#i should take my sleep meds right about now actually... go to sleep at like 9:30~

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[mutalune]

hey siri how do I stop feeling gutwrenchingly anxious in the guilt way for using the treatment methods available to me to not be in constant misery

[mayonakano-archive]

I still think it's absolutely insane that, despite our 6-7h difference in timezones, we go to bed and wake up almost at the same time. I'll say it's bc we're such good friends and not bc my sleep schedule is a little silly

(Bc "sign that you should go to bed soon" reminded me that maybe i should, too HDBDHSHH)

it. it really is ngl. i go to bed like, super early (compared to younger-me who'd go to bed between 10:30-midnight no matter what...) and wake up pretty early too tho kjdghs

it is bc we're such good friends <3 we're in sync all the way across an ocean~~

[phagodyke]

venting sorry... don't want to just delete it bc it helps to get it out just ignore this post pls 👍

haven't slept much at all and feeling so sick andstressed and in pain bc my period is due and so tired its making me dizzy but i cant sleep more or ill just feel more sick and I want a hug and to cry so hard into someones shoulder but no one cares or will even come near me it makes me feel diseased they think things about me that aren't true bc I struggle so much to communicate and thry all make assumptions insteqd and no one wants to give me space to talk to them about it so I cant undo that now and its all my fault and I'm so. exhausted :-(

[gibbearish]

hm one thing im not happy with on the original post is i said the staff hate campaign has been going on longer than the transandrophobia debate and then immediately talk abt matt maybe being the source, but i don't actually know how long he's been CEO, nor do i have the best sense of time regarding how long the transandrophobia thing has been going on, i was just going off of the fact that it just. feels like that's the order of events as i remember them. but also i mean i guess that is. actually just how remembering things works now that i think about it? i may be overthinking this

[skyrigel]

Simon swore he didn't want a relationship, but as soon as he met you — well there might be some changes in the plan.

He did want a relationship, fine, if it's with you, he's willing to give it a try but he's not really going for the trouble. No, thankyou.

Simon wouldn't really ask you if you haven't eaten yet or not, he's not your daddy, like that's a different thing, but he's not going to give you an earful for sleeping late and eating unhealthy.

He's going to be your boyfriend but... nonchalant boyfriend if it made any sense.

It never did.

Maybe changing his priorities was the first tick-tick for the bomb that came along his way because as soon as he found you, he was gobsmacked with a possessiveness that drived him insane.

He thought it would only bother him when you would be around because what sort of man he would be if he didn't melt at your sweetness.

But you lingered like a tattooed kiss, everything now connected with you, every thought started and ended with you.

He almost asked Soap to tie his hands so he could stop texting you random shit.

Like why should he bother with your meds and why it's making his heart burn if you haven't taken them.

Everything was jus' getting out of hand.

You were just so extreme, just out of your mind and he liked it, fuck he loved every bit of you. He just couldn't stop himself —

“You look like... you're bout’ to cry.” Soap annouced from his side, Simon shaked his head, then thinking different, nodded.

“She's having a bad day.” He said, “I am gonna kill this Nancy.”

“Who's..Nancy ?”

“You know wot ?” Simon grumbled instead, “I am gonna call her and tell her.. it's gonna be okay.”

“Right.” Soap bounced, covering his face because what has happened to his mate.

“Untie my wrist.” He growled.“Quick.” he added dangerously.

“Right.” Soap shrugged, already getting on his feet.

And if staying away from you was proving to be bad on his nonchalance then being near was almost tripping.

“You said you wouldn't come.” You gasped when he arrived, looking nervous and perhaps bit surprised himself.

“I...well...you look lovely.” He leaned to kiss your cheek, simple adorable gesture, “Thankyou Si !” He blushed at the nickname.

He really didn't know what took him until he realised that giving in to care about you was probably for the best. And really, it wasn't so bad, to think about you, to put efforts for you, to fucking nick the moon for you, because the moment you smiled at him so fondly, like he was capable to deserve that warmth from you, he actually knew what the trouble was all about and he was very much gladly taking a fall for your sake.

So it really didn't matter if he was putting on his warmth clothes because he was one second away from wrapping you in warmth the moment you very much sniffed.

It didn't matter how hot your body got sometimes with heat, he's there soaking cloth in cold ice water and cooling you down.

He's hearing that french lady talk and talk because he needs that recipe you so very love.

He sleeps with an arm under your head and heart full of things he would do for you and himself, to built a home.

Because he fucking cares, he swore for that, to make you the happiest with him.

He doesn't want to be nonchalant, he doesn't want to pretend like he doesn't care because he does.

Really.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mad Season ❄ Story B

Warnings: non/dubcon, social anxiety, chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: this is Bucky’s side of the story.

Summary: a class project gets messy. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“You get some good sleep,” Bucky says as he lingers behind you. You jingle your keys, nearly dropping them as you fish them from your bag. “I’ll be back for my jacket tomorrow.” 

“Right, er, you can just take it now,” you turn back and he puts his hand up. 

“Just in case, you hold onto it,” his lips curve slightly. “I told ya, I’m sweatin’ in this weather.” 

“Oh, okay,” you hate to argue, especially after he’s been so nice. He even walked you off campus. “Uh, thanks... I... I feel better.” 

“That’s good, doll. Didn’t even know you were upset? Something I should know about?” He wonders. 

You shake your head. You don’t want to think about Peter, let alone mention him. “No, just... college stuff.” 

“Ah, got a big assignment? Is that what you and the kid are working on?” He asks. 

“Mhmm,” you glance away evasively. “Yeah, homework.” 

“Didn’t do much school myself. Was an army brat. Hung around the base, did some smuggling, then I ended up babysitting the little twerp we now know as Captain America,” he scoffs. “Well, that was ages ago. I almost forget...” he shrugs then raises a hand and snaps his fingers, “oh, uh, not to be too forward, you want my number? For emergencies.” 

You hesitate. It’s probably a good idea. He’s leaving his coat and you’re not sure how long your study group will take tomorrow. 

“Um, okay,” you slip out your phone and shiver as you step back down the walk. “I’ll text you... number?” 

He takes out his phone and crackles out a tiny laugh, “you know, I can remember my US Army number, can’t for the life of me keep this one in my head.” He taps and scrolls, “here we are.” 

He reads out the numbers and you tap them in. You add him as a contact and open a conversation. You send him a smiley. 

“Amazing. Now I can tell Steve I got a pretty girl’s number,” he chuckles. You look at him in surprise. He cringes, “woof, not as smooth as I used to be. Anyway, I’ll be around. Let me know when I can pick the coat up.” 

“S-sure.” You agree. 

“You have a good night, doll,” he stays where he is, planting his feet as he watches you expectantly. 

You head up the walk and your keys tinkle once more as you unlock the door and push inward. You glance over your shoulder as he watches. He nods. It’s nice of him to make sure you’re safe. You give a wave then go inside. 

You’re just happy to be back at your dorm.  

❄ 

You wake up early despite the late night. You’ve never been very good at sleeping in. You get washed up, take your meds, and get dressed in a pair of wool tights and a cozy knit dress. As you go to leave, you stop short. Bucky’s fleece-lined leather hangs on the chair. You wonder what happened to your jacket. 

The winds whistle outside your window. You don’t have any other coats, just the one. You shrug on the loose leather and zip it up. It smells a bit like cedar.  

You get out the door early enough to buy a tea at the cafe on your way to the library. Your group for your lab is all there but one. You sit down but they hardly seem to notice. You don’t know how you’ll get anything done when they just stare blankly when you read out the instructions. 

You muddle through. It’s awkward because they all seem to know each other but none of them are very nice to you. In the end, you’re stuck with most of the work and they’re talking about the movie theatre. 

You pack up and they leave in pairs. You stand and grab the leather coat, hugging it under your arm as you check your phone. You’re going to check out a few shelves before you head off. 

As you push in the chair with your hip, a message blips up in the top of the screen. Bucky. You don’t get to read his message before your name pulls your head up. 

“Hey, been looking for you,” Peter says. “Got your coat...” He squints as his eyes fall to the coat over your arm. “That’s a bit big, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, it’s... borrowed.” 

“Borrowed? From who?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” you say as your scalp tingles. “Thanks for bringing that back.” 

You reach for your coat but he does the same and latches onto the leather. You try to tug both away. He yanks Bucky’s coat away and shakes it out. He snorts as he looks it up and down. His eyes snap up derisively and he throws it on the ground. 

“How the hell did you get that?” He growls. 

“I...” 

“No, why the hell are you carrying around his coat? He’s an old fucking man.” 

“Peter,” you bend to pick up the coat. 

“I’m not stupid. His dumb pin is on it. No wonder you ran out last night. You act like I’m the one messing around and you’re sneaking around with Bucky Barnes?” He sneers. 

“I wasn’t sneaking--” You lift the coat and hold it against yours. You back up as you pout at him. “Why are you yelling?” 

“I told you I liked you and now you’re walking around in another guy’s coat. Why wouldn’t I?” He pauses and looks around, only then aware of his audience. “Oh, right, it’s a library.” He speaks louder as he throws his arms out, “guess I need to be quiet!” 

You cringe and turn back to swipe up your bag. You keep your head down as your heart races and your breath begins to burn your chest. You turn back but can’t look at him. You keep a wide breadth as you step around him, bracing for him to do something.  

He just snarls as you pass, “you’re such a baby.” 

You hurry out, cheat thumping, head spinning, each step faster than the next. When at last you get to the first floor and burst out onto campus, your temples are pulsing. You struggle to untangle your bag from the coats and finally bury your hand deep inside. You take out your puffer but it slips from your frantic grasp. 

It bounces across the pavement and you cough and wheeze. Before you can reach for it, someone else does. You look up at Bucky as he stands straight. He looks you up and down and holds it out, “whatsa matter, doll?” 

You take it eagerly and suck on the end, puffing several times. He moves to block the wind as it whips around you. You finally steady yourself and hug the coats. 

“N-nothing,” you utter, “here. I have your coat.” 

He eyes you wearily as you pull his coat from under yours and hold it out. He takes it reluctantly as his mouth slants, “thanks. Where you off to?” 

“Just... groceries,” you shiver as you open your coat. 

“Groceries it is,” he says, “I’ll carry your bags.” 

You’re too out of it to protest. You need to get out of there before Peter catches up to you. You’re embarrassed after the scene he made in the library and you don’t need another. You just nod and pull your sleeves up your arms. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. 

[ronearoundblindly]

Ari- Baby is sick for the first time

Ari Levinson x best friend!reader (now fiancé)

New Parent Panic, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

Warnings for protective!Ari, Ari not communicating, you doing the same, and then everyone gets their shit together and it's fluff. WC 2k *Off in the distance an ol' timey man pops up: "An argument, you say? You wrote an argument?? How different from your usual!!" Ha-ha. Yeah. We get it. Ro's the same hoe as last year... **I am not a mother. I know what would reasonably be categorized as zilch about babies. I have, however, seen this overwhelmed and guilty behavior from several of my peeps as they raise their youngins, so that's good enough for me. You're doing fine. I promise.

Sure, there was the rather severe diaper rash incident, and the time when nursing her turned your nipples into raw portals for a newly-discovered circle of hell, but nothing could have prepared you for this day.

Rachel was...meh this morning when Ari left for work. A little whiny, not sleeping well, but she's an infant; that's not new. Overall, she's actually been a very straight-forward baby.

And then you don't know what happened.

You napped very hard until noon (after only a moderately successful feeding) and by then Rach had a fever.

You called the nurses' hotline. You gave her the dose of baby meds. You're trying to keep her hydrated, at least, if she can't be happy right now. You just have to stay vigilant and wait it out.

But that's not easy.

She's crying and won't sleep, she'll barely eat, and you don't have a separate car. You only want to call Ari if it's to say "we need to take her to a doctor." You're not there yet.

So you do the shittiest feeling thing you can think of, the most painful thing, and you wait.

You don't sleep. You barely eat. You take Rachel's temperature like you are monitoring the possible meltdown of a nuclear reactor. One wiggle of a degree in the wrong direction, and that Bat Signal is going on.

I can do this, you tell yourself. I've wanted to be a mom for a long time, so I can do this.

Except you don't sleep and barely eat.

Ari arrives home precisely when he said he would, the exact number of minutes (after work shuts down for the day) that it takes to drive to the house, predictable, dependable, and utterly useless when he opens the door and asks "why is she crying?"

"Because she hates me," you blubber, holding her to your chest, arms cramped from cradling her for so many hours at this point.

"She need meds?"

Of course, I gave her the fucking meds.

"Hungry?"

No, asshole, I purposefully starved your fucking child for my own amusement.

"Calm down," Ari snips back. "I'm just trying to help."

Well then fucking help me!

By now, you likely look as if you're in a war zone: disheveled, manic, and possibly--definitely--hostile.

"Okay, okay, let me just take a piss and then I'll hold her."

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." You turn your back to him before grumbling, "not like I haven't had to hold it all afternoon..."

Ari's still-booted feet land heavily beside you again. "Then I'll take her now," he grits through clenched teeth, "and you can use the bathroom."

"No. I already have her."

"Fine. I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

The way you lace the words with a sickly sweet melody has Ari spinning on a heel and staring at you through his long eyelashes, a tick in his jaw stopping him from saying something he might regret.

"Kid," he finally sighs, "just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

He runs a hand over his beard while he waits for your answer. A few seconds later, his hip juts out, arms akimbo, and he bites his bottom lip expectantly.

You just walk off toward your phone on the kitchen counter and call the nurse hotline back.

"I swear, woman," he mutters as you leave, but you're glad he can't hear you sniffle back a sob.

It should be reassuring that the nurse has no new advice for what to do. You're doing everything correctly. You're doing all you can. Don't worry. Keep checking her temp and giving her whatever fluids she'll take. That's all for now.

It doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like all a mother can do.

Ari? Ari waltzes up to the fridge and cracks himself open a beer.

You don't even have words, only flaming hot vibes that will melt his face like a Spielberg movie--you have got to stop watching movie marathons during late-night breast-feeding--if you stare hard enough at his casual blue gaze.

"So," he begins, "you figure out what I gotta do?"

What had been steady whimpering from Rachel has amplified into wails that bring tears to both hers and your eyes.

They just fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them from your chin before they can fall onto your screaming child.

Ari's judging frown makes your stomach turn while he steps closer, bends at the knees, and takes his little girl in hand.

Less than a minute later, Rachel stops, and you just cannot fucking handle it. The only quiet moment you've had in six and a half hours he gets to enjoy moments after coming home.

That's not fair. Cure fucking cancer already, Levinson, and save us the goddamn grief!

The tears and the tired are choking you.

Ari tells you to go freshen up in the bathroom, but that is the most horribly wrong way to say anything to you, ever, in a moment like this.

You stomp out the front door, rip open the sliding back door of the SUV, and crawl onto the cab floor. Once the latch clicks behind you, face buried in the blanket kept on Rachel's car seat, you scream.

You whimper and you cry and you get your fucking time to be angry at all your feelings today because it's bullshit.

You didn't take your own temperature. You didn't get rest and drink plenty of fluids. You didn't take any medicine. All you keep going over in your mind is whether or not you were sick first. Did you have something you gave to your daughter? Is this your fault?

So the tears and the choking continue for...as long as they take.

You don't know how much time has passed before the car door is yanked open again. Thank the stars you are facing away. You can't look at Ari right now.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

His big, warm hand rubs across your back, making you sink further into the upholstery.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

Ari likes to call Rachel a part of his 'squad,' so he talks to your infant daughter like they're going on 'missions' to the store or getting a bottle from the 'mess.' Your bedroom has thus become the 'barracks.'

Sometimes, he holds her sitting up against his chest and uses her feet to 'march' the pair of them across the house.

Left. Left. Left right left.

And almost always, there's a giggle, too.

"Up you go, kid," Ari huffs, maneuvering you into his arms.

"No," you whine, so tired you can't tell what it is you don't want.

He just keeps saying, "I know. I know," until he's carried you inside.

Instead of taking you to the couch or the bed, Ari sits you both down in the front hall, balancing you on his lap while he loosens his boot laces and finally kicks the sturdy shoes off, placing them on the mat a couple feet away.

He presses his lips to your temple, rough beard gently scrubbing over your eyelid and cheek.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. He doesn't expect to have this same argument again, not like this, but his point still stands. "You know, you're warm, too."

If it's another question, you don't answer that either. You change the subject.

"Did you take her temp?"

He nods, and the number he tells you is the same as it was thirty minutes ago, or rather, thirty minutes before he came home.

Ari squeezes you tighter. "You want to get into bed, and I'll bring your some juice and meds, huh? Meet you in there?"

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He pulls away, smacking his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

How are there more tears left in your body? You should be nothing but a shriveled husk at this rate.

"Bullshit," he practically seethes. "Don't you ever say that again."

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop."

"--you were--"

"Stop it," he blurts, firm and serious.

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!" Your most powerful voice only comes out as high whisper. "Me. I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done, and I thought I could just--" you swing an arm out dramatically "--and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

"No, kid. She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause your comfy and you smell good--"

"--not sure about that--"

"--and she loves you," you bemoan.

Ari snorts out a laugh.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, soothing you with petting hands wherever he can reach. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

He finds your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it, spinning it gently on your finger. He hasn't gotten to make good on his promise. Planning a wedding, even a small one, with a newborn is almost impossible, but that seems to be part of the problem.

Anything to do with you or you two feels selfish when there's three. Guilt grips you when you stop to daydream about your big day because it's not about Rachel. She's the most important thing. She will trump you forever as the single most--

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari's timbre rattles close to your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat.

"Almost not fair, really," he drawls. "You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile, the salt from dried tears on your lips flooding your mouth.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" Ari scuttles on the floor to evade your attack on his ribs. "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He easily grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

There's a different lump of emotion lodged deep in your chest. You only nod because you can't speak.

He makes your foreheads meet.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

That's when you realize what bothers you so much: Ari should need you to raise Rachel, but you never truly acknowledged you might need him to raise her, too.

This enormous weight of clutching every thread of life in your own two hands isn't real. You can share. You are meant to share your life with Ari. Ari is meant to share his life with you. Rachel shares life with you both, as she is meant to share with everyone around her. It's a lesson she has the opportunity to learn a lot younger than you, apparently.

He gets you to drink a whole bottle of water. He brings you some food and medicine while he handles some laundry and cleans out the day's bottles. He leads you with both hands to the bathroom, finally, and then gets you settled in bed.

As you fall asleep, you watch Ari take Rach's temperature again.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand over her.

"High five?" he whispers. "No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

The last thing you see is Ari playfully lifting her from the basinet, sneaking out to the living room to enjoy a movie marathon, just for a little bit, snuggling together while he winds down for the night.

All that matters is she's safe and happy.

That, and of course, waking up in Ari's arms, listening to his slow breathing and Rachel's faster, baby huffs. You can handle anything because you made it through today and you have them.

[Ari's POV for this day]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @yenzys-lucky-charm

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi, can i request a blurb about pierre where his gf suffers from chronic migraines? :( i need this in my life

Note: if you suffer from migraines, I hope you're feeling better!

Cw: migraines and theyr symptoms, emergency room

Work mixed with travelling to enjoy the last few moments alone with Pierre before the season began, which brought you very little sleep triggered a massive migraine. Pierre found you in your shared bedroom with all the curtains closed and covers pulled around you, already assuming you hadn't been feeling that well since you asked him for some painkillers on his way home from his training session.

"Amour, what's wrong?", he said at his regular voice tone that, right now, seemed like he was screaming, the groan you let out concerning him even more as he approached you. Searching for his hand on the mattress, you spoke quietly, "I'm having a terrible migraine", you explained, Pierre weighing out your options and opting to get some flannels from the bathroom a little soaked in cold water and resting them on your head.

"Do you want some snuggles? I don't want to make it worse for you though", he whispered, "yes, please. Just let me lay on this side so it doesn't hurt as much", you whispered back, having managed to drink the tea he made for you and appreciating how his fingers kept running lightly through your hair, his kisses on your head attempting to help the pain.

When morning came around and you were bent over the toilet, pouring the little food you managed to keep down out and the meds didn't seem to be working, Pierre took matters into his own hands, "I've seen your migraines before and they're never this bad", he said.

"Call Dr. Martin, her contact is on my phone", you whispered, wiping your mouth while he went to call your doctor. Coming back to you, Mick laced your fingers in his, "Dr. Martin said that we should go to the ER, she's on call today and can see you", he said, earning a small nod from you as he helped you to the bedroom.

Sitting you on the bed, he helped you rid of your clothes, his touch delicate and soft as he helped you change out of your top and into one of his comfortable hoodies and one of your sweatpants, "all done, my love, c'mon now, gently", he said as he helped you make your way downstairs to the car and carefully drove to the hospital.

The admission was pretty quick and after checking you, you were prescribed a stronger medication and while you waited for it to kick in, Pierre was holding you against him, checking every now and again with you on how you were feeling, giving you your juice and encouragung you to drink a little bit, his lips not leaving your skin for long as he peppered little kisses where he could reach.

When you were back home and feeling a lot better, actually able to keep the homemade soup down, you were cuddling on the sofa, your smaller headache allowing the quiet lullaby of one of your boyfriend's playlists to actually soothe you as you tried to show him how thankful you were for him, "I love you and I only want you to feel good, I'd do whatever it takes to make you feel better", he whispered lovingly.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Superior

When you join the military, there's a certain level of assumed risk. You're already aware that they're probably going to ask you to do things. Some of which? You might not be cool with. Internally, you have to decide where you'll be drawing the line. Where "just following orders" fucking ENDS. Especially, when, you join the military... and they assign you someplace that dumps a stack of NDAs in front of you to sign.

That stack had been about as big as a toddler.

And then... then there WERE toddlers. A compound. Deep in the ass pit of no where. Technology so cutting edge, I'm genuinely surprised it doesn't bleed people to turn on. The project? Fucking Super Soldiers.

Because of COURSE it would be.

Fuck Ethics, am I right? Rights? Those are for government officials! Now follow orders and shut up, or we'll direct your attention to the miles of uninterrupted wilderness, in which NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU. But, hey! You can't technically call us monsters! We're PAYING you~!

So obviously it's YOUR fault!

Every day. Every SINGLE DAY. I felt sick.

This isn't what I signed up for. How the HELL does this protect anybody? Serve ANYBODY? I felt unclean. Lost weight. My sleep cycle was a wreck. I... I couldn't fucking DO this, and it SHOWED.

I was clearly the weak link.

While others settled in? I got tense. Worn down. Sick. My contract stated I HAD to finish my rotation, so that's what was going to happen. And if the medic had to put me on sleep meds? So be it. If I had to take anti-anxiety pills? Down the hatch. Everything was shit and I FELT like shit.

I should have bagged groceries, fuck "better pay".

The guys here? Were so, SO shitty to the Soldiers. Like it was THEIR fault they might replace us. Like they even WANTED too or were give a fucking CHOICE. I had no idea how any of this was legal. Was pretty sure it WASN'T. I just... I just wanted OUT.

Room to breathe. To process my fucking horror, you know?

Instead? Day after day. I got up. Swallowed more and more fucking pills. Felt more and more exhausted and run down. Checked one more god forsaken day off the calendar until I could get OUT of here. Dressed, in uniform, and looking only halfway like I wanted to die. Try to get some breakfast.

Inevitably, INEVITABLY, have to fucking stop and interfere, with some shit head messing with a Solider. Usually one of the smaller ones. The kids. Because the big ones could Fight BACK. Break a man in fuck HALF. So the cowards went after kids instead.

Fuckers.

Get to breakfast late. Oops! They tossed out the leftovers! Didn't think you were cooooming~ Bullshit. It's retribution for stopping their fucked up games. Ratting them out to the scientists. The brass. Shoves as they go pass. Make my own damn breakfast. As I always do.

Eat alone.

Go to my office. Far side of the compound. Pass a shit ton of Soldiers. The little ones always stare. Like owls. Used to be creepy, got over it. It's how they learn. Do the jackasses honestly think? That putting me in the glorified broom closet, that is the satellite security office, is a punishment? Ha!

I stole a mini fridge weeks ago. Built a fucking nest in here.

It's like a second bunk.

Unlike SOME PEOPLE, the Soldiers actually fucking behave themselves. Honestly, they behave a little TOO much. I'm technically supposed to report a lot of the little behaviors I've seen so they can be "corrected". But would you look at THAT! I was on my break! Oh look, a painting. What's this? A text? Oops. I Saw NOTHING.

Eat shit and DIE, Dr. Atrocities!

At least... that's how my day is SUPPOSED to go. Something's? Weird.

I can't place it. But no one else seems to have NOTICED, so it HAS to probably have something to do with the Soldiers. Since I seem to be the only one on this fucking compound that actually LOOKS looks at them. Notices them, you know? Alpha isn't where he's supposed to be.

He's the OG. The proof of concept. Our so called "perfect" Soldier. He's usually in the center of the pack, leading around various Soldiers task to task. Giving orders. Generally in charge. If you look for HIM, you can get a read on things. Figure out what's up. But...

Huh.

No Alpha. No first series. Not even second wave. Worse, none of the cadets. There SHOULD be at least a FEW munchkins hanging around. Observing this or that. Following SOMEBODY like lil Owl ducklings. Yet? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Just... general Soldiers...

The little hairs prickle on the back of my neck. A stone settles in my gut. I... I decide to skip breakfast. Not hungry. Don't feel like cooking. It... it has nothing to do with the fact that my office? Has some SERIOUS blast doors. Legit bunker all on its own. Even it's own air supply, for a while.

Y...you know,

In CASE.

They never told us... what "in case" WAS.

But if I walker a little faster then normal? Don't make eye contact with anybody? Can't... Can't HELP but notice? Even HERE, where there SHOULD be a shit ton of diversity? There fucking ISN'T? Well that's between me and the blast doors.

Just three doors away from my office when the Emergency Alarm System goes off.

I fucking BOLT the remaining distance.

Throwing myself inside my office, I SLAM the door closed. Engage the highest level locks possible. Something in my gut is screaming at me. The long seconds it takes to slide into place with a mountainous THUNK, feel like an eternity. Muffled, the alarm howl on outside. I... I think I hear gun fire. Shit.

I throw myself into my chair.

Systems, up. Screens, On. What is HAPPENING?

Horror awaits me. The Carnage I always half knew was coming.

The Soldiers are armed. Synchronized. As though this were just another seige simulation. There is a VICIOUSNESS to their actions, as they cut down the doctors. Hunt down the soldier's that abused them. Held them here. They are freeing themselves and will not rest until every soul in this base is DEAD.

Fuck.

I both understand but unfortunately, kinda want to LIVE.

There's no way I'll be able to get past them. Their senses are better then mine. They are faster then me. Stronger then me. Generally BETTER then me. They were DESIGNED to be. I can... can only wait them out... hopefully.

Alpha is nearly a blur. Every shot hitting its mark. The guns becoming bludgeoning weapons when bullets run out. Table and chairs, people and armor, everything around him improvised weaponry. He's grinning like he's never had more fun in his life. Like he's FINALLY been allowed to cut loose after so long holding back.

His head is on the swivel though. Searching? For what?

The other base line's try to hold the line but...

I close my eyes. Their screams echoing through tinny speakers in my tiny office. They were absolute fucking bastards. I... I HATED them. But no one... NO ONE deserves to go like this. Oh god. According to protocol, I need to send the emergency alarm again if the cut the main office.

There's a "break glass" box I've been curious about but never thought I'd ever have to OPEN. High up on a shelf. My legs feel shakey, but I get it.

They gave me a key when they assigned me to this office. Shoved in among everything else. A lazy afterthought. Part of my uniform. Now, I take it from around my neck and unlock the box.

One standard gun and a small vial of suicide pills.

Oh god.

"She's not here. Spread out."

My head snaps up to the screens. As though somehow that will change the horrifying words I just heard Alpha say. The alarms still wail, red lights flashing, but the hallways have... oh god, have fallen silent. Bodies line them. Blood staining the God forsaken white I've come to hate so much. Alpha looks so relaxed.

Pleased even. Like everything has gone exactly as he's planned.

One of the first series hand him a pad uncaring of his bloody hands. Chances are high that samn thing is connected to the servers. It looks like on of the scientists. I watch in dread as Alpha's eyes scroll across it. As it taps through several screens. Hums. He grins.

He rolls his head up, as though merely stretching his shoulders and neck, an almost loose and lazy act. If it weren't for the INTENT in his smile. The predatory look in his eyes. Up and over his shoulder. Too look behind him at the camera.

Directly At Me.

Fuck, he knows.

He hands off the pad with an almost lazy toss. Turning sharply to march forward in a way that made me think of wolves. My hand closed around the gun in the box before me, breathing turning shallow, as I watched him take a direct path towards me. Why? WHY? Is it because I'm the only one who's left?

My eyes tracked to the other screens. The agony there.

The little bottle that offered a way out.

I... fuck it, I wasn't waiting. I slammed my hand down on the back up Emergency Alarm. Even if they cut the main office now, mine would still sent the alert. And... oh god. And at least, this should be FAST. I popped the bottle open. Gun aimed at the door. Bottle in my off hand, ready to go. I tried to remember what i was told to do. Just... just pop, chew, and swallow.

It'll only hurt for a moment.

Better then THAT, I guess, but it was... it was so fucked up.

Alpha was coming down the hall. N... No more stalling. My eye sight blurred. Hands fucking shook. God, damn it. God DAMN IT! I didn't even want to BE HERE! W...WHY?! Why did it have too-!?

It... it didn't matter.

Not now.

Not anymore, I guess.

I threw the pills back. Chewed. They were bitter. Salty. Swallowed. Some part of my brain whispered... that... that wasn't right. I recognized the poison on the bottle. Shouldn't it be swee-? No, focus. Keep your gun steady. What's done is done. No going back.

Alpha was outside my office.

"Interesting door, princess." He said, projecting his voice so I could hear it through the blast doors. I could see him. Standing dead center of a squad of Soldiers. They crowded the hallway in a loose half circle. "Looks real secure! Rather safe. But why all the hiding, sweetheart? A man might get his feelings hurt. Think you're running AWAY from him or something. And you KNOW we can't have THAT!"

"So I suggest you open up... before I Do It For You."

My hands were shaking. More and more. Heart pounding. Mouth felt... dry? It was happening. Limbs felt weak. My vision swam a little then refocused. Did so again. Again... AGAIN, louder, my brain insisted that wasn't right. These were the wrong symptoms. But... but who CARED, right? Fatal is fatal.

But... but only if it IS.

What if...

A horrific screech of metal. I jerked my head to look at the screen for the hallway out side. No. No he can't possibly-! Arm wrapped in spare armor, likely taken from some poor man's corpse, Alpha's RIGHT ARM is elbow deep in the door.

I watch, numb, as he draw it to the side. Bending screeching, groaning metal out of his way as he does. Lock components carelessly ripped out. Dumped on the floor. My breathing comes faster. I can barely see. It's... fuck. It's been too long for the pills to have been what they said they were.

Someone switched them.

What the HELL did I swallow?

I watch helplessly as my supposed bunker is forced open. A flimsy wooden door the last barrier. It swings open. I fuckin shoot. No one was there, because of course not, he's not an idiot. I just... I JUST-! A hand, calloused and stronger then steel, wraps around mine. Grip tight as it gently forces the gun away and to the side. Drags it from my grip.

I can't move... my arm falls limp at my side as the last of my strength and focus fade away. Colors are blurry at the edges. Alpha LOOMS. Tall and powerful in a way that terrifies me. I tried to be polite to the guy. Keep my distance. Clearly... clearly wasn't enough... God, I'm so scared. Please...

"Oh~ Look At YOU~" he breathes, hands that wreak of copper coming up to cradle my feverish face. Crowding close as he traps me against my chair. "Tried to take the easy way out, huh? Naughty girl. That's not gonna a fun one. But you'd have to learn eventually that you can't run, so might as well, huh? Don't worry, sweetness. Alpha team's got you."

I try to move. Protest. Anything. But my limbs won't respond. I feel lips, possessive and demanding, against my own.

"God, you're so fucking cute, pathetic like this~" Alpha groans, clearly fighting the impulse to let his hands roam "Wish it was just us. I've got MONTHS to make up. Second I find us a bed, princess, I promise. I'll take you APART~"

He reaches out, casually, to shut the alarms down. The compound falling silent. The... the other alarm was deactivated. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him effortlessly type in the "all clear" code with one hand. As though he'd practiced. He... he had, hadn't he... oh god, I was trapped.

"Shhhh, sweetness. No more tears. Just you 'n me, 'gainst the world, yeah? We're going to be PERFECT. I've got it all planned out."

"Now let's get you down to the labs. It's time to make you superior."

[the-laughing-lunatic]

Hiya! I was wondering if you could how would the tf2 crew act with a reader who has chronic pain. I would like it to be platonic.Thank you and Have a wonderful day ☺

(ofc! I tried to do my research but I don’t have chronic pain, apologies if anything is wrong :< thanks for requesting!)

Scout, Medic, Spy, Engie, and Heavy w/ a reader who has chronic pain (PLATONIC)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

☆Scout☆

He doesn’t get it at first honestly

Once you explain it more he feels really bad for you

Like you just hurt? All the time? And he can’t rlly do anything to make it go away?

If you have to cancel plans of going somewhere to hang out he’ll stay with you inside

“Scout, are you sure you don’t want to go with the rest of the team to get drinks? I don’t want to make you stay in my room.”

“Pally, I’m happy as hell bein’ here. You’re my bud, I ain’t just gonna leave ya here when you already feel like shit. Now just relax, aight? Back to what I was sayin’, lemme tell ya ‘bout the time I absolutely destroyed alla BLU…”

Major yapper alert

Perfectly content with just being near to you, he likes being entertaining for you to at least distract you from the pain

☆Medic☆

The most educated about it (obviously) 

Constantly has all your meds on hand along with refills

Is a huge hypocrite about making sure you’re okay

“You must sleep now fruend, it is twenty-two right now and you need your rest.”

“Medic you haven’t slept in four days.”

“That is entirely beside the point.”

(mf looks thru ur window to make sure ur actually sleeping /unreality)

Is intrigued about how your pain is triggered by certain things and will want to run experiments (dw he’ll undo whatever he did w/ his medigun and give you a lollipop)

Will offer you different surgeries to help but they all seem a little too experimental in nature 

Will give you the privilege of feeding his doves if you’re having a bad pain episode 

☆Spy☆

Relates to you somewhat (I headcanon him as a cane user)

Always has his smoking room open to you if you need a place to rest

If you’re sensitive to sound his room is perfect

It’s far from the other rooms and common areas, and if he is there with you he is often just reading a book with the occasional glance to make sure you don’t need anything

Never says it but he does enjoy your company a lot

You notice after a while that theres stock of all the things you typically use for pain episodes 

“Spy? Why are there heat packs in here?”

“Ah, those are for me, but please feel free to use them if you would like.”

“...don’t you just only use cold packs for your pain?”

“Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

“Alright. …thanks.”

Does a lot of favors for you secretly, and knows you know it’s him but he’ll still never say it outright

☆Engineer☆

Literally has a mental list of foods that you should and shouldn’t eat if youre having a pain episode and will act like a strict parent abt it

“No more soda for you, it ain’t gonna help ya with that pain of yours. If ya need a drink I got some tea that’ll actually help ya.”

“But–”

“No buts, tea, water, or nothin’.”

“Fine, I’ll have some water.”

In his workshop he’ll come up with loads of gadgets to try to make your life easier :3

Will prolly make a robot for you to do your menial tasks that take up too much energy

☆Heavy☆

Is there constantly to help you with anything you need

You don’t have the energy to make yourself a coffee? Boom, he’s got it for you.

Debating whether or not it’s worth it to do the laundry to then be in bad pain all day? He already did it hours ago.

He’ll offer you to join him exercising to help with the pain

“Ugh, h- heavy I’ve done thirty pushups already, can we quit?”

“Net, exercise good for you.”

“C’mon! I’m already in pain, can’t you give me a little mercy?”

“And now are in different pain, da? This one good!”

Dw, he makes sure to not actually push you past your limits

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[emmyrosee]

are u down 4 sum lil angst?? well, i'm just curious how would it be being the famous star volleyball player, Sakusa Kiyoomi's TOTGA?

YOU HAD N O RIGHT MATE

ok so fun emmy history, back when I was a wee child and before the miya twins were even a thing, i wrote a self insert that I’m still weirdly proud of today so congratulations, you scratched that memory HHEISBSOSN-

Hey! Future Emmy here. so... major tw; kiyoomi is very mean, extremely toxic, and i for sure went overboard, but there's a lot of blaming and yelling and just. ugh. this piece hurt my own heart smh.

-

But listen. You slipped into Sakusa Kiyoomi’s life surprisingly. He wasn’t expecting you or even just to date at all, you were just at the right places in the right times where he finally felt at ease in your presence. You just understood who he was beyond surface level, and he’d never had that in someone before.

You loved him before he was cool, before he was anyone other than a top ace in Japan. You were the first to tell him it was okay to mess up, do something other than eat drink and sleep volleyball, even if he wants it to take up most of his time.

Time, he no longer has, when he gets injured.

It wasn't like it was an inopportune time- though, as a college athlete, there really is no good time to get injured- if anything, it was spontaneous and had he not had dreams of making it big, he'd never think twice of it.

But he gets injured. Junior year of college, just as his name starts to grow in the industry, and he gets injured. Bad ankle, it’s actually a former injury from his childhood that apparently didn’t heal right.

There’s articles that spread about Bokuto Koutarou, how he’s climbing the ranks and how Miya Atsumu, the same little rat who bothered him in high school received an offer from god knows what team, and he’s fuming.

That should be him and his setter getting those offers and climbing that ladder, it’s been him and him alone for years, and he knows it's bitter to hate people for their successes, but its not fucking fair, he deserves more than this.

He deserves more than doctors trying to encourage surgery to heal at the sacrifice of volleyball, he deserves more than flowers and cards of best wishes, more than Miya Atsumu texting him to see if he's okay, he deserves more than any being on earth could give him.

And that includes you.

"Baby, did you finally call the surgeon?" You ask, coming in with a water bottle and a cup of his meds.

Apparently, that's more than enough to set him off.

"I don't need surgery."

He hears you sigh, "the doctor says the tear is too big just for physical therapy, you'll need the extra support-"

"In case you forgot, I was fucking there."

His breath becomes hot, and he can't peel his eyes from the commercials playing on the tv. The room suddenly feels suffocating, and of he could will himself to do it, he'd apologize and tell you he loves you, he's just tense and hurt, and he's grateful you're here, and-

"I'm the one who's life is going down the tubes. Fun fact."

The other thoughts in his mind are static. merely an incoherent buzz. You're his victim now, to his ugliest sides that therapy and his family prodded back years ago.

There's no one to prod it back now.

"I... I didn't mean any harm, I promise-"

"You really shouldn't talk to me right now," he snarls, rage bubbling and clawing away at his soul. There's a bubbling of tears that rip at his waterline in a demand to fall, but he's blinded to anything else.

He hates his life. He hates his ankle. He hates his doctors for telling him it may not heal right ever.

He hates you.

"Kiyoomi, please-"

He bears his teeth like a dog in an attack, and you flinch back slightly. "If you hadn't fucking distracted me, this never would've happened." He hears you whine in your throat.

he ignores it.

"I was fine," he barks. "I was happy before you. I was strong, I was powerful, I was a damned force to be reckoned with." He crawls closer to you on the couch, and when you cower to try and get away, he chases your body with his torso.

When you stand up, he does too. His leg lights every single nerve up in a blaze of agony, but he's too gone in his own rage to think about it.

"I... I know you're mad, but please, sit down Kiyoomi-"

You're right.

"Shut the hell up!"

Even on one foot, he towers over you threateningly. You bring your hands up to try and force distance between you both; your touch does ground him slightly, but not enough to stop his scorn.

You sniffle softly, clearly uncomfortable, "you're just mad... and that's okay. Please stop shouting at me, we can make this work, kiyoomi."

Now, his eyes are scalding with furious tears.

"I want this to work, oomi... please, stop shouting-"

“It doesn’t matter if you want it to work,” he snaps. “I’ve got a plan to stick to that’s already been screwed because of us, AND IT'S YOUR GODDAMNED FAULT!"

When you sob and crumple to your feet, there’s a small part of kiyoomi that comes to, the words suddenly sour on his tongue. He feels… confused, he doesn’t know where it came from inside of him, but the way your eyes water from his words snaps him back to reality.

“I’m… im ruining your plan?” You choke, and god kiyoomi wants the floor to engulf him whole. Because duh, of course now you’re not he’s just the scum of the earth, you’re all he can think of wanting in this shitty life, but he can’t say that, not when your hands cover your mouth in distress and horror, tears slipping over your fingers. He feels the blood leave his face when you take a step back, followed by another, then one as you turn on your heel to leave.

“Wait-“

“No, Kiyoomi,” you snap, and its his turn to feel your rage, your head whipping to look at him in betrayal. “No. I’m officially done waiting for you.”

And despite the fact that he wants to chase you, wants to gather you in his arms and pin you to the wall and demand you listen to him, listen to why his plan has changed and how you’ve completely ruined all of it in the best ways, he can’t. His leg throbs at the mere idea.

He just. Stands there, frozen for god knows how long, staring at the long slammed door, wondering if you’d come back for something you’d forgot in your exit. Something dumb, like a charger or a water bottle, something easily replaceable but you wanted from him just as a last chance makeup.

But you don’t. And once his good leg starts to cramp from standing there, he slowly moves his way to his bedroom.

And he’s fine. Honest!

Sitting by himself in the cold of night gives him more time to think about the future. The one without you, of course. Limping around the dorm on crutches makes his arms ache and knees weak, and the backpack on his shoulders making him fall forwards is plenty to make his elbows strengthen up (they’re withering away) and his breathing circulate (he’s breathing back tears of pain and frustration.)

He can’t… he can’t do this without you.

Call him selfish, but his life was not only easier with you around, it was better, it was fun to love you and have you scream his name from the stands, but now that seat is occupied by someone else when it should be yours and yours alone.

He’s tried to get over it. He’s tried to get everything in line, get you the hell out of his mind but he can’t.

You’re different. He hates you for it. There’s something about you that refused to leave his mind and soul. Every time someone is interested in him, he feels disgusted because every crush is based on appearances now; it never was with you. Every time someone laughs, his first thought is how much he misses yours. When one of those stupid fast food commercials comes on in the late hours of night, he smiles sadly as he remembers the way your eyes would meet his and you’d beg him for some fries at ungodly hours.

He has to move on. It’s been fucking years. Why hasn’t he moved on?

Any sane person by now would have moved on, passed through his heartbreak and try to find another, but he’s so emotionally unavailable at this point. Every thought and every reminder that plagues him continues to hit like a ton of bricks every time.

Maybe it's guilt.

No, its definitely guilt.

He loved you, more than you could imagine, he appreciated you more than he can express, and to show you how much you mean to him, he blamed you for his failures.

No wonder he deserves to be alone.

And just when his exhaustion can't grow, his self destruction and crumbling self worth can't get lower, he gets thrown in another circle of hell that he seems to find himself in; this time, in a coffee shop he frequents. Not too many familiar faces, just a couple blocks from the train, and up until that point, only having known him as an alias.

Until today, when the Gods decide to torture him a bit more.

“Name?”

“Sakusa,” he says, not even thinking as he scrolls on his phone. There’s a high pitched gasp from the girl, and it makes his eye twitch.

“NO WAY!!! Oh my gosh, you’re THE sakusa kiyoomi?! Oh my gosh, wait, hold on- can I get a picture? No, wait, you’re not into those- can I get an autograph? I knew you looked familiar, my sister and I watch you play all the time! I’m such a fan!-“

“Uh… thanks. Can I have my tea-“

The girl doesn’t answer, instead, she calls for her co-worker who barrels out in equal excitement.

On any normal day, kiyoomi would snap. He’d scold and snarl about how rude they were, how he’s still a fucking person who just so happens to be good at volleyball, but he’s like a deer in headlights. He’s too surprised at his own stupidity of not using his usual alias, how damn tired is he?

There’s a weight that feels like a ton of bricks that settles on his chest once he hears the line behind him complaining about how long it’s taking, then people behind the register flashing pictures that have him blinded and asking him questions he doesn’t want to answer, he just wants his tea for God’s sake and-

“HEY!” There’s a snap from someone at a table, and it breaks up the small, impromptu paparazzi at the front. “People are trying to work here, and not get a damn seizure from your damn pictures!” He feels all that anxiety break on his shoulders once they cower away. “And shame on you all!” They continue, the line slowly parting to let them continue shouting. “He may be famous but he’s still a damn person! Make the fucking drink and GO!”

Kiyoomi doesn’t want to look. Even if he’s eternally grateful for them, he knows that scold and he knows that bravery to call out random people for their shiftiness.

Because it’s the same thing you used to do all those years ago.

He winced and pulls the mask higher on his nose to keep himself concealed- as if he’s not a 190.5 cm monster. But you don’t say anything about anything that just happened, you must be deep in your work to not process just exactly who you were defending.

He gets his tea with a quick apology from the baristas, and he heads to the door to leave.

….

…right?

He’s gone. He’s on the bus, headphones in and heading to practice, audiobook putting him in a new world where his only current connection is the hot tea in his hands.

Right?

There’s always been a table on the bus, a table he rudely stalks up to, where you’re sitting and typing away furiously at your laptop and massaging one of your temples, too engrossed in your work to notice the outside hitter standing just in front of you.

“Uh…” he chews his lip nervously. You don’t look up.

This is the chance Komori’s been talking about. If he doesn’t take it, he’s going to hate himself forever.

“Thank you for standing up for me back there.”

“You’re welcome.”

He sighs staggered, “can I… uhm… repay the favor?”

To his extreme relief, you offer him a small chuckle, “maybe you can recommend a coffee shop where random cele…” your voice drifts off when you look up at him, jaw frozen open and eyes wide and dancing all over his face. You’re both just staring at each other, breathing ragged and tense, and his brows furrowing to try and hide the guilt and absolute need he has for you to continue the conversation.

You clear your throat, “your uhm… your foot healed uh… well.”

He wants to, but can’t, fight the snort that sneaks past his lips because that’s about the last thing he thought you’d say. But he sees you crack a smile too, and it’s worth it.

“Yeah,” he says after he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m playing professionally now. Minor aches here and there, but nothing unusual.”

“So you got to stick with your plan,” you hum sadly, and his heart stops. “That’s wonderful, Sakusa. Im glad to hear it-“

“But my plan never felt complete,” he interrupts, and he sees your nostrils flare in annoyance. “I-I-I thought I knew what I wanted, but god, I didn’t. I don’t, I’ve always only wanted you.”

You offer him a shrug, “Kiyoomi, I was an intruder in your life; I can’t blame you for that, I shouldn’t have been there-“

“I wanted you there.”

“Clearly you didn’t,” you snip, and finally, he sighs in defeat. “You made it just fine without me in your plan.”

Fuck it.

If he’s here, he’s gonna lay all his cards, give you every last thought of his and leave you one more time to pick up your shattered pieces.

“I miss you.”

You freeze, but there’s a glazing of your waterline before you slowly, tensely, turn up to look at him.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Don’t do this, Sakusa.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, own voice twinging raw. "I hate it too. I hate that I've had to carry this weight with me for all these years, years I should've been with you, kept you safe and happy, and I couldn't even do that."

"You shattered what we had. Don't ever forget that."

"I never have been able to."

There's another silence surrounding you both, suffocating and hot and thick, and he gets flashbacks of a scenario not too dissimilar, where you're looking up at him with those same, betrayed eyes.

But your gaze doesn't last. It crumbles before you let out the breath you'd been holding, a sign that you're not going to waste your energy on him anymore, "you're too late, Kiyoomi. You don't get to miss me anymore."

When your hands shift to close your laptop, he sees it. The massive, heavy rock on your finger, glimmering under the soft lights of the coffee shop.

Kiyoomi feels sick. He could faint right now if his pride would let him. Instead, he swallows the bile in his throat and grits his teeth, giving you a smile and a casual scratch of the back of his head, "that's... that's awesome! I'm happy for you."

"Don't be," you smile sadly.

"Why?"

You shurg, "you don’t have to be happy for me. I’m happy for me. He's a friend of Bokuto-San's. Set us up not long after we broke up." Then, you sigh shakily, "I'm just here for work, I won't taint your coffee shops for much longer." It was an attempt to break up the heavy silence.

He could puke right now if he didn't feel completely defeated. He could strangle Bokuto in devastation.

In his younger, naïve efforts to drive you away, he drove you straight to someone else's arms.

He nods and chokes out a small "alright," before spinning on his heel away from you

He makes move to leave the coffee shop, but before he does, but before he can, he turns back to face you, trying to get one final look at you, soaking in your presence and soul before you vanish from his life forever. He calls your name, and you look at him one more time with that big, beautiful gaze.

"Do you believe in the one that got away?" he asks, and you process his answer before slipping your computer in your bag.

"Yeah. And I believe I'm yours- but you were too worried about losing volleyball. Now, I guess we all got what we wanted."

His veins turn icy as he tries to blink back the hot tears searing his waterline, turning his head to dodge your knowing eyes.

Everyone got what they wanted.

Except for his broken heart, of course.

[andhumanslovedstories]

Hey so your post about pain management as a bedside nurse is so important to my own nursing practice that I've considered printing it out so I can have it to hand all the time. So thanks for that. Also, how do you deal with assignments that are busy enough that pain management is harder than it should be? I'm coming up on two years as a nurse and I feel like I take it personally when I am too busy to adequately manage my patients pain. I'm also coming from a newly unionized hospital where the ratios are still horrendous (I do 1:10 on med surg) and I'm hoping once we can enforce our staffing grids it'll be better but idk I'm burning out and I love my job so much and I really respect your nursing philosophy? I guess. Sorry for the word vomit it's been a crazy shift.

I've been trying to think of how to answer this since I got it. It's just such a horrendous ratio. With ten patients a shift, that's like six minutes an hour for each in a fantasy world where there's no charting and everything is exactly where you need it to be. I feel like I don't have great insight into this because the most med surg patients I've had assigned is five. Ten patients to one nurse is just a raw deal for everyone. Like christ no wonder you feel like you're burning out! I'll give you what thoughts I have and hopefully other people can chime in if they have suggestions. But that's such a hard patient load.

When I've been super swamped, I've found that's when being really explicit about your thinking with the patient helps. Like if I have to dash into a room and then dash back out, I'll make sure the board is updated with the next medication time and that the patient knows when the medication is going to kick in. I'll also provide call light parameters. I have a lot of success telling people, "the med should be doing something by 5:30. If I haven't checked in with you by then, and the pain is unchanged or barely changed, hit your call light and we'll try the next step. Also hit your call light if you feel any sudden change, like now you're nauseated or you have a headache or the type of pain changes or something just feels very wrong. Is there anything you need before I step out of the room?"

I like to be explicit about when to call me because I think there's two directions call light usage can go wrong: someone calls all the time, or someone never calls. With someone who calls all the time, I find that telling them when I'll be back and that I want them to call me if I'm not takes away some of that anxiety that can causes some people to call frequently. Often those patients are afraid that if they aren't on the call light, they're gonna get ignored.

For the other type of patient, the one that doesn't call, I want to make explicit that it's GOOD AND NORMAL TO CALL YOUR NURSE WHEN YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS. We've all had that patient at the end of shift who goes, "btw the gnawing pain in my leg is now a 10/10" and you're like "what gnawing pain sir?? you've literally never mentioned it before now?? I don't have any meds for that lemme page super quick????" These patients can get into pain crises easily because they don't ask for help until something is unbearable. In addition to pain crisis bad, it takes a lot more time to deal with something unbearable than it does to deal with something uncomfortable.

On that note, are you spending your very limited time efficiently? To me, that actually means spend more time talking with patients, at least up front. Manage expectations, make sure people know what to expect. Having conversations with patients that are like, "You just had surgery, it's not gonna happen that we get you completely painless. We want to get you to a manageable pain level that allows you to do whatever it is you most want to do this shift." (For me on nights, that's usually sleeping at least a little, but sometimes the realistic goal you make together is that you will feel at some point better than you feel right now.) "You have this medication scheduled, and you have this one available every X hours when your pain is severe. Is there anything you know that helps you deal with pain?"

Also establish if patients want to be woken up for certain prn medications or if they're sleeping, to let them sleep. With some patients, I will advise them to get woken up for pain medication because I know that they're going to need consistent control to avoid a crisis. (Crises take so much time!)

When I'm crunched for time, I'm fond of bringing in an ice pack and being like "if it works, great, if it doesn't, just take it off, either way here it is." Sometimes I'll do the same with a warm blanket. If I know my patient needs to take pills, I'll bring a cup of water with me into the room. If there's a basic prn like melatonin or tylenol that I think they might want, I'll pull them in advance. If the patient doesn't want them, I return them next time I'm in the med room. (Obviously, don't do this with controlled substances. It's super easy to forget to return them, and not returning opioids is one of those whoopsies people get fired over.)

Decision making takes time. Walking to go get stuff takes time. I want to save the time it takes to assess if the patient needs those things and then walk off to fetch them by just having the things already. If your tightest resource is time, be liberal with resources you can spare. If you're stuck with a patient, do you have anyone you can delegate a prn med pass to? Do you know how to do the absolute minimum charting you need to? Do you have flushes and alcohol wipes and whatever other most common things you need? And since you can't hoard time, if you've got some to spare, ask yourself if there is anything you can do now that will save you time later. If you have five free minutes now and an incontinent patient, getting them up to the bathroom now can save you from taking the time for incontinence care and a bed change later on when they've also sundowned and decide they hate everything but most of all you.

So much of this answer I realize is investing as much time upfront as you can, which I realize is so hard when you are so busy. It sucks immensely that prepping takes much less time than not being prepared does when you don't always have time to prep. Plus when you invest that time to pain plan with patients and do small preventative interventions, I think it also provides some psychological comfort that helps with pain. You're letting them know you're invested and you care and you have a plan, even if you don't have all the time you'd like. That can mean better pain control, which can mean needing to spend less time in that room overall, meaning you can save six whole minutes at some point and maybe even, if we're feeling crazy, get a chance to indulge in that greatest of indulgences: just a real leisurely on-shift piss.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

STAGED LIVESTREAM SUMMARY S1

BABYGIRLS, BITCHBOYS, AND BOYCOTTERS OF THE BINARY, HELLO MAGGOTS OF MINE. Can you tell it is past 5 am and I just took my sleep meds? We all know how well that goes for my post-making prowess *stares at my good omens part 1 update on Neil's blog*.

BUT that is a regret for post-sleep me to have. When the sun rises I'll go to bed, it's a fucked up sleep schedule but hey the sun and I can't be up at the same time we'd all combust from the hotness. Oh I'm going to regret this so much. But I feel like it's only in this state that I can do justice to that goddamn livestream.

STRAP IN BECAUSE THIS IS A LONG POST AND I WILL NOT CUT IT BECAUSE I WANT EVERYONE WHOSE DASH IT LANDS ON TO YEARN FOR SPIRTUAL EYE-BLEACH.

Soooooo without further ado, or should I say much ado about nothing (see I can reference Shakespeare):

The stream starts, and we are witness to David Tennant being pointy and chaotic, Michael Sheen being adorable and enraged, and Simon looking close to tears at all times, which is a fucking mood.

I am witness to a disturbing degree of thirst every time Michael turns to the side. Michael in profile, they all swoon. I am concerned.

I'm reminiscing about my lockdown memories. David looking confused in a hoodie is very fucking relatable. Once, I started sobbing because my wardrobe looked like a wardrobe. It was a time for us all.

However, everyone else is busy yelling about different showings of Hamlet, Richard the Something Number, etc etc. No one is paying attention to me and my poor poor memories.

Now, I read original Shakespeare when I was like 13, .I like him. But I do not have this level of expertise. FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN, LEND ME YOUR EARS, I beg.

No one pays attention. I am sad.

I go off to sulk.

By which I mean I actually pay attention to the show. So maggots reading this and wanting an actual summary, this is the only time you're going to get it, because it was when I was watching.

Basically, Simon (I'm gonna refer to their characters as them but for the record it's scripted, I'm being so considerate to the people who're here for an actual summary) digs himself into a hole, Michael does not like him and makes that very known, David offers to get Simon out of the hole and in the process digs both of them into an even deeper hole, and Samuel L Jackson (is that his name) and Michael become unlikely allies to get revenge on David.

Rather than an apology dance, though, David has to stand in a corner. Meanwhile, Georgia and Anna are the only ones actually functioning at their lives, Michael gets blackmailed into servitude by his neighbour, and Simon holds back tears. Judi Dench is involved (that's her name right).

Now as you can see, I am paying full attention to the show until this point. At this fucking point though, I make the poor choice of opening the stream chat.

@thescholarlystrumpet's profile picture is a certain angel. Focused on... the lower half.

Everyone in the chat is talking about Aziraphale's thighs.

This derails. Everyone is now talking about Aziraphale's dick.

Strumpet insists vehemently that the thighs are the focus.

Everyone says the thighs are only there for framing purposes.

You know me, maggots. I'm drawn to chaos, shark to blood. So I end my sulk at not being the centre of attention, and delightedly hop into the chat.

Someone (@vitrilol it was you, I believe? until confirmation, I'll refer to them as Ari) says they wish someone liked their thighs.

So naturally I say I like your thighs.

Oh, swoon, the flirting, you maggots would be scandalised. I'm quite the charmer. It is delectable. We take it to the bedroom. The bedroom is the stream chat. There are gasps.

Another maggot says that this is simply mine and Ari's room, and they're just in it. So then I tell them, why simply stand and watch? They should join in.

They say they have mixed experience with threesomes. I ask who said we're capping it at three?

They are far more comfortable with the idea of an orgy. An orgy has now been initiated. Some people express concern. Others are entirely on board.

Some say they are afraid they're too old for the said orgy, they're old enough to be my aunt. I say nonsense, you wanna orgy, you orgy.

Ari takes this opportunity to wonder if I'm old enough to be their aunt. They then hasten to assure me that they like MILFs.

I find this hysterical, because I am a nineteen year old guy whom people have said gives off tiktok fuckboy energy in real life. I make that fact known. I'm glad that being a man and being 19 does not exclude me from being a MILF, however.

At this point, Ari points out that at least people find me attractive, even if it's a tiktok fuckboy way. I am unsure that being attractive is worth giving off tiktok fuckboy energy. (Thank god, this is not my only vibe. I also have unkept stinky teenage boy, witch and Jane Austen debutante princess, but weird).

Someone else says that hey, I'm closer in age to their son than them. I am about to ask whether their son is eligible and how many pounds he has a year, when they add that the son is 12. I tell them I am glad I did not ask those things. They agree.

The show is still going on. Someone is gasping on Georgia's phone, and I assume it is labour (I learned my lesson about assuming orgasms after the good omens pilot). I am correct. A maggot says that labour and orgasms do not sound the same.

I'm a clueless aspec boy. I don't know about labour or orgasms.

There is some debate then about whether screaming in pain is a difference or a possible common ground for those two things.

The orgy is expanding. Strumpet has to step in to say that while thirsting about the actors is entirely fine, please everyone refrain from sexting in the stream chat.

I feel like I should state here for the record that no one was sexting.

Well. Okay. That's a dubious stretch of the truth, but I love dubiously stretching the truth.

David abuses chairs and beds and his limbs with his posture. I relate.

The neighbour nearly dies, then does not.

The internet gives up on the stream. This is fair. Poor internet.

But while the video is lagging, someone mentions that one of their favourite fanfic authors passed away.

Comfort is offered, as is my brand of aggressively gentle love. Basically DON'T FUCKING APOLOGISE, sweetheart, your grief is valid. Strumpet says how in case she should disappear she's given a friend the authority to post her WIPs as a precautionary measure. And now people are crying.

I ask Strumpet to pause the stream. We all get really fucking emotional about the beauty of writing, of art enduring past the lives of the artists, and whether the author knew how much they were loved. This is getting really sad, but in a beautiful way.

We go back to the stream. Who knows what happens? Not me.

But what matters to me isn't what's on the stream, it's what's in the chats. The people I get to talk to. The hope that I can, at the very least, ensure that they are never, ever unheard. That they get the love they deserve.

I'm too sleepy to reread that. Meds have kicked in. Eyes shut time. If I fucked up somewhere in the post do forgive me maggots of mine, it's past 6 am which means the sun has risen and I need to go the fuck to sleep till noon is over at least.

I love you. Love love love. Send me anything you want anytime. My ask box is open. Go wild. You will not be fucking unheard. Yeah? Good. I love you, again, for good measure.

@howmanyholesinswisscheese ya proud of me, dad?

[diagonal-queen]

hello can i request dazai, kunikida, and fyodor with an insomniac s/o who's really tired after a busy day but can't seem to fall asleep no matter what and gets frustrated bc of it

"Can't sleep?"

♡ pairing: Dazai Osamu, Doppo Kunikida, Fyodor Dostoyevsky x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do they help their S/O with insomnia get to sleep?

♡ cw: Reader is an insomniac (I genuinely don't know how that would manifest itself as a trigger but hey! I'm just one person in a sheltered world. Stay safe everyone <3), probably super inaccurate because I myself am not an insomniac and don't really know everything about it, Dazai horny, mentions of taking medication, mentions of alcohol, swearing

note: I feel like garbage cus my writing takes forever and I feel like I'm letting y'all down for taking so long with reqs, but I don't know what to do to fix itttttttt. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Dazai:

Well reader. You're lucky you cuffed yourself a night owl

He'll help you calm down from your frustration and tell you that it's fully normal. Everyone has trouble falling asleep, and you just haven't figured out an effective routine yet. He doesn't really know what he's talking about but if it makes you feel better then meh

His first suggestion would probably be sex, to tire you out. Even better if you go for multiple rounds just to be sure~

Yeah right Dazai, like anyone's gonna wanna fuck every single work night (besides him lmao). Safe to say, the idea is thrown out pretty quickly

He'll throw some similar ideas around (not necessarily sexual but certainly 'if they're tired out then they'll fall asleep faster') but those are all just temporary solutions, so he gives up quickly. What else did you expect from him?

He might also suggest drinking yourself to sleep since alcohol is a depressant and makes you tired. You have to remind him that excessive drinking is actually not good for you and should NOT be used as a substitute for sleep meds

He reckons that it's best for you two to let sleep overtake you naturally, and so you may as well just stay up for now.

From then on Dazai treats every single night like a sleepover. He'll wanna watch movies, eat snacks, and talk all night even if it's a work night and you absolutely shouldn't do that

If you want, he's happy to do something more chill like cuddling while sharing a pair of earphones playing mellow music

Whatever it is that the pair of you decide to do, he'll likely find that it helps him just as much, maybe even more, than it helps you. And he's grateful for that

Kunikida:

I feel like Kunikida also has at least mild insomnia, so he knows just how you feel and is right there to help you out

He's got it all ready. Fans/blankets to balance out the room's temperature, a warm drink (milk, tea, whatever you prefer), basically all the stuff Google would suggest

He would do all of that stuff alongside you even if he's already tired enough to fall asleep on his own because he understands the struggle. He doesn't give up until you're asleep and honestly get you a man who would also do that

He also discourages you from things like caffeine before bed or napping during the day to help you get more sleep at night

He'd make a whole new bedtime routine for the two of you and adjust it based on what works, it'd be like a whole thing that he takes super seriously

He'd suggest reading before bed and recommend/lend you books that he likes, and also read to you if you really pleaded for it. He really enjoys reading and he would be thrilled if the pair of you had a little thing you did together <3

If they don't give any side effects/react poorly with any meds you may already take then he would also give you some of his sleeping pills (because let's be real he's fully stocked with them. this man)

Kunikida would let you cuddle him in your sleep whether or not he likes it or it makes him sweat, because let's face it you need the sleep and he needs the physical touch. It's basically a win-win

He gives you permission to wake him up if you can't sleep and need his help, or if you want company in your waking time.

He honestly does whatever it takes to help you because he cares so much about you. Perfect man fr

Fyodor:

Bold of you to assume that Fyodor sleeps. Like ever. He's too busy being evil or something

When he learns that you're an insomniac he's fully willing to let you stay up late with him while he's working if you're in need of company. He doesn't care whether you're just on your phone or reading a book or whatever

If you ask him he'll also let you sit in his lap and cuddle him (as long as you don't bother him- if you do he's sending you right to bed)

Fyodor knows that calming music is a good way to help people sleep, so if you're down he'd be willing to play something mellow and soft on his cello for you

He probably wouldn't admit it but he kinda likes that you find it hard to get to sleep since it gives him an excuse to spend more time with you

But if you really do wanna get to bed then he'll have some tea made for you and he'll read to you. His voice is very relaxing and nice to fall asleep to and he kinda knows it (he's smug about it too because he's a bastard)

If you find that you actually sleep better in his presence then he's more than happy to move a couch into his office and let you sleep there.

He's also happy to forfeit (SOME) work so he can come to bed earlier and help you sleep. And he's also happy to cuddle you because you're warm

Fyodor will basically just help you get to sleep with methods that he uses to get himself to sleep because it's the only way he knows how. Even if it doesn't work please give him credit for trying because he really is trying super hard T-T

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco

[inkedobsidian]

~ Silver Lining ~

prompt: #50 “This is gonna hurt”

requested by anon

summary: Y/N is a nurse that stitches Soo Yeol after he gets stabbed on the bridge.

pairing: Nurse!Y/N x Ryu Su-Yeol

warnings: violence, blood

word count: 1,368

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas

Master-List - Prompts

Su-Yeol's eyes adjusted to the painfully bright lights of the hospital and it was a painful contrast to the darkness he passed out in. As he stirred and tried to get himself up a nurse quickly rushed over to him.

“Sir please get up slowly you've been badly hurt.” All he could hear was the voice his eyes hadn't even focused yet all he could see was light. He mumbled an agreement and closed his eyes wincing the light still being too bright. He felt her hands on his back and arm as she lays him back down and he had to try not to shiver at how light her touch was. Then he felt the top half of the bed raise up helping him sit up.

“Is it too bright for you?” The voice said again. He noticed that she spoke softly to not shock him by the sudden noise. He just nodded slightly his head still hurting from the collision. He heard some rustle and then she mumbled a quick ‘I'll be back’ not that he could go anyway anyway. However she was back as quick as she left.

“So I have to take your vitals to check for a concussion but I can do that after I clean you up so I've got you a sleep mask for now and I'm gonna give you some pain meds that should kick in before I have to shine an obnoxious light in your eyes.” She laughed as she spoke trying to make the situation less stressful. Su-Yeol nodded to her statement and tried to hide the smile as well. Then he felt her hands comb through his hair placing the mask over his eyes gently.

“So my name is Y/N I'm a nurse you were dropped off at the hospital after being in an accident. Can you squeeze my hand if you understand” She placed her hand gently in his open hand the touch almost making him flinch. As he squeezed her arm he felt a shooting pain up the inside of his arm making him flinch backwards into the bed. All he felt was a cool gentle hand on his bare upper arm keeping him steady so he didn’t fall. If the stab wound didn’t kill him the cardiac arrest might.

“All right, you’re ok I’ve got you. Lay back down and I’ll clean and dress your wounds like this. This is gonna hurt.” The same calming voice kept calling out to him in the darkness.

“More than getting stabbed?” He managed to finally crack out a joke but it sounded more like a croak. He did hear her let out a laugh at the comment and a hmm in amusement. He let himself relax into the bed fazing in and out as the pain meds kicked in. The cleaning process jolted him in and out of sleep as he had the sharp alcohol hit the wounds but the soft hands that slowly put all the dressings on him. He could’ve fallen asleep right there and forgotten about everything…

“RISSSEEEE AND SHINEEEE”

An abrupt way to wake up honestly. Su-Yeol must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knows there is K screaming in his ear like an obnoxious alarm clock. Despite the state of his body the noise was enough to shock Su-Yeol into sitting straight up in his bed. As he did he grunted out in pain holding his side as if he’d only just remembered. He scrambled to take his blindfold off his eyes once again adapting to the harsh light but faster than the first time.

“What is wrong with you?!” Su-Yeol whisper shouts to K still reeling from the pain of shooting up in bed. K only replied by giving Su-Yeol a stupid eyebrow dance while motioning for Su-Yeol to look to his right. He let his whole face drop in annoyance at the situation of being abruptly woken up but that didn’t change the look on K’s face, he was keeping up the stupid eyebrow dance. In what felt like hours but was actually only about 2 seconds the curtain that was coving Su-Yeol is opened and his head snapped to the sound.

Y/N quietly opened the curtain quietly just in case the patient was asleep but when she slowly turned around to find him sat straight up in bed staring at her she jumped in her spot. After seeing that Su-Yeol immediately dropped the death glare and posture to apologise. Y/N just laughed him off kindly with a wave of her hand, being a ER nurse she has had weirder experiences.

“How are you feeling?” She spoke as she took a few steps meeting him at the end of the bed. She did a quick visual glance over his face and upper body and he had to move his eyeline from looking at her but unfortunately that meant his eyes met K’s who was doing… you guessed it, the stupid eyebrow dance. He really couldn’t win.

“Not a problem.” He says trying to remain cool but blew it when he tried to shift and grunted in pain. She took a half step back and laughed at his attempt to keep his cool.

“I just have to do a quick test check your eyes reactions see if there’s a possible head injury, are you ok with a bright light now?” He gave a nod in reply and Y/N spoke calmly through explaining what she needed to do. She sat on a chair parallel in front of him and placed herself just in front of him so she could get close enough to see his pupil.

“Alrightly easy one starts with looking in the different directions ok?” The calming voice and the lights could’ve put Su-Yeol to sleep on another day. Looking up and down was easy just bright, however each time he looked left or right K would be there in an outlandish pose doing the same eyebrow dance.

“And now I just need you to look at my nose.” He was trying to not focus on the fact that every time she spoke she was so close to him it was almost a whisper. It almost ached him when she pulled back and rolled slightly backwards in her chair. However the minute his eyes came into focus he wasn’t sad anymore as he finally got to see her.

“Wonderful, you did great. The doctor and police will be round soon to talk to you properly but until then.” She nodded and stood up to leave. Su-Yeol then had to endure hours of K singing every nursery rhyme he could think off. Like a crappy sappy greatest hits. Su-Yeol was almost itching to get out of the hospital by day 2 but he was also itching to try and see Y/N again. He hadn’t seen her after that day and he was about to be discharged.

Then finally of course the day he is supposed to be discharged. Thankfully Gyeong-Tae had bought him new clothes so this time he didn’t look like he’d just been jumped. It was like the heavens were shining on him because he didn’t even have to approach her she came up to him.

“Look at you, glowing already!” She said smiling, she was clearly walking by and commenting in passing but it was enough for him, as she was just about to pass him he turned on the spot to talk to her as she walked away.

“See you around?” He said it almost as an invitation. She just smiled back at him.

“Don’t go getting hurt on purpose.” She still tries to minimise her laugh as she waved walking by he nearly goes to sign himself back into the hospital for heart palpatations.

“I’d need you on speed dial.” That was enough to make her actually laugh. She gave a joking nod in agreement and nodded a goodbye as she rounded into the elevator. That reaction was enough to make Su-Yeol leave his card with reception. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to get hurt to see her again but how much pain do you really have to be in to go to the ER?