You imagined getting him up a flight of stairs would be impossible.

“Here,” you sit him on the edge of your king sized bed but he just flops onto his side, tucking his face into your pillow. He breaths in deeply, you can hear how congested he is.

You hurry to your medicine cabinet to get him a concoction of fever reducers.

“Take this,” you sit him up.

He barely opens his eyes, just groggily obeys and trusts the pills you’re giving him. He knows you’d never do anything to hurt him.

You wipe the water from his lips gently. He purses his mouth as though to kiss the pad of your thumb longingly.

You slowly undo the buttons of his shirt, you needed to cool him down. He’s drenched in sweat.

“Sit up,” you pull him up with a hand on the back of his neck and push the shirt off of his shoulders. Your eyes trace his body longingly, but only for a moment.

You gently lay him back down and start undoing his converse so he can get more comfortable. He groans at the movements as you tug the shoes off and discard them, adoring his mismatched socks.

You brush his hair from his forehead and prompt him to open his eyes. He does but they’re heavy with fatigue.

“You’re going to be fine Spence, just tell me if you need anything,” you whisper.

You gently caress his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed. You relax your hand in the center of his bare chest, unable to help how drawn to him you are. You missed him. His lean body with the thin sheen of sweat had your heart fluttering. Touching him was too much, too overwhelming. You sigh and stand from the bed.

His arm wraps around your waist and he tugs you weakly back into the bed. You fall half onto him and half next to him.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs and buries his face in your stomach like you’re all he’ll ever need. You run your hands through his long hair and hold him close to comfort him. It doesn’t even bother you that his hair is damp, you just want to help him.

He pulls you more onto him and twists his hands into your shirt. You’re nearly straddling him now, leaning over him as he groans and begs for you to be closer.

“Spence,” you warn.

He nudges his face into your abdomen, between your breasts. He’s so out of it you doubt he’s even aware of his actions. His mouth clamps over your nipple which is hardening through your shirt. This is so wrong, but it feels so fucking good.

Your body reacts to him, your hips grinding down against his. You can’t help it.

Your tank top rides up and his mouth trails sloppily against your now exposed skin, causing you to suck air through your teeth harshly. He’s kind of kissing you, but more seemingly needing to touch you with his mouth. He leaves moist trails of kisses against your stomach. He grapples at your body, he’s needy, he’s panting. He’s whimpering against you.

He’s burning up.

“Shhh, Spence,” you sink down next to him and nestle into the crook of his arm.

You push away your arousal. That was not happening right now.

Besides, clear headed Spencer wouldn’t touch you that way after breaking up.

“Need you,” he moans.

“Not right now baby,” the nickname slips out. It was habit.

His buries his face in the crook of your neck, he’s breathing hard as his hand trails down your body. He digs his nails into the soft skin on your hips and squeezes lovingly. His fingertips move down the plane of your stomach and graze just under the edge of your waistband but he goes no further. You take in the sight of his large hand on your body again, those fingers, the way the muscles and veins move as he does. Your traitorous pussy clenches around absolutely nothing. Ugh.

He begins to kiss the soft spot of your neck and you can’t help but to tilt your head to give him better access. His hand moves up to squeeze your breast, pulling a moan from you. God you needed him so bad. But he was so sick. His desperation for you was driving you mad.

You hear him shudder as a chill washes over him. But he ignores it, moving so his laying on you, kissing your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. His eyes are still closed, heavy with sickness. But he slides his strong arms under you to hold you even closer to him as he continues to kiss and sucking at your neck. He nudges your tank top down and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ah, Spencer. Baby,” you writhe beneath him, but he’s got you pinned.

He kisses you until he can’t anymore, until his grip on you grows weaker and his mouth lingers on you longer.

He grows tired and rests his head on your chest. He keeps you beneath him, most of his body weight laying between your legs. His head rests on your stomach as he starts to doze off. His warm breath fans against your skin.

You push your hand into his hair to keep him right where he is. He’s absorbing your body heat, his breathing beginning to slow.

A content sigh escapes his chest and he finally falls asleep.

You can still feel the ghosts of his hands and lips, messy and needy on your body. It’s like he was devouring you, like you were the only thing that could save him. He was absolutely out of his mind, acting on instinct and primal need despite being sick. It’s like he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

[itneverendshere]

baby girl being born and she doesn’t come out crying, rafe thinks his heart stops

i loved this request💓💓 and decided to make it even more precious by adding a tiny bit of this one: "for some reason i see this baby being born in November/october and you think it’s perfect for the holidays and rafes birthday hahahaha (i use drew’s birthday for his)". hope you like it!!🥰

half a heart without you - r.c

pairing: pogue!reader x rafe (bartender!reader universe) warnings: child labor; mentions of death.

rafe sat on the the stiff hospital chair, bouncing his leg anxiously as the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room. the muffled voices of the nurses around him did nothing to soothe his panic. all he could focus on was you—the love of his life.

you lay in the hospital bed, breaths labored, your hand gripping his with a force he knew you’d later joke about. even through the sweat and exhaustion of labor, you were beautiful. your eyes moved towards him, and despite the pain etched into your face, you gave him an exhausted smile.

"it's almost time," the nurse announced, glancing between the monitors and her patient.

rafe squeezed your hand tighter, his heart hammering in his chest.

he should be excited—this was supposed to be the moment where everything changed, where the world became new. he had dreamt about your daughter for months, imagining what she’d look like, what kind of personality she’d have, how his life would revolve around her from the second she entered the world. 

he never thought of himself as someone who wanted to be a father—never thought he deserved it, but now he couldn’t imagine anything else. this baby girl was going to be his world. 

he adjusted his mask, trying to ignore the panic inside him, he had to put your first no matter what his head was screaming at him. "you doing okay, baby?" 

you shot him a look, disbelief and irritation crossing your face. "does it look like 'm okay, rafe?" you snapped between breaths, the hand that wasn’t cutting his circulation gripped the side of the bed with a force that made your knuckles turn white.

the change in humour would've blindsided him if he hadn't dealt with it throughout your pregnancy.

rafe winced, his lips twitching into an apologetic smile. "stupid question. sorry."

the nurse smiled from the other side of the room, used to seeing husbands or boyfriends fumbling in this exact situation. 

rafe, however, wasn’t going to stand back and just be in the way. he moved closer to your side.

“you’re doing great.” he whispered encouragingly leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “you’re so strong. stronger than me.”

the doctor glanced over at rafe, his expression calm but serious.

"we’re almost there. one more big push, and she'll be here."

he couldn’t believe this was happening. after months of anticipation, this was it—the moment their daughter would finally come to the world.

"one more push," he echoed to you, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "you got this. ’m right here."

you let out a groan, squeezing his hand hard enough that rafe was sure his bones were grinding together. you took a breath before pushing with all your might, face contorting with the effort. rafe leaned forward, trying to offer what little comfort he could, but he felt useless.

your eyes flew open suddenly, and you glared at him almost desperately.

"you—" you panted, gasping between contractions, "you...fucked this baby out of me!"

his blue eyes went wide, mouth dropping open as he whipped his head around to look at the nurses and doctor, mortified. "she's—she's joking!" he blurted, his voice cracking as he felt his face heat up behind the mask, "swear she's joking!"

except you weren’t.

the nurse beside him smirked, while the doctor didn’t even flinch, calmly preparing for the baby’s arrival.

“completely normal,” the doctor said dryly, his eyes twinkling beneath his mask. “you wouldn’t believe the things we hear in here.”

rafe’s face burned, but when he looked back at you—his girl, red-faced and furious—he knew you were wacking him mentally for his stupid idea. 

before he could say anything else in his defense, the doctor’s tone changed as he gave the final instruction, and the nurse moved into position. “this is it,” he said, focused now. “big push.”

he was three seconds away from fainting embarrassingly on this hospital room floor. this was it. he was about to be a dad.

you gave one final, strained push, after hours of labor, a guttural scream tearing from your throat. and then—

your daughter was born, but the room went silent, there was no cry.

rafe's heart stopped.

his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the small form in the doctor’s hands. the tiny, pink-skinned baby wasn’t moving. she wasn’t making any sound.

“she’s not—” rafe choked out, but the panic was already settling in his body as he looked between the doctor, the nurses, and you.

you were watching, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as fear clouded your expression. his mind was screaming again, this time, a deafening roar of terror, and all he could think was why isn’t she crying? 

he could hear nothing, see nothing, except for the small, seemingly lifeless body in front of him. he felt numb, paralyzed.

but then he saw you—his rock—and you looked utterly shattered. the panic in your eyes was immediate, your face void of any color as you stared at the nurses working on your baby.

without thinking, he grabbed your cheeks, his hands framing your face as he forced you to look at him, not the nurses, not the baby.

just him.

“rafe,” you choked out, voice already raspy with sobs. tears filled your eyes, your entire body trembling under his hands.

“i know, baby,” he whispered, as he leaned closer, pressing his forehead to yours, trying to keep you distracted. “keep your eyes on me. it’s gonna be okay. look at me, just look at me.”

you were already crying, tears mixing with the sweat on your face.

you gripped his wrists like he was the only thing keeping you sane, your breath coming in broken gasps. “rafe—” your sob was gut-wrenching as your eyes flicked toward the nurses again.

“hey,” he pulled you in again, his thumbs brushing your cheeks, wiping away the tears. he kissed your temple, holding you close as he kept his voice calm for your sake, even as his own heart felt like it was breaking. “she’s gonna be okay. i promise. she’s strong, just like you. just stay with me, baby, okay?”

you let out another sob, burying your face into his chest as he held you tighter. 

he felt you shake in his arms and he wanted to fall apart too—wanted to break down and scream, to beg for their baby to be okay—but he couldn’t. so instead he pressed kiss after kiss to your temple, murmuring reassurances he wasn’t even sure he believed.

“it’s gonna be okay. she’s okay.”

the truth was, rafe wasn’t sure of anything and he didn’t know how long he could keep it together. but then—just as the panic threatened to consume him whole—a fragile cry pierced the air.

rafe’s breath caught in his throat, his whole body freezing with the sound. he closed his eyes for a moment, sighing in relief.

she was okay. she was here. she was okay.

the nurse, smiling now, wrapped your baby girl in a soft blanket and gently placed her on your chest. the sudden change from fear to overwhelming love hit him like a bullet, and all he could do was stare as you, still crying, reaching out to cradle your newborn daughter.

his hands dropped from your face, and he stepped back just slightly, his eyes glued to the sight of his daughter lying on you, tiny and perfect.

“she’s okay,” you mumbled to yourself like you still needed to believe it. your eyes were full of tears, hands still trembling as you gently stroked the baby’s head. “she’s okay.”

rafe felt his knees go weak with relief, his heart swelling as he leaned down, kissing your forehead, then brushing a kiss against the baby’s tiny head.

“she’s perfect,” he breathed out, voice still hoarse as he finally let his tears fall. he pressed his lips to your hair, breathing you in. “autumn,” he said softly, the name slipping out without hesitation. “born right in time for the holidays. just like we wanted.”

you looked up at him, cheeks still glistening with tears, and you smiled. a genuine smile, despite everything. “autumn cameron.”

rafe grinned through his tears, his hand gently resting on your daughter’s back.

“yeah,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “autumn cameron.”

he knew that no matter what happened in life, this—this—was everything.

[crushmeeren]

UH UH UH UH UH

COULD YOU LIKE MAKE A ONESHOT OF HINATA AND A PREGNANT!READER? LIKE HINATA WATCHES US FEED OUR BABY AND HES LIKE "ooooo I wanna taste" AND UHM YEAH? IDK- IM SORRY IM NEW TO YOUR BLOG PLEASE IGNORE IF ITS OUT OF YOUR BOUNDARIES-

I absolutely CAN write this for you friend. It’s on the shorter side and I sort of rushed writing it, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy! 𖦆

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི Master List Link ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

All characters aged up/18+.

⋆ FEM READER ⋆

It’s on a Saturday night when Shouyou finds himself unable to stop staring at you. To be fair, he always gawks at you, but tonight he would insist it’s different.

It’s been at least three months since you’d given birth to your baby boy and in the spirit of complete honesty, neither of you had wanted to touch sex with a ten foot pole since you were given the green light.

Being new parents is, for lack of a better word, exhausting. It’s bone achingly tiring and at this point you can’t even remember what it means to be turned on.

As the two of you relax side by side in your bed this evening, you’re preoccupied with nursing your son, Reno. You’ve lifted your shirt up to dangle around your neck and out of the way, freeing your breasts and making your nipples turn to pebbles due to the chilly air circulating the room.

Shouyou had been resting his head on the headboard, craning his neck to watch you with tender adoration as you nourish Reno.

He leers at the way your tits bounce gently against your chest as you get situated, shorts becoming a bit too snug the more you move around. The fullness of your squishy breasts and the soft tone of your voice when you speak to Reno suddenly has an all too familiar warmth rushing through his belly. The same lust that caused you to end up with Reno in the first place.

Shouyou shifts in place, cock jumping when he starts to get the powerful impulse to get his own taste of your tits. It’s as if the previous three months have built up an insurmountable tension inside of him, itching to be released and his veins start to pulse with arousal.

The breast that’s not currently being ravaged by a little monster begins to leak a few drops of ivory milk, and Shouyou has to bite his fingers and squeeze his toes together to keep from moaning as it trails down the swell of your tit.

“Sho?” You wave a hand in front of his face.

A flush burrows into his cheeks and his eyes flit up to meet yours, his expression somehow sheepish and coy simultaneously.

“Sorry baby, you just look stupid hot right now. I can’t stop thinking about taking a taste myself. I want to lick it off.” He pouts playfully. “Why does Reno get to have you all to himself?” Shouyou whines. Your head tilts back briefly in laughter as you maneuver your son up to burp him.

“Well he’s a baby for one.”

Reno babbles happily over your shoulder and Shouyou can’t help but grin widely and rub the little one’s back in soothing circular motions.

“Well yeah, but I don’t hear you saying no to it being my turn next,” he teases, reaching up a sneaky hand to grip a handful of your breast and squeeze. You bat his hand away and rise from the bed, letting your shirt fall back down into place.

“I’m putting Reno down in his room and then I’m gonna ride you, sound good Sho?” You speak as casually as if you’re talking about the weather and Shouyou vibrates in place, elbows getting caught in his shirt in his rush to strip naked.

Upon return you raise an eyebrow when you spot your husband stretched out lazily on the bed. He beams at you, one arm folded behind his head and his already stiff cock resting on his lower belly. He circles his shaft and teasingly tugs on his cock a few times.

The sight makes your pussy clench around nothing and you waste no time discarding your own clothes on the way to the bed. Once you crawl onto the bed and up to your other half, it’s like remembering how to ride a bike. A muscle reflex that’s come back to life.

Sinking down slowly onto Shouyou’s cock and bouncing in his lap reminds you of the first time you ever slept with him. The pleasure blisters through your limbs, heat rushing down your spine and you’re convinced you could cum from the stretch of his cock alone.

When he leans up and sucks your nipple into his mouth, you wail his name. You dig your nails into the back of his skull and throw your head back as milk flows freely across his tongue.

Your husband moans against you, swallowing a mouthful yet never letting go as he grips your waist, digs his heels into the mattress and snaps his hips upwards in frantic movements. You stay suspended in air over his lap and let him work you over in a way he only knows how.

In what must be less than five minutes, he’s dragging you over the edge. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream and your pussy sucks in his cock like it never wants to let go. Shouyou thrusts a handful of times and then yanks you down into his lap, grinding up against your ass. He releases your nipple with a pop and his cock jerks while he fills you to the brim with a throaty moan of your name.

It takes a couple of moments of quiet panting, your forehead resting on his before you half heartedly punch him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for??” Shouyou rubs his shoulder dramatically and leans back to pout at you.

“That’s for not pulling out! I swear Shouyou, if we just made another baby I’m never having sex with you again!”

Shouyou’s eyes crinkle and he laughs. Then, he laughs even harder when you smush his face with your palm and push until he falls flat on his back. Your expression pinches as you stand, the sticky cum trailing down your inner thighs grossing you out.

Your husband snickers, wiggling his eyebrows at you and you flip him off, muttering under your breath as you make your way to the bathroom to get clean.

Reno chooses then to live up to his nickname of little demon and lets out an ear piercing scream. Shouyou calls out that he’s got it and jerkily tugs on his previously discarded pair of shorts before speed walking to Reno’s room.

As much as he wishes for you to get pregnant again, he knows now is not the time. One baby is complete chaos and he’s reminded of that even more when he strides into his son’s room where he’s currently wailing loudly enough to burst an eardrum.

Oh well, he can always try again.

[coff33andb00ks]

More Than Anything

oscar piastri x pop!singer reader x lando norris (with charles leclerc)

summary: In the spotlight's harsh glare, she shattered into a million pieces, then found redemption in an unexpected place warnings: language notes: complete rework of Until You because i wasn't happy with that that still follows the same premise and yes reuses a lot of the same things, but i promise it's different (better) - also a very special thank you to @driverlando for her help with this

Heartbreak and Hits: Y/N Y/L/N and Justin Bieber’s Rocky Romance Ends in Tears and Tunes

The whirlwind romance between pop sensation Y/N Y/L/N and global superstar Justin Bieber has come to a dramatic and emotional end. After nearly three years of ups, downs, and endless speculation, Y/N has finally confirmed their breakup in a raw and revealing Instagram post. The announcement comes just days before she’s set to kick off her highly anticipated world tour, leaving fans both heartbroken and intrigued by what’s to come.

A Love Story Born at the Grammys

Y/N and Justin’s relationship began in 2021 after a chance meeting at the Grammy Awards. The pair hit it off instantly, with insiders describing their connection as “electric.” Despite their undeniable chemistry, the couple’s relationship was far from smooth sailing. Rumours of infidelity, intense public scrutiny, and the pressures of their respective careers often overshadowed their love story.

Cheating Allegations and Cryptic Songs

As their relationship progressed, whispers of trouble in paradise began to circulate. By late 2022, rumours of Justin’s alleged infidelity started making headlines. While neither Y/N nor Justin addressed the cheating allegations directly, fans couldn’t help but notice the shift in Y/N’s music. Her lyrics became darker, more introspective, and filled with themes of betrayal and heartbreak.

Y/N’s 2023 album was particularly telling, with several tracks seemingly alluding to the turmoil in her relationship. While she never mentioned Justin by name, the lyrics spoke volumes. Lines like, “I gave you my heart, but you broke it in two,” and “Trust is a fragile thing, you shattered it with a fling,” had fans speculating that she was using her music to process the pain of her partner’s alleged unfaithfulness.

The Engagement Ring Mystery

In mid-2023, Y/N was spotted with what appeared to be an engagement ring, sparking a fresh wave of speculation about her relationship with Justin. The ring, a stunning piece with a massive diamond, was the talk of the town. Was this a sign that the couple had worked through their issues? Or was it a desperate attempt to save a crumbling relationship?

For months, fans and tabloids alike debated the significance of the ring, but Y/N remained tight-lipped, neither confirming nor denying an engagement. Their public appearances together became increasingly rare, leading to more speculation about the true state of their relationship.

The Bitter End

Early 2024 brought the final, heart-wrenching chapter of Y/N and Justin’s love story. Y/N took to Instagram to announce their breakup in a post that was equal parts salty and heartbreaking. “Sometimes love isn’t enough,” she wrote. “I thought we had forever, but it turns out, I was wrong. Moving on isn’t easy, but it’s necessary, especially when your partner does not respect you.”

The post quickly went viral, with fans flooding her comments section with messages of support. While Y/N didn’t go into specifics, her tone was clear: she was deeply hurt, and the breakup was far from amicable. The caption, coupled with the timing—just a week before her world tour was set to begin—left many wondering how she would cope with the demands of performing live night after night, while still nursing a broken heart.

What’s Next for Y/N?

As Y/N prepares to embark on her tour, fans are eagerly anticipating how this emotional rollercoaster will influence her performances. Known for her raw and authentic stage presence, it’s likely that the breakup—and the feelings surrounding it—will play a significant role in her shows.

Industry insiders predict that the tour could be a cathartic experience for Y/N, allowing her to channel her pain into powerful performances. “Y/N’s always been an open book with her music,” a close friend of the singer revealed. “This tour is going to be intense, emotional, and maybe even a bit therapeutic for her. She’s hurting, but she’s also a professional. She’ll pour all of that emotion into her music.”

While the world waits to see if Justin will respond to the Instagram post, it’s clear that Y/N is ready to move forward, albeit with a heavy heart. As she embarks on her tour, fans will be watching closely, eager to support her through this challenging time and to witness how her heartbreak will shape her music and her future.

Stay tuned for more updates as Y/N’s tour kicks off, and the next chapter of her life unfolds.

liked by charles_leclrec, landonorris, pierregasly and others ynyln: Merci beaucoup, Paris! Je t'aime et à bientôt!! ❤️💋

↳user3: why are f1 drivers here???            ↳ user4: a few were at the show            ↳user5: and she's always been vocal about being a fan ↳pierregasly: magnifique spectacle, rendez-vous à Monaco!            ↳user4: omg she's going to Monaco!            ↳ user9: FINALLY she gets to see a grand prix ↳ user8: almost 6 months in and each show gets better            ↳ user7: her breakup was the best thing to happen            ↳ user9: real ↳ user6: y'all seen the videos of the f1 guys?            ↳user7: my two worlds colliding

liked by ynyln and others f1goss: Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly at Y/N Y/L/N's concert in Paris!

↳user1: Y/N IN THE LIKES??            ↳ user2: Y/N follows 😭 ↳ynyln: omg 👁️👄👁️            ↳ user2: Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE            ↳ user3: she's so unserious ↳user4: i wonder if they got to meet            ↳ ynyln: no we didn't 😩

liked by landonorris, charles_leclrec, scuderriaferrari and others ynyln: For the first time I will be attending a Grand Prix! Vroom vrooms make my heart go brr. Eternally grateful to scuderiaferrari for the invitation. (They don't have to know my favorite driver is on mclaren)

↳scuderiaferrari: 🤨 ↳scuderiaferrari: we're sure you'll be a converted tifosi by Sunday ↳mclaren: y/n is our fan 🙏🏻 Oscar and Lando on cloud 9 now ↳f1: looking forward to finally welcoming you! ↳user1: alright y'all is she a Lando or Oscar girlie            ↳ ynyln: can't I love them both 🥺 ↳user2: great now I gotta watch all the grand prix stuff this week for a glimpse of mother ↳user3: why haven't you been before?            ↳ user4: tours, covid, j*stin...

liked by charles_leclrec, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: Dinner in Monte Carlo. Do I go all in on black or red?

↳ scuderriaferrari: red, obviously ↳ landonorris: black ↳ charles_leclerc: Red ↳ maxverstappen1: Black ↳ ynyln: all these blue check marks 😩 ↳ user2: yn stays forgetting she's the biggest blue check mark ↳ user1: not max joining in the mclaren vs ferrari fight for YN ↳ mclaren: Papaya 🥺 (but black)            ↳ scuderiaferrari: go comment on your own guest's posts            ↳ mclaren: you sent the invite after we mentioned doing it            ↳ landonorris: do better admin            ↳ mclaren: We'll get her next time            ↳ redbullracing: not if we get her first            ↳ landonorris: if not we're going on strike            ↳ oscarpiastri: we what ↳ oscarpiastri: I quite like the red ↳ user3: I love that YN asked opinions on her fit but it's just f1 drivers and admins fighting over her 🍿🍿 (liked by author)            ↳ ynyln: it's amazing right? no one's fought over me before            ↳ user3: bffr ↳ redbullracing: we vote blue            ↳ mclaren: that's not an option?            ↳ redbullracing: we still vote blue            ↳ scuderiaferrari: don't you have an energy drink to go sell ↳ user4: came for the pics, stayed for the f1 chaos            ↳ ynyln: giggling all the way to the restaurant honestly

note: I know it's not HUGELY different (yet) but I will be taking it in a slightly different direction. Also using Until You's taglist, so if any of you don't want to follow this just use the form to be removed please

Taglist:

@lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully | @wobblymug | @apollosfavkiddo | @callsignwidow | @saachiep81 | @midnights-lily | @waterlilypat | @kiwi43-81 | @fastfactory | @leodette | @calumthomcs | @landinhoe | @driverlando | @maxlarens | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @lorena-02 | @hiireadstuff | @theseus-jpg | @landoslutmeout | @ivy-34 | @trisharee | @colmathgames2 | @norrissainz33 | @littlegrapejuice | @spiderbeam

be added (or removed) to my taglist here

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Blossom. aka - Cherry, Part Four.

a night of conversations, kisses and long awaited confessions.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - cursing, kissing (but no real smut).

word count - 2.6k

authors note - the babies are back!! no smut in this one - it was getting too long. but don’t you worry… there’s gonna be so much smut in part five !! sorry for the cliffhanger. love u <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

The smoke from the bonfire is stinging your eyes, ash sticking to the strands of your hair. Orange embers burn rapidly, dry wood being occasionally thrown on top by drunk boys with red cups in their hands.

The music is way too loud for a forest party, but no one seems to care. Someone’s haphazardly strung lights between the trees, creating a surprisingly cosy ambience. The atmosphere is alive, charged with the electricity of being out later than curfew.

“M’lady!”

You laugh, accepting the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say as you curtsy sarcastically, making both of you laugh harder. “Hey, you didn’t bump into Steve on your way over here, did you? I haven’t seen him for like an hour.”

The curly haired boy kicks the toe of your sneaker with his.

“Saw him with that Clara girl, talking by the lake.”

You take a steadying breath, pretending it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“You should go and check if he needs rescuing,” Eddie jokes. “God knows she can talk for hours without coming up for air.”

You smile at him, pulling at one of his curls.

“Good idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” he winks, pushing you in the right direction.

You saunter down towards the water, spotting your best friend instantly. He’s stood with his arms across his chest, weight on one hip as he tries to listen to whatever Clara has to say. The minute he sees you, his posture is straightening, lips quirking up at the corners.

Clara turns around to see what Steve is looking at, her face falling when she recognises you.

“Hi. I don’t mean to interrupt! Just wanted to check if you needed another drink, Stevie.”

The boy grins, beckoning you closer with a nod of his head. When you’re near enough, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, all affectionate and tender.

Oh.

You don’t do that.

The two of you have kept your romance completely behind closed doors, up until now. It hasn’t got a name, never mind a label, and you don’t need people asking questions when you don’t even know the answers yourself.

You could blame it on the alcohol, but you know Steve’s on his first drink. With your head spinning, you look up at him as if he is the sun and all things warm. He looks down at you the exact same way.

“I’m gonna go see where my friends are,” Clara says a little too loudly, strutting away with as much confidence as she can muster.

You have a sudden feeling that you’re the villain in her story, but you’re not entirely sure why.

“How many drinks have you had?” Steve asks as he pulls a strand of hair away from your face.

“This is my second. I was nursing my first one, Eddie says.”

The boy laughs, and you grab onto his bicep for support. The sound of it is enough to buckle your knees.

“This is my first. It’s not doing much for me.”

“You want something different? I’m sure Robin has that beer you like in her bag.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Don’t think I’m gonna drink any more tonight.”

Steve slips his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, pulling you in closer and keeping them there.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

And then he kisses you. Again. It’s slow and careful and so romantic that you think you might start crying about it.

“What time is it?” he asks when he pulls away as if nothing happened.

“Eleven thirty.”

“You wanna stay a bit longer?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Steve presses his lips to your forehead, hands cradling your cheeks.

“I kinda wanna go home.”

You smile at him, all soft and sweet.

“Then let’s go home. I’m getting a little cold, anyway. And I didn’t bring a jacket.”

“Will you ever learn?” he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“If it means I have to stop wearing your jackets that I know you bring to parties just for me? No, I won’t.”

You weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but the way Steve chuckles soothes the sting of the accidental wound.

“Let’s go home, Cherry Baby.”

Home. The assumption that the two of you will always be returning to the same place makes your heart so full, you wonder how it doesn’t spill over.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You good?”

“Feet hurt.”

This happens every single time the two of you go to a party, so you feel as if you’re reliving a memory.

“Hop on.”

“Steve-”

“Cherry. Come on. We’ll get home quicker this way.”

You can’t argue with that. Steve crouches as you jump onto his back, his hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind, resting your head on top of his.

“Comfy back there?”

You hum, the noise of agreement enough for Steve to start walking.

The two of you chat each others ears off on the way home, talking about nothing and everything. You laugh so hard at something he says that you end up with a mouthful of his hair, which he in turn finds hilarious.

“Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”

“You say a lot of things, Steven.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and giving your thighs a squeeze.

“About college.”

You go quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he’s chosen the wrong time to have this conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? When I’m not constantly worried I’m gonna accidentally trip and kill you.”

You nod, and he feels it. You know it needs to be a discussion sometime soon, but perhaps having it when you’re being carried down the street on your best friends back isn’t all that practical.

“Love you,” you mumble into the crook of Steve’s neck.

He shudders a little at your lips on his skin, leaning his head sideways to rest against yours.

“Love you, Cherry Pie. More than anything.”

You let Steve piggyback you all the way to his front door. Neither of you say anything else. Neither of you feel the need to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve bumps his hip into yours as you both brush your teeth, laughing at your shocked reflection in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you place your toothbrush back in its holder, right next to his.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

You hop up on the bathroom counter, sitting up so you’re eye to eye with the boy in front of you. He takes a step forward, standing between your legs as he splays his cold hands over your thighs.

“Why’d you ask?”

You trace over his fingers where they rest on your skin, quiet for a moment.

“You seemed pretty eager to go home tonight. It’s unlike you. You love a party. Leaving at eleven thirty is like… unheard of, for King Steve.”

“King Steve would rather be at home with you than at a party with all those people.”

“Really?”

“Really. Clara was going on about something or other, the music was too loud, and I could feel the chill coming in. It hit me, all of a sudden, that I’d rather be in bed. Or, anywhere else, as long as I was with you.”

You lean forward to rest your head against his chest, sighing when he starts playing with your hair gently.

“You’re a softie,” you mumble into his shirt. “And a mind reader.”

“It’s my one talent,” he chuckles. “I wish reading your mind was a college major. I’d be the best in the world.”

You shake your head, laughing like you can’t help it.

“If I don’t move soon, I’m gonna fall asleep on this bathroom counter.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” you tease as you hop down, “my legs actually do work.”

Steve gasps, all theatrical and exaggerated, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, sleepy girl. Let’s go to bed.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re not talking about stuff.”

You whisper it into the darkness, the trees rustling outside Steve’s window serving as the only sound you can hear.

“Hmm?”

Your legs are tangled with his, tired head resting on the boys shoulder as your sides are pressed together. You’re both lying on your backs, staring at the ceiling.

“We keep saying we’ll talk about stuff, but we haven’t been. It’s not like us.”

“You mean, like, feelings?”

“Yeah.”

All that can be heard now is two sets of heaving lungs. Steve’s hand finds yours under the duvet, fingers intertwining.

“Is there something specific that’s bothering you?”

“Not bothering me as such. I just… I think the more we don’t talk, the more complicated things become.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Steve speaks.

“I’m scared, Cherry.”

The tone of his voice is paper thin and vulnerable, and you will yourself not to cry about it.

“Of what, Stevie?”

You squeeze his hand, tucking yourself further into his side until there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“Of… everything changing. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know that what we’ve been doing isn’t typical… best friend stuff. I just…” he takes a deep breath, exhaling carefully. “I worry that something will happen and we’ll break up, and I’ll lose you forever.”

His voice cracks on the last word, fear seeping through his pores. Yet, he continues.

“I’d die without you, Cherry. I really would. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a world where we’re not… us.”

You turn onto your side to face him in the dark, reaching up to cradle his cheek softly. You rest your forehead against his temple, pressing a kiss into his skin.

“I’m scared too. I have been ever since that first night in my room. Not because I don’t trust you, or because I don’t feel that way about you… but because I don’t want to lose you either. More than anything, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why didn’t we talk about this sooner?” he laughs, throat thick with emotion.

“Because we’re us. And whether we talk or don’t talk, we know we’ll figure it out. We always know we’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” he whispers into the dark. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

“I love you,” you whisper back. “More than all the grains of sand on all the beaches in the world.”

You press another kiss into his temple, letting your lips linger on his soft skin. He smells so familiar, so warm, so yours… you can’t help but inhale, chuckling when he shudders.

You continue to leave kisses across his jaw, over his ear, down his neck. He tilts his head to give you better access, groaning when you nip at his throat with your teeth, licking over the scrape to soothe him.

Steve pulls you in as if you weigh nothing, moving you so you’re lying on top of him. You sit up, straddling his lap, as he does the same so you’re chest to chest. Running his hands under your shirt and over the bare skin of your back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You look so pretty like this,” he hums against your lips. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You wanna talk about pretty?” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “My pretty, pretty boy.”

Steve’s hips buck up into yours, making you giggle.

“Oh, you like that? You like it when I call you pretty? Or do you just like it when I call you mine?”

His hips buck again as his cheeks flush pink.

“I am yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been.”

You thought you had the upper hand for a minute, but now you just want to cry. You’re overwhelmed by the way you feel about the boy underneath you, unsure of how to process it without bursting into tears.

“All mine,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your fingertip.

Steve takes a deep breath, watching your eyes as they look over him again and again, taking him in as if it’s the first time. He decides it’s now or never.

“Cherry?”

“Stevie?”

Your voices are low and careful, irregardless of the fact that you’re alone in the house.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops, and so does the world outside. Everything pauses, the two of you suspended in this moment in time.

Steve takes another breath, exhaling it carefully before meeting your eyes and continuing.

“You don’t have to say it back. Now, or ever. I just - I needed you to know.”

You blink back tears as you watch his face, biting your lip to stop them from falling.

“Steve-”

“Hey, I told you. You don’t have to say anything, babe. I know-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just-”

You surge forward and kiss him with all the affection you can muster, trying to express your feelings. You grip his hair, plastering your bodies together where you sit in his lap still. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in as close as he can.

“If you let me talk,” you say when you pull away, all breathless, “you’d hear that I have something I’d like to say.”

Steve smiles, humming in acknowledgment and encouraging you to keep going.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

The boy looks shocked to hear it, as if it’s news to him.

“What’s that face for?” you laugh.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to say it back.”

“Steve,” you chuckle, looking at him sternly. When you realise he’s being serious, you double down. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. When we were kids, and someone would say the word ‘husband’, I always pictured you. I was so convinced it was always going to end up being you and I.”

“Why… why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel as if you’re on cloud nine. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed to yours, frantic like he’s just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He leans up to kiss you, all saccharine and honey sweet.

“Say it again,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Cherry.”

“Say it again.”

“I, Steve Harrington, declare that I am completely, utterly, ridiculously in love with this girl right here. I always have been. I always will be.”

You can’t help but throw your head back with laughter.

“And I love you. So much.”

The words you’ve always said mean so much more now. It’s a welcome change, one you never thought you’d see happen.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You lean in, nosing at his jaw as you murmur into his ear.

“Want you. So bad.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groans, all low and rough.

“Please. Want it to be you.”

Looking up at you with big eyes, he searches your face for any kind of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

Smoothing his hair away from his face, you trace your thumb over his bottom lip.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I’m about to rock your world, Cherry Blossom.”

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @clairesjointshurt @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss @ladyburberry @thenonweeknd @abarelyexistentbeing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @slut4gaga @hopelessromanticwriter @mgchaser @wintrsoldrluvr

[cy-cyborg]

Tips for Writing and Drawing Amputees: Bandaged Stumps

When writing and drawing amputee characters, unless your character only just lost their limb, they don't need to wear a bandage over their stumps.

to be clear, eda's depiction in the show was fine, since she'd only just lost her arm and went (presumably) without any medical attention, but because the show didn't have much time to show her afterwards, I've noticed a tendency of the fandom to draw her wearing the bandage permanently, so that's why I'm picking on her for my example lol.

It's a bit of a trope at this point, and I think it comes from one of a few different places:

Amputees do wear bandages on their stumps, but usually only for the first 6-12 weeks post-amputation, sometimes longer if the amputation was a result of a burn. It's possible people saw this though and assumed it was permanent.

Most amputees wear a sock made of either cotton or silicone under their prosthetics to provide them with some extra padding. These socks, called liners, often stick out from the top of the prosthetic socket and could possibly be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

Some amputees will wear compression garments for a few months to a few years after their amputations which could also be mistaken for a bandage from a distance. These garments are designed to stop swelling and reduce phantom pain, but they aren't bandages.

Stumps get cold easier because their circulation typically isn't as good as the rest of the body, so some amputees will wear socks over them even if they aren't wearing a prosthetic to keep warm, which again could be mistaken for a bandage from a distance.

This one is funny, but in my experience unfortunately, it's the most common: people think the end of an amputee's stump is just a perpetual open wound that never heals. Meaning to avoid "gore" it needs to be covered. I've met fully grown adults who believed this until I showed up to work/uni without my prosthetics or socks on.

People are uncomfortable with seeing an uncovered stump and so put bandages over it to avoid confronting their biases.

Some combination of these points.

But yeah, unless your amputee has only just lost their limb in the last few weeks, they don't need a bandage.

The ironic thing too, is that for most amputees, bandaging a stump is nearly impossible. I've been in and out of hospital since I was 1 year old and only ever met 3 nurses and no doctors/surgeons who could successfully bandage my stump in a way that the bandage would even stay on. This is because stumps are usually tapered in shape (meaning they are wider at the top, closer to the body, and thinner at the bottom), so gravity will pull the bandage off 9 times out of 10.

On a final note: it's ok to show your amputee's stump, it's not gore, there's no blood, it just looks like a regular limb that just stops early. In fact, if you are writing/creating anything for kids or that is likely to be seen by kids, I encourage you to show your amputee's stumps at least once. I used to work on a disability awareness program for kids, and I lost count of the amount of times kids were terrified of me, because they all expected my leg to be bloody and gory. For a lot of kids, I was their first real-life exposure to an amputee, meaning they'd never even heard of people like me, or they had seen an amputee on TV, but because the show went out of its way to avoid showing the person's stump, they assumed it must have been because there was "something scary at the end" that they weren't supposed to see (kids are surprisingly perceptive, they will pick up on stuff like that without you realising). And scared kids aren't good at articulating why they're scared, and would often say really mean or hurtful things to me. I knew not to take it personally and learned how to handle those situations, but not everyone is used to dealing with kids. For a new amputee (or anyone who's less confident in their disability), the kinds of things those kids would say could be absolutely confidence destroying. I never blame the kids, it's not their fault, but the whole situation could have been avoided if they had seen people like us before they had the chance to hear the wrong info. Good representation like this can be the difference between a kid crying, making throw-up sounds and calling an amputee "disgusting monsters" (all things I've had kids do/say) and them just being like "oh ok, cool."

[thetxtdevil]

Scrub Nurse

Nurse!Yeonjun x Doctor!Reader

summary: After the nurse makes you look like a fool in surgery in your opinion, you get into an argument that leads to the nurse putting you into your place.

content: smut, hospital setting (if you don't like anything correlating to blood and anything medical don't read), descriptions of surgery, dom.yeonjun, sub.fem.reader, pinning, restraining, spanking, doggy style, manhandling, and the slightest dacryphilia ?, public sex? kinda

word count: 2.2k

au note: took my sweet time with this one hope you like it, and credit to @aduh0308 for help/support.

A metronome of an EKG echoes through the quiet sterile room, the environment is properly lit, agonizingly bright, but perfect to focus on the patient in front of you. The silence of the room is broken by the first words “Alright everybody we have a Mr. Johnson, a 65 year old, white male presenting with a lovely pulmonary embolism, now let's get this clot out shall we?”

You turn your head to your scrub nurse, glancing down the man’s hand already hovering over the iodine packet and sponge. Your palm reaches out above the patient, “Iodine please, Yeonjun.” The solution lands in your hands firmly, not a chance for it to slip and fall out of the sterile field. That’s how good the scrub nurse was, Yeonjun, the whole surgical staff’s favorite. He has been a scrub nurse ever since he graduated nursing school, long before your surgical internship. Never missed a shift, never made a mistake, always a trustworthy coworker, and there was no way you were going to deny it. You also couldn’t deny that he was unbelievably handsome, his warm brown eyes squint signifying a smile under the surgical mask, little dark hair flipping up from under his white and black starry scrub cap.

Yeonjun is smart, handsome, kind, but also a man-whore. First day of internship rumors circulated in your small group that he hooked up with everybody. You’d roll your eyes and deny the fact, first, that's none of their business, second, we’re all too professional to be hooking up with our coworkers and “doing it” in the hospital. Oh how wrong you were, when little innocent surgeon wannabe you walks into a supply closet to witness your surgical resident getting fucked dumb by none other than, Nurse Yeonjun.

It was a hard pill to swallow because he wasn’t the only one. Not only did you have to learn the extensive material of saving lives but you also had to dodge the overly attractive men working with you. You didn’t know if it was all the sad deaths or the burnout but you felt like they were everywhere fucking everybody. You soon learn that's the way of a hospital, a business that wants your money, employees that work until they are their own cause of death, and it is a building full of horny people.

You bite your lip in concentration and the fact that the man who you’ve seen his naked ass a few too many times is standing so close. Eyes locked on the open chest of the patient, your skilled eyes can easily identify the pulmonary artery and the exact spot of the clot. One by one a tool is given to you, “Yank-” the suctioning tool is already in your grasp.

You look at the man, “The yankauer, Doctor” he says as you know that he has a smirk under that mask.

“Getting a little ahead of yourself aren’t you?” you say looking back into the cavity suctioning out the loose embolus.

“No doctor, ok maybe a little.”

“Are you bored of me, nurse?” Yeonjun’s eyebrow quirks up when you exaggerate his title. He leaves the conversation at that so you can continue to focus on the surgery. The clot was removed, blood flow restored, the chest cavity was put back into place and it was now time to close the incision site. “Staples.” Yeonjun says with the item waiting in his hand.

“No, no I want sutures.” Yeonjun shifts on his feet and stares at you. With a little nudge forward of the tool you stare at the item contemplating. Suddenly you feel your feet ache from hours of standing your brain trying to tell you to go for the faster option in front of you. This is a big incision and the healing rate is quicker if staples are used. Rolling your eyes, your gloved hand stretches out, “staples.”

%%%

You’re sitting down outside the operating rooms, taking your little sterile booties off. You couldn’t help but stare at your scrub nurse, perfect posture at the rolling desk-cart, already chewing his habit gum while charting. You didn’t like how he was telling you what tools you needed in surgery, irritated at each crack of bubble and his sharp jaw clenching at every chew, but you again couldn’t deny how handsome he looked. Picking yourself off the bench grabbing your white coat on the way to Nurse Yeonjun. His hair in his face looking through his eyelashes sees you in front of him all the while a big pink bubble pops. Taking a deep breath for encouragement you ask, “so do you want to grab a drink after the next operation?”

“Thanks for asking but I’m meeting with the other scrub nurses”

“Ah yes you nurses always like to stick together” you say as you pick at the ridges of the desk, annoyed, “and always have to prove themselves better than doctors.”

Another gum bubble pops, Yeonjun leans over the desktop getting closer to you, “Aw does precious not like that I know how to do her job better?”

You straighten your posture trying to look bigger than the man, “That’s doctor to you” Yeonjun rolls his eyes, “now nurse I want you to get this surgery prepared in time”

“Well doctor princess, I’ll do that for you if you show your nurses a little more respect.”

You’re shaking of anger at his low judgment, the man smirks looking around the room. Your eyes follow to find out that everybody’s attention is on you two. Yeonjun logs out of the computer, spitting his gum out in the trash, before grabbing your wrist dragging you to the nearest empty on-call room. “W-what are you do-ah” you words interrupted by gasp as Yeonjun pushes you into the door.

“I’ve seen more than your little doctor eyes have seen, I might not have many years of education but I have the experience” Yeonjun spits his words, face so close, one hand on your waist while the other locks the door behind you.

“I’ve gone through years of school to not get orders from a nurse.” The nurse scoffs, “We’ll see about that.”

Yeonjun’s plush lips crash into yours so rushed and harsh your head bangs on the wooden door. He tugs away your scrub cap, unraveling your hair at the same time. You squirm at the feeling of the man’s hands finding their way under all your layers of clothing to rub the soft skin of your waist. Your hands reach up to drag your fingers through Yeonjun’s hair but he was not letting that happen. His big hands grab both arms, pinning them over your head making you squirm more as he grinds his half hard dick against your core.

“I know what you say about me,” you whine out of confusion, his lips grazing yours as he speaks, “words get around fast around here, words like you calling me a man-whore.” You would feel embarrassed but it was hard when his soft lips felt so nice on your neck while his cock so easily felt thanks to the thin material of the scrub pants. “But I know those words don’t mean shit especially when I see you drooling over me,” your half lidded eyes look into his dark ones, “just like that precious, even when you’re in someone else’s heart you look at me like you want me to fuck you right there.”

One hand still pinning your hands as the other slips under your seafoam green pants. His long fingers slip into your panties making your hips jut out. Yeonjun hisses when he feels your smooth slick making it easy to slide a finger in your cunt. Moans muffled by his lips as his fingers stretch you out and curl making your legs weak. So weak that your knees actually buckle, stumbling a bit before catching yourself. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Yeonjun, “what’s the matter pretty, can’t handle a few fingers in your cunt.”

“I-its the ah- long surgery” you try to deny the fact that the nurse has you melting.

“If that's so, let me put you in a different position.”

Yeonjun’s fingers slip out of your folds to be pushed into his mouth. You’d admire the filthy sight before but his other hand had you whipping around to the uncomfortable cots. The springs squeak as you fall into the cushion, looking up at the man watching as his fingers pop out of his mouth. He tugs the green scrub top over your head, “so a pretty surgeon can’t handle my fingers standing up but she can stand for hours on end, that’s cute,” he kisses your shoulder as his hand unhooks your bra, “wonder if you’ll be able to stand after I’m done with you.”

Your heart rate was pulsating, if you were hooked up to a heart monitor they surely would call an emergency code blue on you. Yeonjun knows it too, studying your body, noticing your rise of breathing rate and his lips on your neck could clearly feel your carotid pulse heightened. Taking your bottoms off, he smiles at the big damp patch on your underwear slipping them off to meet your pants on the floor. “Flip over, ass up,” you do what he said, losing the battle of superiority quickly much to Yeonjun’s surprise, but he wasn’t complaining. Taking off his clothes, he licks his red lips appreciating the sight of your plump ass and pussy patiently waiting for him. His hand slides up your inner thigh, listening closely to your whimpers as his finger tips touch your wet folds once more. You bite your lip trying to stop yourself from telling Yeonjun to do something instead you move your hips against his fingers.

 “Be patient” he hisses as he slaps your cunt, you cry out from the sensitivity, “aren’t good doctors supposed to be patient?” You whine, Yeonjun’s fingers tease your folds making you wetter to the point your dripping down your thighs. His other hand grazes your ass cheek, gripping them to spread you open every now and then. Yeonjun couldn’t deny that you were also one of the most attractive coworkers. He actually has been wanting to see you like this for awhile ever since you caught him during your internship. It was common for doctors to downgrade the nurses and he has learned to ignore it, but he took it as a chance to get you riled up. Looking at your ass then to your face, your neck stretching so your eyes can meet his, pleading, “Please Yeonjun.” Yeonjun reaches next to your head into the drawers knowing all too well that there was a convenient box of condoms in it. You lick your lips watching the man slide the condom on his stiff pink dick. You gasp again when he smacks your ass before positioning himself. Face falling into the flat pillow as Yeonjun pushes his fat cock slowly into you, stretching your hole deliciously, agonizingly.

“Mmm- more” your muffle getting another slap on your cheek. Yeonjun’s head was thrown back relishing in the feeling of your tight pussy around him, “so needy n’ so tight.” His slow movements quicken into your core making the cot’s springs squeak as loud as your moaning, head bobbing as the cheap bed moves in its spot. He leans over pecking your shoulder, “making me think you don’t do this often” he chuckles, “no wonder you’re so tense.”

You felt more tense right now since his dick was pounding harshly into you. Your insides were rearranged so much so you didn’t realize how loud you were being. "Gonna fuck you til you can't even remember your name, let alone operate like you're supposed to." Everything in your body felt like it was burning the stretch of your cunt, the friction of your folds, the teasing rubs of his hands on your ass. Each groan and hiss he made had you clenching around him. You whine, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten, “J-jun ‘m cummin.”

“Hmm I don’t know if I should let you.” he teases knowing there’s no way you could hold yourself back.

“Please, oh god- please” you scream out stretching your neck again to show your teary eyes. Yeonjun’s eyes roll back loving how fucked you looked. You came on his cock before he could say anything else resulting in Yeonjun thrusting hard to reach his high cumming into the wrap. “Shit” you both say in unison and collapse on the small bed close to its breaking point.

Yeonjun kisses your shoulder once again slipping out of you, throwing away the dirty condom. You rolled onto your back brushing your sweaty hair out of your face. Stunned by a passionate kiss on the lips by Yeonjun, “We should do this again sometime, Doctor.”

“I’ll put that in your orders, Nurse Yeonjun.”

%%%

Later that night Yeonjun stands in the operating room waiting for the surgeon to arrive at the table. He looks over his perfectly placed tools checking yet knowing he has everything in place for the surgery. The quiet room is disturbed by the air tight door opening by the surgeon. You walk in with clean hands, Yeonjun’s eyes scan your form as you dress into a gown and glove. It was dark in the room for the type of surgery but he still noticed the slight limp in your strut. Only he knew why you were in a bit discomfort, well, him and the others that were around the on-call room.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

[willowsnook]

Hi,could I request a vodka, lemonade in a wine glass pls and ty?

Btw i am OBSESSED with you're writing

i love u

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

carlos sainz x norris!sister

it's always been you

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When your brother Lando was a rookie in F1, you were lucky enough to travel with him to all of his races, taking advantage of your gap year. You’d always been close, so he practically begged you to make the trip each race. Not that you minded; growing up watching him race, you’d come to love the sport yourself.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was how much you’d grow to like his teammate, Carlos.

First of all, the man was drop-dead gorgeous. You could get lost in those deep brown eyes. He was always kind and thoughtful, including you in conversations and going out of his way to make you feel welcome.

It felt like a harmless schoolyard crush at first—he was six years older, after all, and your brother’s teammate. But over that season, it became a little more than that. You saw him less when you went back to school, especially after he made the switch to Ferrari, but the feelings always bubbled up whenever you crossed paths. Every time he pulled you into a big hug, his hands lingering on your lower back, and your heart raced. And he kept up with you, always asking about your studies and your new job, his eyes warm and attentive.

Lando had noticed the way his friend looked at you. It amused him, mostly because Carlos would go out of his way to dodge the topic whenever it came up. Despite his protectiveness, Lando trusted Carlos, and honestly, he was rooting for something to happen.

You’d flown to Monaco at Lando’s request for his housewarming party, which, knowing him, was more about having an excuse to throw a party than showing off his new condo.

Hours into the night, you found yourself on the patio with Alex and a few other drivers, the group deep into the latest fake rumors circulating about Oscar potentially going to Red Bull.

“Man, I don’t even know how they come up with this stuff,” Oscar said, nursing a beer.

“If you left, then Carlos could take your seat and return to his one true love,” Charles said drunkenly, his face flushed from the drinks. Lando laughed, looking over at Carlos, who rolled his eyes.

“Miss me that much, huh?” Lando teased, and Carlos grinned.

“Wrong Norris, bud,” Charles corrected, and the group fell silent. You froze, looking at Charles, thinking you must’ve misheard, but he pressed on.

“Do you think she’ll be in the paddock today, Charles?” he continued, mimicking Carlos’s voice. “What do you think Lando would say?”

Carlos immediately lunged across the table, clapping a hand over Charles’s mouth, and Lando burst out laughing. You felt your cheeks heat up, your heart racing, while Alex shot you a knowing smirk. Was it possible that Carlos actually felt the same way about you?

The conversation drifted on, but Carlos had slipped away inside, leaving Lando waggling his eyebrows at you. After an excuse to grab another drink, you went to find Carlos.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer, looking deep in thought. You stepped up in front of him, his gaze dropping to meet yours with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Hi,” you said softly, suddenly shy.

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat. He hesitated, glancing around, before he looked back at you with a gentle smile. “I… well, I’m sorry for how that just came out.”

Carlos smiled nervously, setting his beer on the counter, his eyes darting from yours to the floor. You took a steadying breath and decided it was now or never.

“Was Charles just… drunk? Or did he actually mean what he said?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos’s blush deepened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “Maybe I haven’t been as subtle as I thought,” he murmured with a shy smile.

Your heart skipped a beat as you took a step closer, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “So… all this time?”

Carlos nodded, his eyes now searching yours, his voice low. “Since the day I met you. It’s always been you.”

A warmth spread through your chest as the words settled in. You’d dreamed of this moment, but hearing it from him made it all the more real. Gathering your courage, you reached up, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. “Well, it’s always been you for me, too.”

Carlos’s face lit up as he closed the small distance between you, his hand resting on your waist as he leaned in. The kiss was soft, lingering, filled with everything left unsaid over the years

“Finally,” he whispered, chuckling softly.

Just then, Lando poked his head into the kitchen with a knowing grin. “So, should I go thank Charles for finally spilling the beans, or are you two going to pretend this never happened?”

Carlos groaned, rolling his eyes, but you just laughed, squeezing his hand.

[kittenlittle24]

Cleopatra

As always, gif not mine, likes and comments are appreciated!

Masterlist

You were a few years younger than Gregory House when you met. Before he suffered an infarction in his right leg, before he met Stacy.

You met Gregory House when he was a resident and you were in your last year of high school. You came to visit a friend that was hospitalized. He was sharp and quick, he saw things others missed or ignored and knew how to connect the dots.

He was the reason you went to study medicine, though unlike him you became a surgeon. Despite his reputation, for you, he had a soft spot and helped you with your studies, and was never too mean to you. Of course, he pushed you to your limits so you’d be the best but he never did anything to hurt you.

When he had his infection and diagnosed himself you visited him in the hospital and he told you he chose the painful path to keep his leg. He chose to undergo a procedure to bypass circulation around the dead muscle. The result was intense pain during the healing process.

That was also where you met his girlfriend. In one of the times visiting him, she was sitting with him, one hand holding his, the other stroking his face. You felt your stomach clench at the sight but pushed through when his eyes met yours. You planted a fake smile on your lips and entered the room, you knew he was in too much pain to see through you.

A few days later your phone rang, and his name popped on screen, though it wasn’t his rough voice that greeted you. It was instead Stacy’s. Asking for your opinion about Cuddy’s middle-ground offer, it didn’t matter how much you objected because, in the end, you understood that she had her mind made up as soon as he asked to be placed in a chemically induced coma.

After that phone call, you rushed to the hospital, hoping you would get there before he’s taken to surgery.

You reached the hallway just as he was pulled out of the room, Stacy exited behind him, “Stop! Please!”

Grabbing Stacy’s attention, she shook her head at the nurses taking him before she marched straight up to you and told you to stay away and put you on the not allowed to visit list.

You desperately wanted to be there for him but Stacy didn’t like having a young groupie around her boyfriend and made sure that you knew that. You didn’t come back after that. You were petrified that he would blame you for not stopping Stacy.

You got an offer for a fellowship at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and decided to take it because you heard he works there now. You felt that you had unfinished business between the two of you. You weren’t sure whether what drove you back was guilt or the feelings you pushed down since the day you met him.

You’d like to think you’ve changed in the last few years. Superficially, you changed your hair and the way you dressed. But you also grew, you weren’t some meek resident or a high schooler blinded by her adoration for him, you were a stronger and more resilient person now.

Or so you’d like to think.

About a month into your fellowship a young female doctor with long brown hair, walked up to you introduced herself as Dr Cameron, and asked if you could get your boss to help with her case. Learning she’s on a fellowship as well you quickly became friends and it wasn’t long before she exposed that she’s a fellow under one Dr Greg House. You exchanged details and promised to hang out before going your separate ways. You occasionally saw him in the cafeteria or the clinic; if he recognized you he never admitted it. You felt that same stomach clench when you saw him eating lunch with Wilson and Stacy walked up to them to talk.

Much later that day, or rather night, you walked to the glass block office, staring at the clear door on which in white capital letters GREGORY HOUSE, MD. Was written.

You turned sharply at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you. There he stood, a black blazer on a light blue shirt and a cane in his right hand.

Seeing him this close you noticed the grey hairs and the crowfeet and realized a lot must have happened in the last five years since you saw each other.

“I was curious how long it would take you to come to see me.” He stated.

Lowering your head, you didn’t know if to be happy or anxious that he recognized you. Moving past you, he opened the door and walked into his office.

“Are you coming in or not?” He asked holding the door for you.

You didn’t need to be asked twice, rushing inside you watched him limp to his desk before taking a seat and raising his leg to rest on his desk.

Taking a pill bottle out of his inner pocket, he rattled it before opening it and popping a pill into his mouth.

“Are you still involved with Stacy?”

Placing the Vicodin bottle on his glass desk and picking up his red ball instead, “Nope.” He replied as he tossed and caught it, playing catch with himself.

Feeling a slight relief at his answer, you glanced at the chair on the opposite end, you considered sitting but you were still too anxious and hyped about what was about the nearing discussion and chose to stare outside the window behind him.

“You asked a question, now, my turn.” He stated as he continued to play with his ball, never looking at you, “Why disappear and suddenly reappear?”

“Those are two questions.” You whispered still staring at the dark skyline.

Putting the ball down, he pulled his legs down, grabbed his cane, and came to stand in your face, “Let me rephrase, where were you when they agreed to surgically remove my muscle?”

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath, “She asked to stay away. Stacy called to consult about the surgery, I knew that she had her mind set and that she wouldn’t listen to anything I was going to say.”

He took a small step forward, which made you retreat, “You didn’t stop them.” He excused.

Feeling a tear slide down your cheek, you harshly wiped it as if he didn’t see it.

“I tried House! I had no power, she was your appointed medical proxy and she told me to stay away.”

As if the fight left him, House went silent. Walking past you he left his office and headed straight to the elevator.

You let out a shaky breath as you heavily sat down and covered your face with your palms. You knew you weren’t done yet.

He barged into Stacy’s office, the door slamming against the wall from the force he used on it.

“You sent Y/n away?”

Dropping the papers she was reading she leaned back in her chair, “I’m surprised she didn’t run to tell until now.”

Standing up she moved to lean against her desk, “She was in love with you, probably still is. I had to fight for our relationship every day after your surgery enough, I didn’t need her there to watch me fail and wait to take my spot.”

“You were so insecure about our relationship that you sent her away from me.” He concluded.

He shook his head and left her office to go back to his. He paused at the doorway when she called his name but didn’t turn to face her.

“She worships you, don’t ruin it.”

He nodded once and walked away.

Once he reached his office door he hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle. He stared at the back of your head, seemingly you didn’t move while he went to confront Stacy. Sighing he pushed the door open and entered it.

“I take it Stacy told you the same I did.” You softly said as you mindlessly pushed something back and forth on top of his desk, your back still facing him.

Taking a couple of steps forward, he tapped his cane on the carpet, “Also shared this interesting theory that you’re in love with me.”

You turned in your seat, your arm resting on the backrest as you stared at him, not knowing if he was yanking your chain or actually dense.

“Not going to deny yet?”

Standing up you stepped up to him, “House, are you kidding me? I'd be your mistress just to have you around.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline, he opened his mouth to say some sarcastic remark but stopped himself.

After a few seconds in which he stayed silent, “I came here to apologize for not fighting harder, maybe-“

“There wasn’t anything you could have done. Stacy wouldn’t have let you.”

Shaking your head, “Probably not, but I still owe you an apology. And I am sorry I wasn’t there.”

Walking past him towards the door, “I guess I’ll see you around, Dr. House.”