#even on cold meds because what the hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

andhumanslovedstories · 23 days ago

Text

Last two shifts I worked, I had the same patients but was precepting (training) different nurses. So two nights in a row, I have a patient with a post-op complication (guts not moving) that the surgeons are taking a conservative approach to (wait and see if the gut starts moving). This treatment plan makes sense for the specifics of this patient, but that means we’re doing a lot of symptom management without directly treating the thing that’s causing the symptoms. In this case, symptoms are pain and nausea so bad that the patient said if they’d known this is how they’d feel after, they’d have skipped the surgery and just rolled the dice with what that colon polyp would do if left alone.

So we’re throwing meds at this patient, we’re walking them so their bowels can get moving, we’re giving ice chips and gum and cold wash clothes, we’re giving IV fluids (which is SUPER rare in the hospital right now because due to one of the recent hurricanes, we are critically low on IV fluids), we’re doing basically all my tricks short of putting another tube in this guy. And it’s working okay. Like we’re keeping pain and nausea just below “intolerable” but not by much.

That first night I have that patient, while I’m talking to the surgeon on the phone, my preceptee is in the room talking to the patient. I don’t get any new orders because most usual meds that would help are contraindicated in this particular circumstance. I’m feeling frustrated about that—I HATE when I can’t get symptoms significantly under control—when my preceptee comes up excitedly and says that the patient says they’re feeling much better after the therapeutic intervention my preceptor did. The intervention was hanging out in the room for 15 mins and talking with the patient about their hometown in Canada.

(Which, hell yeah. Very proud of that new nurse because she said one of the biggest things she wanted to work on was being less nervous talking to patients.)

Next night, I got the same patient, still miserable, and a new preceptee. We’ve got more meds this time, but still only marginal success with managing symptoms. I tell my preceptee, “next time you’re in the room, plan on staying and chatting with the patient for like ten minutes.” Next time we’re in the room, we do just that—we talk sports, hobbies, plans, past surgeries, how much this surgery sucks, just the three of us shooting the shit for a while before we have to go give pain meds to another patient. (It was a surgical floor. That night was mostly handing out ice packs and oxy.)

Anyway, the patient tells us that this chat has been the best they’ve felt all night. My preceptee comes out of the room, and my preceptee is like “wow that really was our best intervention.” And I get to be like “yes witness the power of chit chat as nursing intervention.”

Reflecting back, I’m grateful that the patient was so expressive about what we did that was working. I told the patient at one point, in the midst of their most acute misery, that we were going to give them everything we had available, and if that didn’t work, I had backup plans in mind. Like you might spend the night miserable, but it’s not because we didn’t keep trying stuff. And after I say that, the patient goes, “that was good, I like that you said that, that comforted me.” Which was very nice and convenient because before we’d gone into the room, I’d talked to my preceptee about how to make patients feel supported and cared for, even when none of the care we do is working. When we left after that, my preceptee was like “wow, you’re right, that really worked,” and I was like, “I KNOW, that’s cool right? I mean you always hope it works, but sometimes you just can’t tell if it actually does.”

I love really open patients, they are such fantastic teaching opportunities. For example, I had another patient both night who was also very open, specifically about what a bad job the hospital was doing and how everyone should just stay the hell out of their room. Considerably less pleasant feedback, equally valuable, about essentially the exact same situation that the first patient was in. Talking through that patient with my preceptees was also very useful and very easy, because the patient had been so explicit in their feedback.

It’s always odd training nurses because you don’t want bad things to happen to your patients, but you also need to new nurses to see bad things. And sometimes you get a patient assignment that is so good for teaching, it’s like it came from a textbook. Very convenient for me personally as a preceptor. Feels weird to say that about patients who are having absolutely miserable times, that their misery is useful to me, but (as preceptors normally say about stuff like this) if it’s happening, at least it’s happening where we can learn about it. Anyway, great couple of shifts to practice therapeutic communication.

#nursing tag #b.

695 notes · View notes

amor-ad-nauseam · 4 months ago

Text

Somethin’ stupid

Pairings: Sam Winchester X reader

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and in taking care of you, Sam reveals a hidden talent and maybe even some hidden feelings…

Word count: 2.1k

Tags; Sam and reader have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, Sam x fem!reader, carheartt!Sam

Requests are open

part two

You never realized just how cold it got in Montana until you were here, wrapped up in Sam’s carheartt with his hands on your waist.

Well, one of his hands was on your waist, the other was digging through the pocket of his jacket for the motel room key.

“Sorry,” Sam chuckled awkwardly as his hand accidentally brushed over the small gap of exposed skin between your jeans and top.

This is definitely not what you had imagined when you envisioned his hands on you.

“It’s fine, really,” you replied with that sweet consideration he adored.

His left hand fumbles uselessly between the two of you- desperately searching for the key. He was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed. You had gotten injured-stabbed in the thigh on a hunt when he should’ve been protecting you. On top of all of that now he now has you out in the cold because he can’t find a damn key.

He eventually manages to get the key between his fingers but much to his dismay he couldn’t quite manage to pull it from the pocket due to the precarious position the two of you were in: Your left arm swung around his shoulder, his right hand on your waist and his other wedged between the two of you.

Sam was far too kind to let you slip from his grasp, no matter how many times you told him you were fine. So, you take matters into your own hands. “Here, lemme just-“

You shift your weight to your injured leg, giving him just the right amount of room to fish the key out.

His smile of triumph quickly falters once he hears your hiss of pain. He instinctively tightens his grip, reeling you back into him and closing the gap between your bodies; Sending your heart beat racing.

There’s a stillness for the moment. You staring into his eyes and he into yours. Sam couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment. Your normally neat, pulled back hair now wild and lovely with the cool night wind whipping through it. Your cheeks and nose were this beautiful shade of pink from the cold and all he wanted to do was reach out and cup your divine face in his hands.

“Sam,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. You never realized just how much green was in those pretty hazel eyes.

He tries to speak but not a thought -well, not a thought aside from professing his love(which he thought to be a terrible idea)- comes to mind.

Instead he blinks, searching your face for something- anything. Even a slight muscle twitch that would let him in on what you were thinking.

“The door.”

“Right,” he nods, clearing his throat and breaking the moment. He felt so stupid.

As the key turns in the lock you mentally curse yourself. Why the hell did you say that? That was the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.

He helps you limp your way into the motel room, the whole time not daring to look at you. And you do the same.

“Come on, there ya go, atta girl.” Sam grunted, gently setting you down on the bed.

Aside from your royal fuck up a minute ago, maybe this whole thing (getting stabbed included) wasn’t too bad. After all, you did get to hear sam say “atta girl” and if you were being honest, you liked it.

While Sam went to go dig out the med kit from his duffle bag you found yourself zoned out staring at his muscular frame. His hair, god it was perfect. Whose hair looks that good after spending the better half of the night in an abandoned building? It was practically witchcraft.

“Last time we let Dean pick the motel,” Sam chuckled.

“Hm?” You questioned, Sam’s voice snapping you from your train of thought.

“The whole uh, “Wild West” theme,” He smiles, gesturing to a cowboy hat hung just past his head.

“Right,” you chuckle dryly. “Definitely not letting him pick again.” You hadn’t really noticed the room; you were a bit preoccupied.

“I mean seriously,” Sam said, sitting next to you. “Where’d they get all this stuff? Cowboy furnishings?”

You giggle at Sam’s joke and lay your leg in his lap. Wine colored blood had pooled at the epicenter of the make-shift bandage (the torn sleeve of Deans FBI suit.)

The room was just large enough to comfortably accommodate two queen sized beds, separated by a thin wooden divider. On the far end of the room there was a pull-out couch with a cowboy hat pattern dancing across the leather; that same pattern reflected on the small sofa chair across from the head of your bed.

“Wild West express?” You reply while looking around the room- not wanting to lay eyes on that nasty wound. Sam chuckled and you somehow find yourself right back where you started- staring straight at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. His smile was enchanting.

The room had this homely atmosphere, whether that was due to Sam’s presence or the warm lighting was a mystery to you. The lights seemed to perfectly reflect on his face, illuminating those stunning hazel eyes and giving his skin a warm honey glow.

While Sam worked on disinfecting your wound he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. You were right there, mere feet from him and yet you still got hurt. Sure you’ve been banged up worse, not to mention the other bruises all three of you sustained on this hunt alone. But this time, this time was different. You’d need stitches, the stab was a few inches deep and wide with jagged edges. He cringes as he threads the needle. This was his fault.

His eyes snap to your face after the first nonevent of the needle through your skin. Your jaw was clenched tight, eyes large and pointed toward the ceiling, attempting to breathe through the pain. Guilt fills him at the very sight.

“Should’ve drank.” You grunt out, your hand balling into a fist as your eyes squeeze as tight as a camera shutter. Your head falls forward, your wind-whipped hair forming a curtain over the sides of your face. Even in pain, somehow, Sam thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen all wrapped up in a brown carheartt.

“Almost done.” He says gently, tying a knot and cutting the thread.

You let out a hefty breath, throwing your head back against the bed frame and sinking into the mattress with relief.

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee, gently raising it. “God-“ he breaths, the new angle allowing him a better veiw of just how bad it was. “If I was there I could’ve-“ he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in a dog-like manner of confusion. “What? Sam, this isn’t your fault.”

The pain had mostly subsided, fading to a feeling of dull pressure - more uncomfortable than anything really.

“Regardless. You got hurt on my watch.”

“Sam, c’mon. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you frowned. He was too sweet for his own good.

The both of you knew this was a losing battle. You had this conversation a dozen times over during the car ride alone.

Sam goes back to silently wrapping your thigh in gauze while you decide to let your eyes wander around the room. Eventually you land on a wooden guitar propped up against the sofa chair right across from you.

You gasp and before Sam knows it you’re on your feet foot, the roll of gauze dangling from your thigh.

“What are you-“ he calls your name in an exasperated manner. “I wasn’t-“

You spin on your heels and reveal yourself to be holding a guitar with a beaming smile on your face.

“Oh no- oh no no no no.” Sam shakes his head.

“Pleaseeeee,” you beg, giving him the most puppy-dog eyed look you can muster.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he grins. “Now c’mon, sit.” He pats the space next to him and reaches out to take your hand. “Gotta finish patchin’ you up.”

You fold your arms over your chest with smugness he knew all too well. “That’s not gonna work on me,” you replied, looking from him to the guitar.

“Dude, I haven’t played since like, college.” His hand falls limply to his lap with a sigh. “Now c’mere before you make me regret ever getting drunk around you.” Sam attempts to make his voice sound serious but fails to hide the smile on his face and the amusement in his voice.

“Oh please,” you said through laughter at his expression. He looked adorable trying to be serious. “Just one song.”

Your laughter, it was contagious. Being around you was like the best high. “No.”He laughs, and he doesn’t even know why. “Okay, okay, how bout this?” He adjusts his position a little, trying to shove down the laughter. “You let me finish bandaging you up and I’ll play one, and I mean one, song?”

“Orrrrr, you play a song and I’ll let you bandage me up.”

“You can’t be serious. y’know you run the risk of infection the longer you don’t let me wrap it?”

“Then you better get to playing guitar-boy”

You smile and simply hold out the guitar to him.

Slowly, a scheming grin spreads on his lips, his large hand grabs the guitar and your wrist in one fail swoop. He attempts to get you seated back on the bed again but you’re too quick.

“Ha! Not gonna get me that easy!”

You giggle as you slip from his grasp. He watches as you run off do this weird limp-hopping thing off into the bathroom, the unfinished gauze swinging from your leg like a pendulum.

If he really wanted, he could easily stop you but he was more interested in seeing where this would go.

A few years ago, while Dean was off flirting with the bartender, you and Sam were in the back of the bar like a couple of wall flowers.

That’s the night you started to look at him differently, to feel things for him differently. That’s the night you started to like him; and it only grew from there. Admittedly, you both had a bit too much to drink. You told each other things nobody else knew. During the conversation he talked about his college days; how he smoked weed a few times (you couldn’t stop laughing at this) and played guitar like a proper hippie. (This also, much to his dismay, made you erupt into drunken laughter).

“You alright in there?” Sam calls from the room.

“Y-yeah! I’m good.” You shout back. You quickly tie off the end of the bandage and waltz back into the room only to discover Sam in the sofa chair, guitar in his lap.

You press your hand to your chest and make a show of having an aghast expression. “Is that what I think it is? Sam Winchester! Strumming the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just tuning it is all.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, packing up the first aid kit.

Sam’s fingers work the strings of the guitar, playing around with a few notes here and there, tuning, plucking strings. But at the playing of a few specific chords, your ears perk up in recognition.

You immediately race limp-jog? Over to the bed and perch yourself upon the edge. Sam smiles at your eager face.

“I figured one of us outta hold up our end of the deal.”

You just smile and shake your head.

And there you were. Staring into Sam’s eyes, doing a mixture of humming and singing along while he played your favorite song on guitar.

“…hmm hm hm… we pop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…”

He would hum and sing along with you, a slight hesitation every time the main part of the chorus would appear.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like-“

As if the lyric held far too much weight to sing.

“I love you…”

Eventually, you began to drift off. Sinatra always put you to sleep. He knew that. Sam’s eyes don’t leave you for a moment. You were reveire incarnate. Half asleep, head on a pillow and lazily humming along.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like…”

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every soft slumbering breath. Warm lighting over your skin. Tranquil and mesmerizing as a sunset.

The lyrics come out a statement more than anything else. A truthful, unsung whisper.

“I love you.”

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #reader insert #dean winchester x reader #reader fanfiction #one shot #supernatural fic #fem reader #supernatural one shot

420 notes · View notes

stevieschrodinger · 1 year ago

Text

So what if like the thing that makes Alpha and Omega pairs, true mates or whatever, is like a detectable thing that they can test for. And like, everyone has their little blood test at birth and then on say, their 18th birthday, the Alpha gets informed as to who their omega is.

Obviously it's a bit of a sexist deal and lots of Omega and their supporters are trying to get it changed so that both parties are informed, to make it fair, and that is getting some traction but right now, the Alpha gets told and the Omega has to wait for them to show up.

Except when Eddie, fucking excited as all hell to meet his Omega finally, opens his envelope to find Steve Harrington's name starring back at him and Eddie just. He just can't. Steve's one of the biggest bitches at Hawkins high. And even if Eddie can, sort of, get past that, Steve's a snob. He lives in a fucking mansion and has a nice car and preppy clothes and yeah...Eddie is going to get rejected stone cold and that would be fair because he doesn't have a single thing to offer and Omega like Harrington.

Eddie burns the envelope.

And yeah, he can't help but watch Steve a little more now that he like, Knows, but he does his best to put it behind him.

And Steve gets into a fight with Nancy wheelers new Omega, when Nancy gets her envelope, and it's not Steve's name inside and it looks like Jonathan came out on top and Steve...well, he looks beaten and sad and that nearly makes Eddie cave but...no. no.

Right up until he has Steve under his hands, pinned to a boathouse wall with a bottle to his throat and Eddie's been thinking of Steve has his Omega for so long it just kind of slips out. Eddie whispers it, 'Omega' and the bottle drops to the floor and shatters more.

And Eddie has to watch it play out from close range on Steve's face, dawning realisation. Deep hurt. And then anger. An angry shield that comes down as he pushes Eddie off.

"Dustin explain to Munson what's up, I'll be outside a minute.". And Steve just stomps out and there's fuck all Eddie can do about it.

And then he kinda gets distracted by hell dimension stuff. For a bit. And Steve's clearly fucking angry with him and Eddie, well, what the fuck is Steve expecting Eddie to do, right? Steve would never have wanted him in the first place. So Eddie is fucking angry. And it comes out spiteful, calling Steve 'big boy' like he knows it'll rile Steve up. Throwing his jacket at Steve so he will cover up, because he can't bare to look at all the skin Steve is showing, especially with fucking Wheeler hanging around. And if it got something of Eddie's on Steve, well then, it doesn't fucking matter does it? Doesn't mean anything.

And it's not until it's all done, and Eddie wakes up fucking high as a kite on pain meds, with non other than Harrington sitting by his bedside that it all slips out, "what are you doing here?"

Steve shrugs, won't look at him, "waiting to see if my Alpha dies, I guess."

And he just sounds so...bereft. so broken.

"Steve, I just...look-"

"Doesn't matter. You've made it clear. It's fine. And you're going to live I guess so I'll just-" and he's standing, turning to leave.

And Eddie knows Steve now. Sees him with the sheep. Knows he isn't a bitch. Knows he's just...a good guy. Knows he isn't any of the things Eddie thought he was.

"You grew up in a fucking castle." Steve pauses, sitting back in the chair to frown at Eddie.

"What has that go to do with-"

Eddie clears his throat, it's dry and scratchy and hurts but he has to do this. "You grew up in a castle. Nice car. Both parents. Preppy clothes, fucking, shitty fucking jock friends. Steve, you would have rejected me in a heartbeat. I live in a fucking trailer and sling drugs on the side I'm not- I couldn't do that to you."

And Steve just, he just starts crying. He nods, wipes his eyes, "I might have," he admits finally, "I don't know what I would have said...but I needed you. Since then I needed you so much and," he sniffles, wipes his pink nose .

"And I didn't know. I couldn't have and I am so sorry but could we just, now, can we just-" and it hurts like fuck but Eddie bites it down because Steve is half clambered into the bed next to him and yeah. Yeah, that's perfect.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #world building #ficlet #i write

1K notes · View notes

redvdress · 13 days ago

Note

Ahem katsuki taking care of you when your sick? 🫣

I’m so sick lately I need something to devour rn to survive (you don’t have to tho dw bb)

DUMBASS FLU PATROL

A/N: i’m SO SO SO SORRY this and all the other requests are taking so long but i’ve been running out of ideas and school took a lot of time from me. This prompt was just so fun to write ‘cause I can perfect picture bakugo taking care of reader..in his own way..I’ve been sick to after hanging out for halloween night, we all need a bakugo to take care of us🦇

It starts with Bakugo noticing something off about you during class.

He wouldn’t say anything right away, but he’s sharp enough to pick up on small changes. You’re quieter than usual, your eyes look a little glazed, and you keep rubbing your temples.

At first, he thinks you’re just tired from all the late-night study sessions you two have been pulling together, but when you keep sniffling and coughing under your breath, he starts to get annoyed.

Not at you—no, he’s irritated because you’re clearly sick and trying to tough it out, which to him is just stupid.

As class goes on, he watches you like a hawk out of the corner of his eye.

You’re shivering slightly, even though the room isn’t cold. Finally, during a brief break, he leans over, his usual scowl firmly in place as he mutters,

“Oi, what the hell’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

You give him a tired smile, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Bakugo. Just a little under the weather.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps, barely lowering his voice. A couple of classmates look over, but Bakugo doesn’t care.

“You’re sick, dumbass. Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

You shrug, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal. “Didn’t want to fall behind.”

Bakugo grits his teeth, muttering curses under his breath.

The fact that you’d drag yourself to class, even when you’re clearly unwell, pisses him off more than he’d like to admit.

Part of him is frustrated that you’re so stubborn, but another part—the part he doesn’t like to acknowledge—feels a strange pang of concern.

After class, he’s practically glued to your side, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he escorts you out of the room. You insist you’re fine, that you just need some rest, but Bakugo’s having none of it.

“Shut up,” he growls when you try to brush him off. “You’re goin’ back to your room, and you’re not leavin’ until you’re better. Got it?”

You try to argue, but Bakugo’s glare is unyielding. His hand finds the small of your back, firm but surprisingly gentle as he steers you down the hall. He’s not usually one for soft gestures, but something about seeing you weak and vulnerable sets off an instinct he can’t ignore.

Once he gets you to your dorm room, he practically shoves you inside, crossing his arms as he stands in the doorway, blocking any chance of escape.

“Get in bed,” he orders, his voice rough but laced with an unmistakable note of concern.

You sigh, knowing better than to argue with him at this point.

You climb into bed, pulling the covers over yourself as he watches, his eyes sharp and critical, like he’s assessing just how sick you are.

After a moment, he grumbles, “You got medicine in here?”

You nod weakly, gesturing toward your desk where you have a small stash of over-the-counter meds.

Bakugo grabs them, inspecting each bottle with a furrowed brow, clearly reading the labels with more intensity than necessary.

He pours out the recommended dosage and hands it to you along with a glass of water, his expression a mixture of irritation and reluctant care.

“Take it” he says, watching closely as you down the pills. You can’t help but chuckle softly at his intensity, which only makes him scowl harder.

“Quit laughing, idiot. You’re the one who’s sick,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Bakugo doesn’t leave after that.

Instead, he grabs a chair from your desk, dragging it over to sit beside your bed, his arms crossed as he watches you. You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his persistence.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you murmur, your voice a little hoarse.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Like I’m gonna leave you here to get worse just ‘cause you’re stubborn as hell. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

There’s a warmth in his tone, buried under layers of gruffness, but it’s there.

The corners of his mouth twitch, almost like he’s considering a smile, but he quickly forces his expression back into a scowl.

You settle under the blankets, feeling a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the next few hours, Bakugo stays put, occasionally checking your temperature with the back of his hand (grumbling something about “damn germs” every time he does it) and making sure you’re drinking enough water. At one point, he disappears for a few minutes and comes back with a bowl of soup he somehow got from the cafeteria.

It’s barely warm by the time he returns, but the gesture makes your chest feel warm.

“Eat” he commands, holding the bowl out to you.

You take it, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bakugo.”

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, whatever. Just don’t get used to it.”

As the day goes on, you start to drift in and out of sleep, your fever making you drowsy. Each time you wake, Bakugo is still there, watching over you with a mixture of irritation and quiet worry. At one point, you feel his hand gently brush your forehead, checking for any sign of improvement.

The touch is warm—maybe a bit too warm, given his quirk—and you find it oddly soothing.

Just as you’re dozing off again, you hear him mutter under his breath, “Stupid… makin’ me worry like this…”

It’s barely audible, but it makes your heart flutter.

You feel yourself drifting back into sleep, a faint smile on your lips as you listen to him grumble, his voice softening in a way you rarely hear.

When you wake up again, it’s late, the room bathed in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. Bakugo’s still there, now slouched in the chair, looking half-asleep himself. He’s fighting to stay awake, his arms crossed, head nodding forward slightly.

You feel a pang of guilt, realizing he’s been with you all day. “You should go rest..” you whisper, not wanting him to feel obligated to stay.

He snaps awake, scowling. “I’m fine. You’re the one who looks like crap.”

You can’t help but smile, too tired to argue with him. Instead, you simply reach out, your fingers brushing his arm. He stiffens for a moment, surprised by the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Thank you… really,” you murmur, your voice soft.

He looks at you, and for a second, his expression softens, his usual harshness fading just slightly. He lets out a small sigh, leaning forward to gently press his hand against your forehead again, feeling your temperature one last time.

“Tch. You’re still warm,” he mutters, but there’s a tenderness in his tone that he can’t quite hide. Not with you.

You close your eyes, feeling yourself drift back into sleep, his presence comforting and grounding.

Just before you drift off completely, you feel his hand linger on your forehead, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. It’s such a small, unexpected gesture, but it speaks volumes��his way of showing he cares without saying a word.

As you fall asleep, you can just barely hear him mumbling under his breath, his tone low and almost affectionate.

“You better get better soon, idiot. Can’t have you fallin’ apart on me.”

258 notes · View notes

tojiscumdumpster · 10 months ago

Text

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။ knockout x renji abarai

✧ summary there’s no better way for renji to celebrate a big win than to spend the night with y/n.

✧ content warnings reader described as a black woman who uses she/pronouns. feisty!reader, chubby!reader x undergroundfighter!renji. modern au — no bleach verse. told in first POV — renji’s. mentions of stitches and bruises. usage of profanity, praise kink, cowgirl position, nipple play, facefucking — renji will finish in reader’s, squirting. terms of endearment — baby, sweetheart, angel, etc. reader and renji are in their late twenties.

✧ author’s note hello, hello. i am here with a fic that’s not jjk for once in my life, lmfao. this idea has been in my drafts since january 2023, and it was just sitting there collecting dusts on my old tumblr. but i said i was going to do more bleach characters, so here we go. first time writing renji, so if this ain’t how you see him, oops. still enjoy. also didn't really focus on the underground!fighter portion as much. but maybe i will if there's a next time. support me by liking, commenting, and reblogging this post. i would greatly appreciate it. AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS AND MINORS— DO NOT INTERACT.

I know she told me not to come by after the fight, but I needed to.

I won.

I fucking won, and there’s no other way for me to celebrate winning ten thousand dollars than to be with Y/N.

Well, that’s if she’s still not mad at me.

Before I left for my match, we got into an argument. A huge one. She doesn’t like that I fight for a living, let alone illegal underground fighting. I mean—I get it. Seeing someone you care about constantly getting his ass beat isn’t a sight worth seeing.

But fighting is all I know.

I had a shitty childhood. Didn’t know who the hell my parents were since they gave me up at birth for adoption. Jump around in foster care homes until the mothers got sick of me and kicked me out in the streets. Survival was basically forced on me.

Fighting is what kept me alive. For food. Clothes. A place to lay my head. Whether I lost or won, I know the reason why I’m alive today is because I’m a fighter.

It wasn’t until I was eighteen when I found out about the world of underground fighting. Ten years deep and I know nothing else.

Y/N knows this about me. She understands I didn’t have it easy and never judged me. But that doesn’t mean she agrees with my lifestyle.

She came to a few fights in the beginning. Eventually, she got tired of seeing me stitched up almost every weekend.

Shit, me too.

However, after tonight, I feel good about my future wins. I busted my ass in training, so now I don’t have to hear shit about anymore losses.

Even if right now I’m stitched up and have a black eye. I feel good.

Great.

Better if Y/N opens the door after keeping me waiting out in the cold for the past ten minutes.

I know she’s awake. She has a habit of staying up late, studying for med school. And plus, I haven’t messaged or called her yet. Despite her not showing up to my fights, she still wants an update afterwards that I made it out alive.

“Y/N, let me in,” I say, knocking loudly on her apartment door. “You know I don’t care about making a scene.”

After a few more obnoxious knocks, the door finally swings open and I am met with deep russet skin, tight curls, and chocolate-colored eyes that pierce an annoyed look in my direction.

“What do you want?” She bites out. “I’m busy.”

I smirk and hold the bag of money in the air. “I won.”

“Congrats.” Her tone is flat and she tries to slam the door in my face, but I placed my foot to stop it from closing. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Are you really still mad at me?” I teasingly ask.

“You won. I said congrats. What more do you want?”

I shrugged. “I’m locked out of my apartment.”

She arches a brow at me, already recognizing my bullshit ass excuse of being locked out of my apartment.

Y/N knows me. She knows I would do anything to be in her presence, so going back and forth in forty degree weather is pointless.

Her pretty brown hues travels across my face and body, examining the stitches and bruises that probably has her wondering, who the fuck treated him?

Me. But that’s besides the point.

A deep sign escapes her mouth when she realizes I’m not going anywhere until she lets me in, so she opens her door wider and turns her back to me to walk further inside her apartment.

“Sit,” she orders, which I happily do so while chuckling to myself.

While Y/N goes to the bathroom (assuming she’s getting a med kit to fix my shitty patch job), I take advantage of staring at her round ass that’s barely covered in those tiny boy shorts. Every step she takes it jiggles, creating an ocean of waves I’m eager to swim in.

I get comfortable while I wait, taking off my skully, sweater, and any other form of heavy clothing that would cause me to sweat in her heated apartment.

“I’m going to start charging you if you keep fucking coming to my apartment like this, Renji,” Y/N snapped, walking with the kit in her hand as expected.

“Outside of paying for your tuition, I can think of other ways to repay you.”

She rolls her eyes at my suggestive comment. “Get over yourself, Abarai.”

I let out a snort before she stands in front of me and tilt up my chin to start making work on my face.

She’s cute when she’s mad. Huffing and puffing while whispering slick comments under breath. But how she’s handling my face by moving it around with force rushes blood straight to my groin.

I’m getting hard.

Hard as shit, and it’s not helping that I’m in close proximity with her.

That jasmine lavender scent that circulates through my senses. Looking up at her full lips that’s coated with gloss. Then, lowering my gaze to her tits that’s big, naturally saggy, and pretty. My mouth is watering at the sight of her nipples hardening.

And I don’t know if it’s because she feels that I’m checking her out or the coldness outside is affecting her.

Either way, I’ll act on it.

Taking it upon myself, I grab the back of her thighs to pull her on my lap. As if she’s used to my antics, it doesn’t catch her off guard and she continues to clean up my wounds.

“You’re all bloody up with a black eye and somehow you still have the energy to be a pervert,” she retorts.

I move one of hands to her ass, massaging comforting circles. “For you? Yeah.”

The quiet between us was comfortable until she opted to speak again. “So… who’d you fight?”

“Some huge motherfucker. I thought I was going to die.”

She leans back to grab more alcohol and dabs it above my brow. “Maybe that’s what needed to have you stop fucking fighting.”

I throw my head back to laugh, but she grabs my chin to bring my face forward. “Like you want me dead.” My hands creep beneath her cheeks to pull her closer to me and apply more pressure to my cock. “That’s what you want?”

“That came out my mouth, Abarai?”

“Why are you still mad at me?”

She scoffs. “Why am I mad that you’re practically coming to me everyday with a busted face and broken ribs?” That’s one thing I love about Y/N—her feisty personality. It turns me on so fucking much because I know when I fuck her, it’ll be a different story.

Continuing, she says, “I think I would be a little more satisfied if you did this professionally as opposed to underground. Underground doesn’t come with insurance, Ren.”

“Aw, you care about me that much?” My question was supposed to be posed as a joke, but the look on her pretty face says otherwise.

“Fucking asshole. I don’t know why I still deal with your ass.”

“Probably because you love me.”

“Probably not.”

Gripping her hips, I pull her with me and lean back into the headrest of the couch. We’re inches away from our mouths cooling and I take advantage of this proximity by basking in her sweet smelling breath and beauty.

Simply because Y/N exists, my cocks hardens for her. Holding her in my arms. Feeling her pussy against my erection and breasts suffocating pressed on my chest. Girlfriend or not, she’s mine.

And she knows it.

I can see how she looks at me, even when mad, that she cares and loves me. Y/N is a tough girl. I can only imagine what she’s been through. Still, she manages to soften up just for me.

We never made it official since she doesn’t approve of the underground shit, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop asking.

“So when are you going to say yes to being my girlfriend?” I whisper.

She tries breaking from my embrace, but I tighten my grip. “Renji…”

“You feel my dick pressed against you, right? It only makes it harder when you say my name like that, Y/N.”

“Be real with me… will you keep doing this shit forever?” Her eyes waver as she awaits my answer and I can’t help the guilt from pinging my chest.

“If it lessens my chance of being with you, no.”

She searches my face for hesitance or deceit, however, she finds nothing because I meant what I said. Y/N is the only person that looks at me like I’m a human, and I wouldn’t let my obsession with fighting get in the way of our future together.

How she tucks her coil behind her ear and nips down on her lower lip shows me the bit of vulnerability she reserves for me.

So—I take advantage of it.

In less than three seconds my lips were on hers. I take my time relishing those sweet, plump and plush, strawberry flavored lips.

I can feel the skepticism from Y/N while kissing her, maybe because she’s trying to put on this show that she’s still mad at me. But soon, her rigid body melts into mine and returns the kiss.

Our heavy breaths mingle, increasing in speed the more aggressive we lock lips. She begins rolling her hips onto my cock and I let out a grunt, feeling the moisture of her pussy liquefying on me.

The slaps I leave on her ass are harsh, causing her to bite my bottom lip and suck it into her mouth. Y/N is so fucking aggressive it drives me nuts. She gives me a high and adrenaline not even a fight could give.

“Pull your dick out, Ren,” she orders through muffled moans and our kiss.

“Fucking bossing me around to give you cock? Not mad at me anymore?” Y/N ignores my taunt and works her hands between us to untie my sweats. I hiss at the feel of her cool hands engulfing my dick to give it a few pumps.

She must not know what her touch does to me. She handles my cock like she owns it, and gosh, I fucking love that shit. My fingers gently tangle into her coils to deepen our kiss, but she soon gets up to strip her clothes.

Fuck… Fuck, she’s so goddamn sexy. I’ll never get tired of her thick body, filled with soft dips and curves. I look at her, observe her like she’s an expensive piece of art hung up at a museum because that’s what I see her as.

Pretty pussy leaking arousal and I smirk to myself, thinking how she had all that attitude earlier while being wet for me like she didn’t want me inside of her.

“You’re fucking beautiful. You know that?” I ask, massaging her tits and looking up at her. “You still have that attitude or are you going to come ride my cock like a good girl?”

She gently pushes me back against the couch with her lips on mine and straddles my lap. “Depends on if you’re going to be a good boy and take this pussy.”

“Shit, angel. I will.”

Y/N hums while reaching around to align my cock with her sex. Two seconds later, she slowly sinks down my length until I’m buried into the hilt. That soft lingering fuck that slips past her pretty lips sounds sexy as hell and has my dick twitching in response.

I can’t bust now. Not yet. Even if the tightness and heat of her pussy pushes me off the edge of a mountain. Her pussy is so warm, so fucking warm, fat, and wet. Gosh, I don’t ever think I can be without this pussy.

I throw my head back and savor this feeling, but Y/N had other plans for me.

“Remember to look at me when I’m riding you, Ren,” she coos. “Eyes on me, baby. I want you to see how much I love this dick inside my pussy.”

Fucking Christ. “Tell me how much you love it while bouncing on me.”

And she does just that. Telling me how big and girthy I am, that she’s sorry for giving me attitude and admits that she just wanted dick. But no. I want her to fuck me like she’s mad. I need that type of energy pumping through my veins after this win tonight.

I reassure Y/N and tell her to fuck me harder. Her pace quickens and slaps her ass fervently against my cock. I can’t stop moaning her name. The wet slippery noises coming from her pussy increases in volume and it creates a mess between us.

This is where I belong, deep in her pussy and feeling her walls squeeze the hell out of me. I don’t even hold her hips or waist. I relax comfortably with my arms sprawl over the top of her couch, watching how gorgeous she looks while fucking what’s hers.

“Oh, fuck, Renji,” she moans, tugging her lips inwards and lolling her head to the side in complete pleasure.

Those perfect, full tits bounces in my face and I can’t help but stare and become mesmerized. Light marks that resemble tiger stripes decorated the valley of breasts. Her nipples, pebbled and straining underneath my gaze, look desperate for my touch.

I take it upon myself to pinch them between my fingers and a soft shriek escapes her mouth, further arching her back.

Y/N keeps getting wetter by the second, every bounce she makes. And hearing her sticky arousal, I know and see how she’s creaming my cock. Purposely, I sit myself on the couch, thrusting up in her a bit to feel my head hit her g spot.

“Ren, help me little,” she begs through a whimper. “Fuck me back.”

I caress her cheeks with the back of my head. “Yeah? You want me to help you, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

God, I love it when she’s needy for me like this.

In no time, my hands are at her waist and my thrusts meet with her jumping movements. Y/N isn't loud when it comes to her sounds of pleasure. Vocal, yes. But right now, her moans and whimpers are louder than usual.

It’s like she needed my dick inside of pussy just as much as I needed it.

I see the desire in her brown hues. I feel the heat radiating off Y/N’s skin while my fingers dig into her flesh, holding her in place to pound upwards into her pussy.

This is what I wanted—to fuck my girl after a well deserved win. And she’s going to congratulate me how I want.

My lips are at her neck leaving wet kisses and sucking her flesh until purple specks form. “Coming home to this good fucking pussy. Gosh, I love how you feel, angel. Going to fucking mean it now when you say congrats?”

“Congratulations, baby,” she purrs, slamming harder on my cock. “You did good… so damn good, Ren.”

I hum, dragging my tongue along her neck. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Y/N continues to gasps out her pleas for me to fuck harder. I comply… I comply in helping my pretty girl come and savor the look when she washes over me. My grips are firm on her waist, betting that’ll leave marks when she wakes up the next poor, and drive my cock deeper into her pussy.

I’m in pure awe. I feel my own releasing catching up to me the more I watch her take me. This is my woman. My fucking girl. I come home to this every night after every fight to hold her in my arms and fuck her.

Her name from my mouth sounds like a broken record when I moan her name. This fat, gushy, slick and tight pussy has this power over me. She won’t stop fucking squeezing me, I can’t prevent my face from growing hot. It’s intense how I feel right now, and it’s all because of Y/N.

“Good, good fucking pussy. God, you’re so fucking good to me, angel face,” I rasp, pecking her lips. “You’re going to come for me?”

“Yes, Renji, baby. I’m going to come. Keep giving me that dick. Please don’t stop, please.”

“Put your fingers in my mouth.” She does quick with my command. I suck on her digits and coat them well with saliva before pushing them out of my mouth. “Now rub your clit, pretty girl. I wanna see you squirt everywhere.”

Because she’s overwhelmed with arousal, Y/N stops bouncing on my cock and allows me to fuck her while she plays with clit. Her mouth hangs gape, drool slightly coating the side of her mouth and breathing heavily.

My balls slap her ass. My head kisses her soft cushion repeatedly. Her velvet walls transfer warmth to my cock and the bubble that rests in the pit of my stomach is on the verge of explosion.

I’m about to come. Hard.

But I need her to come first.

“Fucking come for me, Y/N. Keep playing with that pretty pussy and moan my name,” I grit out, pushing past all my thrusts.

“Right there, Renji. Keep fucking me right there… I’m–oh, fuck–I’m coming.”

She’s so pretty when she comes. Dark brown porcelain complexion, slick with sweat. Eyes rolling to the back of her head. Pussy clenching and unclenching around my cock. Moaning, whimpering my name back to back.

She’s breathless. Flawless. I have this image of her painted perfectly in my mind. Watching Y/N come, makes me come, so I make quick work to pull her off my lap. And she knows exactly what I want–to fuck my release down her throat.

Her mouth is as warm as her pussy, and I let out hitched breaths and harsh grunts when she swallows me whole. I’m relentless when forcing her head down on my cock as I facefuck her. The gurgling noises she makes are obscene. Pornogrpahic, even.

And what caused my come to shoot through her mouth is seeing that she’s still massaging her clit, eventually squirting all over her wooden floors.

My hips stutter and I throw my head back to moan into the air. “Fuck, Y/N! That’s my fucking girl. Look at you making a mess while choking on my cock and swallowing my come.”

Y/N takes it upon herself to wrap her lips tighter around my cock and massage my balls, ensuring every single last of my nut has released in her mouth. I take it for a while, but I soon become sensitive, practically feeling my skin being sucked off.

“Easy now, angel,” I say through an airy chuckle. I pull my cock out and her mouth echoes a pop sound.

She whines a little because I’m no longer in her mouth and it causes me to smirk because it wasn’t too long ago where she acted like she hated me.

My hand grasps her chin and guides it upwards to meet with my eyes. “You swallowed for me, Y/N? Open up.” She nods, sticking her tongue out. “Perfect.”

“You’re going to fuck me again?” She asks, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.”

Gosh, this woman will be the death of me.

tags: @dejwrld @hvshinas @diamondoidxx @xxjazzxx @thegirlwonder1 @ryukenzz @maiapuhpaia @elitesanjisimp @amyrahrose @sweetpeachies @abigolemess @linastired @diorsbrando @starrygetou @niya729 (if i didn't tag you it's because tumblr wouldn't have your user pop up)

#anime x black!reader #anime x reader #bleach x black reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #fanfic smut #renji x reader #renji x black reader #renji abarai x reader #renji abarai x black reader #bleach fanfic

779 notes · View notes

i314flix · 3 months ago

Text

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman imagines #hangman fanfiction #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagines

242 notes · View notes

keesdarlin · 11 months ago

Text

☆// take care of you (MDNI, 18+)

info! 141 + keegan + könig / fluff, established relationship (?) + gender neutral reader

cw! reader is sick (nothing gross at all, you're just not well)

prompt! you're ill and the boys insist on taking care of you

notes! thought i was dealing with some really gnarly allergies. went to urgent care and it turns out that i have an upper respiratory infection rip. so i'm writing this as copium, enjoy :]

PRICE :

price is all over it the second you say something about not feeling 100%. only really worries about getting sick himself as an afterthought, then scraps the thought as a whole when he thinks about how whatever he's doing is making you feel better. cooks you chicken soup, makes sure you stay in bed, prepares tea for you and gathers stuff for you to do so that you don't get too bored while you're giving your body time to rest. if you're clingy when you're sick (like me), he's cuddling you. again, doesn't really care about getting sick until he has time to think about the risk afterwards.

GAZ :

kyle's mostly clingy, not completely sure of how to handle you being sick. you're a tank! you're not supposed to get sick. so when you say that you're feeling a little under the weather, he's kind of at a loss. he stays by your side the entire time that you're feeling sick, petting your hair and kissing your forehead. the likelihood of him getting sick is ridiculously high and he knows that, if he does, he'll probably get his ass kicked for it, but he figures that he can deal with it if it means that you're feeling even a little bit better. follows you around the house to make sure that you're okay. he'll even sit in the bathroom while you're taking a shower, rambling nonsense at you. if you ask him to go pick up something from the store for you or make you something to eat, he definitely will, it's just not his first thought when he sees you all uncomfortable like that.

SOAP :

this one has a much better idea of what to do when you're not feeling super well. even if it's just a cold or some really gnarly allergies, johnny would be the one to insist on taking you to the doctor just to make sure. he just worries a lot. but once you get out of that appointment, he drops you off at home and ushers you into the shower, making sure you have something nice and cozy to wear once you get out. while you're doing that, he'll run to the store to pick up whatever meds you were prescribed and anything else that might help -- tea, cough drops, soup, snacks. once he gets back, he gets you into bed and queues up all of your favorite movies, tv shows, and/or comfort videos (a little extra incentive to keep you in bed and resting). he'll stay in bed with you, waiting on your every need to try and get you back on your feet as soon as possible.

GHOST :

i feel like he gets a little bit awkward when you get sick. he views you very similarly to the way gaz does. you're indestructible in his eyes and it simply doesn't compute that you would be taken down for a week or so by something as simple as a bad cold. but he's on it once he gets over the what the hell is happening to them phase. it's maximum efficiency with this guy. along with having timers on his phone so that neither of you forget when to take your medicine, he's also making you try every reasonable home remedy to try to get you better as quickly as possible. makes you sit in a hot bath, brings you tea and soup, rubs vicks on the end of your nose to try and clear up your congestion. he almost has you on a schedule with all he's doing to try to get you feeling better. it's honestly really adorable how hard he's trying.

KEEGAN :

keegan doesn't really like giving you special treatment just because you're his partner, but he just can't stand to see how uncomfortable and in pain you are when you're sick. if you're in the same line of work as him and you're feeling a little too foggy to communicate with your superiors properly, he's down to track down your higher-ups and relay any messages for you. he's also pretty good at the soup and the tea and all of the home remedy stuff. kind of tries to take care of it at home, but if it's any worse than a cold he's dragging you straight to the doctor's office. another one that has you basically stuck to his side while he takes care of you. not ridiculously affectionate, but he will definitely let you hang all over him if that gives you any kind of comfort. will stay in bed with you while you lean against his side, hugging him around his middle as he plays with your hair and draws patterns into your skin. super adamant about making sure you rest.

KÖNIG :

like keegan but softer almost. you're usually pretty capable of sucking it up and getting through injuries and allergies and the like, so when some kind of illness gets you down, he worries. doesn't like the idea of forcing you to go to the doctor's so he tries his best to take care of it at home. leans pretty heavily on home remedies -- the good ol' fluids and rest regimen. buys you packs and packs of your favorite gatorade flavor and that chicken noodle soup mix that comes in the little envelope. keeps you in bed and has the wet rag on your forehead if he's worrying about you getting feverish. he doesn't like the idea of making you leave the house, so if it seems that bad he'll make you do one of those virtual urgent care visits. otherwise, your ass is staying in bed. he turns your whole bedroom into a recovery zone with vicks, tissue boxes, a lil snack tray set up on your bedside table, humidifier, all of your favorite movies. literally anything you could possibly need, he has it for you. mans is serious about making sure you get better.

540 notes · View notes

issdisgrace · 4 months ago

Note

Hi hello, would you mind writing sa male resder x Oscar piastri fluff? Like just something really tame, like cuddling in bed, or comforting him after a bad race, or taking care of him when sick, or maybe some angst? He gets jealous cause some guy is flirting with reader, but fluff would be really nice, hope this isn't too long 😭😭 thx

MY SICK BABY

WARNINGS: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, have been neglecting my writing and basically all other aspects in my life. But I hope you like this none the less.

Oscar didn't get sick often. In fact, the last time he was sick was almost a year. But when he did get sick he wasn't just sick, he was sick.

So when Oscar started feeling ill Friday night, dread sunk its way into his stomach. He knew that this weekend would be hell for him and god was he right.

He woke up Saturday morning with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose. He took some meds to help with it before he went out to the track, which helped some. However, he still felt quite miserable and others could see it, but despite this he had managed to qualify pretty good. Anyway, it was later that night everything just got worse, and the coughing started. He felt like he was suffocating, his chest hurt, he couldn't sleep, so he ended up calling you.

You were really concerned when you got a call from Oscar at 1 in the morning. But as soon as he started talking it was clear why he was calling you. He was sick. You felt bad as you listened to him explain everything. You suggested a couple of things that would hopefully help, which he appreciated, and you ended up staying on the phone till he fell asleep.

Then Sunday came, and despite your suggestions and some meds he still felt and now looked like hell. But he pushed himself, ignoring everything his body and others were telling him. He was going to race today even if it killed him. When he got out on the track, he felt surprisingly good and raced his ass off getting p3. Then he came in and his adrenaline came down and he felt worse than he did before. He had just made it through podium before he yacked up the contents of his stomach. He was grateful that the team didn't force him to do media after and just sent back to his hotel.

He managed to get some rest, which did him some good but before he knew it he 8pm and he needed to head to the airport for his flight home. Oscar was happy to be going home, and that flight was only 2 hours, but god those 2 hours were the absolute worse in his life. The turbulence was god awful, everyone and everything was just to loud, he had a hard time keeping whatever was left in his stomach down, and his nose just kept running.

By the time the plane landed around 11pm, he was ready to just cuddle up in bed with you and sleep for the next 24 hours. Picking Oscar up from the airport, you asked questions about how he was feeling wanting to gauge what you needed to do to help him feel better. Oscar told you and you made a mental note of everything as you headed home.

Once you guys were home, you got Oscar into pajamas and then got him some cold medicine and some soup that you had made earlier. He happily had to the soup as it was his favorite chicken noodle. But he reluctantly took the cold medicine because it tasted god awful. But he took it like the good boy he is.

You then got him all tucked into bed with the tv playing some old detective show that Oscar liked to watch. Kissed him goodnight and told him if he needed you, you would be asleep in the guest bedroom. Oscar wished you stayed with him, but he knew you didn't want to get sick as well.

Anyway, it was around 6 am when Oscar woke up. He felt hot and ill and quickly got out of bed to throw up the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Having woken up early and hearing the shuffling, then the throwing up, you quickly rushed to Oscar. Siting on the floor beside him, rubbing his back trying to soothe him.

You sit with him rubbing his back until he done throwing up. After he’s done you carefully get him back into bed. Then go and get the thermometer to take his temperature. You take his temperature and it reads 101 degrees Fahrenheit. It’s not good but it’s not as bad as it could be.

You get him some more cold medicine and water. You make sure he drinks all the water and then get a cool damp wash cloth on his forehead. You turn then turn the tv which shut off probably sometime in night. You put on some cartoons. They’re easy and you don’t got to think or follow much. Perfect for someone that is sick.

You then get everything set up for Oscar so he can take care of himself while your gone at work for the day. You’re a little reluctant to leave Oscar but you knew you had to work. You told Oscar to keep you updated in how he was doing.

When you got home from work, you immediately went and checked Oscar and found him asleep, cartoons still playing on the tv. You smile to yourself as you leave and go make dinner. When you’re almost done with dinner you hear the soft footsteps of Oscar coming down the hallway, you look up and greet him. He definitely looks better than he did this morning. You ask him how he’s feeling and he was better like you expected.

This routine of getting him set up in the morning and going to work and coming home and checking on him and then making dinner goes on for a 9 days, until Oscar feels completely better.

Oscar is really appreciative of you taking care of him while he was sick and took you out to dinner at a nice place as a thank you. Despite your insistence that he didn’t need to, that you were his partner and that taking care of him when he was sick came with that. While you were out for dinner you started sneezing a lot.

And by the next morning you were sick and it was Oscar’s turn to take care of you while you were sick.

#oscar piastri #f1 #oscar piastri x male reader #oscar piastri x reader #f1 x male reader #f1 x reader

148 notes · View notes

demonsslayersstuff · 2 months ago

Text

When You’re Sick (JJK Men x Reader)

A/N: Doing my first head canon/ drabble for JJK men. This about how they take care of reader when they are sick because I am battling a nasty cold. No major warnings mostly fluff, maybe slight angst. I'm going to do this for AOT and Demon Slayer too, so stay tuned for that!

Characters: Nanami, Choso, Gojo, Sukuna, Higuruma, Geto

Kento Nanami:

I feel like this man is 1000% husband material, like he is not my top choice for who I find the most attractive in JJK, but he is my top choice if I was going to marry anyone cause this man would take care of you and treat you right

When you wake up with a sore throat and cough he is immediately checking your temperature, telling you to stay in bed, and going to the pharmacy.

If its not a bad sickness he'll feel comfortable to go to work as long as you promise to check in with him throughout the day. If your really really sick he's taking the day off, driving you to the doctor and keeping an eye on you

Nanami would always make sure you had enough water, tea, soup, whatever. I could see him drawing you a bath and also cuddling you. He doesn't care that if he might sick, if you want to be held, he's holding you

"Ken", you call out, voice scratchy. Today was not a good day for you, you felt like utter and complete shit. "Honey, what's wrong?", he asks coming back into the bedroom. "I don't feel like I'm going to make it to work today, I feel like crap", you say before curling up into a ball, your head was killing you. Nanami places his hand your forehead, noting that it was a little warmer than usual. "You do feel warm, let me go run to pharmacy across the street and get you some cold medicine", he tells you. In record time Nanami is back giving you your first dose of meds. "Ok take the next dose in four hours. I put crackers and tea on your nightstand, do you need anything else?", he asks. "No, thanks love, what would I do without you?", you mumble, feeling drowsy. "Of course, I'm gonna head to work, but I'll text you, rest up", Nanami says before leaning down to give you a soft peck as the medicine pulls you into sleep.

Choso Kamo:

I feel like Choso would freak out a little bit the first time your sick. Like he's never seen anyone like this and would be a bit panicked. He'd worry about you so much, like will do anything in his power to stay home with you, even if its just simple cold.

Will do anything and everything for you. Want your favorite food, already ordered. Achy from the illness, Choso is giving you a soft massage. Want some tea and honey, he's making it for you.

If your really really sick, I could see him immediately calling Shoko and being like "What the hell do I do?". Takes you to the doctor and monitors you 24/7

If for some reason he cannot stay with you, Choso is texting you as much as possible and calling you every couple of hours, he needs to know you are ok.

Choso places the mug next you as you cough hard, nearly hacking up your lung. "Baby, is there anything else I can do?", he asks, worry evident in his voice. "No Cho, the doctor said to rest as much as possible", you tell him with a weak smile. Choso pulls the blanket around you and gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Ok, I'll be downstairs if you need anything, please tell me", he says before standing up to turn off the light. "Cho, can you, maybe cuddle me? Would that be ok? I don't want you to get sick-" you start to ramble, but he quickly cuts you off. "Absolutely", Choso says climbing into to bed with you. He pulls you on his chest, fingers gently massaging you temple. "Thanks", you mumble. "Anytime, anything for you love", Choso replies as you snuggle down into his warm embrace.

Satoru Gojo:

This man is a silly boy, but at the same time I feel like he would be caring. Like he hides his true emotions behind this playful manner, but if you were sick he'd be generally worried. Gojo would 100% be texting Shoko at the first sign of your illness.

He's a busy busy guy, so as much as he wants to, unfortunately he would not be able to stay home to take care of you. Gojo would make the effort to text you throughout the day more than he normally does and would probably call you halfway through the day to hear your voice.

If he can't do it himself he's having someone going to the pharmacy, picking up food for you, and I really could see Gojo asking Shoko to stop by and check on you if you were fairly sick.

When he is able to be home with you, your wrapped up in his arms. He doesn't care if he might get sick, he was unable to prevent you from getting sick, so he will keep you close watching over you until you get better and then he'll still keep you close lol. (Why do I feel like he would be a cuddle monster)

“Sato?”, you mumble as you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards their chest. “Yeah it’s me, how you feeling?”, your husband asks as he gives you a quick peck on the cheek. “M’feeling better, still a bit tired and achy”, you say before turning your body to face him. “When did you get back?”, you ask threading your fingers through his white locks. “Just now, I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today”, Satoru says and you see the sadness in his eyes. “It’s ok love, Shoko came by to check on me and give me some more meds”, you tell him. “Still…I should be the one-”, he starts but you cut him off. “Satoru, it’s ok. You’re here now and that’s all that matters”, you tell him gently. “Let’s sleep, yeah?”, you continue. “Ok”, he whispers before kissing you softly, hoping sleep finds him quickly that night.

Ryomen Sukuna:

Listen, this man has got other things to be doing than taking care of you. That being said he would still task someone with watching over you

Would want updates on the hour every hour especially if you were really sick. While he himself isn’t the one caring for you he still wants to know your ok

He makes sure you have plenty healthy food, tea, etc ready for you at all times. If you were sick enough that you needed to see the doctor he’d have Uraume personally be there with you every step of the way with again updates every hour.

At the end of the day while you’re sleeping he’d come by to check on you personally. If you want him to hold you it’s gonna take a lot of coaxing on your end, but at the same time I would see him coming to sleep/ lay next to you at the night.

“Make sure you drink all of this with your medicine”, Uraume instructs as they hand you a full glass of water. You grimace as the giant pills move down your throat. “Where is he?”, you question as Uraume takes the cup from you. “The master is busy as always, why?”, they reply. You sigh as you lay back into the bed. “Nothing..I just want him, that’s all, it’s not a big deal”, you say as Uraume pulls the covers over you. “Regardless I will pass your message along. Rest”, they instruct before leaving the room. Hours later you awaken, feeling his presence. “Ryo?”, you call out into the darkness. “You should be sleeping”, he replies, though you note a barely there worry in his tone. “Hold me please”, you say. “Why should I do that brat, you’re sick”, he replies. “Because I’m sick. I feel like shit and I just want to held”, you say as tears well in your eyes. Sukuna sighs, but you feel his hands grip your waist, pulling you to him. “Sleep”, he commands as you lay your head on his chest. For once you don’t argue, clueing Sukuna in on how sick you really were.

Hiromi Higuruma:

This man is a lawyer turned sorcerer so needless to say he is a bit busy. However if y’all are married/dating this man is most definitely putting you first.

Similar to Nanami he’d go to the pharmacy or take you to the doctor to get you the help you need. As long as your not too sick, he’s going into work, but calls you throughout the day when he has time

I see him being a bit more on the hesitant side to kiss or cuddle you cause he doesn’t want to get sick, but he’ll still find other ways to show you he cares like buying you your favorite tea or cooking your favorite sick food

If you’re sick sick, he would totally work from home. Checking on you and making sure you’re taking your meds and keeping fluids down.

“Hiro”, you call from the bedroom, voice scratchy from all the coughing you’d been doing. “What do you need”, he calls, head poking through the door. “I’m sorry to ask, I know you’re working, but would you get me a hot tea please? My throat hurts”, you ask, slightly embarrassed that you didn’t have the energy to do it yourself. “Of course, one tea coming right up”, he says before heading to the kitchen. When he comes back you give him a small smile. “Thank you, sorry for disturbing you”, you say before taking a sip. “Hey now don’t apologize. You’re sick and I know you’d do the same for me”, Higuruma tells you. “You should try to sleep more”, he continues before laying his palm against your forehead, noting that you were still feverish. “Once I finish this, thanks again Hiro”, you say. “Of course, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything else”, he says with light smile before leaving you to get some much needed rest.

Suguru Geto:

For some reason I see him knowing you’re gonna get sick before you even get sick. He notices your sneezing a lot or that you have a light tickle in your throat, so he hits the pharmacy to buy meds before you even need them

When you do wake up sick the next day you see a box of tissues, cough drops, meds, and your favorite hot drink already prepared for you

Texts you throughout the day to keep an eye on you and if you’re sick sick, like the others he’s staying home. Similar to Higuruma he’s gonna keep his distance cause he doesn’t wanna get sick, but still takes care of you

If you aren’t sleepy he’ll bring a chair into the bedroom and watch your favorite movie or read your favorite book to you. Makes sure you take all your meds and drink plenty of fluids

You awaken with a pounding headache and sore throat. “Fuck”, you mumble, sitting up a bit before you see the array of things on your bedside table. Almost if on cue your phone rings. “Make sure you take the blue pill first and then the cough medicine”, Suguru says as you pick up. “You know me too well, thank you Sugu”, you say with a light chuckle. “Of course, I have to be out most of the day, but call me if you need anything ok?”, he tells you. “I will I promise”, you tell him before hanging up. Just as you finish taking your meds you phone pings with a text message. “Drink the whole glass of water love”, Suguru had messaged. “Damn”, you sigh as you look at the half empty glass of water. “He knows me too well”, you mumble before finishing the water. You snuggle under the covers willing the meds to kick in soon.

113 notes · View notes

hanafubukki · 2 months ago

Note

for no other reason that i'd love seeing malleus and lilia freak out over you (men who keep it together SNAPPING when they see their loved one hurt? hell yes gimme), please imagine you visiting diasomnia dorm and accidentally take poison that was snuck to harm malleus.

i was replaying book 4 recently and remembered jamil taste-tests everything, but i don't remember his retainers doing the same... malleus probably grew some immunity due to lilia's cooking lolol jkjk ok but i wonder if he ever was under that eye... granted he's powerful enough that barely anyone would dare, but there must be someone who wants him gone, like, look at rollo lol that man had no fear.

so yeah, you're just doing your thing, hanging out and talking malleus' ears off while he's grabbed a snack or something, and maybe he playfully shoves the spoon into your mouth as he teases you "breathe, child of man" with a grin on his face (you know the one, the one he does when you poke him too much in the home screen and he says he'll "overlook your rudeness". sir you are not fooling anyone. you love getting our attention. ANYWAYS—). lilia's there, leaning on the counter chuckling while you roll your eyes, playing along–

and then your mouth goes numb. at first is your tongue, so you blink in confusion, not fully registering what's happening. malleus stares at you in confusion as well while lilia's the one narrowing his eyes now.

next it's your jaw that numbs, and you touch your face feeling a pang of worry–it's the next second, when it becomes hard to breathe, that panic sets in. and it sets in hard. you're clawing at your throat while your body fights for air as you panic. you hear the clang of a plate and the rustling of robes near you, and your vision is full of black and neon green as malleus' form covers you, trying to see and find what is wrong.

lilia is too familiar with said attempts, having been acquainted with nobility and a senate that hated his guts for centuries, plus the tensions among the fae kingdom centuries past. one touch to the food numbs his finger and he immediately knows, so he's out in a flash to find crewel's office where he knows there might be what he needs.

bonus points if the antidote is administered via kiss because you can't swallow it and cough it out :3

the fun part though (to me, i am not sorry lol) would be malleus going absolutely ballistic to the point where there is a storm on the whole school. maybe the island, even while lilia looks one step away from going back into general–mode. "maybe it's time i pull my old weapon out." "father, please don't."

(sebek and silver are your friends too so they'd be pissed off as well, or if you're into a whole polycule you can imagine them freaking out as well.)

but now everyone in the diasomnia dorm is under heavy scrutiny. who'd have the balls to try and go poison malleus draconia? someone with a deathwish, that's who. though now you get pampered to death by them, including some open heart talk about malleus feeling guilty you took the hit for him, albeit accidentally.

if you want the lite version with no poison, just pampering and no snapping, just imagine malleus giving you a cold or the flu, except he doesn't get it himself. his body just doesn't feel the symptoms because he's that powerfully built, but you do get it from him (does this make sense? no, i personally think the virus would avoid him alltogether but let's just go with the flow (flu, heh) here) and you fall sick in his presence a few days later, red and feverish–passing out on him on the couch, too! you didn't want to stay at ramshackle and rest when he'd been looking forward to hanging out with his favourite people, so you just popped some meds and went out anyways. congrats, now you'll be pampered to death as well! maybe literally, if lilia insists on making that soup...

(me personally i prefer the poison one because desperation + love is delicious. plus the antidote giving through a kiss. clichés are in my blood. though i'd also love the other way around where you save malleus instead, i admit it's hard for me to imagine a poison that's able to get that man at all... but hey maybe there is one! or lilia's the one that gets it accidentally. that would make both you and malleus go absolutely feral on the spot, and silver? oh boy. yeah you three are out for blood. sebek for once would be the calmest of the group while still being pretty pissed off about the whole ordeal.

but hey now you get to pamper your old man or prince a little bit! :D)

YESSS ANONIE YESSSS 🥳🫶🙌

ALL OF THIS

I love when the calm/happy ones snap. You know you’re out of luck when that happens. Whoever dared?? Their days are numbered big time.

And something caused by poison?? When it was meant for another? 🤌 yes give it to me.

I feel Malleus would have a poison resistance that he accumulates over the years. And even if his dorm is filled with mostly supporters and those who worship him, it doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone that doesn’t want to hurt him or the others.

There can be many reasons. Maybe they hate his stance with humans? Maybe they want to hurt Lilia. It could be an aftermath of his OB.

But either way, you have been harmed and that cannot be. An innocent who was a friend (or maybe something more) to them and they dare harm you?

And for Malleus to have “basically fed” you that poison? Oh the guilt and the horror.

Lilia, from experience alone, probably has a panacea or the ingredients needed. If not, crewel’s lab is getting raided. How could he have let this happen? How could he lower his guard like this? All of this he’ll have to reflect on later. Even now, enemies are in his shadows.

Administrating the antidote through kiss? Yesss

Forcing your mouth open and making you drink it. Slowly rubbing your throat to make sure it goes down.

Crewel and Vil are called to check up on you. While Lilia? He’s using his UM to find answers.

His eyes glow wine red. The shadows around him spreads. He is eerily quiet. He is hunting now.

Anything with a kiss always has me kicking my feet, I don’t care how cliche it is. I will eat it up like it’s a fine course meal and I have been starving 💞💞

Diasomnia is going to be extra protective of you for the next coming weeks minimum. Get ready to be cuddled 🥰🥰

Delicious, so delicious, thank you for this meal Anonie 🥰🥰

#answered #Anonie ask #🌷others fics🌷#lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #x reader

84 notes · View notes

phoward89 · 8 months ago

Text

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2:

White hot pain courses throughout your body as you lay on your stomach, on your small bed in the corner of the room. The room that was your bedroom, kitchen, and living room all in one cramped spot. Sitting on the bed next to you was Coryo.

He was washing your wounds, causing you to wince; let out sobs and whimpers since he wasn't very gentle.

“Stop whining, I'm almost done, darling.” Coryo told you with an edge to his baritone.

“It hurts, Coryo.” You cried, feeling like you just wanted to die- that's how much pain you're in.

And it seems that the asshole next to you, the peacekeeper responsible for your situation, isn't very empathetic despite claiming that he's your man now. Oh hell…how did this happen to you? Is your luck really that shitty?

“My friend, Sejanus, has some morphling for a bum knee. I'll find him; get some for you.” He told you, cleaning the last of your wounds. “Okay, pretty girl?”

“Okay.” You said, relieved that your tormenter (err new peacekeeper boyfriend?) was going to get you something for the pain.

“I'll get you some food too.” Coryo said while pulling your blanket on you, so that you wouldn't be cold. “Can't have my girl starving while she's hurt and healing, can I?” He rhetorically asked, standing up and taking the bowl with the bloody water and stained wash cloth over to the sink.

You heard the sound of the bowl clanking against the counter as he set it down. You also heard the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he looked for something in your sorry excuse for a kitchen. Curious about what he was doing, you turned your head only to see him taking your box of teabags out of the cabinet you stored them in. Oh, how nice of him. He's making you tea after he got you whipped; got your back torn to bloody shreds.

Oh yes, a cup of tea’s going to make everything all better. You'd rather have the morphling. You'd also rather be alone right now to wallow in your misery as well.

After leaving a cup of tea by your bedside and telling you to rest, Coriolanus left your apartment to go buy some groceries. After buying a bag of food, enough to feed the both of you for the week, he searched for Sejanus. Coriolanus was only seeking out the annoying district dog because you needed morphling; Sejanus was his only option to get it for you.

Well, that's not exactly true. Coriolanus can always acquire some from the local black market, but it'd cost him a fortune. Plus, he's not even sure that a morphling dealer would even sell to him considering he's wearing denim blue Peacekeeper fatigues. And he couldn't waste his time trying to haggle with some drug dealer, not when you're in desperate need of pain meds.

Oh, if only you didn't steal that apple; then Coriolanus would've never turned you in and you wouldn't be hurt. Why did you have to be so desperate? Couldn't you have just waited for him to approach you, to offer to buy you a treat of some sort?

Coriolanus knew that he'd have to teach you some patience. It is, after all, a very important virtue to have. He, in fact, is a very patient man. Perhaps that's why he was able to put up with all of your sobbing while cleaning up your bloody; shredded back. If he was a lesser man, he would've backhanded you and tossed you into the shower.

But, he's a patient man, so he'll deal with your bullshit in order to get what he wants. Oh, yea, and what he wants is you. You getting his dick wet more precisely. And also being the mother of his children, his wife, and his future First Lady since he finds you to be both beautiful and captivating.

He just has to teach you patience and maybe some manners too. At least you’re smart, or he thinks you are since you didn't try to run from him or beg your way out of your punishment.

So, when Coriolanus finally spots Sejanus (talking to some shady looking locals, of course) he jogs up to him- causing the sack of groceries slug over his shoulder to jostle around. “Sejanus, I need some of your morphling. My girl, Y/N, was whipped real bad this morning; I've been taking care of her since, but she's in pain- tear inducing pain.”

Of course, Coriolanus wasn't going to tell his friend that he's the one who turned you in; the one who got you whipped. Why would he? It wasn't any of Sejanus' business. He didn't need to know that tiny, insignificant detail. The district born dog didn't need to know everything about you and Coryo's life.

Sejanus' eyes went wide at his friend's words. He heard from a local rebel contact that a girl was stripped naked and badly whipped on the snow over an allegation of a stolen apple, one that she didn't have on her. But he didn't know that it was Coryo's girl that got whipped that morning.

“I heard about that, but I didn't know she was your girl, Coryo. Of course, I'll give you my morphling for her.” Sejanus told Coriolanus, sticking his hand in his pocket and quickly pulling out a bottle of morphling. Handing it over to the platinum blonde, he said, “If she needs anymore, just take it out of my lockbox.”

Yes! Score!

Coriolanus was ecstatic that he was able to manipulate stupid, sweet, do-gooder Sejanus into giving him some morphling. He wasn't expecting him to tell Coryo to wipe him out of his drug supply, but he's not going to turn that down.

No…

He's going to make good on that offer, snag up all of Sejanus' morphling so that you won't be in pain while you heal. You're just so pretty; Coriolanus hates the idea of you being in so much pain. And over something that could've been easily avoided too.

“Thank you, Sej. Really, I don't know what we'd do without your help.” Coryo told the dark haired peacekeeper, clasping him on the shoulder before taking off to get back to you.

You were half asleep (actually, you were half passed out from pain) whenever you heard the door creek open. Turning your head towards the door, you saw Coryo enter the small one-room apartment in the rundown tenant building you call home. A sack was slung over his shoulder.

Going over to the kitchen counter and setting down the sack, he announced, “I got us some groceries; got you the morphling from Sejanus too.”

Us? Since when does he live with you? Doesn't he live on base? Oh fucking hell…

As if he could hear your mental musings, he explained, “I'm trading days with some of my squad, taking their days off and then working for them, so I can spend some time here with you until you can get up; do for yourself.”, while unpacking the sack of groceries.

Great…

Just great…

Now he's dead set on staying with you, taking care of you til you're able to move around, and he's trading work days to do it. Oh by the gods, how the hell did this insane man find you? He's acting as if you're his lover, not some girl he turned in for punishment- for whipping.

Hell…

Why did you listen to Ashlie? You should've stayed home, in District 12. At least you wouldn't be dealing with delusional Private Coryo if you’d stayed in 12. God, you hate District 8 so much right now.

“Did you drink your tea?” Coryo asked, as if he really gave a fuck about your well-being, while grabbing some produce and putting them away in your small fridge.

“Some of it.” You answered right as a knock sounded at the door.

“You expecting anyone?” The platinum blonde demon of a man asked while going over to the door.

“No.” You simply told him, earning you a nod.

Coriolanus answered the door, only to be met with a petite young woman. “Are you here to see my girl, Y/N?” He asked the brunette, who was trying to look around his large frame and into the apartment.

“Your girl? She didn't mention taking up with a peacekeeper last time I saw her.” You heard Ashlie, your late brother's girlfriend that abandoned you after dragging you out here to this hellhole called 8, tell Coryo.

“Yes, well, it’s a fairly new development. But she's mine all the same.” Coryo told Ashlie in a diplomatic tone, a shit eating grin on his face.

He has power over you and like hell some ratty whore was going to poke and prod him about his relationship with you. It was none of her business that he just scooped you up today, literally.

“Send her away, Coryo.” You loudly ordered, since with didn't want to be bothered with Ashlie. Didn't she have better things to do, like live her new life with that rebel boyfriend of hers, then to check in on you? Not like she's been going out of her way to see you before you got hurt.

Looking between you and the door, Coryo simply nodded and, without warning, slammed the door shut in Ashlie's face. She tried to open it back up, but he threw his tall body against it- slamming it shut again and quickly locked the lock and placed the door chain in place.

Crossing the room, making a beeline towards your bed, Coriolanus asked, “Who was she, Y/N?”

“She used to be my brother's girl til he got blown up to bits during the summer when our rebel neighbor bombed the mines.” You explained to him as he pulled out a vial of morphling from his pocket.

Crouching down next to you, he popped the cork of the vial and tilted your chin up, only to pour the pain medicine down your throat. “Mines? But 8 doesn't have any mines.”

“Thank you.” You gratefully told Coryo as he set the empty vial to the side, next to your half empty teacup. “I'm originally from 12; just applied for a district transfer cause Ashlie couldn't handle her grief over Rein's death. She begged me to come here with her when word got out that a plague decreased their workforce; made district transfers available.” You explained, even tho you probably shouldn't be. He is a peacekeeper after all. And the one to get you whipped. But what harm is there in telling him your story? It's not like you have anyone anyways, you're an orphan- truly alone.

“I take it you're not on good terms with her.” Coryo said knowingly.

You're at the mercy of a delusional white-blonde peacekeeper. Thanks to Ashlie taking off. And any hope there was at repairing the sisterly friendship you once had flew out the window once you go whipped and became the the girl of some peacekeeper grunt- who's a hand short of a full deck.

“Not long after moving here she hooked up with some guy she met; left me all alone. So, yea, we're not on good terms.”

“I'm sorry she did that to you, darling. Family should never abandon family.” The blonde told you, lifting up your blanket to check on your wounds. “I'm here now, baby. You're my girl; I'll never let you be alone again.’ He promised, pressing a kiss to an unblemished part of your shoulder.

You didn't know what was worse. Being alone or being stuck with him. And something deep in your gut tells you that you'll never get rid of him. That he's worse than a tick on a bloodhound.

“Some of these lashes are deep. I can see some muscle and bone.” Coryo informed you. Well, that would explain why your back hurts like a bitch. At least the morphling he got you’s taking the edge off.

“You'll have to stitch me up, Coryo, or else I could get an infection and die.” You honestly told the peacekeeper, since the last thing you wanted was to get gangrene or sepsis. You really didn't want to get stuck going to the rundown public district hospital. You didn't have money for that, plus you heard some horror stories from coworkers at the peacekeeper uniform plant about the hospital.

No thank you, you'll take your chances at home with the devil.

“Don't talk like that, my darling. I'm not going to let you die; I'm going to take care of you.” Coryo said, petting your hair and pressing a soft kiss on your cheek before leaving your side to go find your sewing kit in order to stitch you up.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

172 notes · View notes

scientia-rex · 7 months ago

Text

I got home from work today sneezing my head off with a right eye that won’t stop watering, took a hot shower, climbed into bed, and I haven’t climbed out since. I’m grumpy and I have a headache and if I’m not testing positive for COVID or debilitated by symptoms tomorrow I’ll still need to go to work because that’s twenty patient visits that would need to be rescheduled, usually with someone else, and that’s twenty people I’m letting down. Today I did one of my patented 45-second Pap smears (if it takes longer than that, your doctor needs to get better!) for someone with vaginal atrophy from menopause (it is both very common and very treatable) and she was in disbelief. (This time it was more like 30 seconds.) I saw a suicidally depressed patient who’s clinging to life with both hands and I changed their meds last week and I am not making them wait to see me. I cleaned a wound no one else gave a shit about and I saw a bitter pissy Republican Party bigwig who has terrible anxiety and depression she doesn’t tell anyone about, who’s alienated everyone but who I can still convince to try treatment.

I do my job on hard mode on purpose. I like being important—who doesn’t? I like being legendary, I like that when people move to town and ask for doctor recommendations on Facebook so many people mention me that other patients feel compelled to tell me about it. I got nominated for best doctor in our local region last year. (I didn’t win, out of 5 nominees.) But when I’m sick, when I’m the kind of sick that can be hidden easily, the kind of sick I was always expected to go to school and rotations and residency with, it’s so hard. I hate exposing patients, even to a cold, but the benefits of receiving care are probably enough to outweigh the chance of transmission. I wrestle with myself: if I call in, it starts a ripple effect. Can they get a per diem from their “pool” (of three) to come in? Can they reschedule my patients with me? I don’t have any open spots for five weeks. Can they open same days? None available for three weeks. Can they open blocked spots? That’s going to make my life hell when I come back from being sick. That’s clinic staff calling twenty patients, trying to reach them. That’s twenty patients who feel abandoned. They can know intellectually that doctors get sick too, but they don’t believe it. They take it personally. I have seen this over and over again, until I had to believe it.

It is so EASY for people who don’t do this job to tell me how I’m doing it wrong. “Just stay home!” Oh, okay, you want to tell the person whose chronic opioids I’m supposed to write for that I can’t? You want to put the nurses through getting the on-call to write a bridge prescription? I write more ADHD meds than most of my peers—usually a lot more. You want to tell my colleagues to write meds they’re uncomfortable with? How about tell my suicidal patients (which is a lot of them!) that the provider they know and trust after months or years will be replaced today by a 70-year-old white man who still thinks they should pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Tell my queer patients that they have to wait until I’m better and back to get their hormones and their STI screenings, reschedule a Pap someone was dreading. Every day is a kaleidoscope of opportunities to make a real connection with “difficult” patients. I’m good at it. I may be the best at it at my clinic.

I don’t hate calling in sick just because the clinic manager is a judgy bitch, though that doesn’t help. I hate it because of what it does to my patients. And it’s not simple. Pretending it is does all of us a disservice. I am not a widget. I am not easily replaceable. You can’t plug any of our per diems (all men, 2/3 white, 2/3 old, 1/3 a Bitcoin bro) into my place and call it an equivalent, and my schedule is already so packed that if I call in sick, patients will be guilt-tripping me about it for months. I’m not kidding. That happens every single time.

Christ alive, I wish it was true that doctors never got sick.

#the attending dr. kristophine

151 notes · View notes

letters-with-notes · 23 days ago

Text

P1HARMONY TAKING CARE OF YOU WHEN YOU'RE SICK

💌 GENRE: fluff 💌 READER: gender neutral

A/N: my own work reposted

KEEHO:

“Okay, this is fine, I know what to do.”

He’s internally panicking but still manages to remember what his mom did for him and his siblings, when they got sick.

After he finishes lecturing you about how you need to take better care of yourself, he also tries to remember what he usually did when he had to take care of his little brother.

Absolutely refuses to let you do anything, you’re only allowed to stay in your warm bundle of blankets and rest.

“Where are you going??” “Um, to the toilet?” “Oh... oh okay, you can go there.”

He feels like he can’t do anything to help and he hates that feeling.

He’s also very distraught because he hates seeing you miserable and he can’t even kiss your or give you a hug to make you feel better.

God forbid you ask for a kiss or a hug.

He’d have the biggest crisis of his life because ew, he doesn’t want to catch your cold but he cannot say no to you.

Holds your hand until you fall asleep and kisses your forehead anyway, in hopes that it will help you get well sooner.

THEO:

“Wow, you look like shit.”

Shakes his head and tsks because he told you that you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t dress warmer.

But did you listen to him? No. Of course you didn’t. You never do.

And now what? He has to take care of your sorry ass.

You better be super thankful to him once you get better and repay him for his efforts.

He’s only frustrated because he doesn’t like seeing you in such a bad state, it really hurts his heart.

He also blames himself a tiny bit because maybe he should have been firmer and not let you go out without a jacket.

If your condition is very bad, he will definitely tear up when you can’t see him.

But wipes his tears right away and forces all of your meds and a bowl of soup and a mug of tea down your throat.

Strictly enforces self-care.

Sings and talks to you so you won’t get bored, and because he knows that you like to fall asleep to the sound of his voice.

JIUNG:

Forces you to take all the vitamins in the house before going to the drug store and buying some more, as well as some medicine.

The best person to have around when you’re sick.

Makes you chicken soup and chamomile tea and a healthy meal, depending on what you’re able to swallow.

He knows all the tricks and the traditional folk remedies for colds, runny noses and sore throats.

Half of them come from his grandparents, half of them from various internet searches because obviously, he’s the one who takes care of his members too.

He doesn’t scold you, at least not until you get better, but he looks at you with that disappointed gaze and sighs, and that’s almost worse than a scolding.

He will never let you forget about this, he will bring it up all the time. “Remember when you got sick? You don’t want to repeat that, do you?”

He will literally not touch you.

May or may not comes into your room with a face mask on.

But he still fluffs your pillow up and pulls your blanket over you when it falls, because you were tossing and turning too much.

He also collects and throws out your used tissues then wipes your face with warm water so you won’t feel so terrible in your skin and environment after you wake up.

INTAK:

Continuously on the phone with his mom.

Asks what you feel and conveys everything through the phone because he sure as hell doesn’t know what to do and he doesn’t want to accidentally poison you with the wrong medicine or smth.

This is just a lot of pressure on him, he really wants to take care of you, not make your condition worse somehow.

It’s like he never in his life had a cold, his brain just shuts down.

After feeding you the medicine and making you go to bed, you fall asleep.

He hovers around your bed awkwardly like a lost puppy, not knowing what to do.

He sits down on your desk chair and just... stares at you. Not in a creepy way, he’s just observing if you’re okay so he can jump up and run to your help at the slightest hint of discomfort.

You start to stir and he’s already by your side with a cup of water or tea because he knows your throat must have dried out while you were sleeping.

Refuses to go home even if there’s really nothing he can do for you anymore.

Doesn’t care at all if he’s going to catch your cold or not, if it were up to him, he’d rather it was him being sick instead of you.

He hates seeing you like this so much.

If you don’t let him stay and cuddle you, he’s going to cry. He just needs to be there for you, with you.

SOUL:

Clueless and lost but he definitely won’t overreact.

Half thinks that this is just a cold so you’ll get better after some rest.

But also, when he sees you suffer, his heart is just in pain.

He knows that you’ll be just fine in a couple of days but still, he wishes those days could pass a little faster.

Keeps looking stuff up on the internet to find something he can help you with.

Which was a bad idea because now he’s overreacting.

“This article says, you might be dying... you’re not dying, right?” “...” “Right?” “No, I’m not dying, it’s okay, I just need some rest.”

Thinks that getting sick together would be a good couple bonding activity and it’s up to you to convince him that no, it is not.

Stays a respectful distance away but doesn’t really want to leave you.

He just knows that colds suck and you must be super bored with all that sleeping and resting so he takes your tv over and binge watches something the both of you like on low volume.

That way you can sleep when you want to sleep and watch the show when you wake up.

And he can also bring you whatever you need, help you and take care of you while entertaining himself.

Insists on holding your hand all the time, and the better your condition is, the closer he moves to you.

Before you notice, those few sick days already passed and you're cuddling all healthily again.

JONGSEOB:

First of all, he gives you a scolding through the phone while already putting on his shoes and collecting things you might need.

His heart sinks when he sees you in your bed, weak and surrounded by tissues but then gathers himself together and starts nagging.

Gives you a thousand kind of vitamins, explaining what each of them is for and how it’s good for your body, you should always take them not only when you’re sick. If you take them regularly, you won’t get sick in the first place.

Interrogates you about your symptoms and only eases up when he’s sure that you only have a common cold.

When he sighs in relief, it hits him just how deeply he cares about you and how worried he is.

He then takes on a softer tone and attitude, making sure that you have everything you need and you’re as comfortable as possible.

Runs home for his laptop so he can work from your bedroom.

He practically makes your desk his own and he does his usual things while you sleep.

He regularly checks your fever and makes sure that you stay hydrated too.

He knows that he could just leave you alone, it’s not like you need 24 hours supervision but he kind of doesn’t want to leave.

Finally, he decides to just sleep on the couch and makes you a nice breakfast in the morning.

#p1harmony #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony reactions #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony x reader #yoon keeho #choi taeyang #theo #choi jiung #hwang intak #soul #haku shota #kim jongseob

107 notes · View notes