#surgeons au
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
possibilistfanfiction · 1 year ago
Note
anything surgeons au, especially butch!bea omg
[an accidental 2.7k words of baby tai for the culture]
//
you don’t ask for beatrice to consult on the case just because the baby really does look like her in a tangible way: brown eyes that shine in the sun; gold skin; soft dark hair; a happy smile. tai — an orphan, which you also don’t prioritize when you ask her, but whatever — is small for her three months and quite sick, a bad valve in her tiny heart doing more damage than good. 
it’s a difficult surgery, complicated and intricate and, even though you’re the best in your field, a hardcore rockstar, you’re not a cardio surgeon. you ask beatrice to consult on the case because, even if you’d never admit it aloud in front of her, she is the best in the world.
‘dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, meeting you outside the picu. she’s not operating today, you’re fairly certain, or at least hasn’t yet, based on her neat navy slacks and oatmeal-colored sweater under her white coat, chelsea boots certainly not what she would wear in the OR, her buzzed hair not hidden under one of her surgical caps, her wedding band still on her finger rather than tucked away, pinned to the inside of her scrubs. you’ve known her for years and years, have watched her fail and succeed and succeed and succeed, have watched her fall in love and get married, have watched her build a home, a life — which includes you, in all the ways that matter, in the ways you will very rarely thank each other for and feel anyway. 
but still, ‘dr. choi,’ you say, ‘thanks for coming.’
she nods. ‘it sounded like an interesting case from your summary.’ she takes the ipad you offer her and looks at the scans of tai’s heart, then her vitals, then the scans again, a little closer and with something like wonder filling her eyes, just at the corners but enough for you to feel a spark of hope in your chest. she looks up at you. ‘we can do this, i think.’
‘yeah?’
‘it’ll be —‘ she pauses, nods to reassure both of you, sets her shoulders, and you know that’s it — ‘it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible.’
‘agreed.’
‘can i meet her, then? the patient? i’d like to get an idea of how small this heart actually is.’ 
‘of course.’ you open the door and it’s just like any other consult; beatrice is always brave enough to partner up on any peds cases, even the most heartbreaking, the most hopeless. 
tai smiles at beatrice, who is always good with children the same way you are: you talk to them like human beings, and you listen, and you take things seriously — their pain and their fear and their recovery. tai is too little to tell you anything, but beatrice still leans toward her gently and smiles at her babbling, runs a gentle hand over her soft hair, makes sure to warm the head of her stethoscope up on her thigh before pressing it to tai’s chest. 
there’s no way for you to realize it at the time, but you will swear for years that you knew, even before beatrice and certainly before ava, that tai was special; beatrice closes her eyes and listens to tai’s failing heart carefully. ‘i’ll need an updated echo,’ she tells you and your intern, standing uselessly behind you. ‘and then, if you’re free afterward, dr. villambrosia, let’s meet in the skills lab? i’d like to run through the procedure.’
‘that works for me.’
she nods once, seriously. ‘no parents?’
you shake your head. ‘she’s here through my org, from chengdu.’
beatrice considers this briefly but soldiers on, like she and ava haven’t had quiet, sad fights about children and adoption and a family and a home. ‘if you feel comfortable, i can hand off my follow-ups this afternoon to dr. amunet and we can get this taken care of. it’ll be a long recovery, so i’d rather it not degrade any further if we wait.’
‘as long as the run-through feels good,’ you say, ‘i think it’s the best course of treatment.’
beatrice nods, smiles once down at tai and rubs her little chest while tai squirms and babbles happily. for such a sick kid — on oxygen and a feeding tube, two ivs because her veins are so small — she’s generally happy, bright in a way that peds usually isn’t. she’s not guaranteed to survive so, like all of your patients, you don’t get too attached. beatrice hasn’t had that problem before, either, caring but not too much, unlike ava, who feels each loss as if it’s his own. but the way that beatrice lingers and lets tai hold onto her fingers while she tells your intern exactly what she wants from the ekg and bloodwork — you think this might be different. 
/
it’s touch and go for a while: you and beatrice are brilliant surgeons but, even with all of the tests and scans and practice, tai’s surgery is longer and more difficult than you could’ve prepared for: her heart is weak and so, so small; even beatrice struggles to place the careful, clever sutures you’ve watched her throw with ease, most surgeries, and for years. it takes longer than you would’ve liked to get her off bypass, much longer than you would’ve liked for her heart to start beating again in beatrice’s hands. 
but: it does beat. weak and small, yes, but sure, and steady, and even, all the valves and ventricles ready to heal as they should be. tai’s cheeks, once she’s settled in the picu again, are rosy, her skin warm, her oxygen sats already up comfortably from before. you’d wired her sternum shut and the incision running down her tiny chest will leave a scar, and she’ll probably need another procedure or two as she gets older — but she will get older, as far as you can tell. 
beatrice goes through — a little unexpected for the aftermath of a successful surgery, and far beyond the end of her relatively easy scheduled shift — all of the potential complications tai could face, how she was without a flow of properly oxygenated blood to her brain for an amount of time that frustrated her — maybe even frightened her. for as long as you’ve known beatrice — dr. choi — through undergrad and medical school, then residency and fellowships, into your first few years as attendings, she’s as unflappable as they come, unless it’s someone she loves who might be hurt, who might not get well. you’ve seen it with ava and her back, and shannon and mary after a car accident that looked much worse than it actually was, and even one time camila got the flu. 
it surprises you in the moment when beatrice, carefully taking off her scrub cap — patterned with little otters and rainbows, a ridiculous gift from ava that beatrice horrifically wears with not a single ounce of hesitation or embarrassment — slips into her hospital-issued fleece quarterzip and sits down in the chair by tai’s bassinet once you and the nurses get all of her machines situated. 
‘i’ll stay with her, dr. villaumbrosia,’ beatrice says, soft and formal.
‘there’s plenty of nurses, and dr. amunet, if you want to go home.’
beatrice shakes her head and leans over tai’s sleeping form, heavily sedated for the next few days so she’s not in pain, and runs a gentle finger along her cheek. ‘she — she doesn’t have anyone,’ she says, as much explanation as you need. ‘plus, dr. silva is on call tonight anyway.’
you resist the urge to say something mean about ava; he’s actually very talented and smart and he makes your best friend, your sister, very happy, and very full — even if he is the most annoying person you know. tai is alone, and all beatrice has to go home to, right now, is a beautiful house that’s empty of all of the life ava brings anywhere, leftovers in the fridge, a house that you know has an empty bedroom just down the hall from the primary, holding a lot of ava’s patient, quiet hope in the space.
‘okay,’ you say, not bothering her, just this once: tai is very small and still very sick; you’ve read enough studies to know that comfort, especially with babies who haven’t known as much of it as they should, can be extremely monumental in their ability to heal. ‘i’m sure you can handle if anything pops up, but i’d like to know anyway. text me.’
beatrice looks up from tai to nod, a grim smile on her face mellowed, seemingly, by tai’s steady breaths against beatrice’s palm. ‘will do.’
you nod and don’t bother to ask for anything else from her, taking your leave while she takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes, then slumps a little in the chair but keeps her hand on tai’s stomach, soothing and warm and present. tai has been alone her entire life, even if it’s only been very short; you believe that her body will know that she’s not anymore, at least for now.
/
it’s not often that you choose to come to work early, not often that you allow yourself to have much attachment to patients and their outcomes beyond whether or not you practiced the best medicine possible — no one would be able to do peds and neonatal surgery if they did — but you park far before the sun comes up and force yourself to grab three cups of coffee from the cafe before you head to the picu.
it doesn’t surprise you when you see both beatrice and ava by tai’s bassinet now, beatrice fast asleep, slumped over fully on ava’s shoulder, and ava scrolling through an ipad, probably taking care of charting here rather than in her office. ava smiles up at you, never deterred by your grumbling or eye rolls, and, just this once, you smile back.
‘dr. silva,’ you greet. ‘how’s she doing?’ you ask, handing him the coffee.
‘totally steady all night,’ ava says quietly, sounding far too proud of a baby that isn’t even really beatrice’s patient, let alone theirs. ‘she’s really strong, even if she’s small.’
you look over tai’s vitals from the past night quickly and it’s true, she is getting better even faster than you could’ve hoped. ‘she is.’
ava smiles, then looks over at a fast asleep beatrice, a little aching. ’bea said she’s an orphan?’
you sit down next to them both and nod; you assume beatrice gave ava enough of the details. ‘we’ll work to place her with a good family once she’s recovered well.’ the warning is unspoken: don’t get too attached.
ava looks over at beatrice, who has spent the entire night asleep in the picu over a baby whose heart she massaged until it beat again in her hands. he nods. ‘yeah,’ he says, hopeful despite it all. ‘yeah.’
/
‘i — i can do it.’
‘dr. choi.’
‘no,’ beatrice says, ‘it’s fine. i’m on call tonight, and it’s good for her.’
it is, you both know it, but tai is healing and, if all goes according to plan, will be released in a week or two, hopefully to a family who’s equipped to care for her, to raise her gently and generously and well. beatrice — and ava, whenever they make up a very flimsy excuse — have been in tai’s room often, and you know they’ve grown attached even though you warned them not to. but beatrice taking her scrub top off and picking tai up gently, careful of her leads and her still-tender chest, and then holding her close and settling into a rocking chair. 
‘beatrice,’ you say, sitting down across from her. 
‘have you — has there been a family chosen?’
you’re not the one in charge of any of that, your contributions to the organization being both your sixth-generation-surgeon money and your sixth-generation-surgeon talent, but you know there hasn’t been a decision made yet. you shake your head. 
she nods. ‘we…’ she swallows, readjusts so tai is held even closer, her left ear close to beatrice’s heart. ‘i spoke with ava. a lot, actually. and, well, you obviously know i’m chinese; i can teach her how to speak mandarin and make mapo doufu and she won’t — she won’t miss that part. and ava knows about not having a family of origin, and he’s, like, the best. and,’ she continues, ‘we’re both surgeons. you know she’s going to need care now, but also her whole life, and i — i fixed her heart.’ she can’t even look at you, just looks at tai’s peaceful little face as her voice gets wobbly and she sniffles. 
beatrice, above all, means what she says. she’s maybe one of the least impulsive people you’ve ever met, agonizing for as long as you’ve known her over haircuts and new hiking gear and dinner reservations, as methodical as it comes when she practices medicine. 
‘i —‘ she looks at tai once more and then takes a deep breath and meets your eyes. ‘i love her.’
you know, more than anything, ava has made beatrice want to be brave. you let it sink in, let it hit you like a tidal wave of easy warmth, then really let yourself look at your oldest friend and every careful thing about her, lean muscles and long-healed scars, the most careful thing held against her chest — the same skin, bathed in the light of an easy sunrise. ‘well okay then.’
beatrice seems surprised, for a moment, as if you would say no, or doubt her, or discourage or argue. ‘really?’
you nod, brusque mostly so you don’t cry. ‘i’ll connect you with aja; she’ll be able to help you with all the paperwork. i’ll put in my recommendation, of course.’
beatrice adjusts tai so she can free a hand to wipe a few tears. ‘thank you, lilith.’
‘let’s just hope she takes after you, not ava.’
beatrice laughs, and it makes tai smile.
/
‘no.’
‘she’s —‘
‘your daughter,’ you say. ‘you’re not tai’s doctor any longer, haven’t been in months.’
beatrice frowns, arms crossed. ava smiles far too serenely for your liking next to her.
‘she’ll be fine, babe,’ she says. ‘it’s just a post-op, super normal.’ she turns toward tai, happily squealing at a nurse playing peak-a-boo with her while they get her situated on the exam table. 
beatrice glowers but concedes, softening immediately when ava squeezes her bicep. they’re both definitely exhausted but happier than you could’ve really imagined; the empty bedroom now filled with a plethora of toys and clothes, colorful animals on the walls, a safe crib with a space mobile you’d personally given them. it makes sense to you, easily, that they’re good parents — kind and attentive and funny — even if, right now, they’re driving you insane. they’re both in comfortable clothes, not bothering with anything more on their shared day off. 
you have to physically shoo beatrice away as you’re listening to tai’s heart, which is ridiculous because you’re sure beatrice does it at home, probably every night. you’re more relieved than you would ever let on that her heartbeat is normal and steady — perfect, as far as you’re concerned. you go through the rest of her check-up and she’s as healthy as can be, gaining weight well, rolling over, holding her head up, starting to eat baby food — yes to bananas; no to green beans so far — not sleep regressing as much as they’d feared. 
‘she’s doing great,’ you reassure. 
‘fuck yeah she is,’ ava says, then sighs. ‘before either of you start, first of all, language is all relative.’
‘ava, we can’t have her first word being f—‘
‘— secondly,’ ava interrupts, then looks at beatrice putting tai back into her dinosaur onesie, slipping a warm cap onto her head, ‘she’s the best baby of all time.’
‘she is wonderful,’ beatrice says, still a little reverent.
ava elbows you as beatrice carefully pulls socks onto tai’s feet. ‘one of the better ones i’ve met,’ you concede, because you really do love tai, and, all things considered, she’s an easy, happy baby. ‘certainly better than i thought would be possible with either of you.’
ava rolls her eyes. ‘i read your recommendation.’ horrifyingly, she starts reciting it, so you move as quickly as you can.
‘i have a tight schedule today,’ you interrupt, beatrice laughing quietly, smiling at both of you with far too much amusement.
‘bye lil,’ she says. ‘thanks for everything.’
‘yeah, yeah,’ you say, but there’s no bite to it. ‘see you at dinner.’
141 notes · View notes
morastfrck · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Au where he was that poor alive asshole in the coffin
Bonus
Tumblr media
Tbf the art is too serious, he got over it in 3 minutes top
(Also like i love the idea of thanos posing as a pink guard, that'd be such a meme contrasting the serious s1 fake guard plotline. This guy has no idea what he is doing but he does it with such confidence.)
439 notes · View notes
riddlesrizzler · 10 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧! 𝙨𝙡𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙨
headcanons of high power! slytherin boys.
warnings: i think there is one mention of sex, but none other than that.
⟡ ݁₊ . includes: ceo! mattheo, lawyer! theo, investment banker! draco, surgeon! enzo, and fbi agent! blaise.
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
If you ever thought that fate or religion was something that controlled the world, you would be mistaken. Instead of some divine fate ruling over the decisions of the people, it belonged to five men, the high power! slytherin boys.
𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘵
⟡ ݁₊ .I believe that Draco and Blaise knew each other before the rest of the boys, but they all crossed paths during their elite university years- and institution known for breeding the rich, the brilliant, and the dangerously ambitious.
⟡ ݁₊ .Their friendship wasn't instant, because let's face it, they all have some sort of trust issues. It was built on sharp intellect, whispered secrets,and an unspoken understanding that they were different than the rest.
⟡ ݁₊ .I don't think Mattheo and Draco got a long at first. Probably because they were way too similar for their own good. But somewhere along the way, their dynamic settled.
⟡ ݁₊ .They were young, drunk on power and money, handsome men that all had the brilliant idea of living together.
⟡ ݁₊ . Draco would take care of the finances, making sure everything was paid on time (and took a little extra from each of them to funnel into an investment portfolio because he knew they were going to be successful).
⟡ ݁₊ .Mattheo threw the parties. Somehow, even with his cutthroat business-minded nature, Mattheo knew how to turn the place into a spot for the best exclusive parties. If there was alcohol, loud music and questionable decisions being made at 2 AM, it was his doing for sure.
⟡ ݁₊ .Theo hated messes. It was an unspoken rule that if you left your dishes in the sink for more than a day, he would throw them off their top story balcony. So I guess the rule was unspoken, but the message was very clear.
⟡ ݁₊ .You could never find Blaise, no one ever knew where he was half the time. He'd disappear for days, then show up nonchalantly like he had been there the whole time. Once Enzo tried to ask but Blaise shot him a look that sais, "You don't want to know."
⟡ ݁₊ .Enzo loved to cook for everyone (when he felt like it). He would make restaurant- level meals but only when he was in the mood. Otherwise, it was every man for himself.
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤
⟡ ݁₊ .The Leader- Mattheo Riddle- not because he demands it, but everyone knows his dangerous reputation. When he speaks, they listen. When he decides, it's final.
⟡ ݁₊ .The Shadow- Blaise Zabini- the one who never says more than necessary but knows everything about everyone. He's the one they turn to for discretion, for quiet eliminations of problems before they become problems.
⟡ ݁₊ .The Strategist- Theo Nott- he sees the angles no one else does, plays the long game, and it the most morally ambiguous of them all. They never ask how he gets his information, only that it's always right.
⟡ ݁₊ .The Face- Draco Malfoy- the charmer, the one who can walk into any room and own it. He is the golden boy of the gorup, though with his sharp tongue and ruthless streak to prove he's just as cutthroat as the rest.
⟡ ݁₊ .The Wildcard- Enzo Berkshire- the brilliant surgeon with hands steady enough to save lives but a smirk that he'd rather be causing chaos. He keeps them entertains, diffuses tension with wit, but he's no less dangerous than the rest.
𝘎𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴
⟡ ݁₊ .Monday- 10:43 AM
Draco: Who used my name to buy three cases of expensive scotch and have it delivered to Blaise’s apartment?
Mattheo: That is a wild accusation, Malfoy.
Theo: Oh, so you’re not denying it?
Mattheo: I didn’t say that.
Blaise: I’ll take them.
Draco: NO. You all have your own money. BUY YOUR OWN.
Mattheo: But it tastes better when it’s technically stolen.
⟡ ݁₊ .Friday- 1:15 AM
Enzo: Why are there 57 missed calls in this chat.
Theo: Because your best friend decided it was a good idea to start a fight with a literal senator tonight.
Enzo: …which one of them.
Blaise: Mattheo.
Draco: Obviously.
Enzo: …Why?
Mattheo: In my defense, he started it.
Draco: By existing?
Mattheo: No, by saying my company was “soulless.” So I asked if his mistress thought he had a soul.
Theo: And that’s when security was called.
Blaise: I left before it got interesting.
Enzo: I hate this group.
⟡ ݁₊ .Sunday- 1:50 PM
Theo: If any of you come to my apartment unannounced again, I will press charges.
Mattheo: So dramatic.
Draco: This is about last night, isn’t it.
Theo: YES. I woke up to find Blaise sitting in my kitchen drinking my very expensive coffee and Mattheo asleep on my couch LIKE HE LIVES HERE.
Mattheo: I did live there. Once. Long ago.
Theo: Get out.
⟡ ݁₊ .Wednesday- 4:05 AM
Draco: Who the f— just tried to transfer 10k from our old college account?
Mattheo: …I can explain.
Theo: No, you really can’t.
Enzo: Why do we still have that account?
Blaise: I assumed Draco was hoarding it for an emergency.
Draco: I AM. So why is Mattheo spending it??
Mattheo: To fund a very important endeavor.
Draco: …which is?
Mattheo: Buying a ridiculous gift for my girlfriend.
Theo: I knew it.
Blaise: She’s got him whipped.
Mattheo: I REFUSE to be slandered like this.
Enzo: You tried to commit financial fraud for a woman who dresses like a fairytale character.
Mattheo: And I’d do it again
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴
⟡ ݁₊ .Ceo! mattheo x teacher- grumpy x sunshine
⟡ ݁₊ .No one will ever change my mind that ceo! mattheo and teacher! reader belong together.
⟡ ݁₊ .He is dark, sophisticated, and organized. While they are covered in glitter most of the time, holding a million papers that needed to be graded, all while sporting a very hungry caterpillar hat.
⟡ ݁₊ .They show him that the world isn’t all business deals and cutthroat conversations, that every once and a while he can be soft.
⟡ ݁₊ .Lawyer! theo x journalist- enemies to lovers
⟡ ݁₊ .He can twist words to make the most awful people in the world seem innocent, while journalist! reader wants the truth.
⟡ ݁₊ .They are fire and ice, always butting heads with each other. Arguments are their source of communication, but somewhere along the way, they see that they aren't so different from each other after all.
⟡ ݁₊ .Investment Banker! draco x politician- friends with benefits.
⟡ ݁₊ .Draco needs someone to keep up with him and his arrogant behavior, so when he meets politician! reader who commands the room like they own it, he knew he had found his match.
⟡ ݁₊ .It started off with a bet, who could get more connections at the end of a networking event, but then it leads to them in the bathroom ripping off each others clothes.
⟡ ݁₊ .Of course, it started as convenience. Something to help them both relieve tension, but then they start to find out that they aren't as heartless as they thought they were.
⟡ ݁₊ .Surgeon! enzo x bookshop owner- golden retriever x black cat.
⟡ ݁₊ .When teacher! reader brings around their good friend, bookshop owner! reader, who supplies the book to their classroom, enzo is completely in love.
⟡ ݁₊ .They are the total opposites of each other. enzo is loud, cocky, charming and bookshop owner! reader is... not.
⟡ ݁₊ .This however this does not stop enzo from coming into their store afterwork every day in order to pester them until he eventually convinces them to go out on a date.
⟡ ݁₊ .Fbi agent! blaise x art historian- slow burn.
⟡ ݁₊ .First time blaise meets art historian! reader is when he is at a gala at an art museum for a mission. But he finds himself staring at a piece, only to turn his head to see them also staring at the same piece.
⟡ ݁₊ .Art historian! reader loves mysteries. Things of the past that have been long forgotten and yet unsolvable, blaise? loves solving things.
⟡ ݁₊ .I think it would take a long time for them to admit their feelings to each other. They are both guarded in their own, quiet and reserved way, that I think it would take a while for them to fully trust each other.
𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭
⟡ ݁₊ .No one remembers exactly how it started, but their friensip was inevitable.
⟡ ݁₊ .What started as tension, rivalries, and underestimation turned into something unbreakable. They found in each other the only people that could keep up.
⟡ ݁₊ .Now? They run their industries. together. Because power is nothing without the people who will burn down the world for you.
Tumblr media
183 notes · View notes
theroundbartable · 9 months ago
Text
Arthur: what the HELL are you doing, Merlin??? You're killing him!!!!
Merlin *through the coms*: Arthur, I need you to stay calm. I know what I'm doing
Arthur: you just cut that guys chest open!
Merlin: Arthur, I need you to breath. Caleb, keep the wound open; Sarah, get the heart ready
Arthur: you're taking out his HEART?
Merlin: I am a physician, Arthur, I know what I'm doing
Arthur: you're cutting that man's heart out!!!!
Second surgeon: Dr. Emrys, should we have the trespasser removed?
Merlin: does he have a sword with him?
Surgeon: ... No?
Merlin *very calm*: good. The entrance is protected by several medicine students and Arthur's lacking sense of direction. But Excalibur can kill the undead, so I'm not sure if a bulletproof window could stop him.
Surgeon: i beg your pardon?
Arthur: MERLIN, I know you can do magic, but this is dark, even for you!
Merlin: Eddie, we're ready for the exchange. Arthur, calm down. This is science, not magic. Science has evolved since you've last been around.
Eddie: when has he last been around?
Arthur: *hectically searching for something to break the window*
Merlin: Five minutes ago if he doesn't shut up. Alright, Eddie, we're good to go.
Arthur: *throws chair and fails to break the glass*
... Later... In the wake up room
Arthur: Sir? Sir! Can you hear me? Do you still feel like the same person?
Patient: *dizzy from Anaesthesia* you got golden hair mate. You must be rich
Merlin: Arthur, you are trespassing. You should not be in here.
Arthur: look at what you did! He's lost his mind! Has no idea who he is!!!
Merlin: that's cause he's on drugs. I'm gonna wait til he's fine and tell him he got through it all okay.
Arthur: wait- he slept through all that?
Merlin: it's one hell of a drug
721 notes · View notes
zenaidamacrouras1 · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
New fic! Posting...weekly or something.
Stellate
Summary:
Dr. Bucky Barnes is a plastic surgeon, highly regarded in his field. Dr. Steven Rogers, new head of the ER, has very little regard for Dr. Barnes or his field. Content Warnings: Descriptions of medical procedures and surgery, particularly for burn patients. I tried to make it not totally gross, but y'all, human bodies are like, kinda yucky.
Author's note: I wasn't totally ready to post this today, but frankly, I need the serotonin, for reasons, and I suspect I'm not the only one.
174 notes · View notes
bigfatbreak · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
"yea I was up late last night"
2K notes · View notes
bestjeanistmonster · 8 months ago
Text
fun fact! in dc au Eggman did Sonic’s top surgery!
197 notes · View notes
yuwuta · 9 months ago
Text
got a million asks to answer but i have to greys anatomy-ify jjk i do..... particularly yuuta because the idea of him in a white coat and round glasses yelling at his interns because they made a mistake on his 4 year old patient is driving me. insane. desperately desperately need need him
152 notes · View notes
codenameregnar · 3 months ago
Text
Oh by the way in light of the watershed event that is canon Garashir I'm gonna need links for every ones alternate universe fics about The Brilliant Cardassian Surgeon and His Husband. ASAP.
70 notes · View notes
pineabble-soda · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
72 notes · View notes
possibilistfanfiction · 1 year ago
Note
Surgeons au: "please take a break"
[idk where this started & idk where this went but boy is it soft lol]
//
beatrice is exhausted.
you get home — to her house, but you have a key and most of your things have migrated over steadily: a drawer for your underwear; your favorite coffee roast in the cabinet; your spare cane in the corner of the bedroom; the garden you’d planted and tended in the back yard in full bloom now — and see her slumped over, her head in her hands, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. it’s been like this for days, since she lost a patient from a routine surgery that went badly and then went worse than badly. it wasn’t her fault, not at all, but beatrice, you’ve found, despite her reticence and calm, is a person who feels everything deeply. for all of your differences, you think this is maybe the similarity that makes the most sense to you, the one that lets you navigate what she needs when things are too big and too near and impossibly sad.
she lifts her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, when you come in from the garage. ‘oh,’ she says, like she lost track of time; she probably did.
‘hello to you too.’
she smiles apologetically. ‘hello, darling.’
you toss your tote on the couch; on a normal day, when things aren’t so heavy, this would make her sigh in fond exasperation, but now she just waits, still, for you to slip your shoes off and pad over to her. 
‘i’m all sweaty,’ she says, holding up a hand before you can hug her. you glance down and see that she’s still in a pair of her climbing pants and an old hoodie, her hands still slightly dusty with chalk. 
‘you went to the gym?’
she nods, and you spare her the lecture of why it’s a bad idea to go bouldering after a marathon shift, especially when she hasn’t been sleeping even on her days off.
‘i just needed something else to think about, to — to feel with my hands.’
you’re, like, the most mature person in the world now, basically, because you read the room and refrain from making one of many of the dirty jokes that immediately pop into your head. it’s too easy anyway. ‘are you feeling better?’
she sighs, slumps even further onto the stool. ‘i’m feeling tired.’
‘yeah, i bet you are.’ you don’t care about her being sweaty, don’t care about any of it, really, but how to possibly comfort her. you rub your hand along her back, her perfect, strong spine, her exacting, taut muscles, the grief wedged between them all.
‘i have to read dr. adebeyo’s new research article, and review for my septal myectomy on thursday, and —‘
‘you’re not at work right now, babe.’
‘i can’t think of anything else.’
you don’t often ask things of her, mostly because she offers so much so readily but also because asking is still hard for you, impossible some days. but you’re working on it and, besides, this is for her: ‘please, please take a break.’ what happened wasn’t your fault, you want to say, but it would be too much and you get the feeling that she still isn’t quite ready to hear it yet.
she leans into your side then, a little awkward but bone-weary and still, you can tell, in love. it’s scared you for so long, what it’s like to be adored by someone, to be valued and admired; it’s the most terrifying thing you’ve ever felt in your life, worse than your accident and the scars along your back and the hollow of your throat and all the surgeries to follow, worse than the horribly hopeful future spread out in front of you when you got accepted to work with jillian, worse than when you matched with your dream program. beatrice simply is — in love with you, loving you — and, finally, finally, you’re starting to trust it. 
‘you need a haircut,’ you say after a while — beatrice usually buzzes her hair every week, neatly and like clockwork, because ‘it’s easy, and, so i’ve been told at least, that it looks good,’ she’d told you, to which you’d rolled your eyes but had no argument against — and she snorts a laugh from where she’s pressed her face into your arm. it’s amused and exhausted, all at once. ‘i can do it, if you’d like.’
she waits for a moment, considers it. there’s the intimacy you’re familiar with: how warm her center is with your fingers curling inside, the way her mouth feels when you’re about to come. the way your body was able to feel during sex was the wildest, most heartbreaking discovery for you at first, but you settled into it with joy after a while. after chanel had very seriously given you a lecture your second week of college on how to be safe, it was fun and light and never so serious. with beatrice, it’s easy intimacy: you know that kissing her pulse point makes her arch her back and beg, that you know how to be kind, even when rough, every single time.
the intimacies of life, though, are where you sometimes both get stuck, the smallest parts of you that had hurt the most, that had had to heal so slowly, that you hold so tight to your chest. you hate playing all your cards, and you’re certain she does too: to be cared for can feel suffocating, in the wrong circumstances. to be cared for, though, you’ve discovered a few weeks ago when she brought you a heating pad and picked up the new pain medication your neurologist wanted you to try, in the right hands, in beatrice’s hands, is a miracle.
beatrice looks up at you, the question clear: you would do that for me?
you smile softly, lean down to kiss her like things are easy, like things are good. in so many ways, in the ways that sit in the marrow of your bones, they are.
she smiles back, finally, eyes brightening, unfurling after days trying to hide in the dark. ‘you think you can manage it?’
you nod. ‘you can trust me.’ it comes out so sincere, despite the fact that you add in a wink to try to dissipate it.
she straightens up, then, and squeezes your hand. ‘thank you, ava.’
you tell her, ‘of course,’ because, of course. 
‘you know,’ she says a few minutes later, sitting on a kitchen chair in the big primary bathroom, her shirt discarded in the hamper in your room, ‘i’ve never let anyone do this for me before.’
‘really?’
‘yes.’ she’s quiet for a moment, the buzz from her clippers, with the guard she’d precisely put on, the only noise as you run them along her scalp. ‘well, it’s fairly simple, for one.’
you hum. ‘and for two?’
she rolls her eyes, shrugs, blushes. you love her. ‘i didn’t…’ she pauses, tries again, ‘it’s close.’
‘yeah.’
she meets your eyes in the mirror, quiet. you know from what she’s told you about her past, when she was younger, when she knew who she was but was made to feel scared and so ashamed : the tears and the heartache and how much she thought her life wasn’t worth anything, the heaviness that sits around her like a soft cloak sometimes, even still. but, right now, you see her, and you care for her, exactly as she is. it’s different than anything you’ve ever had before, more than you could’ve convinced yourself to want: she’s going to stay. she wants to stay.
a smile grows on her face and it’s like the whole world lightens. ‘lilith thought i was having a breakdown, the first time.’
you laugh, go over the spiraling, small cowlick a few more times so it’s all even. ‘was she maybe a little bit right?’
she hums. ‘a little, perhaps. but i’d been curious for a long time, and i knew — it would feel right. i knew it.’
you resist the urge to kiss the top of her head, one of your favorite activities, only just avoiding it when you brush all the little hairs from her bare shoulders and some of them stick to your hand. ‘well, it suits you. i mean, i think anything would suit you, probably, but i get it.’
her smile softens, just for you. ‘plus, my mother almost fainted the first time i went home for the holidays. worth its weight in gold, honestly, for both me and lil.’
it’s rare beatrice mentions her parents, especially in a way that encourages a little laugh to bubble out of her chest. you grin. ‘i would’ve paid to see that.’
she fiddles with her watch band, one of her only nervous tells, and then sighs. ‘well, they’re visiting in a few weeks, after my boards.’
you take the guard off and tilt her head forward slightly so you can clean up her neckline. it gives her time to take a deep breath, and for you to calm your nerves. ‘oh. how do you feel about that?’
‘i mean, well, it’s fine. i suppose this is the sort of things parents would be proud of.’
‘any sane parent would be, like, bursting at the seams proud of you. i need you to know that.’
‘i —‘ she pauses, puzzles through it. ‘i do, for the most part. when they’re a continent away, it’s different. easier.’
‘for sure.’ you walk around in front of her and brush hair off of her forehead, the tip of her nose which she scrunches up. you’d told a patient the other day, scared and hurting, that dr. choi was the best, and, in all the ways that matter — her steady hands and kind hugs and the stretch of freckles across her cheeks — you had meant it. 
‘do you — would you like to meet them?’
you’d like to fucking punch them, but — ‘do you want me to meet them?’
‘yes,’ she says, certain and stoic. ‘you’re my partner, and we live together, and i’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.’
there’s such tenderness, such assuredness, the rain calming and her strong shoulders and the smile you feel on your face. it’s quiet, now, the clippers turned off and sitting on the counter. ‘we live together?’
‘that’s what you got from that?’
you shrug.
she takes your hand, laces your fingers together. ‘your lease is up next month, right?’
‘yeah.’
‘i can’t remember the last time you didn’t spend the night here, and i certainly can’t remember the last time i didn’t want you to.’
‘you’re full of big declarations today.’ it’s ineffective, because your laugh comes out as mostly a snot-filled snuffle when tears press at your eyes. you’ve never, really, had a home before.
beatrice just squeezes your hand. 
‘you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with me?’
‘ah, there we go.’
‘you do know that i’m, like, a whole lot.’
‘yes,’ she says. ‘and i love you.’
just like that. just like that, and it’s so easy. ‘i love you too.’ you wipe under your eyes, grimace for a moment when stray hairs get stuck on your cheeks, but you let out a big breath. ‘i can’t promise i won’t at least tell your parents off.’
‘if they say anything that warrants that, i’m fine with you causing a scene if you’d like. shannon loves to, so she’ll have fun.’
‘i think that might be too much of an opening for me, honestly. i’ve been waiting to yell at them since like, two hours after i met you.’
‘there’s no way you knew after two hours on my service.’
‘i could sense the, like, childhood trauma, gentle, brooding, gay vibes. i’m talented that way.’
she rolls her eyes but she’s clearly so fond of you, still holding your hand. ‘well, shall i shower, and then we can order in? catch up on the traitors, maybe?’
‘god, that is my love language. for real, bea.’
‘would you like to shower with me?’
‘okay, i take it back. that is my love language.’
she laughs, and stands, and you clean up and get in the shower and kiss her. you don’t do anything more, not tonight, not when things are still the raw end of a live nerve wire, hurt dissipating near the surface. you cuddle on the couch and steal bites of her biryani and she falls asleep, warm and soft, her head resting on your chest while you scratch her scalp. you live her, for real, you think, as you pause the episode before the roundtable because she hates missing it even if she pretends to not care — asking for a full recap the next day — and then rouse her as gently as you can and lead her by the hand to bed, to rest.
109 notes · View notes
jaiscbstash · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
66 notes · View notes
ahbts · 6 months ago
Text
Kinktober day 13: Jegulus - Wet Dream || NSFW || Words: 640|| Tags: Medical AU(sort of) - Resident/Doctor - Lingerie - rimming (Day 9 and 27 of @jeguluskinktoberr)
The way he is walking over to James is making his head stuffy. He walks across the hall in that white lab coat, clipboard in hand and an innocent look on his face. It’s insane how the boy looks so good in hospital clothes. No one should look this good. 
“Head surgeon Potter, you asked for my assistance?” The sweet voice asks him as the boy reaches his desk. James quickly stands, feeling his own surgical scrubs getting tighter as he looks the boy up and down, from the curls on his head to the crocks on his feet, he still looks like walking sex. 
“Uhm, yes,” James walks around the desk and leans against his as he regards the resident with the sternest look he can muster. “Dr. Lupin is indisposed and we need a set of hands on the kidney transplant, do you think you are up to it?” 
The boy looks at his clipboard before flinging it away and stepping in between James’ legs. “You tell me, Doctor, do you think I am ready?” The long neck stretches up to meet James in the perfect height difference. He feels a hand under his scrubs, touching his stomach and finding a nipple to pinch. 
James lets out a moan and pulls the boy closer. “I don’t know, maybe I can use some convincing?” 
The boy steps closer even and takes James’ bottom lip into his mouth, biting down and dragging it out as he steps back. The lab coat is gone and instead, the boy is wearing lingerie. A thong of deep burgundy lace, with matching garter straps holding up black meshing stockings that match the long-sleeved shrug top. James lets his eyes roam over the whole look and feels his mouth water. 
“Would this help?” the boy asks in a sultry tone, turning around slowly, which makes his black high heels click on the ground. “Doctor.” 
James grabs onto the boy's arm and makes him turn back around. “That will work perfectly.” 
He pulls the boy behind him, bending him over the desk and squatting down behind him. Pushing the lace aside he flicks his tongue over the small, tight, hole he had been imagining since the boy started his residency under him. 
“Oh, you taste as sweet as you sound, baby,” James tells the boy, slipping his thumb into the hole and stretching it with the digit as well as his tongue. 
“Please, Dr. Potter, I think I’m ready now,” the boy croons in a high tone. 
James stands, pulling down the thong quickly and pulling himself out of his pants. He is already so incredibly hard that he will come the second he enters the boy's tiny hole. He thrusts in with one easy thrust and groans in ultimate pleasure. 
“Doctor,” the boy moans, in a lower voice than before but James can hear him clearly. “Doctor?” This time it’s a question and James shakes his head not fully understanding what is happening. 
“Doctor Potter?” 
James blinks his eyes open as quickly as he can, feeling the paper stuck to his face and the crick in his neck from having fallen asleep on his desk for the umpteenth time that week. He smacks his lips, feeling his dry mouth before looking up and meeting the emerald green eyes that he had just seen in his dream. 
Oh fuck. 
He feels the wetness in his pants, realising what is happening as he meets Regulus Black’s eyes. 
“Dr. Black, I’m sorry that was highly unprofessional of me,” James apologises quickly, excusing his sleep habits. “Did you have a question?” 
The boy smiles at him, shaking his head but there is a twinkle in his eye that makes James’ spend cock twitch hopefully. “No, I just wondered if you wanted to grab a coffee, it looks like you need it?”
63 notes · View notes
luckysalbum · 3 months ago
Text
JJK hospital AU bc I started watching Greys anatomy bc my mom got me invested.
I'll be using the American medical system bc my own country won't come up when I google it. And uhhh if I get anything wrong lmk.
Yuji, Nobara and Megumi are all 1st year interns at a teaching hospital.
They all rotate under different residents.
Yuji will go into pediatric surgery.
Nobara will go into obstetrics and gynecology.
Megumi will originally just aim to be a general surgeon until he talks with gojo, and then he'll look into cardiothoraic surgery and neurosurgery ( I can't decide which he'd choose)
Panda, Maki and Inumaki are residents.
Panda is a general surgeon
Maki is a cardiothoracic surgeon
Inumaki is a pediatric surgeon or goes into otolaryngology (ear, nose, and throat doctor)
The rest are all attendings
Gojo is a neurosurgeon
Geto is a cardiothoracic surgeon
Shoko is an obstetrics and gynecologist (and will eventually be Chief of Surgery at the hospital)
Utahime works in general surgery.
Nanami is a pediatric surgeon (inspires yuji)
Mei Mei ( YUCK) is 100% a plastic surgeon because it makes her the most money the easiest. ( don't compare her to mark Sloan please he's better than her)
Randoms:
Ozawa ( I think that's how you spell her name ) is a pediatric doctor not a surgeon.
Todo is a neurologist.
Mahito would either be an oncologist bc he's a cancer or would work in urology
Idk what kind of doctor Sukuna would be
41 notes · View notes
hidden-for-reg · 9 months ago
Text
June 27: heal | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 799
*surgeon x patient au*
Part one, previous part
If you asked Regulus, he'd say he was completely fine. But after he took the tiniest fall of course his idiot surgeon of a brother made him go to the hospital to get it checked out. But then of coursethe hospital in question doesn't allow family to treat family. So, now, of course Regulus is stuck with the hot, dumb doctor. Of course. And for the past 10 minutes that hot, dumb doctor, who introduced himself as James, has been talking non-STOP. 
“Okay, you know what? Stop, just stop talking,” Regulus snapped suddenly, pinching his nose bridge and closing his eyes for a second. “I’m fine. I don’t need surgery. I’m only here because my brother forced me. You can just give me some painkillers or whatever and I’ll leave.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and frowned at James. “Come on, doctor,” he continued, “do me a favor here or something.”
“Oh— er, yeah, well,” James’ face flushed a bright shade of red, “your X-Rays aren’t looking great, and the only way to fix your knee is with surgery so, ah, I— well you can’t leave, basically.” James shifted his feet nervously from where he stood next to Regulus’ bed. He flashed Regulus an apologetic grin as if it might help comfort him or something. It did not.
“I’m fine,” Regulus gritted out between his teeth. The nerve of this doctor, honestly. 
“No, you’re not, but you will be once you get surgery. I promise the surgery is perfectly safe, and I’ve done plenty of them before. There’s nothing to worry about,” James said, voice softening. “And you’ll be able to heal in as little as 3 months.” James sat on the edge of Regulus’ bed and put his hand of Regulus’ leg under the blanket. Regulus decided he would let him stay there for now. “And, uh, not to brag, but I’m a pretty good surgeon,” James added as he leaned in closer to him, “so you’re in good hands, love.” James patted his leg. 
Regulus felt his cheeks grow hot as James flashed him a cocky, lopsided grin. Regulus was trying to look anywhere but James’ eyes. He was dumbly scowling down at his own hands, which now lay in his lap, threaded together. Oh he felt so stupid for this. He would not  be manipulated into this surgery by just a nice man with a nice smile. No. Absolutely not. He felt his cheeks flush harder. 
Regulus risked looking up to meet James' steady gaze. His eyes showed a little concern but were otherwise lovely to look at, not that Regulus would ever admit that to James though. The other man's lips curled up in the corners just slightly, and his thumb was tracing circles where it lay on Regulus' thigh. 
He decided to would probably be okay to share a small smile in return so that's what he did as he still held James' piercing stare. His eyes were so deep with varying hues of dark, chocolatey brown and warm amber.
James opened his mouth like he had been about to say something, then closed it, then opened again slightly, then closed. He drew his lips in a thin line and finally looked away from Regulus. He turned to look at the clock on the bedside stand and abruptly cleared his throat.
Regulus snapped out of his daze immediately at the noise and, instinctively, pulled back from where he was, apparently, leaning in. He trained his eyes back on his hands in his lap again quickly. 
"Um, well, ah, I got to- I have to- uh, paperwork," James mumbled awkwardly, giving Regulus' leg a firm squeeze then letting go and standing up. 
"Oh." Regulus merely stared at him, not really taking it the words yet. "Oh, yes, you.. go do that, uh, yeah."
"Hey," James said, walking to the door, "If you need anything or feel anything weird, just call a nurse and tell them to page me, and I'll be right over. I'm serious, don't hesitate if you need something." 
Regulus nodded, breathless at the moment for some unknown reason.
"And," he added, now already standing in the doorway, "if you could hopefully decide about surgery before tonight, that would- well, it would save me from some difficult conversations. And if you decide sooner, rather than later, you can out of pain sooner. Again, just tell a nurse to page me once your mind's all made up."
Regulus snapped out of his daze... again. "Yeah, okay."
"Alright, see you later, love."
"Later."
As soon as James was nowhere to be seen, Regulus let out a tremendous sigh and flopped back into his bed. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was happening to him?
next part
95 notes · View notes
fauvester · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
svsss demons hospital au scrub choices. SHL is a figs girlie (girl you cannot wear outside figs to the OR, sorry) LBH is kind of a jaanuu guy but occasionally gets mandelas for the colors. MBJ is an exclusively inpatient proceduralist so he only ever wears the cheap hospital provided scrubs that his tits never fit into properly
223 notes · View notes