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traveler-at-heart · 2 months ago

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The Doctor's In - Part 4

Summary: Wanda and R have their first date ;)

Wanda: Sorry I missed you before you left for work. Wanna come over for dinner with us?

Y/N: Would love to :)

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who just got dumped” Darcy says as you smile at your phone.

“Who got what?”

“Carol and Maria…”

“No one dump me, there was no relationship to end” you say, locking your phone. You have noticed that Carol has been avoiding you, which is pretty idiotic, considering a lot of the trauma cases that come your way are ortho related.

That would also explain why Kamala rambled so much every time you requested a consult, so you made a note to speak to Carol about it.

“So…” Darcy ponders, and you wish she’d just drop it. She snaps her fingers. “The hot mom!”

“Her name is Wanda, and we are just talking” you refuse to look at her, knowing she can smell the bullshit from miles away.

“Something tells me talking wasn’t the only thing you did with your mouths” she insists, pulling on your sleeve.

“Fine! We kissed and it was awesome! Happy, you little pestering gnome?”

“Yes, lesbian whore. Congrats on securing a ticket to MILF paradise”

“Fuck you”

“Doctor Y/L/N” Kamala enters the room as you give Darcy the middle finger. “I can come back! Sorry!”

“Look what you’ve done” you mumble as Darcy cackles. The joy doesn’t last long, as you steal her chips. She’s too distracted making fun of you to notice.

“Hey, not fair”

You close the door and go after the resident.

“Hey, Kamala”

“Oh, hi. Doctor Danvers asked me to show you some X-Rays”

“Tell Doctor Danvers to show me herself. Or better yet, I will go directly to her. Where can I find her, Doctor Kahn?”

“Uh… I…”

“Never mind, I’ll ask Maria” you turn to leave and Kamala screeches in horror.

“OR 2. She’s in OR 2. Please don’t do it, my Baba will never forgive me if I get kicked out of the program” the young doctor clings to your arm.

“Kamala. Get it together. It’s gonna be fine. If Carol gets mad, you can be in my service for a week” you promise and she barely stops hyperventilating.

By the time you reach the OR, Carol is done with her surgery. She stops in her tracks when your eyes meet.

“Doctor Danvers, a word?” you ask, trying to sound professional.

“Of course” she nods. Leading you to an empty scrub room, Carol opens the door for you, fidgeting. “What’s up?”

“Stop making everything so awkward. I’m not mad at you. Kamala is about to have a stress induced stroke from all the consults you send her to avoid me”

“You’re really not mad?” Carol says.

“No! I never expected anything else from you. We didn’t talk about it but I always knew what your true feelings were”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, honestly. Just, stop acting like you left me at the altar or some weird shit. We’re colleagues and friends”

“That makes me happy. I didn’t want to stop talking to you” she relaxes. “Though I have to be honest, I told Maria what happened between us”

“Is she mad?”

“Only a bit and just to me. I’ll manage to turn it around” the blonde smiles, a dreamy look on her eyes.

“If it helps, tell her I have a date on Thursday” you say, leaving the room, Carol right behind you.

“Oh, let me guess. The hot mom?” she jokes.

“Her name is Wanda!” you repeat.

“Well, let me know how the date goes?” Carol pats your shoulder, and you nod.

“Will do. Now page your resident and tell her we’re all set before she gets admitted to the Psych ward”

—

The footsteps approaching on the other side make your heart jump. You wonder if the flowers are too much, but when Wanda sees them, her face lights up and you know it was the right thing to do.

“Come on in” Wanda says, taking the flowers and then standing on her toes to kiss your cheek. “The boys are in the living room”

“Want some help with the food?”

“No, I’m almost done. It will be more helpful if you entertain the twins for a little” she says, pulling the flowers close to her chest.

“Alright, then” you’re about to kiss her when the boys walk in. They’re so excited to see you that they don’t notice how close you are to their mother.

“Y/N” Billy says, running towards you.

“Hey, kiddos” you pick them up, carrying them over your shoulder and they giggle. “Come on, there’s a new game I wanna show you”

You take your time to set everything up, explaining a bit about the game. They giggle as Crash jumps and turns in the sand of the first level, and you finish it all, including the tricky jump at the end.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Me” Tommy says, sitting next to you. They are both focused on the game, so you take advantage of the distraction to go see Wanda.

Sliding into the kitchen, you grab her by the waist.

“You scared me” she laughs, allowing you to press against her back, kissing her temple. “What’s going on?”

“I have approximately fifty seconds before they ask for my help so I’m making sure they count” you turn her around and lean forward, capturing her lips and sighing against her mouth. “You look very pretty”

“Thank you”

“You smell really nice” you add, kissing her again, making Wanda laugh. “And I really, really, like kissing you”

Wanda smiles at that, her hand caressing your cheek.

“Y/N!” the boys chant in unison.

“Like clockwork” you mutter, kissing Wanda’s forehead as you go back to the living room.

You spend a few more minutes playing with the kids, until Wanda calls everyone for dinner.

“How’s the arm, kiddo?” you say, sitting next to Billy with Tommy and Wanda in front of you. As you take a bite of the chicken, you notice a funny flavor. “Is this brocc…”

Wanda widens her eyes and kicks you under the table.

“Ouch”

“You ok?” Tommy asks, none the wiser.

“Yeah, I just bit my tongue” you lie, Wanda taking a sip of her water to hide her laugh.

“Kids, eat” she encourages them, and you get the hint. The flavor of the broccoli is hidden with the cheese, so you smile and continue to eat, enjoying every single bite.

“I’m on cleaning duty” you say as soon as everyone finishes, taking the dishes and cleaning the table.

Billy and Tommy run to the living room to continue playing, and as you get ready to wash the dishes, Wanda leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“It’s nice to have you here��

“You have an odd way of showing it, Miss Maximoff” you joke, leaning against her touch.

“In my defense, it’s the only way to get them to eat their greens” she jokes and you lean forward, your lips inches away from hers. In that precise moment, the boys call for her.

“Behave” she warns the children, pulling away to see what the fuss is about.

“Have you thought about boarding schools?” you joke and she pinches your side. “Ah, kidding! I would miss them too much”

You load the dishwasher, clean the pots and put the rest of the food on some containers. By the time you’re done, the kids are getting ready to go to bed.

“Can you come over again tomorrow?”

“If your mom wants me to, sure. I can bring the food this time so she takes a break from cooking” you offer, smiling at Wanda.

“We’ll see about that, Y/N works hard enough as it is. Say goodbye to her, boys”

Tommy and Billy wave at you, already dragging their feet. You stay on the living room, and a few minutes later Wanda comes down.

“Hi” she plops down next to you and you smile.

“All good?”

“A bit tired, that’s all. Just ignore me, you’re the one that works all those crazy hours”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m used to it by now” you shrug your shoulders.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow”

“How come?” Wanda asks when she returns, handing you a glass of red wine and sitting closer to you on the couch.

“Well, I have a really hot date coming up and I need to plan every detail”

“She sounds like a lucky girl” Wanda blushes, biting her lip.

“Oh, I’m the lucky one” you say, placing both of your glasses on the coffee table. “She’s smart, funny, has legs for days, cooks amazing food…”

“Stop” she laughs, and you shake your head no. Wanda is still laughing when you connect your lips with hers, a sigh leaving her mouth when you lift her and place her on your lap, her legs straddling you.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah” she nods, leaning her forehead against yours. “More than ok. As a matter of fact, I remember reading that kissing is good for your health”

“It’s so good” you say, your lips traveling to her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck. “I’d say do it as often as possible”

“Doctor’s orders?” Wanda jokes, her voice faltering as you come back to her mouth, your tongue swiping across her bottom lip.

“Doctor’s orders”

—

The plan is coming along. You have the tickets for the exhibit and the next thing on the list should be the dinner reservation. Your pager beeps the minute you call the restaurant.

911.

“Shit”

You sprint to the car, knowing no one would call you outside of work if it wasn’t serious.

“What’s wrong?” you walk to the ER, looking around.

“What on Earth is this?” Tony Stark, neurosurgeon and professional asshole gets in your face the minute you get there.

“I don’t know, I’ve been off work since yesterday, Stark” you take the chart, reading all the information until you get to the signature. The writing got progressively worse, until it was just senseless lines.

“This person was clearly having a stroke, and the staff didn’t notice. I have to scrub in and see if I can save his life”

“And you’re wasting time arguing with me” you roll your eyes, pushing the chart to his chest and walking to the OR.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To scrub in. If you want to blame me, that’s fine. I’m staying by this patient’s side until he pulls through”

“If he pulls through” Stark says angrily and you ignore him.

Before scrubbing in, you check your phone.

Wanda: Is everything ok? I saw you leaving in a hurry.

“By all means, take your time” Stark says, glaring as he walks by you.

You spend the entire surgery in his OR, standing still and doing everything he asks. He’s a rude, pretentious cunt, but if anyone can work a miracle, it’s him, so you suck it up and take every snide comment with a blank stare.

After hours working, Tony sighs, nodding at his work.

“Close him, Parker,” he asks his resident. You stand watching the young man’s work, until the surgeon asks you to come with him.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out the minute you step out. “This wasn’t your patient, nor your responsibility. And I made it seem like it was”

“It’s still not right. If I had been here, I would have noticed”

“I know. Your work is impeccable” he acknowledges and you nod. Even if he’s an ass, this is the hospital his father built, and he’s a genius with years ahead of you in experience.

“Will he be alright?”

“There’s a good chance he’ll pull through. Let’s be cautiously optimistic. I’ll let Parker explain everything to the family. Sorry for interrupting your days off”

“Not a problem”

“It’s the first time you’ve taken PTO in 3 years. Fury’s gonna have my head for making you come” Tony says, laughing.

The patient is moved to the ICU, but you’re still not comfortable leaving, so you go back to the on-call room, sitting in a bed to gather your thoughts. Yelling in the hallway makes you stand up, watching as Parker tries to speak to a man and his wife.

“You discharged him, said he was fine” the man yells, pointing at Peter’s face.

“Sir, I can assure you, we’re doing our best to make sure your son…”

“We wanna see him now” the man takes Peter by his coat, almost lifting him off the ground. The young man stutters, not knowing how to deescalate the situation.

“Hey, that’s enough” you step in, not realizing the man is about to throw a punch until you make him drop Peter, his elbow connecting with your cheek.

“Crap, Doctor Y/L/N, are you ok?” Peter says, rushing to your side.

“Yeah, fine”

Fucking fantastic.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to wait in the foyer, or I’ll call security” Carol steps in, glaring at the man. She waits until he’s gone, muttering an apology your way. “You ok?”

“Mhm, great”

“I thought you had a few days off”

“Yeah, me too”

“Come on, let’s have a look at that punch” Carol says, dragging you to one of the exam rooms. You sigh, trying to keep your eye closed. “No stitches needed”

“Great” you mumble, pulling out your phone. There’s like five messages from Wanda but before you can answer, she calls you.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you ok? You had me worried”

“Yeah, there was a thing at the hospital and I… ouch! Carol, a little warning?” you hiss as the blonde pours some disinfectant on the bruised skin.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy” Wanda says, her demeanor changing. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone”

“Wait, Wanda!” you say but it’s too late, the call cut off. “God, could this day get any worse? I have to go”

“Want me to drive you there?” Carol says with a smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. That will make Wanda so happy”

“Whipped” Carol jokes and you try to glare, but it hurts your eye.

Wanda barely put the kids to bed, when she hears a knock on the door. She’s prepared to give you an attitude but then sees your swollen cheek.

“Oh, my God, what happened to you, are you ok?” the brunette says, immediately forgetting she’s mad at you.

“It’s a long story. But that doesn’t matter. Listen, I know how it seems, I tell you I’m busy and when you call me I’m with Carol”

“I know you work together. It’s fine” Wanda lies.

“No, it’s not, come on”

“Ok, just come in and explain everything while I get you some ice, ok?”

“Thanks” you mutter, sitting at the kitchen counter. You fidget with your hands, not looking up until Wanda comes closer, her eyes soft as she moves the hair out of your face.

“Cold” she warns, placing a compress against your skin. You sigh with relief, holding her hand close.

“I’m sorry. I was called in to fix something I didn’t break”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job, Y/N” she says in a soft voice. “Is everyone ok? Is that how you got hurt?”

“Everyone’s ok. The parents were just pissed and I tried to break the fight”

“Does it hurt?” Wanda pulls the compress and examines the skin. It’s a little bruised, but not too swollen.

“It will later” you sigh.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can kiss it better”

“Is that what Carol was doing earlier?” Wanda tilts her head, a dangerous look in her eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

“Oh, come on! Not fair!”

“I’m kidding” she says, finally kissing you softly. You close your eyes, relaxing for the first time in 12 hours. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, you were saving lives”

“What you feel is valid. Don’t apologize for it, ok? I’ll always listen to you, I promise” you kiss her hand, smiling when she blushes. “We’re still up for our date, right?”

“We can reschedule, you must be exhausted”

“Not a chance” you say, pulling her closer again. “I’ve been waiting too long for this”

“Well, alright. If you insist” she pecks your lips and you nod.

“I do”

“I have an… odd request” she says, avoiding your eyes.

“I won’t kink shame you, I promise”

“Can you be serious for just a second?” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. You make a motion to keep quiet, and let her speak. “Can you… pick me up around the block?”

“I can. But why am I doing it?”

“First of all, if the kids see you, they’ll want to tag along. And also… I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, I just want to protect them. It’s been the three of us since they were born and I’ve never even dated anyone, let alone someone they know” she takes a deep breath, hoping you won’t get upset.

“Billy and Tommy come first, always” you nod. “I agree to the new rule, or I can wear glasses and a fake mustache”

“Nope” she shakes her head, covering your mouth with her hand.

“A bald cap then” you mumble against her palm.

She figures the only way to make it stop is by kissing you and she leans forward, her lips against yours. You smile dreamily as she pulls apart.

“Now. Would you like some dinner?” Wanda offers, and you almost drop to your knees.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect, Wanda Maximoff”

The way she blushes and giggles makes up for all the shitty things that happened in the past hours.

—

“There’s food and snacks, a list of phone numbers on the fridge in case of an emergency”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff,” Morgan says, following the woman around the house. It’s her first time babysitting the twins, but Wanda has known the girl since she started giving her private art lessons and trusts her.

“Boys, I’m leaving” Wanda calls, the kids standing up from the table to hug their mom goodbye. “Be good to Morgan, ok?”

“Where are you going?” Tommy asks.

“A work thing” she lies, feeling terrible about hiding the truth from the twins. But still, she knows it’s for the best to keep this private.

She waves goodbye one last time and walks past the house, noticing your car is no longer in the driveway. Her heart beats fast at the expectation of an evening together.

“Hey, gorgeous” you greet, leaning against the passenger door. “You look absolutely stunning”

You admire how amazing she looks in a pair of jeans, a white tee and a long sleeve sweater.

“So do you” she kisses you, smiling as you open the door to the car.

“Thanks, the purple eye gives my look a nice touch” you say as you begin the drive.

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough” you say, hoping she likes the surprise. “First stop” you announce, opening the car door for Wanda and looking at the building in front of you.

“Artechouse. Oh, I’ve heard about this” Wanda nods, intrigued.

“I did too, but never made the time to go. Come on” you lead her to the entrance, showing your tickets. “There’s a small bar if you wanna have a drink before we go in”

“Let’s go in now” she says, looking everywhere.

You think it’s a good sign that she’s so interested in the exhibit, so you lead her to the start, both of you gasping as you enter a room that is projecting videos of flowers from floor to ceiling. Wanda’s hand searches yours in the dark, and you smile shyly as she holds it, walking around the room.

The intimacy of the place allows you to come closer, sharing everything you see in a low voice and enjoying the show.

“Check this out” you say, lifting your arm, the animation following your movements. Wanda lets out a laugh, doing the same.

Each room enchants Wanda even more, the next installation featuring plants that react to the touch with light and sound. Your favorite by far is the tree that reacts differently if you’re holding hands or hugging. As you walk up to it, Wanda is still holding your hand and you both look at the screen. Well, she’s looking at the projection and you’re looking at her, thinking how beautiful she is.

Taking a step forward, your arms go around her waist and you smile, admiring how the images change.

“It’s beautiful” Wanda whispers, turning to you. “You’re not looking”

“I have the best view right in front of me” you smile, happy when she kisses you softly.

Wanda takes her time examining everything and once she’s done, you walk to the exit.

“That was amazing. I forgot how much I enjoy these things. Thank you, Y/N”

“Glad you liked it”

“Best first date I’ve had,” she smiles.

“Oh, this is only the first part. You don’t really think I’d forget about the food, right?”

“Where are we going?”

“Well, there’s a very fancy option but I don’t feel like going with this thing on my face” you point at the bruise, annoyed. “If you’re feeling adventurous we could try something different?”

“You look perfectly fine, darling” she kisses your cheek. “But I’m up for an adventure, so lead the way”

“Awesome” you hold her hand, walking down the street and away from the museum. This is your favorite part of town, close to the pier and the little shops that are open until late.

You walk down the promenade, showing Wanda some of the places you love. There’s a small gallery, a cafe, and other shops.

“We’re here” you announce, pointing excitedly at the kebab shop. “This is fine, right? We can still go to the fancy place if you like”

“Sorry this place isn’t fancy enough for you, Majesty” the owner pops out of nowhere, scaring you.

“Samir! That’s not what I meant. You know I love your food”

“Mhm” he glares, but then smiles at Wanda. “What can I get for you, angel?”

“Well, what’s good here?” Wanda wonders, not as familiar with the dishes. “Maybe a shawarma”

“How about a kebab box, fries to share and a doner” you suggest, “And her shawarma, of course”

“That’s a lot of food” she protests and you shrug your shoulders.

“I’m always eating leftovers before I leave for work so it’s fine, babe”

“Oh, well” she wants to scold you about your eating habits, but the pet name makes her dizzy.

You pay and lead them to a small table outside, unaware of Wanda’s flustered state. You hand over a soda and open your can, taking a sip.

“We can go to other art shows whenever you want, you know? Even if I don’t understand anything, I do enjoy watching you” you smile, laughing as Wanda’s cheeks go red at the comment.

“I did enjoy it, thank you. You come here often?”

“I do, I love the food here. Samir noticed I came late because of my shifts and he always saved me some food. Nice fella” you turn to make sure he’s not listening. “But I promise I’ll take you to dinner to that other place when I don’t look like a raccoon”

“You don’t have to”

“I kinda want to see you in a dress, all fancy like that time you left for another date” you smile at the memory of how beautiful she looked.

Wanda’s heart bursts with the way you look at her, complete adoration in your eyes. She’s almost left speechless, but her phone saves her.

“It’s my brother” she apologizes, taking the call. “Hi, Pietro. No, I’m not with them. Because, I’m out. Of course with a babysitter, stupid” she rolls her eyes, and then switches to a language that you don’t understand, but sounds like Russian. You look at her in awe, until Samir calls for you to get the food. By the time you’re back at the table, Wanda already hung up.

“Sorry about that”

“No, don’t worry. I guess I never asked, but are you Russian?”

“Sokovian” she corrects. “We moved to the States when Pietro and I were ten”

“Wow. I never… you don’t even have an accent”

“It slips up from time to time, especially if I’m angry or… flustered” Wanda says, and you almost choke on the food, thinking of all the ways you could make it come out.

“Oh, well” you clear your throat. “Is your brother ok?”

“Yeah, he wanted to ask the boys something about video games that I don’t understand. I’m sure you would”

“I don’t know, my knowledge is limited to things that existed when I was a kid. How’s the food?”

“Amazing. Wow” Wanda says, pleased with the flavor of the meat and how it compliments the rice and dips.

“See? We’re good enough for a first date” Samir shouts from the kitchen.

“Stop listening to our conversation” you shout back and he grumbles. Wanda smiles, thinking of something she’s wanted to ask for a while now.

“Do you ever visit your family?”

“No, not really” you shake your head. “I pretty much left for college and never returned. Except this one Christmas, where I was feeling kind of lonely and tired. I just wanted to be home, but everything was so different, my half siblings were just too much to handle for anyone… and I didn’t even know what to do, no one bought me a present because I was never around and they just thought I’d be gone like last year”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“It’s fine” you shrug your shoulders. “I know it’s weird, but I like my life, you know? My colleagues are great, I’m doing what I love… and if I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s their loss” Wanda smiles, kissing you. You smile against her lips. “You can always spend the holidays with us, you know? I mean, it’s too soon to talk about it, I’m just saying”

“That would be nice” you interrupt her rambling. “Now, I have something very important to ask. Out of all the neighbors, which one is the most annoying and why?”

“Well, I’d say it’s… Agatha”

“Harkness! Yes! I knew you disliked her too”

Wanda laughs and you keep the conversation going. By the time you’re done, you pay and leave a big tip for Samir, who gives you a hug as you leave the store.

“I’m so full” Wanda says, patting her stomach.

“I know. Oh, you want ice cream?” you say, remembering the gelato store that is a few shops ahead.

“You just said you were full!”

“It’s ice cream, come on” you take her hand, and pay for two cones. Wanda orders strawberry while you opt for chocolate.

“How is it?” you ask as you walk down the pier, enjoying the view.

“Amazing, have some” she offers the cone, but you kiss her instead. “That’s not what I meant” Wanda laughs against your lips.

“Well, it tastes amazing to me” you say, leaning forward and chasing after her soft lips, the flavor lingering as you deepen the kiss. Wanda sighs against your mouth, pulling you closer until your hand goes down her waist. “Best ice cream I’ve ever had”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, her eyes closed. You peck her lips one last time, and continue your walk, still talking about everything you can think of, enjoying each other’s company.

When she checks the time more than once you get the hint, ready to go home.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being annoying, we can stay longer”

“It’s ok, I know you like to be home early. Come on, we can drink wine or I’ll let you go to bed”

You rest your hand on Wanda’s leg for the entire ride home, unaware that your touch is making the woman restless. When you’re close to your house, you stop exactly where you picked Wanda up.

“I can just park at home, right? The boys are probably asleep”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, flustered. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she moves forward, pulling you down for a rough kiss that takes your breath away. It’s a bit messy and desperate, and you ignore the strain of your seatbelt as Wanda pulls you closer to her, sighing against your mouth.

“You can’t park here!” an annoying person knocks on your window and you both break apart. “Oh, my! Wanda? Doctor Y/L/N?”

Damn it, it’s Agatha Harkness. Your nosy, annoying neighbor. Rolling down the window and smoothing your clothes, you smile at her.

“Hey, Miss Harkness. Sorry, I’ll move right now”

“No, don’t worry” she gives you a sly smile. “Have a good night, you two love birds”

“Night, Agatha” Wanda says and you turn on the car, finally parking in your driveway.

“That was fun” you comment, opening the door for Wanda and crossing the street to walk her home.

“Yeah, just our luck” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. “Wanna come in? Or do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until Saturday. Come on” you let her lead you to her house, opening the door as quietly as possible. Wanda sees Morgan at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“How did everything go?”

“Great, they went to sleep an hour ago”

“Morgan Stark?” you greet, closing the door behind you.

“You two know each other?” Wanda says.

“Yeah, my parents work at the hospital with Doctor Y/L/N” Morgan says, waving at you. “Nice to see you”

“Did you drive here? Or want me to take you home?”

“It’s fine, I drove here” she says, and you hand over some money before Wanda can pay her.

“Drive safely, ok? Don’t want your dad giving me crap on the next meeting”

“Will do. Good night, Miss Maximoff”

“Night, Morgan”

“You didn’t have to pay for that too” Wanda says, kissing you. “But thank you”

“Anytime. How do you know Morgan?” you nod when she offers you a glass of wine and you walk to the living room with her.

“I’m giving her private art lessons. She’s really good. Had no idea her parents were doctors”

“Not just any doctors, baby” you say, taking a sip. “Tony’s father built the hospital we work in. And he’s done some amazing research in neurosurgery. Pepper is also one of the best plastic surgeons in the world”

“Wow, Morgan is so sweet and down to Earth”

“She gets that from her mom, Tony can be an ass” you mutter and Wanda laughs. “So, did I secure a second date?”

“A third one as well. But only if I can pay for the next one”

“Nu-uh. I’m spoiling you, baby” you say, your hand going to her leg. You notice how Wanda’s cheeks turn red, and you’re not sure if it’s the nickname or the contact. “Come here”

You take her glass of wine, approaching her slowly and kissing her. It’s tender at first, but then your hands travel to her lower back, and Wanda moans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss, sighing when she pushes you on your back, climbing on top of you.

Wanda kisses down your neck, biting slightly. The sudden nip makes your hips jolt forward, and she has to hold back another moan.

“I don’t know how you do it” she says, shivering when your hands travel down and cup her ass through her jeans.

“Do what, baby?”

“Drive me crazy with just one touch”

“Let me take care of you” you ask, kissing her, your hands going all the way to the front of her pants.

“Mom?”

“Shit” she mutters, both of her hands covering your mouth. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m thirsty,” Tommy says.

“Alright, don’t come down, I’ll be right there, ok?” she says, hoping the boy hasn’t noticed anything strange. But he’s too sleepy so he just agrees and returns to his room. “I’m sorry”

She removes her hands from your mouth, helping you up.

“It’s fine, I enjoy the choking but just give me a heads up”

“Stop” she says, blushing. “I’ll be right back. Unless, you want to go? I’m sorry”

“I can stay” you nod, smiling at her disheveled state.

“Alright, I’ll be back” Wanda promises, pecking your lips.

You sit up, fixing your hair and taking a sip of the wine to calm down.

“Everything ok?” you say as Wanda comes down. She nods, smiling and sitting next to you.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think they’d be up. Maybe… we could wait a bit? When I’m not worried about the boys walking in on anything”

“Of course. Come here” you open your arms, and she settles, leaning her head against your shoulder. You kiss her temple. “Wanna watch some tv?”

“What about a sitcom? I love watching those”

“Like Friends?”

“Like Bewitched or… The Dick Van Dyke show” she says and you laugh, completely caught off guard by the suggestion.

“You’re fascinating, Wanda Maximoff” you say, handing over the remote, ready to watch whatever she wants.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n

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zyafics · 3 months ago

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DEAD MAN WALKING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Series?) | Mafia Boss x Doctor!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe gets injured in a shootout, he can't make it home in time to save his life. However, it's just his luck to find a medical student walking out of her shift from the hospital. When he threatens you to save him, you do, but when he returns to uncover that the wound is more deadly than it seems—time is ticking for you to find a cure or die.

Content — 18+, explicit (to be determined).

It's late.

A consequence of staying overtime. Most medical students from your program left after their shift ended, but not you. You wanted more—to shadow surgeries behind spectator glass, to listen to pagers' on-calls, to follow the path of grunt work—because you believe in learning from the bottom up. It wasn't until one of the residents forcefully removed you from a debrief and mandated you to go home and rest that you finally left.

Exiting the hospital, a cool wind breezes over your exposed arms, causing goosebumps to rise. The night is dusky and grim; thick clouds envelop the dark sky, amplifying the fainted glow of lights streaming through the open windows of apartment buildings. Very few cars are passing through the main road, despite your place of work being in the center of the metropolitan area. It's empty. Quiet. Odd.

The parking lot is mostly vacated, except for a few residents' vehicles that have to stay for their hours. You don't own a car, utilizing the city's local public transportation system instead, and thankfully, there's a bus stop across from the hospital.

Your footsteps click against the concrete, each step bringing you closer to your destination, but something in your stomach churns with nausea. Something feels off. The stillness of the night isn't a common occurrence in a lively city bursting with mayhem. But before you can calm your mind—a distinct click is heard, followed by the cold press of a metal handle against the back of your skull.

Your breath hitches.

A gruff, masculine voice orders. "Don't scream."

You want to. Desperately. But you've lived in the city long enough to know it'll do nothing. It might cause your death instead. Defying the very instinct to call for help, the bubble waiting to pop from your throat, you nod once, letting your handler know you abide by his command.

"Turn around."

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, threatening to spill. With measured breaths and cautious steps, you turn.

The sight surprises you. The man holding you in captivity is tall—and devilishly handsome. But that's not your main source of concern. It's the way he's slightly hunched over, his left hand clutching a wound that punctures his abdomen. He's bleeding. Everywhere. Staining the front of his sodden shirt, it drips onto the concrete between the cracks of his fingers.

"You a doctor?" His voice is gravel and strained as if he's holding onto his last string of life. His face is a ghastly shade of pale, uneven breaths escaping in chokes, and sweat collects on the hairline of his forehead.

"I'm–I'm a student." You answer, tripping over your own voice as he tightens his grip around his gun, his fingers trembling. For a brief moment, you consider if you should disarm him. Half of you want to help—to save a man on the brink of death, as you're training to do—but the other half remembers you're being held at gunpoint. If you try, you wonder if he's in enough pain that you can remove the weapon.

But something in his hardened gaze tells you to stay put. That his trigger finger is swifter than you'll ever be and he won't hesitate to waste a bullet.

Scoffing, as if the criteria of your resume isn't enough, he raises his arm where the barrel of the gun stares you down. Your heart skips several beats, palms growing sweaty at the implication that your lack of experience can be your end.

"I can help."

He doesn't answer, eyeing you with contempt. You're still wearing your blue scrubs, the clip of the badge hanging on your waist. You look official; a formal member of the medical faculty team. But, at the end of the day, you're still a student.

You refuse to let that be your downfall.

"I can save you," you argue, the timbre of your voice is sharp, passionate, and decisive. "Let me help."

The man says nothing. Silence stretches for the next few seconds, but it feels like decades before he makes a decision. He grabs your arm roughly, pulling you in front of him with the strength he shouldn't possess. With the gun pressed against your backside, right on your spine, he warns, "One word, one fucking scream, and I'll shoot you in the middle of the floor. Do you understand?"

You nod, swallowing the bile in your throat as you reenter the hospital, maneuvering through the floor with virtually little-to-no interactions. A blessing and a curse, the man finds an empty room and shoves you inside.

It's not a surgical suite, just a backroom with a bed and a couple of tools on a cart. You try to convince him to go to one of the rooms in the operation wing, but he refuses. When you continue to advocate, his hand grips the gun with a click—reminding you who has the power in the situation.

"Just fucking do it here," he snaps.

That's how you ended up operating on your first patient. He lays flat against the stiff hospital bed while you tear through his blood-soaked shirt, cleaning his marred skin, finding the source of the wound—a gunshot. It sits right on his ribcage, but the point of entry doesn't look like it slices through any important organs or arteries.

Despite his form, he continues to point the gun at you. His hands are steadier, but his eyes waver with each probe and poke of your tools. Your breathing is scarce, and uneven as you try to focus on the task at hand—but you can't, given the constant reminder that one wrong touch, one wrong move, can yield a tinge of pain that leaves him clamping down on the trigger.

"You can drop your gun now." You say offhandedly, trying to keep your composure and wits as you operate. "I'm not going to do anything."

He huffs, suspicion creasing his brows. "Not a chance."

"I'm saying it'll be better for you." You instruct, voicing your reason from a place of logic rather than a plight of fear. "You need to relax."

"I'll relax once you get this bullet out of me," he rasps, gripping the weapon tighter, as a child with a stuffed animal would after a hellish nightmare. Your eyes glance down at the gun, how it's aimed directly at your heart, before dropping back to his chest.

"You're not going to kill me."

He doesn't answer immediately. A pinch of fear surges through your veins before he says, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'm trying to save your life." You keep your voice steady, despite the low tremor rattling your chest. False confidence is the only thing keeping you going. "And I won't cause you harm. If I wanted to, I would've already."

Silence persists, and you take it as a chance to solidify your argument, from a humane perspective. "And I can't focus if you keep pointing that gun at me. I'll be more sloppy, and I don't want to take any chances when I barely have the right equipment as it is."

It sounds solid. At least, to your ears it does. But the man's grip on his gun doesn't waver under your advisement. You're almost certain he'll reject the idea, but when his hand slowly descends to the metal cart sitting beside him—the clank of metal-on-metal allows you to finally take a deep breath.

But before you can proceed, his now-free hand grabs your wrist. A yelp almost leaves you, but his bloodied nails dig into your skin. A warning gleams behind his gaze. "Just because I'm unarmed doesn't mean I can't kill you through other means."

You don't doubt it.

Nodding, you begin your operation. Heart thumping against your chest, you dig the forceps into the open wound, the squishing of flesh and blood fills the stillness of the room, and you navigate blindly through the gap till you graze a hard metal.

You inhale sharply, reminding yourself of your countless virtual practices, your shadowing of operations, your lucky days of standing beside certified surgeons as you hand them tools and witness the precise cut of their blade. All that training comes down to this very moment—to save yours and his life.

With a steady grip, you slowly exit, centimeter-by-centimeter, inch-by-inch, until the familiar glint of a metal gleans under the harsh operating light.

You drop the bullet, smeared with blood and a greenish hue, onto the plate next to the gun. Exhaling, you mechanically move to the next stage.

While you thread the needle through his delicate skin, closing the wound, your eyes glance down to his hands resting by his side. His knuckles are swollen and red, dried with dark blood. You can't stop yourself from asking, "What happened?"

His jaw tightens. "Why do you want to know?"

The words are sharp and harsh, a valiant attempt at shutting down any form of communication. But you persist. "I thought, since you're out of danger, you can at least explain—"

"I don't owe you shit," he barks, but this time, a hiss punctuates the end of his sentence, sending his head flying back against the bed as he grimaces through the pain and lack of anesthesia. His adrenaline must be wearing off.

Your jaw tenses, but not from his response but rather because of his reaction to his pain. Your sense of empathy has always been your weakness, especially since you're providing it to someone who held you at gunpoint and against your own will.

Deciding to redirect your focus, you're finishing the last thread of his stitching before he confesses, "Fight."

"Fight?" You echo wearily, refusing to lift your head and meet his gaze. You can already feel the heat of his stare. "Who won?"

He scoffs, but it comes out as a wheeze. "Don't be cute."

"I'm not trying to be—"

Your words are cut short by a sudden alarm blaring from the hallway. You jerk back, creating distance as you turn toward the small slanted window on the door, where flashes of men in uniforms run past.

Fear crashes into you as waves, and you turn back to the man as he turns to you—his dark blue eyes are hostile and cynical, and he regards you with the utmost suspicion.

"Who the fuck did you call?" He accuses.

Your eyes widen, "I didn't call anyone!"

"Liar."

With your erratic heartbeat in your ears, both of you glance down at the gun sitting idle on the cart. Before he even gets the chance to react, you snatch the weapon from the table, his nails grazing your hand a millisecond too late.

You push back against the opposite side of the room but because of the limited space, it does nothing to soothe the overwhelming adrenaline pulsing through your veins. Holding the gun with two hands, you direct it straight at his face.

Suspicion and doubt from both sides are at an all-time high.

He scoffs, unphased by your brave act. The gun between your hands is shaky, and your palms sweat against the heavy, smooth grip. The acknowledgment of holding something lethal between your fingertips. In his earnest attempt at getting you to give up the weapon, he mocks, "Can you even use that thing?"

You disengage the safety. "Try again."

His eyes widen, just a fraction, almost undetectable had you not been eyeing him carefully. His lips pressed together in a firm line, but almost as if you're imagining it—there's a look of intrigue.

The man pulls himself upright, shifting cautiously under the threat of your deadly aim, while his hand clutches the stitched wound. You didn't even get the chance to bandage him. It's a shame that your hard work could go to waste.

"Fucking liar."

"I didn't lie," you insist.

"The gun staring at me is making you look guilty."

"It isn't nice being on the receiving end, is it?"

His hardened features sharpen into a look of disdain, any imagination of curiosity disappears within seconds. Yet, you read into it. His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you as if you're prey to his predator, trying to gauge a formal assessment of your character. It isn't until he forces himself to look away, onto the door, that he contemplates his next plan of action.

It doesn't take a genius to decipher that the man is someone dangerous. Not just to you, but to the law. You regard his rigid posture, suggesting his uneasiness about the guards posted outside, barking orders to secure the grounds. He assumed you called the authorities, but that's far from the truth.

You didn't even have time to consider it.

Now, you're weighing all your options. If he disarms you, you'll be forced to submit to his will. That's not favorable. If he leaves without your help—which is unlikely—he'll be trotting through the halls, trying to build a cover and dodge the heightened security. That won't work either. And, if he escapes—there's no doubt he'll come back for vengeance. You can't have that either.

"The hospital is going into lockdown," you explain, keeping your gaze on his. "No one can come in and out that's not part of the staff."

He locks his jaw. One of your hands descends from the handle, moving to the pocket of your scrubs. "They're going to require a scan at each exit point, so you'll need a badge."

You remove the badge from your body, unraveling the clipper from the fabric. His darkened gaze follows while you slowly extend the tag—a peace offering of some sort.

His hand clenches by his side before his other hand reaches forward and snatches the badge from your grip. He takes his time examining the small plastic and the card inside, then lifts his head to meet your gaze with an unreadable expression. "Why?"

"I told you, I didn't call anyone," you say. "But I can tell you need to leave. I can get you out because I don't want any problems."

His breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling in unsteady beats. He doesn't say anything for the longest time, chipping away at the escape, before he drops from the bed and stands to his fullest height.

"I can't go out looking like this."

He's right. You practically shredded his shirt as you were trying to save his life. If he walks out, half-naked, barely stitched together with a bandage, regardless of the classified badge, they're going to question him.

Glancing around the room, you find a lab coat on a hook and throw it at him. He slips his arms through the long, white sleeves and covers himself up—looking presentable. Almost. If not for the light bruising on the side of his face, the swelling on his bottom lip, the swollenness of his knuckles, and the dried blood staining his fingertips.

But they won't look closely.

You think.

You back up as he steps forward, closer to the door. Peeking outside the hallway, when the coast is clear, he departs, clutching the badge in one hand and his wounded chest in the other.

It takes a few moments for it to pass, for you to truly grasp the gravity of your situation. When you finally do, you lower your aching arms, drop the gun back onto the metal cart, and exhale the largest sigh of relief.

—

It's been a week since the hospital incident.

You received a new badge, under the false pretense that you misplaced the last one, and you've been returning to a routine. You refuse to do overtime without a familiar acquaintance tagging along, and you've been catching rides from your peers from the hospital.

Afterward, the news disclosed a shootout that happened on the streets a couple blocks down from your workplace. Three people died, and the police are investigating the matter. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots of who shot who, and who walked out alive.

You've been busying yourself with life. From attending classes to producing research, to working late-night shifts at the hospital. It's been a ruthless cycle, that you've barely had time to breathe.

Walking home from one of the nearby cafes, where you're studying for your upcoming exams, you take a short stroll to your apartment. It's getting late; most of the street parking is taken, few people linger on the sidewalk, and the street lamps cast a soft glow against the brownstone of the apartment complexes.

This is a safer neighborhood, much more than your place of work. The crime rate is relatively lower, but that doesn't stop you from being on edge. Especially with your recent incident. You're cautious of your surroundings, checking every little shadow, and listening out for heavy footfalls. Your paranoia reaches its all-time high.

But nothing happens. Not today, not yesterday, and certainly not tomorrow. You turn the corner to your building, the familiar shade of your apartment allows you to catch a breath of fresh air.

Until you hear the familiar click, followed by the hard kiss of metal pressing against the base of your skull.

All the hair stands up. Your nerves are humming with fear. And you pray it's different, it's new, but your wishes are shattered the moment the gruff, harsh voice greets you, his mouth against your ear.

"Miss me?"

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 5 months ago

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Left Unsaid

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst (happy ending!), sex, fingering, explicit language, surgery times (duh), (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You used to be Dr. Shepherd's favorite resident, but something had happened in the last month that drove you further apart than ever. Will it get resolved (hint: yes, it does)?

“You, out!”

You stood, flabbergasted, in full scrub, suctioning blood out of someone’s brain-deep head wound. The OR had gone deathly silent, and if they could’ve seen your face under your surgical mask, they would have seen you blushing bright red.

All you’d done was ask a question. All you’d wanted to know was why Dr. Shepherd had gone after the brain bleed at the angle she did, because it wasn’t the angle you’d expected. You were a surgical resident. Asking questions is what you were supposed to do.

“Dr. Shepherd, I–”

“Uh-uh. You? Out of here. You’re distracting me, Y/L/N. And if you can’t focus on saving this man’s life, you don’t need to be in here.”

Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, you handed off the suction tube to another resident and quickly burst through the doors and into the scrub room, washing your hands furiously. You felt like crying. You didn’t know what was going on these days.

During your intern year, you’d gotten really close with Dr. Shepherd. She’d sort of take you under her wing, said you had the right mind and hands for neuro. You worked well together, almost read each other’s thoughts sometimes, it seemed. But the last month or so, she’d all but banished you from her service.

You knew part of it had to be Webber’s new initiative for “well-rounded surgeons,” a new protocol where residents were cycled between attendings at random, with no favoritism or preference allowed. But even when you were assigned to neuro, Dr. Shepherd always put you on the other neurosurgeon’s service. She hardly talked to you at all.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong, something to completely ruin the mentorship–no, the friendship–you’d felt like you were forming with Dr. Shepherd. Not only did you miss her company, miss working with her, but you missed neuro.

You spent the rest of your day on neuro doing glorified scut alongside the interns. Humiliating. And when you finally went home, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and order Chinese food. But a text from your cohort group chat reminded you that tonight was the annual Surgeons for Surgeons benefit gala. And unless you wanted to be fired, you’d have to show up, bells on, ready to mix and mingle and convince Seattle’s rich and famous to donate to the program that connected Seattle-Grace with its partner hospital in Nairobi.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before leaving. Thanks to a very artful layer of makeup, you looked a little less exhausted than you really were. And you had to admit, you looked good in a suit.

By the time you and your friends arrived at the gala, things were in full swing. Wine, music, twinkling lights, the whole shebang. You were determined to have fun with your friends, despite whatever weird stuff was going on with Dr. Shepherd. You’d had a few glasses of wine, had danced with a few other residents, and had generally avoided Dr. Shepherd, even though once or twice you’d caught her watching you. Let her feel bad, you thought. She was out of line.

But when you were on your way back from the bathroom, a hand shot out of a hallway and gently grabbed your arm.

“Jesus, Dr. Shepherd,” you complained, straightening your suit as she crossed her arms and looked at you, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You just…” She threw up her hands. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve been avoiding you!?” You scoffed. “Dr. Shepherd, you haven’t talked to me in over a month. I went from being the de facto neuro resident to being bottom of the barrel in your OR. So forgive me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to chat with you.”

Dr. Shepherd looked at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed. “Look, I don’t care if we’re friends, okay? I– I would have liked it. I like you. But my career comes first. And whatever’s going on with us got in the way of that today. So whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Okay? But I love neuro. And I’m good at it. You don’t have to talk to me ever, outside of work, but you cannot keep me from surgery.”

You started to walk away, but she stopped you.

“Y/N!” she called, grabbing your hand and holding it for just a moment too long. You were taken aback by her use of your first name. She always called you Dr. Y/L/N. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay…” You shrugged. “So put me back on your service.”

“No, I mean…” She exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You liked Dr. Shepherd. You really liked her. You thought she’d liked you. You thought that in another life… But it didn’t matter now.

“Message received,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“God, that’s not what I meant. I’m fucking this up.” She looked at you almost like she was in pain. As if there were words she just couldn’t get out. “What the hell,” she finally mumbled, then grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. But her lips felt so good against yours, her hands warm and soft against your skin. This was what Dr. Shepherd had wanted with you, why she’d been avoiding you. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was what you’d wanted to, you’d just been too scared to let yourself admit it.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing her into the wall to deepen the kiss. She whined into your mouth, her tongue fighting for entrance, and you knew–by the arousal shooting down through your very core, the wetness pooling in your underwear–that this would not end here tonight. Amelia’s arms snaked underneath your blazer, searching for skin.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Amelia muttered breathlessly, painstakingly unbuttoning the collar of your dress shirt, then continuing on to the lower ones.

“Whoa!” You grabbed her wrists, pushing them away. “We’re in a public hallway, Dr. Shepherd.”

She huffed, pulling you by the arm into the closest room, which turned out to be some poor soul’s vacated office at this event venue. She slammed the door, taking her own turn to push you against a surface. It took your breath away.

“Don’t call me Dr. Shepherd when we’re about to have sex,” she said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fine, Amelia,” you retorted, and she smiled into a kiss. She liked a little sass in a woman.

With one hand, you rolled her nipple between your fingers. With the other, you moved slowly down her body, gently pulling up her dress to slip a hand into her underwear.

She gasped as you brushed lightly over her clit. “Fuck,” she breathed, throwing her head back. You smiled, happy to have a little power. Amelia might have all the power in the OR, but you had all the power here. You could tell by the way her hips rolled toward you, by the way she leaned heavily on the desk at her back–she wanted you bad.

She breathed heavily, squeezing your arms as she pushed her hips into you, desperate for the friction, the pressure. You grinned wickedly and removed your hand, licking her arousal off your fingers.

“Y/N!” she protested, glaring at you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to be thinking deeply, circling the rest of her vulva so that you were close, so close, to where she needed you, but not quite there. “You know what? I bet this feels a lot like being knee deep in a surgery and then being pulled for no reason at all.”

“I said I was sorry! Please, Y/N.” You had her squirming and writhing and you were getting drunk off her desperation.

You pushed two of your fingers into her warmth, already so wet, so ready for you, and she moaned. “I mean, I guess, if you insist.” You smirked at her, loving to see her lose control. She was always so in control at work. It was honestly something you admired about her. But right now? All you wanted was to see her coming apart.

There was a part of you that wanted to tell all the residents, to tell everyone that you were fucking Dr. Amelia Shepherd. But there was another part of you–deeper, softer, more you–that wanted to keep her all to yourself. Because some part of you knew that it wasn’t just sex, no matter how much easier it’d be if it was.

Amelia’s breathing grew ragged, her walls pulsing around you and you knew she was close. You circled her clit with your thumb, and she thrust her hips up into your touch, chest heaving, legs shaking. And when she finally, finally hit her peak, you scooped your arm around her back to hold her up, keeping your rhythm steady until she came down, resting her head on your shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

“Fuck!” she breathed, lifting her head to grin at you and tuck your hair behind your hair. “Your hands.”

“That’s why I’m such a good surgeon.” You winked at her.

“That’s why you’re good at a number of things, apparently.” Amelia pulled her underwear up, straightening her dress.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Should we go back in?”

You scoffed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Why?!”

“Are you kidding me!? There’s a fucking lake in my underwear right now. I gotta go home.”

Amelia smirked, pulling you down by your collar for another kiss. You couldn’t take much more of this. You needed her. Or a vibrator. Or a dildo. Or something.

“You want help?” she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You blushed. The tables had turned all of a sudden, and she was the one with the power now. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be good.”

She laced her hand in yours, squeezing it. “Take me home, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“What if someone sees us!?” you hissed, looking both ways out the office door.

“We’ll slip out the back.”

“Sneaky.” You nodded. “I like this side of you.”

Glancing furtively around, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck, taking you by surprise. You gasped.

She pressed her lips against your ear. “I’ve got a lot of sides you haven’t seen yet.”

God, you couldn’t wait to see them.

#amelia shepherd #amelia shepherd fanfic #amelia shepherd x reader #amelia shepherd x fem!reader #grey's anatomy #grey's anatomy fanfic #amelia shepherd smut #amelia shepherd angst

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alexstalkers · 5 months ago

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Healing Hearts

includes: alex karev in the beginning of his peds residency, a seattle grace mercy west merger which involves a new mercy west transfer....

black fem surgical resident! reader x alex karev

song inspiration: ivy- taylor swift

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

Y/N walked into Seattle Grace, the bustling environment a sharp contrast to her previous residency. As a new resident transfer, she knew she had to prove herself. Her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as she reported for her first day on Arizona Robbins' pediatric service.

"You're the new resident, Y/N?" Arizona greeted her with a warm smile. "Welcome to Peds. You'll be working closely with Dr. Karev today. He knows my service and he'll help you if you have any questions."

Y/N had heard of Alex Karev's reputation. He was known for his exceptional skills with children but also for his abrasive personality. She was determined not to let his reputed arrogance faze her.

When she met Alex in the pediatric ward, she was struck by his intense eyes and the air of confidence he exuded. "You're the new transfer?" he asked, not looking up from the chart he was reviewing.

"Yes, I'm Y/N," she replied, trying to keep her tone professional.

"Okay, let's get one thing straight. I don't have time to babysit," Alex said, finally looking at her. "Just stay out of my way, and we'll be fine."

Y/N bit back a retort. "I'm here to learn and help. Let's just focus on the patients."

Their first case together was a young boy named Liam, suffering from cardiomyopathy. The child's condition was delicate, and his treatment required careful coordination. Despite their initial friction, both Y/N and Alex were deeply invested in Liam's well-being.

"His latest tests show worsening heart function," Y/N said, frowning at the results. "We need to act fast."

Alex nodded. "We need to discuss his case with Dr. Robbins. If we don't come up with a new plan, he won't make it."

They presented their findings to Arizona, who decided on a risky but potentially life-saving surgery. Throughout the procedure, Y/N and Alex worked in perfect sync, their combined skills bringing the best possible care to Liam. In the days following the surgery, Y/N and Alex found themselves spending more time together. They worked late into the night, monitoring Liam's progress and making sure he was stable.

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

One evening, after a particularly exhausting shift, they found themselves alone in the residents' lounge. Alex, surprisingly, broke the silence.

"So, you're a Mercy West transfer?" he asked, his tone less harsh than usual.

"Yeah," Y/N replied, sipping her coffee. "Since the merger. What about you? You've been here a while, right?"

"Yeah, since my intern year." Alex said. "It's a great program. "

Y/N nodded. "I can see that. But I like it so far. The team is great, and the cases are challenging."

Alex looked at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You handled Liam's case well. Most new residents would have freaked out."

Y/N felt a warm flush of pride. "Thanks. You weren't so bad yourself."

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

As the weeks passed, they continued to work together, their initial animosity giving way to mutual respect. They shared stories about their backgrounds, their dreams, and their fears. Y/N found herself looking forward to their shifts together, her heart skipping a beat whenever Alex smiled at her. One day, as they were preparing for another surgery, Y/N noticed Alex seemed distracted. "Everything okay?" she asked gently.

Alex hesitated before answering. "Just...family stuff. My brother's in town, and it's complicated."

Y/N placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Alex looked at her, surprise and gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I might take you up on that."

Their bond continued to grow, each moment together strengthening their connection. They laughed more, confided in each other, and began to realize that the line between professional and personal was blurring.

One night, after another successful surgery, they found themselves standing on the hospital roof, the city lights sparkling below them.

"You know," Alex said, his voice soft, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you're here."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. "Me too, Alex. Me too."

As they stood there, side by side, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. In the midst of the chaos and the heartbreak of Seattle Grace Mercy West, they had found something unexpected: each other.

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

During the weeks following their initial meeting, Y/N and Alex found themselves thrown together in a variety of challenging cases. Each case revealed more about their personalities and work ethics, slowly breaking down the walls they had built around themselves.

In one particularly intense case, they treated a toddler with a rare genetic disorder. The child's condition was rapidly deteriorating, and both Y/N and Alex had to rely on each other to come up with a treatment plan.

"His genetic markers indicate a possible enzyme deficiency," Y/N pointed out during one of their late-night strategy sessions. She was surrounded by stacks of medical journals and lab reports.

Alex leaned over the table, scanning the data. "Good catch. Let's run a specific panel to confirm and then we can start the enzyme replacement therapy."

Their combined efforts paid off, and the toddler began to show signs of improvement. The victory was a turning point in their relationship. They began to see each other as partners rather than competitors.

One day, after a long shift, Y/N and Alex found themselves in the on-call room, too exhausted to go home. They lay on opposite bunks, the room dimly lit by a small bedside lamp.

"Why did you choose pediatrics?" Y/N asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Alex turned his head to look at her. "Kids are resilient. They can go through hell and still bounce back. I guess I wanted to be a part of that."

Y/N nodded, understanding. "I get that. I love their spirit, their will to fight. It’s inspiring."

As the days turned into weeks, they shared more personal stories. Y/N learned about Alex’s difficult childhood and his struggles with his family. In return, Y/N opened up about her own challenges, including the pressures she faced at her previous residency.

Their late-night conversations became a routine, each one drawing them closer. They began to anticipate each other's needs in the operating room, moving with a synchronicity that amazed their colleagues.

One evening, after successfully performing a complex surgery on a newborn, they sat in the hospital cafeteria, finally allowing themselves to relax.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Y/N asked with a smile.

Alex chuckled. "Yeah, I wasn't exactly welcoming."

"That's an understatement," Y/N replied, laughing. "But you've grown on me, Karev."

"You too, Y/N. You too."

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the bustling cafeteria faded away. They both knew something significant had shifted between them.

As the relationship evolved, so did their feelings. They began to steal glances at each other in the hallways, their touches lingered a little longer, and their conversations took on a deeper, more intimate tone.

One night, after another grueling shift, they found themselves alone on the hospital roof again, the cool night air providing a welcome respite.

"Sometimes, I wonder how I got so lucky to have you as a partner," Alex said, his voice sincere.

Y/N turned to him, her heart pounding. "I feel the same way, Alex."

He reached out, taking her hand in his. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. They stood there, hand in hand, the city lights below them, knowing that they had found something rare and precious in each other.

He stepped closer, cupping her face in his hands. "Then let's see where this goes."

They shared their first kiss under the starlit sky. From that moment on, they faced every challenge together, their love growing stronger with each passing day. In the chaotic world of Seattle Grace Mercy West, they had found their calm, their solace, and their love.

#alex karev #alex karev x reader #alexkarevxblackreader #black reader #black tumblr #carl gallagher x reader #black women #carlgallagherxblackreader #fanfic x reader #fanfic #black fanfiction #fanfiction #fandom #meredith grey #derek shepherd #greys anatomy

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sagan-starstuff · 2 months ago

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XF Meta: Scully's Medical Training Timeline

At the request of @randomfoggytiger, I wanted to do my damnedest to make Scully's education and training timeline make even a little sense. I'm a physician (specifically a specialist in adult infectious diseases), and it's fairly clear to me that CC and Co probably didn't actually talk to any doctors about how medical training works. Love my girl - I'm a Scully Effect kid, I don't think I'd be a doctor at all if it weren't for the inspiration of Dana Scully. But her timeline is...iffy at best.

Disclaimer: My medical school and post-med school training occurred from 2009-2018, Scully's occurred in the 1980's-90's. From what I can tell, the durations of many residencies and fellowships don't seem to have changed much, but I can't say that for certainty for all programs at all institutions. I am also from the US, so I cannot speak to medical training in other countries.

Our girl was born in 1964, and so unless she skipped a grade (which some schools would do if students were classified as "gifted" or otherwise exceptional, she would have graduated from high school at age 18 in 1982 and went straight to college. Let's assume she didn't skip a grade, for the sake of argument.

You have to have a Bachelor's degree to apply to medical school. These degrees typically take 4 years, though if someone arrives at college with credits from dual-enrollment high school classes or AP exam credits OR if they take summer classes some people can complete them in 3 years. I don't know what the availability of dual enrollment or AP classes was like in the early 80's (and like CC, I'm too lazy to do the research to find out), so we can assume that Scully graduated from college in 1986.

Medical school is 4 years long - no shortening this at that point in time, and even now in almost all cases. So that puts medical school graduation in 1990 IF she's following a traditional timeline and went straight from college to medical school.

Now, if someone is going to go into practice they have to do a residency in at least one of a variety of specialties (Internal Medicine, Pediatrics, Surgery, etc.) in order to be board certified and practice independently. There are very, very few job options in clinical medicine if you DON'T do a residency, so if you want to practice, you have to do it. Residencies can be anywhere from 3-5 years, depending on the specialty. You can also further subspecialize after a residency by doing one or more fellowships (typically 1-3 years depending on the fellowship) before sitting for your board certification exams and starting independent practice. For example - after medical school I did a 3-year residency in adult internal medicine, then a 2 year fellowship in adult infectious diseases to be eligible to sit for the boards and enter my specialty, so 5 years further training after medical school before I could get a job, get board certified, and practice.

Scully is a forensic pathologist. She would have had to do a 3 or 4 year pathology residency (both were options at the time) followed by a 1 year forensic pathology fellowship. You CANNOT perform autopsies right out of medical school, if you are going to be a forensic pathologist you HAVE to do this training. So, following a traditional timeline this puts her as having completed forensic pathology training in 1994 or 1995. Pilot starts March 7th, 1992, so this is loooooong after she's canonically already an FBI agent and teaching at the academy.

But our girl's a smart cookie, so let's take a little leeway with her timeline. Let's say she skipped a grade some time in K-12. This puts high school graduation in 1981. Let's say she ALSO graduates with a bunch of AP credit and does summer semesters and finishes her undergraduate degree in Physics in 3 years. This puts her as starting medical school in 1984, with graduation in 1988. She'd still need to do that pathology residency and forensic pathology fellowship - let's assume a 3 year residency, then 1 year fellowship, so she'd finish training in 1992.

Still doesn't fit.

Let's go totally off the rails here - we know Scully was recruited out of medical school to the FBI, so she didn't do a traditional residency at all - UNLESS the FBI has an internal forensic pathology residency. It would HAVE to be accelerated in some way - some programs combine residency and fellowship by giving less elective time and more focus to the fellowship content. It's not common but they exist. Let's say in theory the FBI has an accelerated forensic pathology residency that takes 3 years, in addition to the 20 weeks of the FBI academy training. This has her finishing residency AND FBI academy training some time in 1991.

This is the ONLY way she could have finished forensic pathology training AND the FBI academy with enough time to be a fully certified forensic pathologist and FBI agent with some time left to teach at the FBI academy before being assigned to the X-Files on March 7th, 1992.

I can suspend my disbelief enough to be on board with this. You'd have to be pretty damned special, which we know she is, to get recruited out of medical school by the FBI. Maybe they even developed the accelerated combined residency/fellowship just for her! She's Dana Katherine Motherf***ing Scully, people!

Now, IWTB is where things get REALLY unbelievable. (Disclaimer: I have not watched IWTB since seeing it in theaters in 2008. I'll get around to rewatching it someday soon. Probably with a bottle of wine. Not a glass. A bottle.)

Mulder and Scully go on the run in 2002. We don't know how long they were in the wind, but by 2008, she's been allowed to resume a career and is practicing at Our Lady of Sorrows. Clearly in pediatrics - but general pediatricians sure as hell don't do stem cell transplants, so she'd almost certainly have to be a pediatric oncologist. We aren't told what her specialty is specifically, but that's what she'd have to be to do a stem cell transplant.

(That scene in the OR isn't even what stem cell transplants LOOK LIKE but that's a rant for another day, back to my point.)

MEDICAL BOARDS DON'T JUST LET YOU CHANGE YOUR SPECIALTY FOR FUNSIES.

(Deep breaths. Serenity now. Ok, let's do this.)

Scully would have had to do an ENTIRELY NEW residency AND fellowship in order to practice as a pediatric oncologist. Pediatrics residency is 3 years long. Pediatric Hematology/Oncology fellowship is 3 years long. In order for this to be even remotely possible, she would have had to START residency in 2002 to finish fellowship by 2008 and start her job at Our Lady of Sorrows.

And she's a former FBI agent harboring a known felon, on the run from government officials and alien hybrids who want her and Mulder dead.

There is absolutely no way even the smallest, most hard-up pediatric residency program is going to accept her with that hanging over her head. I'm not going to get into all the details of how rigorous and stressful the post-medical school residency application and match process is, but even if she didn't apply until she KNEW it was safe to come out from underground, she'd still have to explain a multi-year gap in her resume/CV to the program directors. Multi-year gaps in career and training without a reasonable explanation like a medical issue, time off to care for an ailing family member, time off for research, time away in a different, legitimate career are NOT looked on kindly when applying for residency positions. She would have a HELL of a time getting into a totally different residency.

It could happen - if anyone could do it, she could. But there's absolutely no way there's enough time for her to complete that training by 2008.

"But sagan-starstuff, it's CC, it's X-Files, we know there was no show bible and no one but the fans gave a shit about continuity or things making sense, there's no logic just vibes"

I KNOW, OK. I KNOW. And I love this insane, beautiful masterpiece anyway. I love exploring the possibilities of how and when it all could have happened with my fellow insane Philes who work so hard to glean meaning and order from this perfect mess of a show.

But couldn't CC have talked to one (1) doctor about what medical training is like at some point between 1993 and 2018? Just one?

Anyway. Yeah. That's my meta. Scully's training timeline makes no goddamned sense. Compels me, though.

@randomfoggytiger, this is for you. Honorable mention to @precedex-files who I ranted about this with in messages a while back.

#the x files #the xfiles #x files #thexfiles #msr #txf #dana scully #xfiles #poangpals #poang pals #holy crap how did that take me 2 hours #i thought this was going to be so simple #but it's not #Scully's just the most special genius perfect human so she can be whatever she wants to be #unhinged doctor ranting #god why am i still awake i have work tomorrow

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

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Haunted

Mark Sloan x Reader

Summary: Mark Sloan finally finds where his wife had been hiding

Warnings: Angst, cheating, mild smut, Addison has poison oak, medical talk, death

Word Count: 5.7K

Masterlist

I sat in the foyer of the beautiful brownstone Mark has bought us, seething. I had arrived home after a long 30-hour shift, just wanting to relax with my husband but I had instead received a call from Derek delivering the worst news of my life.

“Y/N?”

“Hey, Derek, everything okay?” I asked, concerned at his strained voice.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

My heart crawled into my throat. What could have possibly happened to warrant this much concern from him? Has Addison been hurt? Had Mark? “What? Derek, you’re scaring me.”

After a pause, he spoke again. “I just found Mark in bed with Addison.” My entire body felt like it had filled with ice. I knew Addison and Derek had been on the rocks for a while but I thought Mark and I were solid. “I’m leaving, tonight, for Seattle. I have an old friend out there who’s gonna make me the head of neurosurgery. I know it’s sudden and you’re dealing with a lot right now but I’m happy to bring you out there.”

Tears pricked in my eyes, I felt so helpless. “Derek, I’m a second year resident, I can’t just up and move to a different program.”

“Richard, the chief of surgery at Seattle Grace, will help you. You may be set back a year but what’s the alternative?”

I thought for a second. I could stay here and try to work things out with Mark but I knew I’d never be able to look at or trust him again. I could break up with him and stay here but knowing him he’d never leave me in peace. My best option would be to flee. “You’re right. I’ll meet you at the Starbucks across from JFK?”

“I’ll see you there. And Y/N? I really am sorry that this happened to you.”

“I’m sorry it happened to you too.”

I had packed only the essentials into a duffle bag that sat next to me as I waited for Mark to get back to his home. My beautiful rings sat on the coffee table between me and the door, clearly visible from the doorway.

Mark had a devastated look on his face even before he opened the door. His face dropped even further when he saw my expression along with my rings on the table. “Y/N-”

“Don’t,” I interrupted. “I want a divorce,” I asked calmly, picking up my bag to walk out.

But Mark stood his ground, continuing to stand in front of the doorway. “Can we at least talk about this?”

“Why? Nothing you could possibly say could make this better or make me not hate you. You hurt your best friend and your wife,” the tears were falling now. “You threw away our entire relationship for what? So you could hurt Derek? You just had to have Addison? You wanted to hurt me?”

“No, no,” Mark protested, his own voice cracking. “Addison wanted to hurt Derek and well… I wasn’t thinking.”

“‘I wasn’t thinking?’ That’s a pathetic excuse.” I moved to walk past him but he grabbed my arm, yanking me back in front of him, moving to further block the door.

“You promised to love me for better or worse, Y/N Sloan. Well, this is worse. You made a vow.”

“You also vowed to love and honor me,” I threw back.

His grip slackened enough for me to remove my arm from his grip so I continued towards the door. But before I could step out into the night, Mark spoke again. “At least tell me where you’re going?”

I sighed. “Derek and I are getting hotel rooms for a little while,” I lied. Not wanting him to ask me anymore, I slammed the door shut, quickly hailing a taxi.

I stood at the nurses’ station, filling out charts when Alex came up next to me, grabbing a chart from one of the nurses. “Your patient in 402 is demanding your presence,” I told him.

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “She’s been demanding ridiculous things all day. I’ve got a surgery I need to study for.”

“Oh yeah? Tell you what, I’ll take this patient off your hands if you take my ruptured abscess.”

Alex stopped to think for a second before reaching his hand out. “Deal.” I smiled, eager to switch when suddenly a fist came out of nowhere, hitting Karev in the face. I whipped my head around, horrified to see Mark.

“What are you doing with my wife?” he yelled down at a still slightly dazed Alex.

“Mark! What the hell?” I demanded.

But before Mark could speak, Alex was up and lunging at Mark. Noticing him, I stepped between the two men, stupidly, getting myself tackled into Mark’s chest in the process. The rest of the hospital had finally realized what was going on as they pulled Alex away, Izzie trying to calm him down.

Realizing I was still in my ex-husband's arms, I pulled myself away from him. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Addison told me.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know of all the ways you could’ve found me, that is the last one I would have wanted to hear.”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out,” he begged.

I sighed, “Fine. But after I listen and make a decision, I want you out of my life forever.” Mark looked like he wanted to argue but nodded nonetheless. So I led him to an on-call room for privacy. He smiled upon entering the room. “I remember these from my residency. Or when I’d have a surgery with you at New York Presbyterian,” he flirted, stepping closer to me.

I pressed my hand against his chest, pushing him away. “Don’t. Just say what you need to say.”

He looked disappointed at my rejection but spoke anyways. “First, I want to apologize. What I did was unforgivable and it was just a moment of weakness. I love you, I always have and I always will. These past few months have been hell and everyone refused to tell me where you were.” He paused, waiting for my response but I just quirked an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue. “Look, I want you back. I’ve been wanting you back ever since… well Addison and I… anyways. Please, I can’t do this without you, come home.” He then pulled out my engagement and wedding rings and I noticed for the first time he was still wearing his ring. “You’re still my wife, Y/N Sloan.”

I took a shaky breath. “My name is L/N and the only reason we’re not legally divorced is because I didn’t want you to know where I was. But I guess that doesn’t matter now.”

“Babe, please-”

“Don’t call me babe. I have work I have to do.” I went to move past him but he grabbed my arm again, just like he did all those months ago.

“No, we’re gonna makeup,” he insisted. He pulled me in front of him again, peering down at my face. “God, you’re more beautiful than I remembered.” I remembered lines like that from early on in our relationship. They used to make me melt… I shook off any feelings from the past, trying to steel myself against my husband’s charms that would make me putty in his hand in an instant. His hand slipped under my jaw, cupping my face, fitting perfectly just like back when I thought we were made for each other. And then his lips found mine and I was gone.

I felt his other arm slip around my waist and he pulled me closer to him. Feeling my resolve slip, I brought my hands to my husband’s face and neck, kissing him back. Noticing my reciprocity, Mark lifted me slightly, bringing me to the bed. He laid me down gently, careful to not put too much weight on me. With practiced hands, he went straight for my scrub pants. Neither of us were strangers to hookups in on-call rooms. Mark and Derek had their own practice back in New York but he’d have to come to my hospital for the ORs and he’d always drag me into the on-call rooms before surgery and sometimes after.

I made no moves to undress him, a quiet voice in my mind screaming for me to stop but I ignored it. Mark didn’t seem to mind though as he pulled down his own pants and moved his lips down to my neck. It took everything in me not to moan as he hit the parts of my body that made my toes curl.

He groaned when he finally sheathed himself inside of me. “Oh my god, you’re so perfect,” he groaned, gripping the sheets next to my head. “You haven’t been with anyone else?”

“No,” I answered, fighting out pleased sounds. Truthfully I was still in love with Mark and I didn’t want to hurt him, especially the way he had hurt me. Even though I had proclaimed that we were over, sleeping with someone else would still feel like cheating. “Have you?”

“No, no of course not. It’s you, it’s always been you, it will always be you,” he professed, continuing to thrust in and out of me. He was cupping my face again and trying to look deeply into my eyes but I refused to meet his gaze. Instead just looking up at the bunk above us, focusing on making it seem like I wasn’t enjoying this. Fortunately, he gave me the decency of nuzzling his face into my neck so I wouldn’t have to avoid his gaze.

He continued pumping in and out deep, and slowly, his fingers nestled against my clit, moving in the way he knew I liked. I was gone in about two minutes, embarrassment creeping up my neck and face at being at Mark’s mercy. I could feel him smirk into my throat as he chased his own release, finishing shortly after me.

The second he did, I was pushing him off of me, hiking my pants back up around my hips. “Babe,” he protested as I headed for the door.

“I have work to do,” I explained, not even sparing him a glance. “And don’t call me babe.”

I rushed out of the on-call room, intent on finding Alex’s whiny patient but I ran into Derek first. “Y/N, I heard about Mark, are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Told him to fuck off,” I rushed out.

“Why’d he punch Karev?”

“I think he thought we were flirting or something. I don’t know, didn’t bother to ask.” I tried to move past him but the sound of the door I just came through opening, stopped me.

“Mark,” I heard Derek say in shock. He looked between Mark and I and the on-call room we just came out of. Mark was wearing a proud smirk and I knew it was over for my decency. So in Derek’s surprise, I took the opportunity to slip away.

“Y/N Sloan, to the nurses’ station. Dr. Y/N Sloan to the nurses’ station,” the intercoms rang out across the dining quad.

“Are you the Sloan they’ve been calling all day?” Cristina asked as she approached the table along with Meredith, Izzie, and George. “I didn’t even know they still used these intercoms. Why don’t they just page you?”

I groaned, looking at Izzie, who was there to witness Mark’s outburst. “Because my ex-husband is trying to humiliate me into talking to him.”

“Wait, you’re married?” George sputtered out.

“Ex,” I clarified.

“But he called you his wife?” Izzie clarified. “Who is he? What happened? Why’d he punch Alex?”

I sighed, not wanting to tell them. But I knew they’d never stop asking and soon enough my business would be all over the hospital, might as well get control of the story. “Fine. That guy? That’s my husband, Mark Sloan. We’re not legally divorced but we will be soon.”

“Wait, you’re married to Derek’s ex-best friend?” Meredith asked.

“You’re married to plastic surgery god Mark Sloan?” Cristina asked at the same time.

“Yes, and yes. Mark and I met while I was finishing up in undergrad. We got married after two years and then three years later Derek finds him in bed with Addison. So I kind of fled New York in the middle of the night with Derek. Mark is here now because Addison finally told him where I am in order to beg for me to go back. As for the punch, I don’t know, probably thought Alex and I were flirting or something. He was always a little possessive.” George scoffed a little at that.

“So you’re married to McSteamy?” Izzie mused. “I did not see that coming.”

I set down my fork. “Did you just call my cheating husband ‘McSteamy?’”

“Yeah she did,” Cristina jumped in. “Can’t say I blame her, or Addison, or you.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “So I guess I’m still just as pathetic as you?” I smiled at Meredith.

“Welcome to the club of getting screwed over by attendings.”

“He’s not an attending, he’s leaving as soon as possible,” I insisted. The rest of them stared at me. “What?”

“You know that lionitis patient? Dr. Sloan offered his services. The Chief offered him head of plastics on the spot and he took it. Said he wanted to be close to his wife, which I now realize is you,” George explained.

I stared at him with wide eyes. “No, no he is not staying here,” I seethed. Standing up, I began to storm towards the surgical floor’s nurses’ station, knowing that’s where he’d be.

I stormed up to the nurses’ station, finding Mark speaking with the Chief. “Mark, stop paging me!”

“Then don’t fuck me and immediately walk away,” he countered.

My eyes widened, shocked at his words. I glanced over at Dr. Webber, blood rushing to my face, mortified. He choked a little, excusing himself. “What the hell was that?” I demanded in a whisper yell. “First you punch one of my friends and now this?”

“What? God forbid people know that a man has sex with his wife?” I shushed him again. “And I can’t defend my wife either?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m not your wife.”

“Yes you are, neither of us have signed divorce papers.”

“Okay fine, but not for long. I’m going to see a lawyer when I’m done with work so you may as well get used to not being married anymore.”

“I can’t call you my wife, or babe, or your legal name. What should I call you?”

“Nothing, leave me alone. Tell the chief you can’t stay.” I whirled around, intent to walk away when Mark called after me.

“I won’t sign them.” I stopped dead in my tracks. Turning around, I looked at him. “I won’t let one mistake end our marriage.”

“It wasn’t one mistake. Are you saying you accidentally went to the Shepherds’ house? Accidentally started taking your clothes off? Accidentally took of Addison’s? And then your only mistake was to sleep with her? No, you made a hundred choices to cheat on me. So please Mark, give me mercy and leave me with a shred of decency to sign the papers and then leave. Do you know how much you’ve humiliated me?”

“Just give me three months. Three months to win you back. If you still hate me, I’ll sign the papers and go back to New York.”

“No.”

“Come on, you wanna throw away 5 years in one night? Three months.”

I sighed. “One date.”

“Two months.”

“A week.”

“A month.”

“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “One month.”

Mark smiled victoriously, “A month.”

It was about 3 am and I had just wrapped up on an emergency heart surgery. I was the last resident to leave so I had the locker room completely to myself. At least, I did until I heard the door swing open. Assuming it was just some other exhausted resident I didn’t bother to turn around until I felt familiar arms wrap around my waist. I turned my head slightly, my cheek brushing against Mark’s lips. “You were amazing in that surgery,” he murmured.

“Thanks,” I dismissed, continuing to sort through my bag.

“You really are such a gifted surgeon. You know what specialty you want yet? You’ve got the face and skill for plastics.”

“You know this is the residents’ lounge, right?” I changed the subject. “Attendings’ is down the hall.”

“I like this one better. It has you in it.” I rolled my eyes at that pickup line. “So, I was thinking you and I could get dinner together. Catch up. Get late night takeout from whatever was open like we used to.” I had to admit, I had missed those late night takeout sessions… and Mark. The worst part was that I missed my husband.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I dismissed, twisting out of his arms.

“Y/N, our deal only works if you give me a fair shot.”

I sighed again, admittedly he was right. “Fine, we can get dinner, or I guess really early breakfast.”

Mark smirked victoriously again. “One of the other residents told me about this 24 hour place that has sandwiches.”

Mark opened the door to his hotel room, letting me step in. It was lavish, Mark having never shied away from the finer things in life. Mark stepped towards the desk, setting down the bag of sandwiches and sitting in the chair. Leaving me to take a seat, cross-legged on the bed. He handed me my sandwich that I eagerly opened, having not eaten anything in 6 hours. “So what’ve you been up to the last few months?”

“Work,” I answered bluntly. It was an honest and complete answer. I had to restart my second year of residency when I moved so I was barely above the bottom of the surgical food chain. “And all the residents in my year were already cliquey so my only friends are interns.”

“Richard told me you run with the girl Derek fell in love with.”

“Yeah, Meredith Grey. Now I’m the other girl who got screwed over by an attending,” I teased lightly.

He chuckled embarrassedly. “Yeah, well, sorry about that.”

“You know, when I first found out, I couldn’t wait to hear you grovel. But you’ve apologized to me so many times it’s like nails on a chalk board.”

“Sor-” Mark began but he pursed his lips when he saw my expression. “So that guy I punched? What’s up with him?”

“Beyond being a sometimes decent coworker? Nothing. But you should apologize to him, for me. He wants to go into plastics and I think you punching him threw a wrench into that plan. And as long as he’s not still pissed at you, I think he’d love to learn from you.”

“You’re going awfully out of your way for the guy that is ‘sometimes a decent coworker.’”

I sent Mark a tired look. “Are you actually going there right now?”

“I guess I don’t have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to this,” he said shyly, realizing his mistake.

“Ya think?” I asked sarcastically. “So what’ve you been doing?”

“Well when you first left I stopped working for a while. I poured everything into finding you… and admittedly a bottle. I was a mess, I couldn’t eat or sleep. All I really did was drink and beg for people to tell me where you were. But after like a month I finally gave up and went back to working. I did nothing but work for 4 months. Then… Addison called, said she was in Seattle with you and Derek and I was on the next flight here. I had to fly economy because there were no first class seats available,” he said with disgust.

“Oh the horror,” I laughed.

We fell into a comfortable silence and it felt almost like back when we were still happily married. The silence was first broken by my yawn since I had now been up for 20 hours. “I miss you,” Mark admitted. “I miss your smile, your laugh, your kindness. I miss how cute you are when you’re tired. How you used to come home and collapse into bed with me. I miss your cooking and how you said it was the next best thing to surgery.” He scooted his chair closer so he could grab my hands which had been sitting limply in my lap. “I miss your hands,” he kissed them, “and your legs, and your hair, and your eyes, and your nose, and your lips,” he punctuated each body part with a kiss there. But it was finally the kiss on my lips that made me snap out of Mark’s trance.

“No,” I said, pushing away. “Earlier was a moment of weakness, a mistake.”

“Ahah, so sleeping with someone is one mistake?” he beamed. “And a moment of weakness is just that, a moment.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. He had been so sweet and apologetic, now he was trying to get off the hook? “This afternoon wasn’t like you and Addison at all. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew I’d regret it but I chose to anyway. And when I sleep with you I’m the only one getting hurt. I wasn’t cheating.” He looked dejected, realizing I was right and he couldn’t get out of this on a technicality. “I’m going,” I declared, moving to get off the bed.

“Y/N, you have work in two hours and we’re right across the street from the hospital. Sleep here.”

“You’re that eager to get me into your bed?” I scoffed.

“Look, I’ll sleep on the floor if that makes you feel better but I’m not letting you leave.”

“Fine,” I agreed, crawling up to the head of the bed to slip under the covers. Mark grabbed one of the many pillows from the bed, throwing it down onto the floor. As he laid down it dawned on me that he didn’t have a blanket. Feeling bad, I spoke. “Get up here.”

Mark didn’t have to be told twice as he quickly slipped under the sheets. But as soon as he did, I was turned the other way, refusing to acknowledge him further. “Goodnight,” he wished me as he turned off the lamp.

In the morning I woke up the same way I used to, the same way I had been missing for the past 5 months. My head was rested on Mark’s chest, his arms wrapped around me, and his lips murmuring against my ear that it was time to get up. Upon regaining my senses, I jumped out of bed, trying to find my shoes and jacket. Being back in his arms made me realize how much I had missed him but I couldn’t afford to slip back into those old habits.

“So am I just a bed warmer to you?” Mark asked from his spot in bed, watching me get ready. “I mean I’m fine with it if that’s all you’ll give me but I’d just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

I sent him an eyeroll. “No, I just felt bad for you. Thanks for the wakeup, by the way,” I thanked, checking my watch to see I’d be right on time.

“Of course. What else are husbands for?”

I took a breath, not wanting to encourage him. “Bye.”

“I’m actually headed there myself, gonna operate on the lionitis kid. You wanna scrub in?”

“Are you actually trying to buy my love with surgeries?”

“It worked last time,” he laughed. “Well, you were still in school so more like homework answers but it still worked.”

I laughed, dismissively shaking my head, “I’ll see you later.”

Cristina, Alex, and I were waiting around the main nurses’ station, waiting for our assignments for the day. “How’s your face?” I asked Alex.

“Fine, I’ve taken worse,” he answered casually.

“Only reason he’s not mad is because he wants to kiss the plastics god’s ass,” Cristina teased.

“Shut up,” was all he said, offering no other defense for himself.

Fortunately for him Cristina couldn’t prod anymore because Derek was approaching. “You three, you’re assisting with Jake Burton today. Come with me,” he called, barely stopping to talk to us. We all scurried after him as we headed towards his room. Upon entering we found Mark drawing on the kid’s face.

“Dr. Sloan,” Derek interrupted him. “Don’t you think this is unnecessary?”

Mark gave him an annoyed look but before he could say anything, the parents spoke up. “We talked with Dr. Sloan and Jake, we’ve decided we’ll go ahead with the facial reconstruction.”

Derek pursed his lips, annoyed. I knew that about half a year ago Derek wouldn’t have hesitated to jump in on this joint surgery. It’s what their practice had been built on but now Derek was letting his feelings get in the way of patient care. “Fine, doctors,” he looked at the three of us and Mark, “come with me.”

We all shuffled out after him except for Mark who seemed to begrudgingly storm after Derek. “You have no right to undermine me in front of patients like that,” Mark immediately began.

“You’re a guest at this hospital, an unwelcome one at that. You have no right offering surgeries to patients— my patient.”

“Did you already forget that Webber made me Head of Plastics? You’re not the only surgeon with a fancy contract anymore,” Mark shot back.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine, Karev, you’re with Dr. Sloan.”

“Actually I’d like the other Dr. Sloan-” I sent him a glare, “Dr. L/N. The Chief gave me full authority to use whatever resources I need for this surgery.”

“She’s not some tool you get to use. Or something to play with whenever you feel like it. Is that what our marriages were to you? Something you could break when it suited you?”

“Dr. Shepherd!” I interrupted. “I appreciate that you’re trying to defend my honor but I don’t need you to. Besides you really want to do this here?” I gestured to all the people watching us. “Alex, you go with Dr. Sloan, I’ll go find something else to work on,” I dismissed, heading down to the pit.

As I was waiting for the elevator, I saw one of the last people I wanted to interact with. Addison stumbled towards me, looking like she had a squirrel in her pants. “Dr. L/N, I know we’re not exactly on the best of terms right now but I need a consult.” I looked at her, confused. We had worked on a few cases together perfectly civil. “I need a consult,” she clarified.

Catching her inflection and the fact that she was clearly uncomfortable, my mouth formed an O. “I see, c’mon, we’ll go to one of the private exam rooms.”

“Ah thank you,” she sighed in relief.

Upon having Addison in the stirrups and her explanation of her morning walk, I knew exactly what she was suffering from. “Yep, poison oak in probably the worst place you could have it,” I confirmed her suspicions.

She groaned, lying back on the table. “I guess this is karma.”

“You could say so,” I laughed gently. “I’ll get the calamine lotion and don’t worry, you have my discretion.” I grabbed the lotion from a storage closet, retuning to Addison.

“How come you don’t hate me?” she asked as I began to get to work. “Even my own husband, who chose to stay married to me, hates me.”

I sighed, “I don’t know. I did hate you, maybe I still do. But Derek can really hold a grudge so maybe that’s why I look so forgiving in comparison. But I have a hard time hating and turning my back on the people who were my family, even if they hurt me in the worst way possible.”

“I really am sorry. Mark and I, we regret everything.”

“I’m so sick of apologies. Do you know how many times Mark said he was sorry yesterday?”

“I heard he was here. And that he punched one of your friends, Karev.”

“Yeah, always been a bit possessive. Of course that’s painfully ironic now,” I laughed bitterly. “Alright, that’s as much as I can do for you right now. Apply more tonight.”

“Hey,” I heard Mark’s gruff voice gently coax me out of my thoughts. I turned, finding him in scrubs, his surgical gown open and flowing behind him. He always looked so good in scrubs.

“Hey,” I replied. “I heard about Jake. I’m so sorry.” Cristina had told me that the lionitis patient had died almost immediately after Derek had opened his head up. I felt bad for the kid, he had been so excited for a normal face.

He shrugged, taking a seat next to me. He sighed, pulling off his scrub cap. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t give him a sense of normalcy. But I talked to his parents, they said I could still do the surgery post mortem so he could be buried the way he wanted. Wanna help?”

I thought for a second. On one hand I didn’t want to continue to entertain the idea that Mark had a chance with me. On the other I needed to cut so desperately. “Sure, why not?”

He smiled. “Atta girl.”

We went down to the autopsy room in order to do the procedure and I had to admit it felt nice. I used to love performing surgery with Mark. It was always a comfortable silence while we worked together and when we did talk it was easy. Moments like this and memories of moments like this made it so hard to stop loving him. As we worked quietly I really thought for the first time since he came here. I had never really stopped loving him and even though I never wanted to see him again, a small part of me was relieved he tried so hard to find me and now he’s fighting for me.

By the time Jake’s parents came down to see him I was an emotional wreck. Seeing them grieve for their son made me burst. “I’m sorry,” I choked, stepping into a back room.

Mark was beside me in a second, closing the door for privacy. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, a distressed look on his face. I just crossed my arms, looking at the floor, trying to force down my emotions. I wanted to be strong enough to not tell him how I felt but I felt his finger underneath my chin. He pulled my face up to meet his concerned eyes. “I can’t help you if you won’t tell me.”

I swallowed harshly, unwilling to tell him. “I miss you,” I relented. “I miss us. I am haunted by you. I didn’t even realize I still loved you until you showed up. But it hurts. It hurts to love and miss you because you hurt me.” I could feel the tears slipping down my face and my throat straining against the sobs. “You hurt me so bad, Mark, and now I can’t trust you. I used to say that cheating is it, I’d never be able to forgive cheating but the worst part is that I want to forgive you. And I can’t forgive you and love you and still have any self respect.”

“C’mere,” Mark sighed, pulling me into a hug. I broke down, sobbing into his chest. “Sleeping with Addison was a mistake, one I fully own up to and take responsibility for. And I’m gonna tell you this not because I want you to feel bad or I think you should have any of the blame but the reason I did it was because I wanted you to notice me. You were at the hospital all the time and I knew then, and know now, that that wasn’t your choice. I guess it was just hard for me to see you be independent because it felt like you were so dependent on me for so long and I liked that you needed me. And I’m sorry for trying to hold you back and for hurting you in order to hold you back but please, let me help you grow and succeed now. That’s all I want in the world.”

“Promise not to hurt me again,” I demanded.

“I promise. You have my full permission to cut off my testicles if I do.”

“Okay,” I laughed. “I’m in, Mark. I’m in it to make our marriage work.” I tilted my head up to look at him as I spoke.

“Thank you,” he beamed in relief. “Thank you,” he repeated in a relieved whisper.

Masterlist

#mark sloan x reader #mark sloan #greys anatomy #greys anatomy x reader #mark #sloan #sloan x reader

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afeelgoodblog · 2 years ago

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The Best News of Last Week - April 3, 2023

Kentucky Legalizes Medical Marijuana in Bipartisan Vote After Decade of Failed Attempts

The state of Kentucky has legalized the use of medical marijuana. The bill received final passage on Thursday. Democratic Gov. Andy Beshear signed it into law Friday morning after a decade of failed attempts in the state legislature.

The news makes Kentucky at least the 38th state in the U.S. to legalize medical marijuana.

Now Indiana is surrounded by weed states. The encirclement is complete 😂

2. The Maryland House of Delegates voted Saturday to approve the Trans Health Equity Act

The Maryland House of Delegates voted Saturday to approve the Trans Health Equity Act — a bill that just a year ago disappeared from the chamber’s agenda ahead of a floor vote.

The bill would require Maryland Medicaid, beginning on Jan. 1, 2024, to provide coverage for additional gender-affirming treatments, which are currently disallowed in the state’s plan but commonly covered by private insurance. The expanded treatments include hormone therapy, hair alteration, voice therapy, physical alterations to the body, and fertility preservation.

3. FDA approves over-the-counter Narcan. Here's what it means

The approved nasal spray is the best-known form of naloxone. It can reverse overdoses of opioids, including street drugs such as heroin and fentanyl and prescription versions including oxycodone.

Making naloxone available more widely is seen as a key strategy to control the nationwide overdose crisis. Effects begin within two minutes when given intravenously, and within five minutes when injected into a muscle. The medicine can also be administered by spraying it into a person's nose.

4. Boston expands tuition-free community college program to all residents

Boston has expanded its tuition-free community college program to include all city residents regardless of age, income or immigration status.

Starting this fall, any city resident will be eligible to pursue an associate’s degree or certificate at one of six partnering local institutions without paying to attend. The program also includes a $250 stipend for incidental expenses each semester for up to three years, and up to $2,500 of debt relief for students whose account balances are keeping them from re-enrolling.

5. First cheetah cubs born in India since extinction 70 years ago

India has welcomed the birth of four cheetah cubs - more than 70 years after the animals were declared officially extinct there.India's environment minister announced the good news, calling it a "momentous event".

The country has been trying to reintroduce the big cats for decades, and last year brought eight cheetahs over from Namibia as part of the plan. Another 12 cheetahs were brought to India from South Africa last month.

6. BBC education show in Afghanistan helps children banned from school

The BBC has launched a new education programme for children in Afghanistan who are banned from school.It is aimed at children aged 11 to 16, including girls whose secondary education has been stopped by the ruling Taliban.

The weekly programme is called Dars, which means lesson in Dari and Pashto, Afghanistan's official languages. It is hosted by BBC Afghan female journalists who were evacuated from Kabul during the 2021 Taliban takeover.

Each new weekly half-hour episode of Dars will air four times a day, Saturday to Friday, on the newly launched BBC News Afghanistan channel.

7. A Trans Creator Has Raised Over 1.5 Million for Trans Healthcare on TikTok Live

Transgender TikTokers are celebrating Trans Day of Visibility by raising over $1.5 million for gender-affirming care around the world.

Mercury Stardust — a DIY TikToker and trans advocate who calls herself the “Trans Handy Ma’am” — raised $120,000 last year in a livestream for the mutual aid nonprofit Point of Pride, which maintains funds for surgeries, hormone therapy, and free binders and gaffs. This year, Stardust and cohost Jory, a.k.a. AlluringSkull, set themselves a goal of raising $1 million in a planned 30-hour live stream…and then smashed that milestone less than six hours after starting the stream Thursday evening.

----

I have started a Youtube channel with wholesome videos I can find on the internet. Check it out :)

That's it for this week :)

This newsletter will always be free. If you liked this post you can support me with a small kofi donation:

Buy me a coffee ❤️

Also don’t forget to reblog

#best news of last week

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conceptualsurgery · 21 days ago

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The Importance of Continuous Learning in Surgery: Staying Ahead in a Dynamic Field

Continuous learning is not just helpful but necessary for surgery residents and established surgeons to be adept at their craft. In the ever-evolving world of medicine, very few specialities require continuous learning as much as surgery does.

The Imperative of Ongoing Education

Technological Advances:

Surgery is always evolving. From robotics to extended reality-assisted procedures, finding new surgical technology can be as important as learning new ways of dealing with injury. Robotic-assisted surgery, for instance, has made many procedures take on the face of greater precision and decreased invasiveness.

Enhancing Patient Outcomes:

With medical science becoming more extensive, surgical techniques are also evolving day by day. Day-to-day learning for surgeons directly corresponds to better patient care, thus treatment effects with fewer complications.

Professional Development:

An individual in a general surgery residency or an emerging Surgery Residency Program must continue learning, which will become a foundation for professional development. The best general surgery residency programs appear to nurture individuals who take pleasure in lifelong learning.

Adapting to Health Care Changes:

The nature of the healthcare environment is continually evolving. Ongoing learning benefits surgeons by keeping them informed about updated policies, ethical issues, and new models of health care delivery for patients.

Maintaining Certification:

Almost all surgical specialities require continuing education for re-certification. Continuous learning ensures that a surgeon satisfies the needs while at the same time upgrading his ability.

Changing Faces:

As diseases evolve and the demographics of patients change, a surgeon would have to be changed. This is possible only through continuous learning.

Implementation of Continuous Learning

Attend conferences and workshops: Regular Participation keeps you updated with latest developments.

Online learning: Take advantage of webinars, online courses, or even virtual reality surgery training modules.

Read regularly: keep updated on the latest in surgical journals and publications.

Mentorship: being mentored can guide one and teach lots of learning.

Educate Others: It clarifies things to you better while teaching residents or junior colleagues.

Engage in Research: Research projects keep one abreast with developments and changes in technology used in surgeries.

Why choose Conceptual Surgery?

Conceptual Surgery is a path in the continuing surgical education landscape. Here, all of the surgery residents and practising surgeons can raise their knowledge and skills during their professional lives with HQ video lectures by experienced faculty, clinical cases & presentations exemplifying real-world scenarios and mentorship programs exclusive to them. From residency in general surgery to a professional surgeon, Conceptual Surgery support is tailored to your educational needs, furthered by its expert customer support. It is not only a teaching platform but a partner for achieving surgical excellence.

Conclusion

Continuous learning is the drive towards excellence, innovation, and patient care during an ever-changing and evolving surgery discipline. From a resident in general surgery to an experienced surgeon, lifelong learning has placed you at the forefront of your profession. With continuous education, you are investing in your future as well as the future of healthcare and your patients' well-being. Embrace every opportunity to learn, grow, and excel in your surgery program and beyond!

#surgery residents #Surgery Residency Program #best general surgery residency programs #residency in general surgery #resident in general surgery #best fellowships after general surgery #best surgery residency in india #career after MS General Surgery #Conceptual surgery #eConceptual #fellowship after general surgery #fellowship after surgery residency #fellowship courses after ms general surgery #fellowship courses after ms general surgery in india #fellowship options after general surgery #fellowships after general surgery in india #fellowships after ms general surgery in india #general surgery postgraduate training #general surgery residency #general surgery residency india #General Surgery Residency Program #surgery fellowship in india #surgery fellowships #surgery residency #surgery residency india #surgery residency training program #surgery resident #surgery residents course

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conceptualorthopedics01 · 9 days ago

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Enhancing Your Skills: A Guide for Orthopedics Residents

Orthopedics surgery residents face a lot in their journey with time. Staying updated and improving skills would always be important. The new kid on the block would therefore be Conceptual Orthopedics powered by eConceptual, coming specifically designed for orthopedics surgeon residency training. Orthopedic Skills Upgrade

A modern orthopedics resident can improve expertise by following the following avenues.

1)Video lectures delivered by the experienced examiners. 2)Demonstrations of the clinical case. 3)Interactive programs from mentorship. 4)Complete examination preparation.

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usetheeauthor · 2 years ago

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I Still Get Jealous (MDNI +18)

• Possessive!Boyfriend!Arisu Ryohei x Sub!Reader

Summary: Arisu doesn’t like the idea of you spending time with mentor and friend, Chishiya, who’s assisting you on your PhD dissertation. He develops a possessive attitude which prompts you to prove your loyalty to him.

A/N: Thank you again, @amortentiaz for the request! I’m so glad Arisu’s getting some love! This is a spicy one with a fluffy, happy ending. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 3.2k+

Warnings: jealous!Arisu, angst, fluff, smut, sub/dom dynamics, daddy kink, graphic language, slight!tipsy/drunk Arisu, traffic light bdsm system, spanking, hair pulling, biting, markings/hickies, finger sucking, light degradation kink, brief nipple play, creampie, breeding kink, dacryphilia, orgasm denial/delay, p in v (unprotected), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, sex positions (full nelson, doggystyle, reverse cowgirl), lots of pet names (sugar, prince, baby and so on), fluffy aftercare/happy ending

They say there is no greater glory than love, nor any greater punishment than jealousy. Arisu’s love for you results in the consequence that he loathes seeing you with any other man aside from him.

It’s not like he’s unreasonable. He’s fine if you have guys friends…just not guys like Chishiya. It just wasn’t a fair fight. Chishiya’s really smart, a doctor, AND—the kicker— he was handsome.

And, sure, Arisu felt as if he had ‘2 out of 3’ of those things listed but what he felt really set himself apart from Chishiya was how cool Chishiya was. He didn’t have to try. Women and even men are naturally drawn to him just based on first impressions alone. Meanwhile, Arisu was an unsociable loser who would rather play video games for hours on end than strike up a conversation with a stranger.

Why did you have to choose Chishiya of all people to help you with your dissertation? And now you’re in a residency program working in close quarters with him, too?!

Arisu could see it now. He paces back and forth in the apartment the two of you shared creating hypothetical scenarios.

What if….One day, you and Chishiya are working in a room together when the two of you ‘accidentally’ touch hands. Next thing you know, the two of you are making out and ripping each other’s clothes off in a room meant for a patient needing heart surgery!

He shakes off that silly imagination. No! You wouldn’t possibly do something like that to him. You love him. You wouldn’t just cheat on him but what if….you broke up with him instead?! That way you wouldn’t feel guilty for being with Chishiya instead.

Arisu bangs his head against the island table in the kitchen when he decides to call his friends over for some drinks and very much needed advice.

“You should just tell her how you feel,” Chota begins. “You’d be surprised to recognize what you discover about yourself when you speak about your feelings with her. Shibuki and I are going strong because she taught me how to be more open.”

“No offense, Chota, but that’s pussy advice,” Karube remarks. “Whenever my girl does something I don’t like, I lay down the law. I put my foot down,” He slams his beer on the table for dramatic effect. “Works every time.”

“Is that so? Because last time I checked, she made you cry that one time she threatened to leave you. Didn’t see any laws being laid down.” Chota chuckles.

“Up yours, man.” Karube bites.

“You guys aren’t helping me feel any better,” Arisu groans. “The girl of my dreams is slipping away as we speak. For all we know, Chishiya’s already asking for her hand in marriage.”

“You could always try rebounding if she does dump you. What about Usagi?”

“No way! She’s only a friend. Y/n’s all I ever wanted. I’ve imagined my future and she’s always in it. I won’t let her go.” Arisu says, determinedly.

Chota pats his back. “Then you’ve gotta fight for that future, brother.”

Arisu nods, a lot more confident in his decision. With another shot of hard liquor, he plans out exactly how he’ll approach the situation with you soon as you step through the door.

—————

You turn the key in the door of your apartment and the first thing you’re met with is empty bottles of liquor. Arisu is sprawled out on the couch, asleep.

You smile, shaking your head, knowing that he probably was hanging out with his best friends. Removing your heels, you tiptoe over to him. Crouching down on your knees beside him, you place kisses all over his face until his eyes flutter open.

You soothe his hair, whispering a greeting. “Hello, my sleeping prince.”

Instead of being met with a smile, you were given a blank expression. “Hey.” He says, dryly, speech slurred.

“I’m sorry? Did I do something wrong?”

He sits up. “Where have you been? It’s late.”

“It’s 6:00 noon,” You giggle. “And you know I’m getting some help from Chishiya with my paper. It’s like 300 pages. I’m dying.”

“Chishiya, Chishiya. Seems like he’s all you ever talk about now,” Arisu chides. “Does he even know we’re together?”

“Where is this coming from, love?” You say, rubbing his arms with your soft, patient hands.

“You’re mine! Okay? You belong to me. We’re supposed to be happy and in love. I know I’m not this lady killer like Chishiya but I know that I can love you better.”

“Ryohei…baby,” You say, shaking your head in disappointment. “I am yours. You don’t have to compare yourself in any way to Chishiya. I don’t see him at all in the way I see you. You tilt my world off its axis whenever I’m near you. Even after two years together, I still get butterflies.”

“So you won’t leave me for him?”

“Never! You’re my sweet prince,” Still on your knees before him, you pry his legs apart to place yourself in between them. Leaning over his clothed cock, you lick a long stripe on the crotch area of his pants. “I love and serve you and you alone.”

He strokes your hair. “I wanna mark all over your body. That way when he sees them, he’ll know I’m the one responsible.”

“Please do, my prince.” You moan out.

He leans forward, capturing your lips and slips his tongue down your throat. Your fingers entangle in his dark locs, tugging him down to you when you felt like he was trying to pull away.

His hand collects your hair in a ponytail, pulling your lips away from his. “You don’t think I’ll let you off that easily, do you? I’ve been planning a punishment for you.”

“But I’ve been good.” You pout.

“Don’t pretend like you weren’t liking the attention from him? Like you weren’t trying to make me jealous,” He yanks at your hair again causing you to whine. “You like when I get like this, don’t you?”

You whine out again, squeezing your thighs together to suppress the throbbing between them.

He yanks your hair once more, growling. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, I fucking love it when you punish me. Please fuck me.” You sounded absolutely wrecked and he hadn’t even begun yet.

“It’s gonna take a lot more begging than that to get what you want, sugar,” He lets go of your hair, patting his thighs. “Lay yourself across my thigh.”

You comply, lifting off your feet to crawl into his lap. Your plump ass perched up high enough for his hands to indulge.

“You remember your colors in case we need to stop, do you?” He asks while kneading your plush globes in his hands, marveling at its perfection.

You nod. “Green is a ‘yes’, yellow for ‘slow down’, and red is ‘stop’.”

“Good girl.” He purrs. Then, he pulls your panties to the side just enough to dip his longest finger into your sopping pussy.

You moan, clutching the couch cushion. “Fuck! That’s so good.”

“I don’t want to hear you.” He pulls out the glistening finger, shoving it into your mouth for you to suck on. With his other free hand, he slips two longer fingers into your core and pumps away.

You swirl your tongue around his finger, tasting yourself on it. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as his fingers deliciously flicked against a soft trigger within you. Your muffled moans get louder.

“You’re so loud. Quiet!” Pulling the finger from your mouth, he slaps the hand over your mouth. It’s clamped tight enough to assure your sounds aren’t heard. Of course, the action would also affect your breathing but somehow the lack of oxygen heightened pleasure to the point of euphoria.

You could hear your wet pussy squelch around his fingers, juices trickling down your inner thighs, onto the couch, and his khaki pants.

His erection pokes against your belly and, with you fucking back against his fingers, it begins to increase in its size. He licks his lips, lust splayed on his features while he watches you rut desperately against his fingers.

“You look like you want to cum, sugar?” He asks, mockingly.

You nod frantically, bouncing back against his fingers with rigorous intent. He’d long removed his hand from your mouth, you could’ve spoken up but with his skillful fingers buried so deep into you that was too much a challenge.

“That’s it, love. Use my fingers to get yourself off. So pathetic and desperate for it. Bet, you’re wishing it was my cock instead.”

His fingers do the famous ‘come hither’ motion within you and your legs begin to shake. You were on the edge, a stream of drool pouring from your tongue as you pant out like a dog. Your eyes cross and just as you’re within reach of the big one, he slips out of you.

You sob and scream your frustrations into the couch cushion, biting down on the fabric to keep from hurting yourself or him.

He sucks your arousal off his fingers, looking at you from the corner of his eyes while you glare at him. When he finishes them clean off, he smirks at you. “Sorry. But that was punishment #1.”

“#1? As in…there’s more?” Your voice trembling in fear.

“Uh-huh. And we’re going straight into your next punishment,” He strikes your asscheeks hard enough for you to feel it ripple. You hiss at the sting. “You’ve got 4 more of that to go, sugar. Count for me, please.”

Smack after smack, you’d count and your hungry cunt would throb in need in anticipation of his assault. You needed to be fucked badly. You’ll remain obedient. Anything to get him to finally give in.

He lands the final smack, the hardest of bunch. Your ass is as red as he hoped for. He soothes it, massaging each globe carefully.

“For your last punishment, I want you to suck me off. If you’re good for it, I’ll make you cum on my cock right after.”

You love how filthy Arisu’s mouth gets whenever he’s in the act with you. It’s a complete parallel to his usual shy and reserved demeanor. You slide off his lap enough so that you’re laying on your stomach over the couch seat, your hands in his lap. You fondled with the buckle of his belt then his zipper.

With your hand down his pants, you carefully pull him free. The thick two-toned length was hard to wrap your whole hand around the base. You flick a tongue against the pink head, collecting the salty precum on your tongue.

He moans, moving your hair out of the way so he can watch you take himself in your eager mouth. You lower your mouth over him, swallowing around him while he hits the back of your throat. Whatever your mouth couldn’t get to, your free hand would make up for it.

His head is thrown back against the couch overhead, enjoying the warmth of your mouth. You slurp up the excess saliva from his cock, spitting it back onto the base again and jerking him off.

“Ohh, babygirl,” Arisu groans. “Your mouth feels like heaven. I almost feel bad for the bastard never getting the chance to have you.”

You moan, sending the vibrations straight to his cock. You could suck his dick all day and never get tired. You’ve actually done that before while he played his video games.

“Shiiit! I’m gonna cum down your little throat.” He whines, thrusting forcefully with his hand cupping the back of your head. Then, he stills, cock rested deep enough to cut off your air supply as his warm essence shoots down your throat. You play with his heavy balls in the process, prolonging his orgasm.

“Fuckk yess.” He groans, feeling the way the muscles in your throat flex around him, swallowing every drop.

When you remove your mouth from his twitching member, he immediately places his lips on yours not caring to taste himself on your tongue as he sucked at it. You straddle him and sit directly over his stirring cock, drenched clothed core rubbing against the hardness.

He stands on his feet and carries you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. It surprises you every day the strength he possesses in such a slender body.

“We’re taking this to the bedroom so I can fuck what’s mine properly.” He says.

“Please, daddy.” You plead, head rolling back when he sucks at your neck as he leads you to the bedroom.

He throws you onto the mattress. “Take those clothes off. Then, stay on your hands and knees.”

You follow his orders, pulling off your clothes so fast you nearly tore at them in impatience. You are on your hands and knees, back facing away from the headboard.

His clothes are off and you’re given a moment to admire his physique. He does the same, circling around you as if to decide what else he planned on doing to you.

Arisu disappears from your vision and you feel the mattress dip behind you. You feel the back of his knees resting against your calves, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. Arisu was laid on his back, your ass just inches from his jutting hard cock.

“I want you to fuck back into me like this. Show me how badly you want me.” He said it in a way that he’d hoped to sound authoritative but instead it came out sounding like a whine. He couldn’t help his desperation for you, especially when you were this dripping wet for him.

Shimmying back so that your glistening pussy rested over his cock, you rubbed yourself back and forth on it. You reach a hand down beneath you, grabbing his cock to tease your entrance before you let it slip in.

The two of you groan simultaneously at the feeling of you stretching around him. “Oh, fuck! Ryohei…daddy please.”

“Go on,” He smacks your ass. “Ride me.”

You mewl, taking him in all the way so that your ass rests on his pelvic area. You start off rocking slowly against him. You can hear the familiar squish of his cock penetrating you deeper and deeper with each in and out.

Gripping the sheets beneath you, you use the leverage to slam down harder against him. He lets out a strangled cry that cuts abruptly and you look over your shoulder to see that he’s biting his lips.

“Please let me hear you, daddy. I want to know that I’m doing good for you.” You moan, sounding already so fucked out.

“You’re doing amazing, sugar. Love seeing your ass from this view. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” He praises.

“Only yours.” You added, going fucking back into his even harder and the sounds of your plump ass colliding into him is thunderous.

“Shit, I can’t take it anymore.” He says. You barely register what he said until he sits up and brings your back to his chest, ass in his lap in reverse cowgirl.

Arisu takes your ankles in his hands, spreading your legs wide open. He plants both his feet against the mattress, jackhammering into your greedy wet hole.

“Oh, god!” You squeak, bringing your hand back to cup the back of his neck.

He takes this as a sign to litter your neck with hickies and you scream and writhe against him. He was too good. Expert level as if it were an actual game and the objective was to make you dumb on his cock.

Letting one ankle go, he tweaks a hardened nipple between his fingers as he fucks up into you. You begin to feel the familiar pressure build within you again and he senses this with how hard you clenched around him.

He drops his hand down between your legs rubbing your sensitive nub back and forth. “You’re getting so tight,” He whispers in your ear, teasingly. “You gonna cum?”

You felt a sense of panic rush through you. The mocking tone in his voice can’t be good. Was he really thinking of pulling away again? You began to cry real tears, nodding your head. “I’m gonna cum! Please let me cum, daddy. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll be yours forever. Don’t punish me!”

“Aww, sugar, I wasn’t going to take this away from you,” He pounds harder and rubs tight circles on your clit. “You… deserve it.”

Arisu punctuates the end of the sentence with two hard thrusts that hit against your g-spot. Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes widening as you squirt your juices all over.

This surprises him as well, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He throws you onto your stomach and pummels away from above you. “Gonna fill up your tight little pussy. I’m gonna get you pregnant and full so everyone knows I did that to you.”

You both knew you were on birth control because neither of you could afford to have a child at the moment. Nonetheless, you begged him to fill you with his seed and scream out to the top of your lungs how you’ll carry his babies.

A few dizzying thrusts has you biting into the sheets and without you even expecting it, you cum for the second time that night. Arisu cums a split second after you, moaning shakily as if he’s on the verge of sobbing. He trembles from above you, jerky thrusts into your core to give you all of his cum. He stills then collapses, weight on top of you and cock still buried deep as you shook against each other.

“Ryohei?” You pant softly.

“Mhm.” He says, unable to form a sentence.

“How are you this good?” You giggle in a euphoric state.

“I’d say it’s the liquid courage. I am still a little tipsy.” He admits with a chuckle.

“No, baby…that was all you. I fucking love you.”

“I love you more.” He retorts, breathlessly.

“Not as much as me.”

“Not possible,” He laughs, kissing your shoulder before pulling off and out of you. You whine at the loss, feeling cold without his warmth. You try reaching for him. “I’ll be back, love. Just gotta get a washcloth to clean you up…and some fresh sheets.” He says looking down at the wet puddle.

Arisu returns with a washcloth and fresh sheets as promised. He carefully cleans the sticky mess between your legs, planting a kiss on your thigh when he’s complete. While he lays down the new sheet, you find one of his hoodies to dress yourself in taking in his scent around you.

Curling into his naked body as the big spoon, you littered kisses on his shoulders. Then, a realization hit you to address your feelings, too. “I get kind of jealous, too, ya know.”

“You do? He asks, dumbfounded, turning on his side to look you in your eyes

“Yeah. I mean, whenever I see you with any other girl like Usagi, Heiya, or Kuina…I feel so petty. They’re my friends, too, and I know they wouldn’t hurt me that way. But they’re all so beautiful and—“

He cuts you off, kissing you passionately. “I belong to you just as much as the other way around. Remember that. No one gets me like you.”

You rest your foreheads against one another, cradling each other’s hands. You stare into each other’s eyes and listen to the sound of the rainfall pitter-patter against your window in time with the beating of your hearts.

Arisu has his friends to thank for giving such great advice.

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possibilistfanfiction · 10 months ago

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surgeons au - when they get engaged?

[@gohandinhand hbd pt2 lol // ao3]

‘chief superion?’ dr. alvarez says, poking her head into your office and looking more frazzled than you expect and much more frazzled than you ever want to see any of your doctors, especially your head of ortho. ‘do you, uh — do you have a moment?’

you never have a moment, but you close your computer and nod, motion for her to come sit.

‘actually, i… can you come with me? it’s for…’ she sighs. ‘please?’

it worries you, instantly, because this would never happen if things were business as usual, if everything was running smoothly. ‘what’s going on, dr. alvarez?’

she hesitates. ‘it’s ava,’ she finally admits after a few seconds.

you’ve spent decades perfecting the art of looking calm when you are very much not, but this tests you immediately, the jolt of panic that shoots through your body. when silva had joined your residency program, he had frustrated you beyond measure: you thought her unserious, impatient, selfish — the only reason you had any patience to begin with is because jillian had recommended her so warmly after ava’s time as her doctoral candidate. but you were so, so wrong — about her work ethic, her overwhelming compassion, her deep bravery and even deeper capacity for love. beatrice, from even before she had matched with your hospital, had been your favorite in a way that you trusted her to, one day, take over your program and continue to make sure it’s the best in the world — even better, you’re certain. she’s unshakably calm under pressure, good with patients and colleagues alike, a skilled surgeon and even more skilled teacher.

but ava is special in a way that feels too close to even say — your mentee, the incredible leader of next generation of neurosurgeons and researchers: miracle after miracle, delivered with a bravado and a kindness that’s impossible to teach.

so you nod, stand and grab your cane with the steadiest hands you can manage. camila leads you, silently and quickly, clearly also trying to act calm, to the nearest staff bathroom to the OR, and you open the door and then see ava sitting on the small bench there, slumped over a little to one side. normally, ava never stops moving, always fidgeting, gesturing, greeting you with a wave and a daily attempt to get you to come up with a secret handshake with her. but now, ava’s face is set in a pained grimace and her body is noticeably still.

‘hey, dr. s,’ they say, trying to smile, but it doesn’t work.

‘hello, dr. silva.’ you feel caught in no-man’s land for a moment, with ava so still and camila hovering worriedly.

‘so, i, uh. well, first of all, my surgery went great. secondly, please don’t tell bea until we know what’s going on.’

‘ava —‘

‘— i can’t move.’

you don’t have any comforting thing to say: you’ve seen ava’s scans over the years, especially when her back has flared before; you know about how jillian is always working on more effective injections, better tech. you hear about it when you visit her lab for business, and you also hear about it over quiet dinners at either of your houses, with the lights low and her voice taking on a sadder timbre than the determined, professional clip when she’s talking only of science, not of love too.

so instead you nod and walk toward ava, crouch down with only a few clicks in your knee — you’ll take it. ‘numbness? tingling?’

‘i —‘ ava’s voice shakes and she takes a deep breath, steadies herself. ‘i can’t feel anything. it’s — there’s just nothing.’

you go through a few more questions and she answers with what you can tell is honesty: she’d been in pain lately but nothing out of the ordinary, especially with the winter weather rolling in; there wasn’t anything concerning before operating, or else she certainly would’ve postponed; after she finished — eight hours of concentrating and microscopic movements later — when she sat down, things degraded quickly from there.

‘i had my intern page cam,’ they say, ‘because i just — bea is going to panic and go into worst-case-scenario mode, and i don’t know if it actually is worst-case-scenario or just, you know, a passionate flare-up.’

all of you can guess that this is not a normal flare, but, ‘okay. let’s get an mri then. but i don’t want to move you without a brace and a backboard.’

ava pouts.

‘you know i can’t justify just helping you transfer to a chair right now.’

‘yeah, but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.’

you place a tender hand on the top of her head and she leans into it, just for a moment: a comfort, quiet and small and, you imagine, as much as she can accept right now.

‘alright,’ ava says, sniffling. ‘let’s get this show on the road.’

you would never take away ava’s autonomy, especially not now, but when you show her the scans — the worst worst-case-scenario results — she bites her bottom lip, clearly trying not to cry, and you say, ‘can i page dr. choi for you?’

ava looks toward the ceiling in frustration, in fear, in anger, in grief. ‘yeah,’ she says eventually. ‘yeah, i want her here.’

it’s a risky surgery, one that even you feel unsure about: if things go wrong, or, really, even if they go right, ava could have worse chronic pain and irreversible paralysis. beatrice accepts those risks steadily when you talk to her privately, when camila is doing one final pre-op update of ava’s vitals, her mouth set in a firm line, jaw clenched tightly.

the risks that shake both of you are much worse: too much blood loss, stroke, a lack of oxygen to the brain. you don’t want to say them, let alone think them about ava, but they both deserve to know, to choose.

but, ‘there’s no other options, are there?’ beatrice says, finally sitting down and putting her head in her hands, running a hand over her hair and then sitting back in the stiff chair, slumped, horrified.

your silence is the only answer she needs, because she’s brilliant and there’s nothing else you can say: you will do everything in your power. she knows that.

‘just — i love him.’

‘i know,’ you tell her. ‘i do too.’

she nods. ‘okay,’ she says, steeling her resolve as she looks to ava’s room. ‘okay.’

‘hey,’ ava says, ‘can you scoot where i can fully see you with this stupid neck brace on?’

even without being able to move, even scared out of her mind, ava glares at you. it makes you want to smile, the fight that sits in her bones.

beatrice sits carefully on the side of ava’s bed fully in her line of sight. ‘what do you need, my love?’

ava smiles softly. you wonder, briefly, if she feels the grief of not being able to touch her partner, always so tactile. ‘don’t pretend this couldn’t end really badly, please.’

‘ava.’

‘bea.’

beatrice frowns, staring down at their linked hands, held tightly even if ava can’t himself.

‘i’ve lived way longer and better than i ever thought i would,’ ava says.

‘and you’ll have plenty of good time left,’ beatrice says, stubborn even still.

‘well, i hope so,’ ava concedes. ‘but i just — i gotta ask you something, just in case.’

beatrice swallows, clearly fighting back tears, and nods.

‘there’s a ring in my tan purse, the one i never use.’

beatrice does start to cry then; she shakes her head.

ava’s smile is so, so sad. ‘i was waiting for, like, the perfect moment or the perfect plan. which you still deserve, but, well.’ she shrugs with her jaw clenched in pain. ‘i can’t get down on one knee right now, but i know you’ll like the ring.’

‘i — i’ve known,’ beatrice admits, which has them both laughing through tears. beatrice dries ava’s cheeks first, then her own.

‘and you didn’t say anything?!’

‘i knew you wanted to ask. also, i was just looking for a spare mint; it didn’t seem fair to ruin your surprise for such a ridiculous reason.’

ava shakes her head. ‘that’s very kind.’ and then, ‘so, what do you say then?’

‘i, um — i have a ring too, in my winter pack.’

ava grins. ‘so that’s a yes?’

‘yes, ava,’ beatrice says, then leans forward to kiss him softly. ‘of course it’s a yes. as soon as you can, i’ll marry you. i’ve wanted to for years.’

‘wow,’ ava says. ‘okay, cool. sweet. it’s a yes from me too, obviously. also — is it a big diamond? family heirloom?’

beatrice laughs, despite it all. ‘i thought a diamond band might suit work better.’

‘hot,’ ava tells her. ‘well, when i wake up, i expect it.’

‘i’ll send lilith to rifle through all our belongings as soon as i can.’

ava sobers. ‘i wish i could feel you.’

beatrice cups ava’s jaw gently, her thumb grazing over her cheek. ‘i’m here.’

‘i love you,’ ava says.

‘i love you so much, ava silva.’ beatrice smiles, watery and terrified and sorrowful and grateful. she kisses ava, who leans her head up as best she can with a neck brace on. ‘in this life.’

ava nods, sniffles, and then looks at you, resolved, determined. ‘let’s do it.’

‘promise me,’ ava says, loopy from the drugs already administered in her IV but not asleep yet, ‘that you’ll take care of her if things don’t work out.’

‘things will work out.’

ava shakes her head. ‘we both know they might not.’

you smooth your hand over ava’s hair. ‘you are both loved beyond measure,’ you say, and ava takes it in.

‘well, try your best not to fuck it up.’

you laugh, and ava grins, and then her eyes flutter closed.

you explain to beatrice — now changed into joggers and a hoodie you’re sure was once ava’s — her alma mater not even close to beatrice’s — since it’s the middle of the night, lilith sitting stiffly beside her — that ava is alive but there were complications: too much blood loss, low oxygen levels. her spine is stabilized and you think — you hope — that part, at least, was successful, but you’re just not really sure if ava will wake up — or, if she does, what her cognitive function will be, who she’ll be.

beatrice takes it, just for a moment, like a physical blow, but then she nods. ‘thank you,’ she says, quiet and polite without fail, but lilith looks on, concerned.

‘we’ll monitor him closely in the neuro icu,’ you say, ‘and hope for the best.’ you don’t think beatrice has prayed in years and years, but there’s a rosary, probably lilith’s, clenched in her hand.

‘okay,’ she says, and follows you quietly there.

even though beatrice is a surgeon, seeing ava hooked up to so many monitors, drains and leads and an oxygen cannula in her nose, seems to give her pause, slightly unsteady on her feet — just for a moment, but enough for you to think nothing of it when you take her in your arms and hug her tight. unlike ava, who is always physically affectionate, beatrice has been reticent for as long as you’ve known her. but she sinks into it this time, letting out a shaky sob while you rub her back, and then steadies herself eventually.

she sits down by ava’s bedside, faithful as always, and brave, and fishes out a box from her pocket, opens it and then slips a beautiful ring onto ava’s left hand. ava’s hands are cold, you know, because you made personally sure that she was comfortably settled in bed; but beatrice just holds steady, brings it to her lips, kisses the cool, still skin there.

she murmurs something — please wake up; please don’t leave me; i love you, you’re not sure.

you’re technically both done with your shift and also behind on so much paperwork, but you settle down at the nurse’s station and watch ava’s vitals as beatrice prays.

jillian brings you breakfast early the next morning, kissing your forehead in a show of affection that you both rarely allow at either of your workplaces. but she loves ava too, for years now, even longer than you, and so she takes you by the hand and leads you into her room. beatrice is asleep on mary’s shoulder, shannon bringing coffee for everyone. there certainly aren’t this many people supposed to be allowed in an icu room, but it doesn’t stop anyone because it doesn’t really matter: whenever a nurse comes in to change a dressing or an iv, you all stay out of the way. it’s quiet, small conversations only. you think ava would probably hate it — the lack of stupid jokes, beatrice’s bright laugh, mary and lilith’s fondness not at all masked by their snark.

you take turns getting beatrice to eat; you sleep lightly. eventually jillian makes you shower, changing out of your scrubs and into comfortable slacks and a soft sweater she’d brought you.

it stays like this for two days: so many people from the hospital dropping by to see how ava’s doing, to drop off flowers, to check in with beatrice too. ava’s kindness is remarkably present even when he’s not fully; being returned tenfold. you don’t even ask or say anything, just make sure that beatrice’s shifts are covered by your other cardio attendings, and so she waits, sentinel.

and then, just as beatrice is about to doze off again, 46 hours after you’d finished surgery, ava groans. beatrice shoots up like she’s not sure it happened, a specter too good to imagine.

‘ava?’ she asks hesitantly.

it seems like a herculean effort, and you wait with bated breath, but then ava fights and opens her eyes. ‘hey bea,’ she says, weak and rough but coherent, aware, sure.

beatrice smiles, immediate tears running down her cheeks. ‘hi.’

ava lifts her left hand — a miracle in itself — an inch or so off the bed, but easy, natural, and sees the ring there, beams. ‘hot.’

beatrice kisses ava’s forehead, her cheeks, her mouth — joy, everywhere.

you walk ava down the aisle, almost a year later — it was slow going, at first, and then more and more progress in physical therapy, beatrice’s steadfast reassurance through even the most frustrating, painful days. but now you’re here, ava smiling at your matching canes.

‘wouldn’t be here without you,’ he says, in his wispy, beautiful white dress and immaculate makeup.

you smile, hug her to you. ‘it’s an honor.’

you walk her down the aisle, steady and easy, both of you, and then watch as she stands, grinning at an already emotional beatrice. visible below her hair that falls just at her jaw, the newest scar along ava’s neck — from your scalpel, as careful and neat as you could — has faded; is still fading; has healed.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #surgeons au #butch bea 🥺🫡#sorry but everything is fine!!!! fluff coming up in the next few prompts! lmao #if there's one thing abt ava tho she WILL make a joke at any time!#i’m an english major idk what’s wrong w ava but who cares this isn’t the new england journal of medicine

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