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pathetic-dumpling · 3 years

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Coming to Terms

Dream has been having a bad day, which has quickly turned into a bad week. Techno and Phil both need to go out and do essential tasks around the tundra, but they can't leave Dream alone either. So... they find a babysitter. words: 5,188 - read on ao3 instead

CW: overstimulation, implied panic attack, unintentional self-harm, referenced abuse

Dream has been having a bad day. Correction, he’s been having a bad week. He’s been caught in a bit of a spiral for the last several days, and the exhaustion from an attempt at healing keeps dragging him down before he can get out. The last thing Techno wants to do is leave Dream alone like this, but he and Phil have already pushed off as many necessary tasks as they can. They need to head out, but they can’t leave Dream alone… So in comes the Syndicate.

They consider a few people. Niki is chosen.

“Look, all you need to do is watch him for a day. We’ll be back by the end of it, and you can leave, alright?”

Niki scrunches her face up, which is, in all honesty, reasonable. She’s one of the people who didn’t want to interact with Dream, but Techno and Phil are running desperately low on options.

“Is there anyone else?” She asks. “What about Puffy? She’s a therapist, right? Wouldn’t she be more equipped for something like this?”

“A, we don’t want more people knowing about Dream than necessary, and she’s already refused to give Dream treatment. B, we don’t trust her to not psychoanalyze Dream when he really doesn’t want to be psychoanalyzed. Plus, we don’t know what kind of domestic issues there are because Dream hasn’t opened up about that part of his life yet.”

Niki winced. “What about Ranboo?”

“Well, you see, Ranboo’s been growing into himself recently,” Phil interjects, beside Techno. “Which is good, by all means, but that also means he’s been embracing that he’s a little bit of a dick sometimes. You’re literally the only person we can think of who can be… pleasant and hold your tongue around Dream.”

“And- and we don’t wanna sound misogynistic,” Techno quickly adds. “This isn’t a ‘the kind woman puts up with the toxic man’ situation; it’s just… Dream is fragile right now, like, really fragile, and we’re pretty sure you’re the only person who has the kind of self-restraint to not break him any more, you know?”

Niki raises a brow but ultimately sighs. “This is your only option?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Phil laughs.

“...alright. I’ll watch him. One day, got it?”

“Oh my gods, thank you so much, Niki.”

So Niki is given keys to the house. Mentally, she prepares for whatever Dream might try. She saw him, briefly, in a Syndicate meeting or two, but only between several layers of fabric and zero spoken words. She doesn’t know what he’s like if he’s grown out of his… nastier habits yet. Techno has done everything in his power to tell the Syndicate that Dream has changed, but none of them have actually seen any change. Niki kind of doubts it, if she’s being honest, but she trusts Techno’s judgment more than anything. She knows Techno wouldn’t lie to her and lead her on like others in the past.

She wakes up the following day when things are still dark. Niki can see her breath, even within the small haven of an underground city warmed by countless fires and lanterns. She throws on her Syndicate cloak, getting ready to head out to the arctic. Hopefully, Techno didn’t want her to do anything with the animals because she definitely wouldn’t be able to stand being outside for that long. When she arrives, Techno thanks her profusely. He pledges to show her around the house and offers a few tips while Phil gets ready for their trip outside.

“Alright.” Techno swings his hands by his sides. Niki has noticed he’s stopped clapping them when he begins to speak. “First things first, Dream hasn’t eaten in, like, three days, so we really need you to try to get him to eat something. His diet has been pretty limited so far, but we left a list of things he’s been able to eat so far on the counter. Try to stay fresh- anything stale makes him throw up, and so does steak. Don’t offer it. We keep apples in a little icebox downstairs because he likes fruit cold. Also, Dream likes himself cold, too. He gets anxious when he’s hot.

“If Dream hides in his room, he’s most likely hiding under his bed. If you need to interact with him during that time, do not try to pull him out. That will scare him and he might bite. Instead, just kind of lay on the floor and face him and just… wait until he’s ready to talk. If you try to push him, he’ll probably just curl up more, and he tends to get really distant for the next day or two when that happens.

“If he asks for something, it means that he needed it about three hours ago and has only now gotten the courage to ask for it. Even if he prefaces it between a lot of ‘only if you want to’ and ‘you don’t have to,’ don’t believe him. We’re trying to teach him that asking for things is good but it’s been a bumpy ride. Also, he’s iffy on touch; I’d say it’s better to not try.”

Techno stops, tapping his lip. “Try not to let him outside without supervision; we haven’t really been able to block off potential hazards yet. Other than that, I think that’s everything. Dream is sleeping right now, but he knows you’ll be here. He might get startled anyway. Try not to stare or anything. It makes him uncomfortable. Just treat him like a nervous cat or something.”

Niki blinks, trying desperately to process all of the information that was just dumped on her. Techno waits patiently as she mentally backtracks and tries to commit everything to vague memory. Nervous cat? That’s what the ruler of the server has turned into?

“Okay… I think I got all of that?” Niki says, hoping she got everything she truly needed down. She knows how awkward things get when she or Techno has to start repeating themselves.

“Cool.” Techno sighs, running a hand through his hair until it gets caught in his braid. “A nervous, injury-prone cat… That’s Dream. Thank you for doing this, really. Dream just started being okay with being in the same room as boiling water, and I think I might have a breakdown if I have to leave to make tea again. This means a lot. Anything you need from us, me or Phil, we’ll be happy to help as soon as we get back.”

Niki nods. “Honestly, I didn’t think this would be on the agenda when I joined the Syndicate, but I’m happy to help you, Techno.”

“Of course.” Techno bows his head. “Of course. We’ll be back as soon as we can. Again, don’t let him… do anything to himself, okay?”

Niki gives another nod and a thumbs up. “You can count on me, Techno.”

Techno gives a strained smile and then, awkwardly, does a slight bow before leaving. His muffled voice filters through the door as he calls out to Phil, and then they head out. Niki takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before sighing as she watches the silhouettes of her friends disappear over the horizon.

Alright. She can do this. She may not like Dream, but she did agree as a part of the Syndicate to… help. This is just for Techno and Phil, to keep them from worrying. To watch Dream and make sure he doesn’t try anything he shouldn’t. Niki could do that. In fact, she was happy to keep the man out of trouble, if it were for Techno’s sake. Now she just needed to find something to do until there was someone to watch.

Niki glances around the house, finding things pleasantly clean. The chests were a bit of a mess, but things weren’t lying all over the place, and it looks like it’s been cleaned recently. It looks like the house has been somewhat baby-proofed, too, which makes a little chuckle bubble in Niki’s throat. They’ve only been housing Dream, and he’s certainly a grown man, isn’t he? What would they need to keep him out of drawers for?

Niki gets to entertaining herself with one of Techno’s many book recommendations, making a tiny home for herself on the couch. She opens the blinds and curtains, letting any sort of light filter in as much as it can. The sun is slow to rise in the arctic, and candlelight can only do so much. Slowly, as the sun rises over the north, Niki finds herself growing more hungry, so she starts making some food. It gets bright soon after that, lighting up the room with the near-blinding rays of the sun. Niki adjusts soon enough, simply happy to have more than enough reading light.

A few hours later, after Niki has already eaten and taken care of her share of the dishes, Dream emerges. The first thing she notices is that he’s completely maskless. Secondly, he looks exhausted to the bone, drowned in a dark green jacket and a black shirt underneath. Loose-fitting pants cover Dream’s legs, almost completely hiding his figure from view. Dream’s eyes are dark, his posture slouched inward, and his hair is messy, long, and frail. He looks unbearably tense. His eyes squint at how bright it is, but he tries to shake it off quickly with a flick of his hands. He does a quick double-take on Niki, eyes darting around the room before relaxing slightly. His attention never leaves her, though. His gaze makes a shiver crawl up Niki’s spine.

“Good morning, Dream!” She says politely because maybe Dream is worse in the mornings.

Dream waves tiredly, and Niki notices his bandaged finger. Something about it looks off until she realizes it’s too short to be normal, missing nearly the entire first section. She wonders how it happened, how she’s never noticed before. Dream takes his bandaged hand, dragging it down his face. He lets out a long sigh, sitting down at the circular table in the kitchen, leaning heavily on it for support. He raises his hands, and although they tremble and shake, Niki recognizes one thing. Dream is signing.

Oh. It looks like Technoblade forgot to mention one thing.

“Oh!” She says quickly, tucking her book into her chest. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know sign language.”

Dream, from the table, raises a brow at her. He raises his hands, signing what Niki can only assume is: you don’t know sign?

“I always meant to learn, but the only people who use it actively on the server are Callahan and….”

Me. Niki can guess that one well enough.

“Yes… you. I’m sorry.”

Dream waves his hand dismissively. He gestures for a pen, which Niki retrieves without much hesitance. She may not like Dream, but she still needs to communicate with him if this day even has a chance at going well. She places the pen and small pad of paper on the table, stepping back quickly. Dream lets out a long breath before beginning to write.

I’ll show you some stuff I probably won’t be able to translate in the moment, Dream writes. Writing looks a little more challenging with the ever-present tremor in Dream’s hands and his shortened finger, but he makes do. He writes down a few simple words: can’t, stop, no, sorry, and shows the signs for each of them. Niki furrows her brow.

“These are all negative responses. What about… ‘yes’?”

Dream struggles to meet Niki’s eyes for a second, looking away almost immediately. He seems borderline uncomfortable. Slowly, he curls his hand into a fist, nodding it forward twice.

“Yes?” Niki asks in conformation.

Yes.

Niki nods, trying to commit this information, like everything else dumped on her today, to memory. Dream drops the pen after that, cradling his hands in his lap. They certainly… don’t stop shaking. Hm. Niki would ask about it, but she doesn’t really want to poke at any boundaries. Dream fiddles with his fingers, beginning to bounce his leg.

“Em-” Niki starts, catching Dream’s attention and picking at the back of her neck awkwardly. “Techno told me that you should probably eat today, right? I made food a few hours ago, but I can make something for you or….”

Dream waves his hands, furiously shaking his head. He scribbles down variants of I’m not hungry, and you don’t have to, which Niki isn’t given a chance to object to. Dream carefully gets up, grabbing the notepad beside him and pushing past Niki. He makes his way over to the couch, plopping himself down and sighing. Niki watches him, unsure of what entirely to do. She knows what Techno told her, but there was only so much that was truly in her power. It didn’t help how dismissive Dream appeared to be with her attempts at offering him food.

This Dream is… new, to say the least. She didn’t know the old Dream outside of what she heard from her peers, but she especially doesn’t know this Dream. Is he better? Does he know that what he’s done is bad? Terrible? Unforgivable, even? Does he regret it at all, or does he just think he’s a victim in all of this?

It takes two more attempts at getting Dream to eat before Niki’s patience starts running a little slim. She’s never had the time to talk to Dream before, but right now, he just seems nothing more than tired. He looks fine, if not a little skinny, maybe a little quiet. For all Niki knows, this could be a ploy, a trick, to live the high life off of Techno’s dedicated care and then run off into the woods. Niki feels a little nasty for thinking this, but what if Dream is just faking this all? What if he’s just playing it up for show and sympathy? To get free protection while his next plan brews quietly in the background? She’s heard about the lengths Dream was willing to go to in the past; what would make this different? She knows how convincing an actor Dream can be, and dedication to a part can take someone a long way.

Well… Now is as good of a time as ever to get a few things off her chest, Niki supposes. If Dream isn’t faking, he’ll have some kind of genuine reaction, and if he is, then, well… Niki can keep her friends from getting used again. It’s a win-win, really.

“You know, you’re very lucky Techno decided to care for you so much,” she says from the kitchen because the distance makes her feel safer. “He didn’t have to do all of this, you know? It’d certainly be easier for him to have ignored your favor. I would’ve.”

From behind, Niki hears a sharp intake of breath, but no objections come. Niki looks behind her at Dream, still sitting on the couch, wide-eyed and staring at her. He swallows, eyes darting to the side like he’s sorting through his thoughts. He gestures at Niki, a sort of go-on movement, so she turns around and continues. “Things like Wilbur, Doomsday, the festival, you played a role in all of those, you know? You’ve been the authority figure of the server for so long. You-- you had control over exile and Tommy and… Everything you’ve done, it’s hurt all of us. It’s- it’s hurt me, and I-”

There’s a loud, distinct sniffle behind Niki. Slowly, she turns to look behind her, finding Dream curled up on the couch. He brings his knees up to his chest, pressing tightly into himself. He’s looking to the side, almost shameful. His shoulders are shaking.

“...Dream?” Niki asks. Maybe this is the genuine reaction she’s looking for.

Dream nods sharply. He looks up, meeting Niki’s eyes, his own glassy and red and wet. His eyes fill with tears, so he quickly hides his face again, pressing it into the arm wrapped around his knee. It feels like he’s forcing himself to keep his gaze on Niki, and that information tastes a little bitter going down Niki’s throat. He lifts his head just enough to meet Niki’s eyes again, folding his hand into a half square and pressing it to his temple. Niki doesn’t know the sign, but she doesn’t need to.

I know, he says. I know.

Dream takes a shuddering breath, fingers dancing across the parts of the body he’s gripping. They speed up and slow down as he filters his thoughts, eventually coming to a standstill. He grabs his notepad with trembling hands, scribbling down something hastily, ripping out the paper, and holding it out for Niki while hiding himself. Nervously, Niki steps forward because the memory of powerful and quick and ruthless Dream has never left her, even when presented with the sight of the trembling man before her.

I know, the paper says. I want to listen. But not today. I can’t today.

Niki swallows. She looks at Dream, trembling and crumbling in on himself, and nods. “Okay,” she says. “I understand. I… I’m sorry. That was out of line, I...”

Dream nods quickly and sharply. His fingers tap quickly against his leg. Niki feels awkward, standing in front of Dream like this as he fidgets and shuffles. She puts a little distance between the two of them, retreating back to the kitchen. The house is plunged into a small period of unrelenting silence. Niki wished that she knew at least a little sign because maybe things wouldn’t be so awkward. Dream doesn’t look all too thrilled to be talking with her either way, though, so perhaps it was wishful thinking. He’s running a hand through his hair, pausing to tug on the long strands every few seconds.

Niki frowns. Has Techno told her anything about how to handle something like this? Sorting through her memory quickly tells Niki that, no, Techno hadn’t spilled anything helpful for a time like this. He’d asked Niki to make sure Dream didn’t do anything to himself, but certainly, he wasn’t that much of a danger to his own wellbeing, right? Techno had mentioned some other useful things, but he seems to have forgotten some details Niki would’ve loved to have. She sighs.

Niki supposes that the best she can do right now is swallow her words and try to be helpfully polite. To, in kinder words, simply watch Dream. She tried to ask him about some things here or there but mostly ended up talking at Dream instead of with him. That’s okay, Niki didn’t mind. She didn’t really go into today expecting some sort of riveting conversation, and the one she’d already tried to have ended oh-so-splendidly.

Suddenly, the sound of Dream’s stomach growling caught her attention. Niki looked back from her chunk of dough that she’d started kneading to fill the silence at Dream, who was caught like a deer in headlights. He looked to her quickly before starting off on what Niki thinks is a garbled bundle of excuses about how he wasn’t hungry again. Niki laughs kindly, making Dream’s hands pause mid-air.

“I’ll go get you an apple or something,” she says, running her hands under the sink to wash off the extra flour. “Techno showed me where everything was before you woke up. I’ll be back in just a second. Stay put, okay?”

Dream nods, hiding his face and giving a small thumbs up. The trip downstairs is quick, only interrupted by a skulk of three foxes Techno apparently kept in his basement. The box with cooled fruit was propped up, probably to keep the foxes out of it, Niki mused, if the scratch marks on the side were anything to go off of. Dream was sitting in virtually the exact same position Niki had left him in, nervously glancing at her when she approached. At least he’s good at following directions, Niki noted. She held out the apple, waited a long few seconds for Dream to take it, then set it on the table next to him. Dream’s eyes watched her with rapt attention, almost like he was afraid she was suddenly going to turn around and attack him.

After that little experience, Niki went back to kneading dough as pleasantly as she could. She couldn’t explain the small smile that crept onto her lips when the inevitable crunch of an apple being eaten hit her ears after minutes of silence. Niki chalks it up to the fact that Techno would be happy that Dream ate and tries to move on from it as passively as she can.

Shuffling fills the corners of the house between the clanging of various pans and Niki’s humming. Dream had come a little closer, sitting stiffly at the counter and watching Niki work after throwing his apple core into Carl’s stable from the window. He keeps the notepad close to him, bouncing the pen back and forth against the solid surface. Niki greets him and starts explaining what she’s doing, to which Dream nods along. She tries to suggest Dream join the baking whenever she can, moving pans around and into the sink when they’ve become dirty. Dream’s eyes follow her hands as she gestures around, eyebrows twitching downward every few seconds. Every semi-loud sound makes his eyes blink in surprise and something else Niki can’t quite place. It goes on like this for about half an hour, with various levels of participation coming from Dream.

Eventually, he begins to look more and more lost in thought, distracted, even borderline frustrated, eventually dropping his pen roughly and tapping his pointer finger against the counter. His other hand goes to his hair, pulling, as a small whimper tumbled into the air. Dream’s nail makes a quick tap, tap, tap that sounds borderline panicky, only increasing in speed. His shoulders are tense, and because Niki is so used to providing comfort to those unscarred by touch, she reached out for his shoulder.

Dream jerks away as soon as her hand meets his shoulder, a small, distressed noise leaving his throat. He stumbles onto shaky legs, looking almost as if Niki burned him. Niki, in return, pulled her hand back to her chest. Dream holds up a finger, a small give me a moment, before distancing himself. He hangs his head and holds up his hands, shaking them out almost violently as he paces the living room.

“Dream?” Niki begins to ask, watching the man pace and shake his hands. What was he doing? What was going on?

Her thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sharp yelp when Dream suddenly turns and pushes over a chair. This is still Dream at the end of the day, and once upon a time, he was terrifying and dangerous. Niki clamps her hands down over her mouth to keep any further sound from escaping when it makes Dream flinch. His breath picks up in shakiness and speed until a loud crash makes the house go silent.

Dream’s head whips around, finding a pile of shattered glass on the floor next to the chair he flipped over and the table it apparently took on its way down. He stares at it for a good, long second, the breath stolen from his lungs. A quick, strangled sob leaves Dream’s mouth as he drops to his knees, scrambling for the glass pieces. Hot, fat tears fill the corners of Dream’s eyes. His hands are shaking so much it makes the glass pieces he picks up clink against each other. Almost desperately, Dream tries to wipe away the tears, and Techno’s worry about Dream hurting himself suddenly becomes much more apparent as the world catches up to Niki.

“Oh- Dream, no, we- let’s not-” Niki drops to her knees beside Dream, holding her hands out gently. “Let’s not do that, okay? You’ve got glass in your hands.”

Dream doesn’t stop. The tears and sobs only spilling harder and faster. Niki doesn’t think this can get any worse, so she slowly puts her hand over Dream’s, grasping it and pulling it away gently. There’s no resistance, even as Dream digs his chin into his chest. Pricks of blood are already forming on scratches left on Dream’s cheeks from the glass, quickly mixing with tears. Dream starts signing something frantically, and Niki doesn’t know what he’s saying, but, oh, she wishes she did.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Niki tries. “Are you worried Techno will be angry?”

Dream nods, choking on another sob.

“I’m sure he won’t be!” Niki presents her hands, cupped, to Dream again. “He really cares about you, alright? He won’t be mad over a broken cup, okay?”

Dream makes a strangled sound that almost sounds like a “but” as he snaps his head up to face Niki.

“No. No buts.” Niki pushes her hands forward pointedly. “I’ll clean up the glass, okay? I think you should go lay down on your bed and rest. Calm down a little, alright? I’m supposed to be here to help, and Techno would be upset if you hurt yourself. I’ll let you know when everything’s been taken care of.”

Shakily, Dream brings his free hand up to his face, fingers touching the newly formed cuts as his lips trace Niki’s words. His eyes go wide, pressing down on the tiny bubbles of blood forming. He drops the glass into Niki’s hands, staggering up with a sharp breath. He mutters something too faint for Niki to catch before disappearing into his room. Niki picks up the rest of the glass, her hands thankfully much steadier than Dream’s own despite what just happened. Periodically, she glances up to Dream’s room, watching, waiting.

She isn’t quite sure what she’s waiting for, maybe for him to come bursting out, angry at being coddled, or perhaps for him to come slinking back with shaky hands and hot tears and try to help again. Whatever it is, it never comes.

Carefully, Niki spends a few minutes making sure no shards had spread out over the house or that she misses any finite pieces. After her searches come back clean, Niki moves to the knocked-over furniture. She rights the table and chair Dream had knocked over, huffing out a small sigh of relief. The living room was clean again, thankfully. She hopes Techno won’t be mad. That would just make her look bad when Dream was so clearly distressed over the whole ordeal.

At the thought of Dream, Niki makes her way over to his room. She knocks, the wood giving way and opening up into the small room. Dream lays on his bed, curled up into a ball, and appears to be fast asleep. The blankets look almost deliberately untouched around him. Niki steps into the dark room, noting the closed blinds on his window. Everything is kept down to nearly a depressing minimum, the only trace of life in the room being the messy, yet unmoved, sheets and a single flowerpot laying on a chest.

It would be better to let him sleep, Niki thinks. The room is kept cold, and Niki doesn’t want Dream to get sick, so she decides to drape the untouched sheets over Dream’s sleeping form. As she pulls up the blankets around the sleeping body, though, Dreams’ eyes flutter open, and his body tenses. He turns his head to watch her silently.

“I’ve cleaned up the glass, so the living room is good to be in again,” Niki offers. She pulls her hands away, crouching down so she doesn’t loom over Dream. “I was going to let you sleep; sorry for waking you.”

Dream shrugs, not really looking like he had been sleeping in the first place. He sits up, glancing at the sheets pooling around him. Dream glances around, scrubbing at his face and swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Despite Niki’s protests, he gets up and shuffles his way into the living room. His eyes fall on the now empty space on the table, sucking in a soft, shuddering breath. Niki comes to stand beside him.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s okay. I’m not angry, and they won’t be either, okay?”

Dream’s eyes flit from the table down to Niki. His body, slouched forward, leans a little closer to her as he nods silently. He looks back to the room, eyes squinting. He shoves his hands in his pockets and produces the pen and paper he’d kept on him; scribbling down, can you close the blinds? Niki smiles. She needs to encourage him to ask for things, too.

“Sure.”

Dream makes a home for himself on the couch. He eyes Niki’s book and they make idle chatter over it, Niki sitting across from him in the chair. They slide the notepad between each other on the table, both patiently waiting for the other to read or write before responding. Dream apologizes for the outburst. He said that he was feeling overwhelmed and hasn’t had to deal with something like that in a long time. The apology was accepted. Niki even manages to get a small laugh out of Dream, one that tugs gently on his throat and makes his chest stutter. It’s nice to see Dream’s smile, the way it cracks his face as he chuckles to himself. Somehow, it’s the most pride she’s felt in a while.

When Niki gets up to make herself some food, Dream takes her up on the offer to eat together. The list Techno left with what Dream could eat suddenly became very useful when preparing dinner. He doesn’t eat much and apologizes about it, for the hassle he must be causing, but it was what Niki was expecting anyway. Dream goes to sleep soon after that, pausing at his door and sending a quick, earnest thank you to Niki. She smiles.

“You’re welcome, Dream.”

Techno wasn’t mad, and neither was Phil. They seemed more focused on the fact that Dream actually ate a decently sized meal for the first time that week than anything else. Dream, who was hovering in the back, made sure to send Niki off with a little wave.

If she feels a little protective over him during the next Syndicate meeting, that was only her business. If she spoke in a hushed tone and kept an eye on him so he wouldn’t get into trouble, it was just general caution mixed with a bit of care. When she brought the loaves of bread with her on a visit, they were for Techno, Phil, and Dream, but she couldn’t deny the tiny bit of excitement that bloomed in her chest when Phil suggested Dream learn how to bake to help with tremors and outbursts.

If she let Dream into her stash or secret recipes for pies and bread, it stayed between them. Dream promised to keep them secret, and Niki didn’t doubt him. He smiled at her one day, growing nicely into the freckles that had started to speckle his skin, while his third batch of experimental dough was baking. Niki couldn’t help but smile back.

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helnjk · 4 years

Text

By Its Cover - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: fred knows he’s quick to act and to judge, but what happens when it backfires with the pretty healer he meets at st. mungo’s?

Warnings: malfoy!reader, mentions of hospitals, mentions of light injury, being estranged from one’s family, found family, adoption, insecurity

A/N: this is for @theweasleysredhair‘s 9k writing challenge! my prompt was ‘i love you, but stop talking.’ so sorry i took this long to churn it out, but i hope you like it 💕

prompt is in bold

–

St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was always full of healers rushing through the halls and patients with the strangest afflictions.

Y/N Malfoy donned her healer robes and walked confidently through one of the wards, on her way to deal with her newest patient. Some sort of accidental explosion. According to the file, he was a male, 23 years old, and had a history of finding himself in the emergency wing of St. Mungo’s. It was Y/N’s first time treating him, though.

Pushing aside one of the curtains to the correct cubicle, she was met with the sight of a long and lanky redheaded man, lying on the hospital bed with patches of purple across his neck and exposed chest. Other than the fact that his skin was discolored, he seemed perfectly okay.

His eyes sparkled with mischief and amusement as the nurse on duty made sure he was comfortable. Clearly, he was in no pain at all, or if he was, it wasn’t enough to stop him from sending flirty comments in her direction. Used to this kind of behaviour, the nurse simply rolled her eyes playfully and continued her routine checks.

“Ah,” she noted when she saw Y/N walk in, “I’ll leave you in the very capable hands of Healer Malfoy now, alright?”

With a soft pat on the patient’s non-purple shoulder, she gave Y/N a tentative smile and nod before exiting the small cubicle and closing the curtains on her way out.

Y/N, however, didn’t miss the way her patient’s shoulders tensed as he heard her last name. Her heart sank slightly as she saw the playfulness in his eyes dim, but she refused to let her feelings get the better of her professionalism. After all, she was quite used to this treatment from patients and colleagues alike.

“Hello mister,” she paused to check her clipboard, “Weasley. Now what can I help you with today? Could you tell me exactly what happened with the potion you were brewing?”

“Added the wrong amount of aconite,” came his curt reply.

“Right,” she said, noting it down on his file, “And what other ingredients were mixed in the potion?”

“Look, I’m completely fine. Things like this happen all the time at my workplace, the patches of color will fade away eventually. I just need you to sign the release form.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed and her smile slipped into a small frown. This was going to be a tough one. She had recognized his last name and she knew he was a pureblood. There was no doubt in her mind that the moment he realized she was a Malfoy, he created an image in his mind that was the furthest thing from what she truly was.

With a soft sigh, she prepared herself to deal with the resistance that would come from her reply, “I’m sorry Mr. Weasley, but I can’t let you go until–”

“Healer Malfoy, there you are!” said a little girl who was dressed in her own small hospital gown as she burst through the curtains.

For a moment, both adults in the small space gaped at her as if she were a ghost.

“Mattie!” Y/N said, surprised. “What are you doing all the way here, silly? You’re meant to be resting after the round of potions you took this afternoon.”

Currently preoccupied by her small ward, Healer Malfoy didn’t notice the way Fred Weasley was staring at her. As if she had grown a second head.

“But I missed you,” whined Mattie, wrapping her arms around one of Y/N’s legs. “You said you’d visit again to read books!”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips, “Yes, but I said I’d come read books after my rounds and after you napped! Nurse Thomas must be looking all over for you.”

The pout that the small child sent up at her nearly made it past Y/N’s strongholds.

“But I want to stay with you, Healer Malfoy!” she whined, “Please!”

With a bright eyed, stubborn toddler clutching onto her legs, she couldn’t possibly say no to the request. However, her keen awareness of the other critical pair of eyes on her gave her pause.

“Oh alright,” she caved, taking a moment to glance back at her patient, “But you’ve got to be good while I just finish up with my patient here okay? He’s gotten into a bit of an accident and I have to help him out. We don’t usually have purple skin, right?”

“Right!”

For the first time since she barged into the room, Mattie seemed to notice the redhead on the hospital bed.

“How’ve you got purple skin?” she asked confidently. Fred’s eyebrows shot up towards his forehead at the direct question before a large grin spread across his face.

Working at Wheezes gave him loads of experience when it came to curious little kids, and he was quick with his response, “I was making a secret experiment and it exploded all over me!”

His tone was conspiratorial and just enough for the little girl to move away from her position clutching Y/N’s legs and to inch closer to him.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley was just about to tell me what other ingredients were in his secret experiment so that I can help put his skin back to normal.”

Fortunately for the healer, Mattie’s presence aided in softening the redhead’s attitude towards her. With the little girl firing question after question for Fred to answer, he was much more calm and receptive to whatever Y/N needed to ask or know.

Unknown to her, the reason why Fred was more compliant this time around was because he was busy trying to alter the image he had conjured in his head about what a Malfoy was, and the scene he had just witnessed. He hadn’t known any Malfoy to be as patient, considerate, and overall just kind to someone who was not their own. Yet here she was, perfectly balancing a needy-child and a patient who judged her too quickly.

“Alright Mr. Weasley, I’m just going to pop out to get you the right potions to take for this and I’ve got to get Ms. Mattie over here back to her room,” said Y/N, “I’ll be right back.”

“Bye Mr. Weasel! I hope you get to finish your secret experiment!” Mattie waved enthusiastically, turning from her position holding Y/N’s hand to get one last look at the redhead.

When Y/N returned, Fred was sitting quietly on the bed, twirling his wand absentmindedly. The sound of her pushing back the curtains drew his eyes upwards towards her figure, and he sent her a tentative smile.

Well that’s an improvement, she thought, returning the gesture slightly.

“Alright,” she said, placing a box down next to him, “Here are the potions to take, there are two, you’ll have to drink them twice a day for the next three to four days or so. Your skin should return to normal by then.”

Y/N watched as her patient’s eyes darted from the box of potions to her face then down to his hands. He seemed hesitant now, a far cry from the ease and calm that he donned the first time she saw him.

Still, her job was done. She had equipped him with what he needed to heal and she had no jurisdiction over his temperament.

“If you don’t have any questions–”

“How are you related to Draco Malfoy?”

Fred’s question came out of the blue and it took Y/N off guard. Her heart clenched at the mention of her younger brother, the one she hadn’t seen in more than a decade. Still, the question is much too complicated and there’s so much history behind it that he doesn’t know about, she shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she began, clutching her clipboard close to her body, “But that is a very personal question and I don’t like to share that kind of information with patients.”

She noticed him visibly swallow, “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Weasley. Don’t forget to take your potions, twice a day, for the next four days.”

Y/N’s back is turned and she’s about to pull the curtain of the cubicle aside when she hears a faint, “Wait.”

When she turned on her heel to face the redhead once more, there’s a sheepish expression on his face. He was rubbing the back of his neck slowly and the tips of his ears were tinged pink, “I-er, I’m sorry about how cold I was being towards you earlier. Is there a chance that I can make a better impression over coffee or something?”

–

It’s a little awkward, Y/N had to admit. They were seated across from each other, clutching warm cups of coffee and taking sips periodically.

She didn’t know what made her agree to meet Fred on one of her days off. Maybe it was the sincerity in his request, how he seemed eager to make a plan and see her outside her place of work. Or maybe it was her curiosity getting the better of her, knowing that he was a pureblood and what her father would call a blood traitor.

Y/N had spent so many years hiding away from this part of wizard society, she didn’t know if she wanted to integrate herself back in.

“So, er,” Fred started, “Where’d you go to school? I don’t think I’ve seen you around Hogwarts, and you seem to be around my age.”

That elicited a small smile from Y/N, “I went to Beauxbatons actually. Went all six years then got a healer apprenticeship at Mungo’s.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “Do you know Fleur then? Fleur Delacour? Or well, she’s Fleur Weasley now.”

“Of course I know Fleur,” she gushed, “We shared a dorm. One of the sweetest and strongest witches I know.”

At long last they had a common denominator. After the stilted small talk was out of the way, conversation between them flowed freely.

Fred, Y/N found out, was wit and cleverness all rolled up into a 6 foot frame. He seemed to have a sarcastic comeback to every quip she made. They made laughs tumble from her mouth and stitches appear in her sides. It was every bit exhilarating and charming.

Y/N, Fred found out, was absolutely brilliant. Her mind seemed to be running a mile a minute but somehow she was able to put all of her thoughts into carefully worded sentences. He was caught off guard every time she let out a laugh, entranced by the effortless beauty that radiated from her smile.

Sooner than they had liked, their coffee cups were emptied and they were both glancing at the clock.

“I, uh, I really enjoyed myself, Fred.” Y/N smiled and gathered her things.

He sent her a grin in reply, “Me too.”

She could tell he was hesitant to say something, but she knew not to pry too much. Instead, she simply hoisted her bag over her shoulder.

The next day, Y/N walked into St. Mungo’s to find Fred nervously shuffling around clutching a cup of coffee in his hand. When he caught sight of her, a smile stretched across his lips and he silently placed the warm cup in her hand. Without saying a word, he pressed a kiss on her cheek, blushed profusely, and waved.

He had gone through the Floo before Y/N could say anything. When she took a sip, she was pleasantly surprised to note that it had been her exact order from the previous day.

Slowly, Fred Weasley inched his way into Healer Malfoy’s daily routine. It didn’t surprise her anymore when she would spot him making small talk with the receptionist as she clocked into work.

Like the first day, the first thing he would do was to hand her the cup of coffee. Some days he would stay and chat for a few minutes before he had to get to work, others he would have to leave right away. What always stayed constant, though, was the kiss on the cheek he would give her before leaving.

–

“Alright, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.” Y/N sipped her drink.

She and Fred had gone out to dinner after weeks of him showing up at Mungo’s every morning. When he finally had the guts to ask her out, she took one look at him before saying ‘took you long enough.’

He had been the perfect gentleman the whole time, showing up at her flat with a bundle of flowers in hand, opening doors for her, asking if she was comfortable. Y/N found it extremely endearing to see the cheeky, witty wizard trying so hard to make sure she had a good time.

Fred sent her a confused look, “What?”

“How I’m related to Draco,” she explained, “Remember? You asked me the first day we met.”

“Right. Right, yeah.”

Despite him trying to appear as if his curiosity hadn’t peaked, Y/N could see the spark of recognition in his eyes. She knew it was time to finally tell him everything.

She took a deep breath, “He’s my brother.”

Fred, who was in the process of taking a sip of his own drink, choked on the liquid and began to violently cough.

“I-what?!” he exclaimed, “How are you Draco Malfoy’s sister? How did I not know he had a sister?”

The absolute disbelief in her boyfriend’s face elicited a small laugh from Y/N, “Because I never went to Hogwarts. Ran away from home when I was pretty young, ended up living with Andy.”

“Andy…” Fred mumbled, mulling over the information, “You mean Andromeda? Tonks?”

She nodded, “Yeah. My house was actually a safe house during the last bit of the war, I don’t know if you remember.”

“Godric now I feel like even more of a huge dumbass for treating you the way I did when I first heard your last name.”

Y/N’s hand reached over the table and squeezed Fred’s. Her warm smile and kind eyes told him everything he needed to know. He had definitely apologized enough for how quickly he had judged her when she was introduced to him at Mungo’s. She knew that he knew who she really was, and not what her family name meant.

–

Fred watched as his girlfriend paced nervously. He wasn’t even quite sure that she knew what she was doing, but as she strode across the room, her bottom lip remained caught under her teeth and her hands were fidgeting with the bottom of her shirt.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed after letting her walk back and forth for long enough, “You’ve got to calm down.”

“I’m totally calm!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to face him. The volume of her statement startled the both of them and Fred sent her a look that definitely said I-told-you-so.

She sat down next to her boyfriend with a huff and instead of the sarcastic comment she expected to come from him, he took her hand in his. The two of them said nothing as their eyes concentrated on the way he traced her small and nimble fingers with his larger ones.

“You ready to tell me what’s wrong?” Fred asked eventually.

At Y/N’s hesitation, he squeezed her hand gently. She gave in with a sigh, “I’m just nervous about meeting your family. I know you’ve talked to them about me, but they don’t exactly know I’m a Malfoy.”

Before Fred could even open his mouth to reply, she cut him off, “And I know, I know. Your family is wonderful and the complete opposite of mine. I’m just so used to bad first introductions–”

“Y/N, I love you, but stop talking.”

Y/N let out a nervous laugh at what Fred said, despite how unnerved she felt at the sensation of the bubbles of anxiety in her chest. Still, she couldn’t help but feel the tips of her cheeks and the back of her neck heat up as well. One would think after months of dating the cheeky redhead she would be used to his ways, but hearing him say ‘I love you’ always made her heart flutter.

Fred shifted, his body turning to face her fully, “Love, my mom would adore you even if you were a hippogriff with anger issues. The fact that you make me happy and that you love me is more than enough for her. You are more than enough.”

Then, he wrapped her up in his arms, her cheek resting against his chest. She could hear the rhythmic beat of his heart, and in the calming presence of her boyfriend, Y/N was able to settle some of her nerves. She could do this.

“I love you so much, Freddie.”

“I love you more.”

–

“Mum, this is my girlfriend Y/N. Y/N Malfoy.”

Y/N knew that to have raised seven children and look great doing it, Molly Weasley had to have been some sort of super hero. What she didn’t know, and what she wasn’t prepared for, was how tightly the Weasley matriarch hugged and how gently she dragged her hand up and down backs as she was doing so.

It nearly made Y/N cry.

“Oh I am so happy to meet you dear,” gushed Molly once she eased away from the hug.

“Me too, Mrs. Weasley,” Y/N smiled, “Fred’s been keeping me from you and your wonderful cooking for much too long.”

“Please dear, call me Molly.”

Before she could respond, Y/N was ushered into the kitchen where all of the food was waiting for her under a few well placed preservation charms. Y/N turned to look back at where Fred was standing, and he had a smug smile on his face.

“Told you so,” he mouthed at her.

–

add yourself to my taglist!

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Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy @oldschoolkiddo @gcdric @turtletaylor98 @secret-obsessions @weaslxyss @serendiipty @kaminewman @fredandgeorgearemine5 @maddoxsmythologicalmind

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years

Note

*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐ��ᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔꏂ ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

#creepypasta #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter headcanons #helenotisheadcanons #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #tw mental/emotional abuse #tw mention of disregarding someone's gender

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dracowars · 4 years

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Hiii can I request an imagine where Draco and the reader are old now and they work together (healers,maybe) but Draco used to bully her and be rude to her during Hogwarts years but she’s like this total badass now and he apologizes to her .

heal me | draco malfoy

pairing: healer!draco x healer!reader

word count: 2,7k

summary: where y/n has to work with the person she hates the most

a/n: paragraphs completely written in italics are flashbacks! i hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: angst, cursing, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

"Don't worry. Tomorrow everything will be fine again", you explain to the younger patient and his parents while taking notes on your clipboard. "Thank you for helping our son", his parents thank you before you get up and leave the room with them, the little boy already much happier than a few minutes ago when his parents brought him here.

At the reception they wave their goodbyes at you and you have a short chat with one of the assistants before you make your way to the laboratory where you have to get new Skele-Gro. Entering the laboratory you immediately go to one of the cupboards in which all kinds of potions and medicines are located and search for the Skele-Gro.

At first you do not even notice that you are not alone in the room and quietly swear to yourself when you just cannot find the medicine. A low chuckle sounds to your right and you flinch in shock, turning around only to see the one person you actually prefer to avoid at all times.

Draco Malfoy.

The son of one of the richest and most influential pure-blood families, the Malfoys, the biggest asshole at Hogwarts back then and now unfortunarely also your colleague at the St.-Mungo-Hospital.

On your first day here you were so happy to finally be able to fulfill your dream and leave your past behind you. You were finally away from Hogwarts, the place where so many terrible things happened and you could finally live a normal wizard's life. At least that is what you thought.

Until the very moment you ran into Draco on your first day. And not as a patient, no. He was also dressed in the green smock with the sewn on crest of a crossed wand and bone. The one boy that made your life at Hogwarts a living hell every single day was also working as a healer now. Just like you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn away from him and continue searching for your potion, ignoring the fact that you have to endure his presence. "Can I somehow help you?", his voice suddenly sounds close to your ear and you let out a startled gasp. "No, thank you. I do not need your help. I can manage this quite well on my own", you hiss at him, giving him a look that could kill. His hands shoot up in the air in defense and he takes a step back. "Okay, okay! No need to snap at me like that", he claims offendedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Nevertheless you notice his gaze on you while you keep searching around in the cupboard and you begin to feel really uncomfortable. Why can't he just leave you alone? You have been working at the hospital together for several months and until now you kept your conversations to a certain extent only if it was related to your work. But otherwise you do not exchange a word with him. Because you do not need or want to.

"What?", you scoff, turning around to face him again, a slick smirk on his lips that makes the blood in your veins boil. "Nothing", he shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his gaze focused on you. "Do you not have anything better to do than annoy me, Malfoy? Do you not need to rescue some lifes?", you confront him, keeping your posture as you give him your most annoyed expression.

"I have my break right now."

"And then you sneak around in the laboratory?"

"Yeah."

"What about you leave me alone and let me do my work?"

"What about no?"

"Merlin, you are annoying the hell out of me right now", you sigh while massaging your temples with your fingertips.

"Sorry that I am alive", he replys with a shake of his head, causing you to stop what you are doing in an instant. Alive.

"You are a shame to Hogwarts, Y/L/N", his evil laugh rings in your ears as he forces you onto the ground, your books all over the cold floor. His goons kick them further through the corridor, destroying most of the books that your family spent so much money on. Quickly you get up on your feet again, your knees shaking in fear.

"Leave me alone!", you furiously yell at them which is why they pause for a moment before starting to laugh out loud. "Why are you even on this school if you are not even able to protect yourself, Y/N? No, wait. Let me put it differently. Why are you even alive?", he giggles and his friends join in, pointing their disgusting fingers at you in amusement.

Tears start pricking in your eyes as they keep laughing at you. Completely alone you just stand there and let them have their fun, your head hanging low. Draco withdraws his wand out of his pocket and points it onto one of your books. "Incendio", he conjures and your beloved book immediately catches on fire.

"You will be sorry for that!"

"Uhm, hello? Y/N? Are you still there?", Draco waves his hand in front of your face and you blink a few times before slapping his hand away angrily. "Get away from me!", you tell him off and bring distance between both of you. With a confused expression on his face, he looks at you as if you have gone completely crazy. "Bad day?", he asks, wanting to seem sorry for you. He did not feel sorry for you. Not now, not then, never.

"I do not have a bad day. I just hate you profoundly and do not want you in my life, Malfoy", you explain with no emotion in your voice and shut the cupboard close loudly, making him flinch. With these last words you leave the room, even though you did not succeed in finding the potion, and slam the door shut behind you. Why are you the one being punished again?

Taking a long deep breath, you look down the empty corridors, straighten your uniform and set off to pursue your job. The one and only thing that can distract you now. Unfortunately, you do not get very far, not even out of the corridor, when you abruptly feel a firm grip on your wrist and get pulled back roughly. "Y/N! Wait-"

"What the hell, Draco?!", you yell and only get angrier when he does not let go of you and you have to free your hand from his grip. "What do you want from me?! Have you not done enough damage already?", you angrily bark at him, but he just sadly looks down at his feet. He lets you shout at him how much you want without uttering a single word. You stand in front of him, angry and breathing heavily. He has never seen you like this before.

For him you always seemed so strong and invulnerable, but now he sees your real self and how much he and his actions broke you. He has been watching you for all these months and how you thrive in your job as a healer. You were so strong and helpful and kind. He made many mistakes back at Hogwarts and he perfectly knows it. But he had enough time to rethink what he has done. The guilt has eaten him up as he never had the opportunity to apologize.

Yes, he did terrible things. He not only bullied a lot of students, but also doomed the headmaster to death and had to join the Death Eaters. Something he never wanted to. Just as he did not want you to hate him this much. He cannot explain why he did what he did when he actually liked you back then and probably still does. He loved how you would always run around with your books, how you would twirl a strand of hair around your finger when you were concentrating in potions or how you would speak up to tell the teachers every answer.

He knows what he did was wrong. But he lacks the words and also the courage to explain it to you. You would not understand him anyway and would loathe him even more.

"We are grown up now, Y/N. Can we not just forget what happened?", Draco pleads, but your reaction immediately makes him realize that he has chosen the absolute wrong words.

"Oh, so that is how it works for you Malfoys, huh? Great, when you are that grown up as you say, then why don't you just act like that and keep your distance from me, you damn asshole!", you scream out loudly and at this point you do not even care anymore if anyone else hears you. This man just makes you so incredibly angry when he thinks everything can be clarified with a few words.

"Listen to me, Y/N", Draco tries again, but you shake your head in disbelief. "You know what? I really thought I could not hate you any more. But I was wrong", you huff, turning around on your heel to finally get rid of him.

"I let you yell at me, why don't you let me explain it?", he desperately reminds you, his eyes basically begging you to give him a chance. "Do you really think that you can ever make amends for what you have do-", you start scolding him again, but get interrupted all of a sudden when you hear a very loud noise. The noise that an emergency patient has just been delivered.

Without wasting time you sprint off and towards the energency room, Draco following closely behind you. You spot how a man is being pushed through the corridor on a lounger in front of you right away and quickly run there to help.

"Oh! Good that you are here, Y/N!"

"What happened?"

"Serious Quidditch accident. He was badly battered by a bludger. Several broken bones and high blood loss."

"Take him to the treatment room immediately!", you command and you bring the injured player there together. Groaning in pain you lift him onto the hospital bed and you do everything possible to put an end to his pain. "Quick! We need some Calming Draught", you state and look around, but only a few seconds after your utterance the potion you asked for is already laid in your hand by no other than Draco, who has apparently thought ahead. You quietly thank him under your breath and give the patient the medicine so that he calms down.

Injuries in the wizarding world are often quick to heal, but there is still a lot of pain associated with them. That is why you do everything to make your patients feel better as fast as possible. "We should stop the bleeding from his wounds", Draco suggests while you are busy pulling out your wand.

"We need Blood-Replenishing Potion", you say at the exact same time as Draco and look at each other a little bit shocked. You turn back to the patient and continue to calm him down. You point the tip of your wand at his torso and cast a spell to to mend his broken bones.

"Brackium Emendo", you mumble and the spell works instantly, taking away most of the patient's pain. Just to be on the safe side, you also use Ferula to spare his newly generated bones while Draco is already holding out the Blood-Replenishing Potion to you. You take it and use it on the man, the other healers at your side to explain the next steps to the poor man.

After you have successfully healed him, you leave the room and let the other healers take care of the rest. Treating an emergency patient is always exciting but scary because you never know what to expect.

And what you also did not expect is that Draco follows you again and stops you by shouting your name. You heavily exhale and collect your thoughts before you turn to face him. "What is it now?", you ask, visibly annoyed.

"You did a really good job back there", he smiles, pointing behind him to the room you just left. Suspiciously, you look at him and raise your eyebrow. Then you sigh, putting your hands on your hips.

"Thanks. You were not bad either", you compliment him which he seems to be quite surprised about because his eyes widen for a moment. He smiles uncertainly to show you his gratitude and then scratches his neck in embarrassment. "So.. About earlier.."

"Draco. I really do not want to hear anything about it anymore."

"Please, Y/N. Just give me this one chance. At least let me explain! Afterwards you can still hate me as much you want to", he persuades you intensely.

"You have five minutes", you finally give in and drag him into an empty corridor to prevent anyone else hearing you. "I am listening."

"I know my behavior was wrong back then and I want to deeply apologize to you for that. It was not okay to destroy your supplies, to make fun of you, or to harm you physically and mentally. I just- I did not know how to deal with my.. feelings and the best way to get rid of those wrong feelings seemed to be to bully you. I have done terrible things, Y/N. And yet this is the reason why I cannot sleep at night. Because I am so sorry for everything and I know that you will never forgive me", he explains to you honestly, in a heartbreaking voice and although you try your best to fight against it, tears brimming into your eyes.

"I was in love with you, Y/N. Well, I still am", Draco suddenly admits and you could swear that - against your will and common sense - your heart just stopped beating for a moment.

Because what Draco does not know is that you actually had feelings for him as well. But that was before he even started any of this, when he was still watching you across the Great Hall and you would catch him staring. From one day to another he destroyed your hopes and suddenly started bullying you. It got worse day by day until your feelings for him turned from love to pure hate.

You loved each other, but one did not know about the other's mutual feeling and vice versa. And so two people hurt each other even though they were in love.

"D-Draco- I don't know what to say", you stutter out and do not dare to look at him, in fear that you will give in immediately.

"You do not have to say anything. Thank you for listening to me. I am sorry", he softly smiles, a comforting and especially real one, and lowers his head in defeat.

"It is really not easy for me either, Draco", you sigh, blinking your tears away. "I am not sure if I can ever forget what you did to me."

Draco nods dejectedly, understanding and accepting your decision. After all, he cannot forgive himself for what he did either.

"But I am ready to forgive you", you add and Draco's head shoots up immediately, locking eyes with you, not sure if he heard you correctly. "As you said: we have grown up and that means we can also learn to forgive", you give him a gentle smile.

A big and thankful smile spreads over his facial features. "I love you so much, Y/N. No- Not like that.. Well actually..", he babbles to himself. You gently put your hand on his shoulder to calm him down a bit, suppressing a giggle.

"Don't worry. I will see you later, alright?", you grin and and pat his shoulder softly.

"Y-Yes! Of course", he answers, not quite sure what to do with himself. He feels such an incredible joy inside of him, but just as strongly he feels fear. The fear that he might screw it up again.

While he is still deep in thought, you walk backwards and away from him. When he notices that you are retreating, he briefly shakes his head to get back to the here and now. "Thank you!", he calls after you, unable to move.

"See you later", you wave before you turn around and disappear into the next corridor, your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

Maybe this is the beginning of something new, of something more. The next chapter in your life.

A restart.

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purple-dahlias · 3 years

Text

day six- hidden injury

wc: 1804 requested: no warnings: self harm, injury

Sarah hadn’t meant it to go this far, not in the least. At least, that was what she told herself. And really, she had managed so long without it, years in fact. Only for things to start crumbling now. And no, she’ll never let anyone know. Doesn’t want to bother anyone. It’s not that big of a deal, anyway, she’ll tell herself. Nothing she can’t handle herself. Nothing she hasn’t had to handle herself before. And all her problems, well, they just feel so pedestrian. That was what she had told Dr Richardson. Plenty of people felt that way, right. Lots of people did that. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Maybe not talked of so much, but not something rare. In any case, she had got herself out of it before, and she would do it again, right?

At some point, she would, she told herself.

She tries to be careful. Wears long sleeves. Remembers to keep her white coat on at all times. Tries to avoid situations where she might have to scrub in. Which, luckily for her, since becoming a psychiatry resident, don’t occur very often anymore. And she’s meticulous with cleaning. Making sure everything is sterile. No chance of infection. Her bathroom cabinet well stocked with bandages and plasters and antiseptic wipes. Even a suture pack she had managed to lift from the ED one day. Just in case. She hadn’t needed it so far, though. And she wasn’t planning on it. That was what she told herself.

And oh, how wrong she was.

It’s a Tuesday morning and Sarah is late.

She’s supposed to be at Med by now, Dr Charles will be expecting her to round on their patients and instead, she’s sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the bath panel, the cursed suture kit on the floor beside her, face contorted in pain.

Maybe things had gone too far.

Perhaps she should have thought to try and bring back some lidocaine as well.

But no. You did this to yourself, Sarah Reese.

And it’s ironic. Because she had inflicted that pain on herself. And now she couldn’t do it again to fix it. Typical.

—

“Hey, have any of you seen Sarah?” Dr Charles asks, approaching the nurses’ station in the ED, where Natalie, and Noah are stood.

Natalie shakes her head, just as Maggie calls out for her, sending her off to treatment three.

“I didn’t see her car parked outside,” Noah responds.

“Yeah, me either.”

“She hasn’t called in sick, has she?”

“No,” confirms Dr Charles, brow furrowed. The Sarah Reese he knew was always so responsible, a stickler for rules, so it was unlike her not to notify someone of her absence.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so, we’d arranged to have lunch together today, so…”

“And Sarah’s not really one to break her plans,” the head of psychiatry muses.

“I can try and call her,” Noah offers helpfully.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dr Charles nods as Noah fishes his phone out of his pocket, only to find the dial tone to ring out with no answer.

“You sure she’s not upstairs?”

“No, I’m sure she’s not. I did page her, but no luck.”

“Well, um, if you like I can go round to hers… check on her?” Noah offers, picking up on the worry in the normally level, calm voice of the psychiatrist.

“That’s good of you,” Dr Charles smiles, clapping Noah on the back

“No problem,” Noah returns, with a promise to update him when he found Sarah, watching as Dr Charles turns, making his way to the elevators and away from the emergency department.

One thing was for sure, Dr Charles was grateful Sarah had Noah for a friend. Even if Sarah wasn’t the most vocal person, he knew she’d been dealing with a lot lately, that much was clear. And he knew how important it was to have people around you who cared.

It’s not long after that conversation that Noah finds himself faced with the front door of Sarah’s apartment, having knocked, awaiting an answer.

When there’s no answer, he knocks louder. “Sarah,” he calls out. “It’s Noah. Dr Charles wanted me to come and check up on you because you didn’t show up for rounds.”

Still nothing.

Knowing she kept a spare key under the mat, Noah fishes it out, turning it in the lock.

“Sarah, I’m coming in, alright,” he warns, entering the apartment.

The curtains are still drawn across the windows, Sarah’s bag is in its place by the door, her coat hangs on a peg in the hall. Sure signs she is still here. He calls out to her, moving through the few rooms until he comes to the bathroom, the door half open, a head of brown curls just about visible.

“Sarah what—"

The words die on his lips as he takes in the scene: Sarah hunched up against the side of the bath, knees pulled up to her chest. He sees the suture kit, the gash on Sarah’s arm, how pale she is. And, most of all, how frightened she looks at seeing him there, how she just about refuses to meet his eyes.

“Sarah,” Noah begins again, trying to compose himself.

“Noah what are you doing here?” It’s said so forcefully through gritted teeth that if it was any other time, any other situation, any other person, Noah would have taken it as his cue to leave. But he couldn’t leave her. Not like this. Not after what he’s seen.

“Dr Charles sent me to check on you,” he tries.

“Well I’m fine,” she grits out, firmly, covering her arm as best she could.

“No, you’re not.”

“Please, Noah, just go. You’re supposed to be working,” her tone is different now, she’s almost begging him to go. He’s not going to, though.

“So are you,” he counters, inching closer. “Sarah what happened?” Noah tries, tone softening.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“That doesn’t look like nothing,” Noah reaches for Sarah’s arm, and Sarah snatches it away, fighting through the pain.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she huffs. She wishes he would just go back to the hospital and leave her be.

“Fine. But Sarah, I have to ask. Did you do this yourself?”

Yes she thinks. Yes I did.

“I think you already know the answer to that one,” is what she says instead. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have to ask.” It comes out harshly. But really, the anger isn’t directed at him. It’s all directed inward. At herself, for allowing this to happen, at herself for getting caught.

“But Sarah— why.”

And it all comes out. She finds she just can’t keep it hidden any longer.

“I— I don’t know. I just. I can’t anymore. And I haven’t done this since I was fourteen, and now… Noah I don’t know what to do!” Sarah is sobbing freely now, her shoulders shaking as Noah sits down beside her on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, holding her close, careful of her arm. He notices the scars and the cuts littering her arms, in various stages of healing. It pains him to see this, to know this. That Sarah had been struggling for so long without anyone noticing.

“Oh Sarah—” Noah begins, smoothing her hair with one hand, the other rubbing circles into the small of her back.

“Stop. Stop feeling sorry for me.” Sarah scrubs at her eyes, willing the tears away.

“I’m not. I just. I hate that I’m here seeing you hurt, and you know I— I can’t take that away from you.”

“Then go. You won’t have to see then.”

“I’m not leaving you like this Sarah. Do you mind if I take a look?” He asks her. Carefully, levelly, eyes trained on her all the while.

“Fine.” Sarah agrees finally, and Noah has to fight back a gasp as he sees the full extent of the injury. Luckily, as far has he can tell, the wounds aren’t deep enough to have caused any significant damage, but really, as an assessment, he knows the damage is already done. Not physically, but it is there.

“Okay Sarah, we need to clean this up and get it stitched, alright.” Noah keeps his tone calm, knowing that showing any sign of panic would do neither of them any good.

Sarah merely nods.

“This is going to sting, okay,” he warns, taking an antiseptic wipe out of the first aid kit beside them.

“Unfortunately you’re going to feel every step of this because I don’t have anything to numb you with. Think you can be brave for me?”

Another nod, but it’s all Noah needs before he gets to work.

Sarah doesn’t watch as he begins. She keeps her eyes down, trained on the floor, counting the tiles, teeth gritted as she tries to fill her head with something. Anything. Any thoughts that aren’t about what is happening right now.

When he’s finally done, the two sit in silence, both leaning against the bath, side by side. And it’s then that Sarah finally looks. Noah had bandaged up her arm, the stitches hidden beneath the dressings. The memory of what she had done there. But hidden. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

“So, uh,” Noah’s voice tears into her thoughts. “You wanna maybe sit somewhere a little more comfortable and less cold?”

And it’s just so Noah of him to say, his tone making it sound like he’s asking her to move and sit at one of the tables inside the hospital cafeteria instead of outside, rather than what he’s actually doing, which is asking her to get up off the bathroom floor after he’d stitched up the cuts she had made.

So Sarah makes the choice. She allows herself to be helped up, she allows herself to be led from the bathroom. She lets Noah guide her to the couch, wrap a blanket round her shoulders and disappear off into the kitchen, only to watch him come back a few minutes later, a steaming mug of tea in hand that he sets down beside her.

Still wordlessly, Noah takes a seat next to Sarah, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him. He had sent a message to Dr Charles while he had been in the kitchen, letting him know what had happened. He knew that Sarah would need to address what had happened, that there would be a long road ahead of her. That him finding her that morning wasn’t the end of it, didn’t mean that Sarah was out of the woods. But Noah would be there. He would be there with Sarah, for her. He would be there until she was ready, and long afterward. And this was the start. Sarah herself knows that, too.

#medtober2021 #sarah reese #noah sexton #dr charles #platonic rexton #self harm tw #chicago med #my writing #idk this is very bad

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presumenothing · 3 years

Text

first: do no harm

(AO3)

Dr. Mensah’s attention zeroed in on me like a well-tuned surgery bot arm. “You have medical training.”

I was going to deny the hell out of that. I really was.

And then I said: “Not recently,” instead of no or even more accurately I frankly don’t think the company’s education modules count as training by your standards. (As far as I was concerned, the only thing worse than those modules was the one on breaking bad news, but what did I know. Maybe humans actually felt comforted by those tactics they described.) (No, I didn’t think that was likely, either.)

Which reminded me of a necessary addition. “The company won’t cover liabilities related to any non-security tasks you assign me to, if that’s what you’re intending.”

Mensah made a sound that was both grim and viciously annoyed at once, which I immediately saved for further analysis and replication. “Then we’ll just have to not make any mistakes, won’t we?”

–

I hadn’t exactly been thrilled with getting assigned to this mission. Not that mining installations were much of a walk in the park, but this was just asking to turn up memories that were better off buried (preferably forever) in my organic parts.

I don’t usually pay attention to mission briefs, as you may have noticed, and I wouldn’t have this time either except that my half-assed scan turned up the fact that the team weren’t science-doctors on a survey like I’d initially assumed, but medical-doctors. On a medical mission.

Of course they were.

(I wanted to say that someone had allocated me to this on purpose, but realistically speaking the company didn’t give enough of a shit, and the universe disliked me enough that this could totally be pure chance.)

Considering all that, the mission so far had been… much less worse than it could’ve been. Though the bar for that was admittedly very, very low. Possibly somewhere in the negatives.

Anyway. Up until the whole thing with Bharadwaj and Volescu getting almost-but-not-eaten, the task of making sure no one died had mostly been the clients’ job for once, which was a nice change since they were actually competent at it.

I still didn’t care enough to read their background info, but it was pretty clear just from observing that these doctors had experience with working in less-than-great conditions, even if Ratthi did sometimes sigh wistfully about equipment they couldn’t have in field hospitals. It meant that my job had pretty much amounted to patrolling, lurking visibly around the supplies storage in case anyone got ideas about that, and helping to fetch various medical items when I happened to be there and it wasn’t Gurathin asking.

It wasn’t terrible. I’d even got some media-watching time in.

(There might have been the vague thought that things could’ve gone much better if I’d been deployed with a team like this instead of Corporation Rim fuckery that literally bled payment from patients, but part of the reason medical-use constructs had been developed in the first place was so that hospitals could draw up forty-hour shifts and other assorted fun without worrying about doctor and surgeon unions, which told you everything you needed to know about our existence.

Also, the thought was inherently depressing and I already had enough of that in my head, thank you very much.)

The contract was more than halfway through. All I had needed to do to avoid awkward questions was continue making sure no one noticed that I was weirdly well-versed in all this, which wasn’t difficult since they only seemed to have theoretical knowledge about SecUnits at best.

Then the fauna happened, and poof went my cover.

Now all of PresAux knew I was – whatever the hell you called a catastrophically failed MedUnit who got turned loose onto security, because at least if I screwed up here the press wouldn’t be as bad. And that wasn’t even getting into the hacked governor module.

Even constructs didn’t have a term for all that.

–

Of course, none of that stopped this from being a Very Bad Idea. Even if apparently no one except Gurathin (ugh) seemed to agree.

“I’m a SecUnit, Dr. Mensah. I scare people. Patients are harder to assess when they’re running away.” I thought basic logistics might work here.

“You had better bedside manner with Bharadwaj and Volescu than many doctors I’ve seen. Human ones, might I add, and not actively injured themselves at the time.” Mensah’s tone was brisk as her pace – which wasn’t difficult to keep up with either, given my vertical advantage, but impressive nonetheless. “And no one wants to be around Pin-Lee when she’s holding a scalpel. That’s what the sedation is for.”

It’s because SecUnit hasn’t seen her in court yet. Trust me, it’s much scarier, Ratthi chimed in over the feed, with the text signifier for “amusement” but not “joke”.

Pin-Lee just smiled.

It was terrifying. I wasn’t even looking directly at her.

“I don’t have a valid license.” That’d been a part of the legal fallout from the disaster on RaviHyral, though no one had actually bothered with adding malpractice charges or barring me from ever doing medicine again. (Just another side effect of being considered as equipment – I doubted the company would’ve even secured licenses for constructs if not for their paranoia about covering their asses on all fronts.)

But it was a last resort argument, and I knew it.

Mensah knew it, too. “There’s special dispensations for that, especially under the current circumstances, as long as a fully-licensed doctor is in the vicinity at all times. It’s not like any of us can actually get out of each other’s hair in this base anyway.”

Mensah had stopped in a less-chaotic corner and turned to me, not that she could see anything behind the faceplate. I fixed my gaze a generous distance to the left and let my drones do the looking.

“I’m not going to make you agree. You perform a valuable function as our security – far more than I had initially expected, to be honest, and we would all be grateful if you kept doing that. But with Bharadwaj down for the count and Volescu still recovering, we could do with the help.” Her expression was still steady as ever, even though she probably knew better than I did the risks of continuing to operate shorthanded like this. “It’s your decision, SecUnit.”

Right, just the very thing I didn’t need to hear.

I kept most of my sigh internal. “Triage and first-aid only, between patrols. No procedures, and I won’t be responsible if any patients freak out.”

Mensah nodded. “Of course. Gurathin’s on receiving duty today, how about you work out a roster with him?”

I knew it. This was a bad idea.

–––––

You’d be my guardian.

Yes. The education opportunities – most of us were trained on Preservation, if you’re interested in learning and getting your license properly this time. Or not. You can do anything you want.

–––––

ART barged its way into my feed. You’re exhibiting a mildly elevated temperature and respiration rate. Though it could of course merely be a sign of inferior processors rather than emotional distress.

Do you talk to your clients like that?

Do you? ART retorted right back, but obligingly brought up the documentation for its MedSystem before I finished the query for it.

I ignored ART’s attention (with some difficulty) as I flicked quickly through the top few files, taking in the glaring disparities from my existing data. The notable lack of suggesting costly procedures that no-one actually needed, for starters. I’m assuming some of these are your improvements on standard procedure?

I am the cutting edge of medical research, ART proclaimed. You couldn’t accuse it of humility if you tried.

I still wasn’t sure what I wanted, and I still didn’t want anyone to decide it for me. But moving towards the one thing I did want (at least in the short term) had ended up with me running into what was very possibly the most advanced and opinionated diagnosis-treatment AI currently in existence, because that was just the kind of luck I had.

I didn’t have a medium-duty surgical suite in my arms anymore, since that was the entire point of modular Unit construction, but neither did Mensah.

And I didn’t think I wanted to stop doing security, anyway, since it turned out I might not be completely terrible at it; having actual medical knowledge that was MedSystem-malfunction-proof couldn’t hurt.

Plus, overwriting those shitty education modules seemed like a pretty great fuck-you to the company. I was always interested in that.

I tagged some of the more emergency-related files, then added a bunch of the weirder injuries I’d seen on contracts, and prodded ART. Tell me about these?

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #murderbot fic #tmbd #fanfiction #mine #long post #me staring at the wordcount in disbelief: okay then #????

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bluenet13 · 3 years

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It's All In Your Head (Chapter 2/2)

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Characters: Matthew Casey, Sylvie Brett, Kelly Severide, Stella Kidd, Wallace Boden, Firehouse 51.

Prompt: It’s All my Fault.

Story Summary: Post-ep to S09E09 "Double Red." Casey's life continues to spiral as his friends worry around him; or what happens when no one notices Casey is struggling and our captain is too stubborn to ask for help. AKA, I enjoyed the ep but needed more angst, h/c, and Brettsey, so I'm fixing it.

Ch2 Summary: After the events of chapter one, Casey is not doing so well but Brett, Severide and the rest of his 51 family are there to help.

Links: ff.net - AO3

Chapter 1 Link

As the call ends, and the five vehicles return to Firehouse 51, Severide and Sylvie feel like they're getting their wish. Because Casey is standing in the apparatus bay, waving at them.

But then they get closer. And they see Casey stumble, what looks suspiciously like blood standing out on the left side of his head. He doesn't seem to be waving, but calling to them. He takes a tentative step forward, then wobbles, and his face scrunches in pain and something more. And then Casey is no longer walking towards them but collapsing towards them.

And before most everyone else has a chance to react, or even process what they're seeing, both Sylvie and Severide are out of their vehicles and running towards their friend. Severide is faster so he reaches Casey first. The squad lieutenant extends his arms and catches his best friend just before he hits the ground. Then Brett is right there, kneeling beside them.

"Matt, Matt! What's wrong? Are you okay?" Brett is practically shouting, then mentally berates herself for asking dumb questions. He's obviously not okay. And it's her fault.

But Casey doesn't respond. Can't respond. His eyes are shut tightly, his breathing coming in slow gasps.

Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, the paralysis that had seemed to overtake the rest of the house gets broken and everyone is moving and becoming part of the action.

Mackey gets out of the passenger seat, leaving Ambo 61 awkwardly parked in between the street and the apparatus bay. Moving to the back she grabs their med bag, ECG monitor, and oxygen, while Cruz gets the backboard.

"Severide, step aside," Brett directs as soon as she sees Mackey and Cruz standing next to them. "Now," she shouts after Severide hesitates.

Letting his weight fall backwards, Severide sits down and slowly backs away. Eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. He's been a firefighter for a long time so he has ample experience with rescues, fires and emergency treatment, but it never gets any easier when said treatment is done on a coworker and friend.

For their part, Brett and Mackey waste no time in checking Casey's pulse, breathing and pupils. Getting their first warning sign as soon as Casey grunts when Brett shines a light into his eyes. "Mackey, check him over," Brett instructs, while she connects her patient to a monitor, sets him on oxygen and starts an IV, just in case. The patient, she inwardly chuckles at the thought. Knowing Casey is so much more than that. But trying to see him as just another patient is the only way she can think of not to be paralyzed with fear and instead be the PIC he needs right now.

"He has a cut here… but it's starting to scar so it didn't happen now," Mackey says, pointing to a cut and small lump on the side of Casey's head. "He probably just reopened the old wound."

"So this is because of that call," Stella says slowly, joining the scene for the first time. She kneels next to Brett, and grabs some gauze, setting it carefully over the newly bleeding wound on Casey's head. The crimson color taunting her, as Stella wishes she had called him out on his lie this morning.

"What call?" Severide asks, turning to his girlfriend.

"I told you about it, Casey tried to stop a drunk driver from fleeing the scene and he was thrown out of the moving car," Stella explains, not sounding defensive, just regretful and apologetic.

"You didn't make it sound as if it was serious," Severide continues, not sounding accusatory, just worried.

"It wasn't. He got right back up and started doing his job." Stella whispers, deep down knowing she had missed something and this was partially her fault.

Severide nods and turns back to his best friend. Brett is just finishing getting Casey strapped to a stretcher with Cruz and Herrmann's help. And that is what seems to bring him back from wherever his mind had gone to while everyone freaked out around him.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Casey tries to argue. "I just lost my footing."

"Shut up," Brett says, no longer able to treat him just like any other patient. "You're going to get checked out and that's the end of this discussion. Cruz, Herrmann help me get him into the ambulance!"

"But really, I'm okay," Casey tries to say, but Brett's glare silences him up. Then he seems to realize there won't be a way out once Cruz and Herrmann finish loading him up into the ambulance. "Come on, hear me out. I just got up too quickly and got a little dizzy."

"How long have you been dizzy? What other symptoms do you have?" Brett starts questioning, not missing a beat.

Casey shuts his mouth, knowing he already said too much.

"Matt, please. Help us out here. What other symptoms do you have?" Brett more like pleads this time. "It's my fault this is happening. I missed it on our last shift. I don't want to miss anything now. So please, don't play tough right now and tell me everything."

Seeing the desperation in her eyes and pleading in her tone, Casey sighs and closes his eyes. "I have had a headache since our last shift… Also nausea, dizziness and ringing in my ears." Seeing everyone's eyes go wide, he opens his, trying to give them his best apologetic look. "But symptoms came and went, it wasn't always so bad," he finishes weakly.

"You're an idiot, do you know that? And an even bigger idiot than I thought," Severide says through gritted teeth, his voice raising with every word. "How could you not say something after what happened the last time?" He asks dejectedly, remembering the time a beam crashed into Casey's head and almost ended his career. "But I guess all this just makes me an idiot too, cause I'm your roommate and I missed it."

"You weren't even there," Stella adds sadly. "I was right there, so if anything, I'm more to blame than you."

Brett cuts everyone off with a humorless chuckle. "I'm the PIC in charge of the firehouse and I saw everything happen, so it's all my fault."

"You were taking care of the crash victims," Stella says, ready to defend her friend and stop her from blaming herself.

"Hmm, I think this is really Casey's fault. We wouldn't be here if he had just said something." Severide interjects, while he helps load all the equipment back into the ambulance. Not wanting either Brett or Stella to get down on themselves, and feeling the need to add some lightness to this moment. Because if they can joke about it, then everything will be okay in the end. Or so he tells himself.

"We shouldn't be blaming the guy in the stretcher," Casey mumbles from inside. "Besides, I'm really okay. I don't need to go to the hos…"

"Everyone please be quiet," Boden's voice booms from behind, successfully silencing everyone. "Casey, we will have a serious talk about what happened here, but now you're going to Chicago Med and getting checked out. Brett, Stella, Severide, this is no one's fault."

Everyone nods, as Mackey runs to the driver's side of the ambulance, and Brett gets in the back, next to Casey. The decision not even spoken out loud, both knowing that's just the way this needs to go.

"And… I missed it too." Boden adds to himself in a much quieter voice. If anything this is all my fault, Chief Boden thinks before his thoughts are drawn back to the present by the sound of Severide closing the double doors of the ambulance.

"Severide, you're in charge of the firehouse until I am back," Boden directs, then runs to his SUV so he can follow the ambulance to Chicago Med.

"I still think this is Casey's fault," Severide says quietly, trying again to add some levity to the situation, for his and his teammates' sake. "Everyone, time to get back to work. Tony, Stella get squad and truck parked properly. Gallo, Ritter get started on lunch. Herrmann, come with me so we can locate Casey's sister's phone number," Severide directs, even as he stays rooted in place, staring at the disappearing Ambo 61 and Battalion 25.

-x-x-x-

"This can't happen again," Brett says, as she sits inside Ambo 61, on the bench next to the stretcher.

Casey turns to Brett, but says nothing. They haven't been alone, together since that fateful night and his brain seems to be short-circuiting, and not because of the head injury. Because even if Brett's words and tone say that she's angry, her hand is still clutching tight to his and her eyes can't help but show the concern she's really feeling.

"I'm serious, Matt. This can't happen again. Whatever happened… or didn't happen, can't interfere with our jobs again. If you're hurt, you need to tell me."

Drawing the oxygen mask down, Casey sighs before he bravely, or dumbly (it could be argued either way), intertwines their fingers together. "I could have told Mackey, this has nothing to do with us," he explains, doing his best to sound like he believes his own words.

"Then why didn't you?" Brett challenges.

Casey opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. And repeats the same pattern a few times until he finally whispers, "I was scared." He settles on a half-truth, cause he's in fact scared, but decides not to mention how he purposely hadn't asked Brett for help, even when Chief Boden suggested it.

Brett's first instinct is to respond that Matt Casey isn't scared of anything, but the still rational part of her brain realizes that won't help the situation, so she just raises her eyebrows in a silent question.

"I'm not supposed to have another head injury," Casey says softly.

"Do you think avoiding the issue will just simply make it go away?" Brett asks, the first of her barely suppressed anger and frustration beginning to filter into her words. "Because let me tell you, Casey, it won't. In life we can't just run from our problems. We can't just say things and then avoid the issue completely. We can do things that hurt people, then try to move on with our lives and hope time solves everything. Because, again, it won't! We have to fight for what we want and be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next."

After the last word leaves her lips, Brett seems to deflate. The void left open by her departing anger and frustration now occupied by the concern and love she feels for this man. Because she can no longer deny what she's feeling is so much more than simple infatuation.

Staring at Brett with wide eyes, Casey almost bares his soul to the woman he knows he's in love with, instead he just breathes out a simple question. "Are we still talking about head injuries?"

Now it's Brett's time to open her mouth, then promptly close it again. They both know this is about everything but head injuries, even if they're both still worried about that, but Brett knows this is not the right time to get into it. But Casey's expectant, and slightly hopeful, eyes still stare at her, seemingly looking directly into her soul, so Brett parts her lips but before she's able to say anything, the double doors of ambo 61 open and just like that they're parked in front of Gaffney Chicago Medical Center, a group of doctors and nurses surrounding them.

Without even thinking of what she's doing, Brett jumps out of the ambulance, and starts to recite Casey's stats and everything she knows about this injury. Then he's gone. Wheeled inside the hospital, while she's left standing alone, not only to worry about his physical condition, but to think about the words she just spoke. She thought, or hoped, if only for the sake of her broken heart, that she was moving on with Grainger, but evidently her heart is still stuck on one Matthew Casey.

-x-x-x-

By the time Boden returns to firehouse 51 it's almost midnight, but he's not surprised to find the entire house sitting in various places in the common room as they wait for news. Usually they would have all been waiting in Chicago Med but protocols still limit the number of people in the waiting room so they had been ordered to stay home.

"How's Casey doing?" Severide asks as soon as he sees his chief walking in.

Boden sighs and lifts his hands in a placating gesture as soon as he's instantly surrounded by the expectant faces of the men and women of Firehouse 51. "Casey's stable. They did an initial CT, then just in case also an MRI since this is his second head injury and because he didn't go to the hospital right away after the hit to his head."

"Another epidural hematoma?" Stella interrupts anxiously. Remembering Severide telling her the story once, and not wanting Casey and the house to go through that again. Because when one of them is hurt, it feels as if they all are.

Boden shakes his head, but still looks troubled. "Not this time, no. But the MRI did reveal a very small bleed. That's why he seemed to be okay after the injury. But without any sort of treatment, it was always going to get worse with time. However small, a brain bleed can't be trusted to resolve on its own without medical supervision, especially given Casey's history. Dr. Halstead said if we hadn't taken him to the hospital when we did, his intracranial pressure could have continued to rise and we could have been sharing a much different conversation."

"So, what's the prognosis? Is he having surgery again?" Severide asks worriedly, thinking not only of his friend's life but also his career as a firefighter. They had once dreamed of ruling the firehouse together along with Darden, and even if their friend had been gone for a long time, Severide still hopes to someday retire alongside his best friend. But only after many years of Chief Casey and Captain Severide in command of 51. The thought making Severide chuckle inwardly. Because at one point in time, he would have imagined himself as Chief in that little scenario, but nowadays, he's just content with the idea of being to Matt what he's to Boden now.

"Hopefully not. Doctors are already giving him medication and they're hopeful this time it will be enough to reduce inflammation and pressure. They're leaving surgery as a very last resort, but Dr. Halstead doesn't think they will get there. They also did a neurological exam and cognitive testing as precaution, and these didn't raise any red flags. He has the typical symptoms of a bad concussion but nothing that won't go away with time and no memory or strength issues. Dr. Halstead did put in some stitches to the wound on his head as he kept reopening it." Boden explains, grateful the news he has are mostly good, or at least not as bad as they could have been. "He should have been okay. If he had gotten checked out and given treatment right away. The hit wasn't too strong, so there was no reason for his symptoms to get so bad. They think that's also what made him collapse. He had probably been experiencing the headaches, nausea and dizziness since he got injured and without treatment it was all bound to get worse."

Sighing, Severide closes his eyes, still not able to shake the feeling that he should have noticed and knocked some sense into Casey before his situation got this bad. What help would he be to a future Chief Casey if he can't even help ensure he lives long enough to make it to chief? But then he opens his eyes and turns to Stella, finding her hands closed into fits, a scowl on her face. And looking to his sides, he sees similar expressions all around him, every member of 51 feeling this way in some way their fault.

"I missed it too," Boden says, recognizing the guilt in the faces of all the men and women he sees as family, and wanting to draw their attention back to him and away from any self-deprecating thoughts. "We all did. But really, this is no one's fault. But it should be a lesson for all. I will speak to Casey about this once he's on his feet again, but since I have you all here with me, I might as well use this experience as a reminder. Regardless of how simple an injury seems, we have paramedics for a reason. Regardless of any worries you might have about time off or your careers, you can't help anyone if you first don't help yourself. You all know I trust you, and don't like to micromanage. But I will have to start, if something like this ever happens again."

A chorus of yes, Chief follows Boden's words as everyone nods their agreement. Shoulders sagging as everyone seems to deflate, because even if they understand this wasn't their fault, still no one can shake the feeling that they could have done more.

"Now, everyone go to bed, you all deserve to rest, too. Casey is okay and being taken care of," Boden finally adds with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Just then, both Severide and Stella realize Brett isn't with Boden. Mackey had returned after dropping Casey off but they hadn't seen Brett since she climbed into the ambulance next to their roommate.

Bumping their shoulders against each other, Severide and Stella share a relieved smile, before walking together to the officer's quarters. Both, happy their captain will be okay and silently promising to keep a better eye on him, God knows he needs it. But both also hoping they won't have to and wishing this is the push their respective best friends need to finally give in to their very obvious feelings for each other and give their relationship a real try.

-x-x-x-

Casey opens his eyes to the telltale signs of a hospital room... antiseptic smell, incessant beeping, colorless walls and ceiling… All things he hates, together in one room.

Closing his eyes again, he releases a sigh in frustration. Having enough presence of mind to admit to himself that he has no one to blame for single handedly landing himself in this situation. Well, okay, the drunk driver landed him on the ground, but as Halstead told him, what happened later could have been avoided if he had just gotten checked out quickly. Now he should just be grateful his stupidity didn't end his career as a firefighter, and trust his doctors' words that medication will be enough and he will make a full recovery.

Finding himself alone in the room, Casey also wonders if protocols are to blame or if maybe everyone is pissed off at him, and makes a mental note to apologize not only to Boden, Brett, Severide and Stella, but to the rest of the firehouse as well. He's supposed to be their captain, second in command, and needs to set the right example. Not only for doing the right thing, but also apologizing afterwards for a momentary lack in judgement.

Be brave enough not only to walk into a fire, but to handle the consequences of what happens next, Brett's words then replay on his head, and a treacherous smile escapes his lips as he remembers her worried blue eyes and the feel of her hand in his.

And just like that, the power of his mind seemingly conjures the one thing he wants most in the world at this moment. Because one second he's alone in his room, and the next, the door is creaking open and Sylvie is standing next to his bed.

"You came," Casey breathes out.

"Who said I ever left?" Brett shrugs but asks sincerely. And looking at her tired eyes and paramedic uniform, Casey takes her words for nothing but the truth.

"I thought you were angry at me," Casey says, wincing as he remembers her demeanor and words in the ambulance.

"I'm not mad, I'm just…" Brett begins but cuts herself off.

"Disappointed?" Casey provides helpfully, a childish grin on his face.

Brett has the sudden need to kiss the smile off his face, but instead seems to deflate as she decides to go for honesty. "Yeah, I guess that's the right word. I'm disappointed you didn't feel like you could trust me on this. I know I should have noticed something was wrong, and even more, I should have checked you out right after the injury, but that's my mistake and I will do better next time. But Matt, promise me you will never knowingly hide an injury or illness again."

"This is not your fault, Brett."

"Promise me," Brett interrupts before Casey can say anything else. "I can't lose you too, Matt. Even if we can't be more than friends, I still can't lose my best friend."

Casey wants to say he wants to be more than friends, that they still can, but he just sighs, knowing it's not the right time. "I promise, Sylvie," he says softly. "I can't promise nothing will happen, because that's just the nature of our jobs, but I can promise not to hide things again."

"Okay." Brett whispers, relief evident in the way her shoulders slump. Still her eyes look worried as she searches Casey's eyes and body for any signs that he's struggling or in pain. Eventually, her eyes settle on the bandage covering the left side of his head.

For the next few minutes no one speaks, as Brett and Casey just look at each other. Both their minds, lost in the sad memories of what happened last fall, worry for what could have happened today, and a small seed of hope for what they hope will happen in the future.

"Did you really believe I wouldn't come?" Brett asks eventually, when the silence stretches for too long.

Casey ponders the question for a moment, before a sad smile reaches his lips. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Brett smiles sadly in return, her eyes losing some of their spark. "I will always be here for you, Matt. Like you're always here for me. Regardless of our relationship status."

There's no regardless, Casey wants to say, remembering Brett's comment about Gabby, but he doesn't. They're here because of his inability to let go of the past, and commit to fighting for the future he wants, and Brett doesn't deserve him taking advantage of the situation to win himself a second chance. He still wants it, he just needs to stop being scared and find the right time and way to do it. Because Casey can't deny that he's in love with Brett, and God knows his feelings for her are not going away anytime soon.

"Besides, I'm not going anywhere. Dr. Halstead says you will need some help. You need rest to recover, and light and sound will still bother you for a few days, but you still need to eat and take care of yourself. I already told Severide and Stella I'm sleeping on the couch until you're back on your feet." Brett continues after Casey's silence, the words rushing out of her as soon as the first one leaves her parted lips, not wanting to give herself any chance to back down now.

"You can't just up and leave your apartment. You're a pet owner now," Casey teases in response.

"You heard about that?" Brett asks, blushing as she remembers how she ended up with Veronicat.

"There's a lot of gossip around the house," Casey says with a shrug, "it's hard not to listen."

Brett mentally wonders what other things has Casey heard, her blush deepening when she remembers her night with Grainger. Not surprised at the feeling of shame and regret the memory brings. Choosing not to say anything else she makes two mental notes, one to text Severide to find out if the Loft accepts pets, then to call Grainger and respectfully end what they have. He might be a great guy but her heart belongs to another.

"I won't be alone. Severide and Stella are almost always there. You really don't need to disrupt your life for me," Casey explains seriously this time, mistaking her silence for agreement, and still determined not to take advantage of Brett's good nature, even if he wants nothing more than to take her home with him.

"This happened on Severide's watch," Brett reminds him softly. Knowing there's no way she will leave Casey out of her sight so soon after this little incident.

"Don't you trust Stella?" Casey tries instead.

"I do, but she will be outnumbered. We need even numbers to fight the likes of you."

"Who says I want to fight you?" Casey asks, his treacherous eyes going from Brett's eyes directly to her lips.

Brett notices, and bites her own. "I don't want to fight you either, but I will, if you don't start taking better care of yourself." She answers, forcing herself to be professional and her mind to stop remembering the taste of Casey's kiss and the feeling of his hands on her.

"Do you go home with all your patients, PIC Brett?" Casey challenges, suddenly less interested in not taking advantage of the situation, and more into beginning to win his second chance.

"Don't be unprofessional, Captain Casey," Brett tries to admonish, but her tone makes it sound less like a reproach, and more like an invitation.

"I'm high on painkillers," Casey says innocently. "What's your excuse?"

His comment only makes Sylvie smile. And Matt does too. Their eyes locked as an intangible something passes between them.

And the moment they share is not a guarantee for the future and their relationship working out. But a promise, that they will talk, and give what they have a real chance. Because they can no longer ignore they're in love, but they can learn from the past. Last fall, they kissed and tried to talk later. This time, they will reverse the order and make a different outcome. They owe it to themselves, their love, their friendship, and one another.

So this moment, more than anything else, is just that. A vow to fight, but only for each other.

#Chicago Fire #matt casey #sylvie brett #brettsey #brett x casey #kelly severide #stellaride #chicago fire fanfic #bad things happen bingo

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years

Text

and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City. A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid. How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid. Real sick. And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted. He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did. After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked. He looked… normal. And then he buffed up. Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job. He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine. If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking. A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom. Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared. He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away. You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed. She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that. Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict. His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him. But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her. Once she refused to break up with him, she was out. Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad. He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt. And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City. He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work. And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days. He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call. He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined. He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it. Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken. It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear. Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice. God, he was so tired. And everything hurt. There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey! Over here!” The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty. Real nasty. The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And not the big, strong shoulders he had no. The weak little skinny ones he had before. The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath. “Hey,” you said with a weak smile. “You got any cough drops? I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus. So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table. He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops. He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance. So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened. Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all. How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this? Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough. “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare. “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one. “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes. Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked. This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop. “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay. No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one. This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled. Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes. Actually, not even sometimes. Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth. “I’m Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve. Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth. You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to. It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him. And yeah, he still had his phone. He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later. It had gotten worse. So much worse. You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV. His wasn’t as bad. He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?” Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric. He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest. “They wanna start opening things in late May… But it’s too early… I…” You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…” There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms. “Whatever happens, you’ve got me. You hear me? We’re in this together, okay? And we’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift. A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps. He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three. It gave him plenty of time. He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing. You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours. The blue tones glistened against your soft skin. You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor. When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding. This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you. This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him. “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face. “It’s me… Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp. “But I’m worried… And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face. He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still. He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again. “I don’t know… I’ve been better.” A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him. You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near. “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true. Others were on respirators, going into comas. You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort. “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows. “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said. He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction. “And I live alone. And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again… And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…” He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red. “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while? Maybe until all this has passed? And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face. “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat. “Yeah. We can take care of each other… I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine. And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask. Can’t you feel this thing between us? This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence? This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world? Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw. “I know about your family. I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried. I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips. “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside. I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.” His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing. “I know you. And I wanna take care of you. When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you. I want to spend my life with you. And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…” You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick. “I’m not easy to take care of. I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger. The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter. You were together and you were alive. “I don’t need easy. I just need you.”

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x y/n

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princessjungeun · 4 years

Text

Sunshine on A Cloudy Day: Sana x Reader

tw// chronic illness, hospitals, needles, mention of cancer

it’s a high school au btw

this is based on my personal experience. pls be respectful as it wasn’t easy for me to write this :)

Your alarm played through your room, waking you up immediately. You pressed snooze at least seven times before actually getting up and dressing yourself for the long day that was to come.

You pulled on your favorite t shirt and pajama pants before tugging on a sweatshirt. You checked the time before packing your bag, making sure to add your laptop and phone along with their chargers, snacks, socks, favorite stuffed animal, and a few extra school assignments.

By the time you made it downstairs your mom was already waiting for you. Quickly she handed you an apple and muffin to eat on the car ride.

“Okay sweetie I have a meeting this morning from 8 until 11. I’ll bring you lunch, just text or call and tell me what you want.” Your mother spoke not taking her eyes off the road as she drove.

Your mom pulled out her wallet and handed you two familiar cards, telling you to tuck them away until someone inside asked for them.

“Alright sweet girl I’ll be back soon, if they have any issues call me and I can sort it out.” Your mom kissed your forehead before letting you out the car, watching you walk inside before driving away.

Your feet felt heavy as the familiar smell of saline and disinfectant filled your nose. You grabbed a disposable mask off the lobby desk and put it on.

As you started to walk towards the elevator a woman called after you “maam!”

You turned around and pulled down the mask “don’t worry I’m still a minor. I’m going to the 4th floor.”

The woman nodded and gave you a thumbs up with a smile before turning back to check in adults.

It was still early so not many people were in the hallways, except the emergency wing. It is always packed no matter what.

You made your way to the fourth floor hoping if you wakes slower you just wouldn’t have to go. But that wasn’t how it worked and you knew it.

When you entered the waiting room you found a seat by the window. The dull grey sky offered no source of light, leaving you to rely on the fluorescent ceiling panels for brightness.

“Miss Y/LN?” The woman at the desk called your name, waving you over.

“Good morning sweetie haven’t seen you for a few weeks now.” She smiled as she spoke her tone was calming but also happy.

She asked “you got the insurance card for me?” You nodded and handed her one of the cards waiting for her to tell you how much you owed for today’s visit.

“And you have a $30 copay today, would you like to take care of that now?” You nodded and handed her the second card your mom gave you earlier. She finished checking you in “alright they’ll call you back in a bit.”

You sat down and pulled out your phone knowing that your girlfriend was actually awake now.

Y/N: hey

Sana 💞: good morning jagi

Sana 💞: you have an appointment today right?

Y/N 💘: yeah...kinda just wanna go back home

Sana 💞: it’s okay i’ll come over after school and make it better

Y/N 💘: you don’t have to i’ll be fine, this isn’t new

Sana💞: no girlfriend obligations

Sana 💞: i’m coming and you can’t stop me

Y/N 💘: okay fine

Y/N 💘: i’ll text you later, they’re calling me back now

•

It didn’t take long for your nurse to call you back and get you situated in a treatment room. There was only one other patient along with you. It was a little girl no more than 3 years old. You didn’t know exactly what she was getting but your heart broke at the thought considering what department you were in, Cancer and Blood Disorders.

It took 3 hours for your IV bag to get delivered to your floor so you turned on the tv hoping something good was on. You settled on Moana, the only thing that wasn’t the news.

“Alright love we just got your bag, you know the drill, vitals every ten minutes for the first 30 then i’ll come every hour. We should have you out in 5 hours if everything goes well okay?” Your favorite nurse Haseul explained to you quickly what was going to happen.

You found yourself in this same spot with her every couple weeks so she knew how you liked things to go.

“So how’ve you been missy? How’s Sana?” She poked your side getting you to smile for the first time today.

You told her “she’s really good...I haven’t seen her in three weeks though. She got sick for two and she had finals this week, but today is her last one.”

Haseul checked “so you didn’t see her when she was sick right? You know you can’t be around that with your anemia.”

You nodded softly remembering why you were even in the hospital in the first place. What was once a slight iron deficiency quickly turned into a chronic anemia that couldn’t be healed with oral supplements. Doctors had no other option than to put you on infusion treatments which sucked.

Although people were definitely going through worse, especially in this department, that didn’t take away from what you dealt with. The constant fatigue, dizziness, falling asleep in class, hair loss, being malnourished, all of it a constant reminder that you weren’t like most.

“Y/N!” Haseul snapped her fingers in front of your face.

You blinked rapidly “sorry what?”

Haseul responded “it’s okay I just needed to make sure you didn’t pass out on me. I need to put on your heart monitor.” She placed the stickers on your chest before grabbing the IV kit she placed on your lap earlier.

“Alright in your hand or arm today?” Haseul knows you prefer the arm but she always asks in case you change your mind.

You simply pointed to your arm before extending it so she could access your vein. Finding your vein was no problem, as you still had a raised bump from the last time you got treatment.

“Okay...and one two- there you go.” Haseul secured the IV with a Tergaderm, which was weirdly enough your favorite part of this whole process.

She left you and cane back every ten minutes to check your vitals before disappearing to help another patient for a bit.

You ended up spending the first two hours dozing in and out of sleep, waiting for your mother to call you. Eventually you did in fact wake up, and to the smell of your favorite food.

Your mother sat in a chair next to you on her phone talking to who you assume is a coworker. Quickly she hung up the phone so she could talk to you instead.

“Hey hows it going so far?” She asked with slight concern.

You told her “ fine just sleeping to pass time that’s all.”

She smiled before handing you a bag of food hoping it’d bring some form of joy to your day.

•

You both ended up enjoying an early lunch together but unfortunately she had to leave the hospital for an emergency meeting. It wasn’t unusual for this to happen so you were used to it, she’d simply be back at the end of your appointment.

Your phone buzzed next to you, pulling your attention away from your mother’s absence.

Sana💞: how are you doing so far?

Y/N💘: it’s good. I’m watching Aladdin now :)

Sana💞: i wanna be there with you rn instead of in math class

Y/N💘: your day is almost over then you can see me

Y/N💘: think of it that way

Sana💞: yeah but i still wish i was with you

Y/N💘: soon

Sana💞: ok fine. i have to go i love you

Y/N💘: i love you too babe

Around the third hour you became irritable and ended up walking the hallways with Haseul. She was honestly the only thing that made you feel normal in this place.

When the two of you got back you were tired and worn out from the walk. It didn’t seem like a long distance to most but you definitely were feeling it.

You found your spot back in the treatment room, sitting in your chair and reclining it back. Just as you were going to close your eyes Haseul called your name.

“Y/N. You’ve got a visitor would you like her to come back?” Haseul didn’t bother to open the curtain to tell you who it was so being the curious girl you were, you allowed it.

Sana walked in with a smile on her face, it was like your sunshine on a cloudy day. It was clear she had just finished school as she was still in her uniform, and she was wearing her backpack.

“Ho- Sana? Why? How did you even get in here?” You asked her through a laugh.

Sana responded “nobody stopped me downstairs and I know you’re on this floor. The lady at the desk outside was very nice too!”

You immediately sat up, not realizing that was a bad idea given your position. Closing your eyes tight you tapped your finger on the arm rest of your chair, waiting for the dizziness to stop.

When you opened your eyes you saw Sana in front of you, a frown on her face. It broke her heart to see you, her girlfriend, in this state. You always tried to make it seem like you weren’t sick but it was very obvious that you still were no matter how much you pretended otherwise.

She placed a blanket over you before running her thumb along your face and softly saying “my baby girl...”

You smiled at her knowing it might possibly make her less sad but it didn’t do much.

She could tell you were tired so she told you “it’s fine just sleep.”

By the time you woke up it was time for you to leave. Haseul had flushed your IV and took your vitals for the last time while you were asleep.

Your mother was downstairs in the parking garage waiting for you and Sana so you could go home.

It was clear by the look on your face that you felt nauseous, a common side effect of your treatment, from the second you stood up.

Sana gathered your things and help you put on your sweatshirt and bag before you two headed downstairs.

You interlocked you’re hand with hers as you felt dizzier with every step you took. She could tell you were having a hard time but she knows how much you try to hide it. When you both made it to the car you fell asleep almost instantly.

Sana helped you to your room, quickly helping you to bed before stealing some of your clothes to wear for herself.

You sleepily held out your arms for her, a soft whimper leaving your lips. She crawled under the covers and you immediately clung to her. You were shivering as if you were standing in snow with only a bathing suit on. Your hands and fingers started turning blue, indicating you body temperature was dropping, a side effect of treatments.

Sana pulled you closer and kissed the top of your head as your fingers curled around her shirt, holding her close.

It only took ten seconds before you started sobbing into her chest. As much as you wanted to pretend you were fine and not in pain, you couldn’t hide it anymore. Breaking down in her arms you sobbed until you fell asleep. She felt terrible knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, but she knew that you appreciated her being there for you.

You only slept for an hour before you woke up in a cold sweat. Your t shirt clung to your back as you kicked off your blankets seeking some sort of way to cool yourself down. That did little to nothing so you scrambled to the bathroom hoping cold water would do the trick.

Sana knew this was yet another side effect of your treatment, a high fever. Your cheeks burned red as you splashed your face with water in the sink. Much to your relief it worked and you were finally able to get back in bed with her.

Your girlfriend held you in her arms tight as if she never wanted to let go.

“Thank you...” You softly spoke as she drew small circles along the small of your back.

“For what?” She asked curiously.

You mumbled “everything...just everything you do for me.”

She giggled softly “you know i’d do anything for you baby.”

Mumbling softly you told her “i love you.”

She responded quickly “i love you too.”

Letting your eyes close you further melted into her embrace as she tightened her arms around you. In the back of your mind you were reminded why you always said i love you before you fell asleep. Besides the fact that you did in fact love her, but if you happened not to wake up tomorrow, the last thing she heard from you was those three words.

Nevertheless you hoped and prayed you’d wake up in the morning to see her smiling face.

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #twice fluff #twice scenarios #twice imagine #minatozaki sana #twice sana

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years

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A bit of reading : orwomen.()scot/did-you-know/?fbclid=IwAR0H7TqxQNqemZcAGFtvR_HLkbkxmZ4FY6srcgrULWxGPyWuc6QPTmDQfVI

Did you know…

…that 80-95% of people who say they are trans choose to have no medical treatment at all – no surgery, no drugs, not even therapy? Transwomen are just male people who subjectively believe that they are female. That’s it. That is all that’s required.

Despite some commentators describing an “epidemic of violence against trans people“, transwomen are no more likely to be murdered than anyone else, and the best data available shows it’s half as likely. In Scotland, zero have been killed. In fact, transwomen are almost twice as likely to be the perpetrator of a murder than to be murdered in the UK, which is not surprising since a male pattern of violence is retained regardless of any transition or cross-dressing.

The 48% of trans youth have attempted suicide statistic is nonsense too. It was based on just 27 trans people (aged 26 and under), from a self-selecting online survey – which made the data worthless. Yet that hasn’t stopped the TIE Campaign peddling similar in Scottish schools (or is it 27%, they seem confused?), contrary to Samaritans advice on avoiding attributing the cause to any one incident. The NHS Gender Identity Development Service actually says “suicide is extremely rare” and rates of self-harm, distress and suicide ideation are similar to other children seen by CAMHS.

Did you know that 1 in 50 males in prison now self-id as trans according to Ministry of Justice figures? If it is so dangerous to be trans why do so many choose to come out when in jail?

Were you aware that 95% of prisoners are men, and 5% women? That most women in prison are there for financial crime, and most men are in for violent offending. Did you know that men commit 98% of sex offences? That 48% of transwomen prisoners are sex offenders (compared to less than 20% in the general male estate) and would swamp the female estate if they all transferred.

What makes these convicted sex offenders, who were born male, women? Why should female prisoners be locked up with rapists if they say “I am a woman”? Are you willing to be in a prison cell with a male rapist on that basis? And if not, do you think other women should be? Are you aware that women have already been sexually assaulted and raped, in several countries, because of this policy?

Did you know that Scotland already has a policy significantly more liberal than England’s, stating that transgender prisoners must normally be housed according to the “social gender” with which they self-identify? And that this policy was brought in by a senior prison officer, himself now a convicted sex offender? A policy put in place without even talking to women’s groups or considering that there would be any impact on female prisoners at all. Despite warnings of abuse, including from former women’s prison governor Rhona Hotchkiss, the promised policy review has not been forthcoming.

What about women’s refuges, have you considered what it could do to a woman fleeing male violence to encounter a male in that refuge? Read why the CEO of a domestic violence charity, Karen Ingala Smith, considers it imperative that refuges remain women-only, and her speech at the Scottish Parliament.

Did you know that a woman was asked to leave a shelter because, as a rape survivor, she couldn’t sleep in the same room as a strange male, regardless of how he identified? Are you aware that a man used self-id to access a women’s shelter where he sexually assaulted vulnerable women? Are you aware that a rape relief shelter in Canada lost all public funding for insisting they remain women-only, and had a dead rat nailed to their door?

Are you aware that the Scottish Government imposes a transwomen inclusive policy on Scottish Women’s Aid as a condition of funding and that Rape Crisis Scotland refused to guarantee a female counsellor for a traumatised teenager? We know from private meetings that they erroneously believe they cannot provide a single-sex service due to a lack of ‘case law’, despite having previously done so for many years. Did you know there is a male manager of a rape crisis centre, who failed to disclose his sex at interview, and which still claims to be women-led?

Are you aware that despite less than half of changing rooms in swimming pools and sports centres being mixed sex, 90% of sexual assaults have happened in them? Yet mixed-sex, ‘gender-neutral’ facilities are constantly pushed, including in schools – contrary to law and building regulations requiring separate sex provision – when it would be more responsible to increase third space unisex provision for the comfort of those who need it.

That’s before you even get into the issue of how to keep out predatory men who aren’t trans, if you say that any man who ‘identifies as a woman’ can use communal changing/showering areas at will. A man exposing himself in a park commits a crime. A man doing so in a women’s changing room, where you’re also naked, who need not have even told staff he identifies as a woman, may no longer be committing an offence.

Did you know that the Scottish Government funded LGBT Youth Scotland, a spin-off group from Stonewall, to write guidance for schools that breaches children’s rights in at least eleven ways? This includes the unscientific belief in gender identity, which even the Justice Minister is at a loss to define, the promotion of harmful breast binding and the removal of all single-sex spaces and sports. No-one should be surprised at this as Stonewall have long campaigned for the removal of women’s rights, although single issue political pressure groups should have been no-where near schoolchildren.

It took the Government until June 2019 to commit to replacing this guidance, having privately received advice that it was “not legal“. Yet, this new legally compliant guidance is seven months overdue and the Education Minister is refusing to withdraw LGBTYS’s guidance in the interim.

Why should we accept smear tests from any male who feels they have a womanly gender identity – what does that even mean (let’s ask the Justice Minister again)? And yes, it is happening. A rape survivor who wanted a woman to carry out her breast screening found her letter used as an example in hospital trans guidance as ‘unacceptable’ and ‘highly discriminatory’. And a woman in a psychiatric ward who was terrified at being locked in a ward with an “extremely male-bodied” fellow patient was regarded as a transphobic bigot. The truth is that women in mixed-sex hospital wards, particularly psych, have very real reasons to fear men.

Did you know that 35 clinicians have resigned from the Tavistock (children’s gender clinic in London) over their failings, including the Governor? Who later wrote a damning account of the abject failure to heed evidence that their affirmation-only policy is harmful to children, especially to the huge influx in girls who may suffer other complex problems, such as trauma, autism, a history of sexual abuse or discomfort with their developing sexuality. A staggering 48% of children referred to Tavistock have ASD traits, and a BBC Newsnight investigation revealed significant numbers of children seeking transition treatment based on their family’s homophobia.

Are you aware that studies show that puberty blockers result in 100% of children progressing to cross-sex hormones – whereas, if left unmedicated, the Tavistocks’s own research shows over 90%, if supported by counselling, are happy with their sex once they emerge from puberty. Did you know hormone blockers may cause sterility, a large decrease in IQ, bone density loss, and more? An investigation by the Health Review Authority concluded that blockers are really the start of irreversible physical transition and recommended that “Researchers and clinical staff should…avoid referring to puberty suppression as providing a ‘breathing space’, to avoid risk of misunderstanding.” This led to a major overhaul of the NHS UK website which no longer considers blockers to be fully reversible and confirms long-term effects are unknown.

The young person’s gender clinic at Sandyford, Glasgow has recently withdrawn their information booklet and we trust it will be similarly updated. Do you think all the government funded trans organisations will be scrupulous in updating their information too – including LGBT Youth guidance in Dumfries and Galloway, Scottish Trans/NHS guidance, and Stonewall advice, among many more, including of course the already deemed “not legal” school guidance by LGBT Youth?

Are you aware that the number of children referred to Sandyford is rising at a faster rate than the rest of the UK? Yet they don’t actually know how many girls have been referred as children can select what sex they want recorded on medical records – although unofficially, clinicians report similar concerns as elsewhere about the huge proportional rise in young girls seeking to transition. Did you know that bias, and not evidence, dominates the WPATH transgender standard of care followed in Scotland? And it is woefully out-of-date considering the fundamental change in patient make up since it was written in 2011.

Read the speech given by Dr David Bell at the Scottish Parliament and consider why, if his report about issues at the Tavistock prompted the Director to resign, was it not enough for the Health Minister, Jeane Freeman, to instigate an enquiry into identical practices at Sandyford? Perhaps the Government will listen to the outcome of a Judicial Review that is being sought by Keira Bell, a detransitioning woman, who wants to protect other troubled young girls from similar treatment.

Are you aware that women with our views are threatened with violence, rape and death, almost as an everyday occurrence? We are told TERF is not a slur, but I challenge you to find any instances of it being used without abuse or threats attached to it. Do you think it’s in any way acceptable for lesbians to be on the receiving end of these menaces for asserting, or even just trying to be proud of, their right to be same-sex attracted? Do you really think there’s such a thing as a lesbian with a penis?

All that hate is from transactivists, and is aimed at women with our views. I challenge you to find anything remotely equivalent from here, from our recorded talks, or indeed anywhere else. This is NOT a case of two sides as bad as each other. And it’s notable that the hate is not aimed at genuinely transphobic, aggressive men. It’s aimed at women. It’s aimed at us.

And JK Rowling. Read the tweets she posted and look at the replies. Read the essay further explaining her thoughts and ask how anyone could possibly think she deserved such atrocious abuse, or how transactivists thought it in any way acceptable to post penis images in retaliation (don’t worry, it’s been edited!) on a child’s thread about Ickabog art.

Did you know women can be, and often are, fired for believing sex is real, that humans cannot change sex, and women and girls are entitled to privacy when undressing or otherwise vulnerable? And yet poll, after poll, after poll, after poll show that this is the majority view, by at least 80%. You may well wonder why then, is the Scottish Government proposing to bring in Hate Crime legislation that would see even JK Rowling imprisoned for up to seven years for expressing views deemed abusive by transactivists, yet affords women no such protection in law, based on their sex.

Innate gender identity is a belief system. There’s no evidence one exists. If our Government cannot even define it, then it should not be presented as fact to our children. It should not over-ride women’s hard fought for rights.

Do you know that the very word ‘woman’ will change definition, if the trans lobby succeed? If we can’t define what a woman is, how can we accurately capture data? How can we record male violence, the pay gap, our representation in government, business, finance, law, media…anywhere? Police Scotland already record incidences on the basis of gender identity, but can’t seem to recall when, or why that happened, and the census looks to be going the same way, despite the importance of recognising sex being shown quite dramatically by COVID-19.

An influential lobby loudly insisting that they won’t be erased (when trans organisations are heavily state funded and train all major businesses, branches of government, school teachers, universities and NHS boards) are actively campaigning to erase the very definition of what a woman is – best archive it, just in case! Have you noticed how easy it is to define a woman when we’re being aborted, subjected to FGM, married off, denied the vote, raped, murdered, paid less, represented less in every single sector of government and industry, expected to perform most of the world’s unpaid labour, and constituting 71% of the world’s modern slaves? The only places that seem unsure on what a woman is are the places feminism was starting to make inroads. It’s almost like there must be some sort of a connection, isn’t it?

We don’t have any fear, resentment or hatred for trans people. We agree there should be protection in law against discrimination and violence. We just don’t agree that our rights need to be railroaded over in the process. We don’t agree that male people should access women’s spaces, or benefit from women’s provision, at will, without our consent. Our name is WOMEN and our rights matter.

Don’t you agree…?

#gender critical #For women Scotland #Transgender

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coleyholts · 3 years

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The ER and the Operation

First off-Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. For obvious reasons, this post took a lot of time to put into words that were relatable.

Trigger Warning: Infant Injury. This is by far the worst part of the entire ordeal. I want the reader to know that none of this is exaggerated whatsoever, and it may be difficult to read. What happened in the ER and trauma center that day has truly changed me.

The glass doors parted in front of me to reveal a line of people waiting to get checked in. This was the first time I cried. They all quickly waved me up ahead of them once they saw that I had an obviously unconscious, super pale, vomit covered infant in my arms.

The helplessness set in when I was required to sign in like everyone else. It’s not like I expect special treatment, but my baby was dying and no one seemed to understand the urgency of the EMERGENCY. There were no nurses coming out to receive a trauma patient. There was no alarm. I stood there, alone, with my rapidly worsening baby, sobbing and screaming for help while dripping in her breakfast and lunch. At this point, she would wake up and pass out again in a vicious cycle. Over and over, I watched her light dim for what felt like an eternity. After what I would rationally estimate to be about seven minutes (48,369,526 years to a scared parent), they finally called us back.

Everyone was taking their time. I wondered if they thought I was being dramatic. Were they rolling their eyes and blaming my emotion on “New Parent Syndrome?” They were. I felt it.

It wasn’t until they FINALLY decided to run vitals that they discovered what I was trying to stress since I had entered the hospital. My daughter had something way more serious going on than any of us expected. We walked (very briskly) down the hall to get a better look at what was actually happening in her head. The tech and nurse cloaked me in protective gear so that I could stay with her. I gently stroked her toes (also known as de peets) as she woke up, cried in pain, and fell back into her trauma-induced sleep while they got all of the imagery they needed.

We were brought back to our room and had a brief moment alone. I held her so tight while I kissed her face and alternated holding her feet and hands. They were so cold. A nurse rushed up to our door, looked at me and said, “make sure to keep her as upright as possible.”

That’s when I knew there was a bleed in my baby’s head.

A team of nurses came in and told me that they were going to start an IV, which actually made me feel relieved to know she would be feeling better soon. This is when Daniel arrived, and being that he is the epitome of girl dad attitude, he understandably doesn’t like to watch her get stuck. He stuck his head in the room and immediately backed out when they tried to start the line. Unfortunately, we found out very quickly that she had no blood in her limbs whatsoever.

They stuck her over and over again just to find air bubbles, which means they were unable to administer any intravenous medication to replace fluids, relieve pain, stop her from fading in and out of consciousness, or do anything to prevent the blood pooling in Natasha’s skull. They decided that her condition was serious enough that she needed a line no matter what it took, which I agreed, which meant that they were going to use a legitimate power tool to drill into her shins to run a line into her bones. I consented and sobbed, knowing the pain my baby had already endured that day was going to be the start of much more, if she survived.

While this was going down, Daniel was right outside the door, unaware of the issues we were running into, he heard a nurse at the nurses’ station ordering a helicopter for an infant, and that the “family wasn’t aware yet.” My husband is a strong, supportive man that is a fixer. If he cannot fix a problem, he expresses himself with (verbal) anger. He comes into the room and says very abruptly to the nurse, “You’re flying her out?! Why?!” to which the male nurse responded, “because there's something seriously wrong and it needs to be fixed.” I saw him escalating with anxiety so I assured him that they were just having a little trouble getting the line in and he returned to the hallway to start the wait for the doctor who was going to tell us what the hell was actually happening to our baby.

When she arrived, the doctor came in with Daniel. She told us that Natasha had fractured her skull, and along with potential brain damage and hemorrhage, we were also concerned about blood loss, as her supply was pooling in her head. The only way to save her life was to get her to INOVA Children’s Hospital for an emergency surgery, on a helicopter that I was not allowed to accompany her on.

Alone with my baby and the nurses, I was so upset. My sweet girl was in so much pain. I made eye contact with a nurse and while sobbing, begged her to please administer anything whatsoever to ease the headache and all of the needle sticks-not to mention the drill. For the first time, someone heard me. She RAN into the hall and managed to bring back Versed, which can be administered nasally to relax muscles and calm the patient. I am given the same drug when I get my back injections, so I was relieved. It also prevents the patient from remembering everything, when administered in proper dosage. It helped Natasha’s discomfort immediately. They gave her the numbing shots in her legs, and while she was dozing and truly unaware of my presence, I stepped into the hallway.

This was the first time since the CT scan that she wasn’t in my arms. This time was different. We knew the severity of the injury and she was being cared for by the entire trauma team of 7+ people. I took one step out of the room, one step to the left, and planted my butt on the wall and hands on my knees for stability while I hung my head in complete disbelief. How could this happen? I opened my eyes and saw my clothing, dripping in her vomit. I can still smell the banana berry baby food she ate without hesitation two hours earlier. I screamed and sobbed as my muscles locked up in my legs and chest, then I felt someone put their hands on me.

I was literally picked up and supported while I shakily stood, completely losing my mind over the guilt and hatred I felt for myself. The drilling began and I let out a sound I didn’t know I could make, while I was held tighter than I’d ever been. I pulled back, just for a second, to look into the eyes of my soulmate and all I could say was, “I’m so sorry.” Daniel pulled me back in, kissed my face, wiped my tears (which really didn’t do anything considering they just kept coming, but the gesture was so kind), and proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t my fault, and that he loves me and he loves that I am his daughter’s mother. In that moment, his anger subsided and he moved to a different headspace. That small exchange is burned into my heart forever and I have never been so incredibly thankful to be his wife.

They helicopter team arrived and they were still unable to get a steady line going. According to their transport regulations, a patient transported by air has to be hooked up to an IV as well as intubated. Time was ticking and my baby was visibly fading. While still in the hallway, we were met by some medical coordinator who was trying to arrange a ride for us while she was in the air. I don’t know how he was able, but after insisting over and over, they let us go. They finally put an IV in my baby’s forehead; there was no other way. They were discreet and covered it but I know what an IV mark looks like after the fact. They could not get her intubated and save her so that (very brave) helicopter team took a huge risk that ultimately got her to INOVA by deciding to take her anyway. WE kissed her goodbye while sobbing and told her how much we loved her. The thought of her dying in flight weighed on us heavily, so we took off as soon as they wheeled her out.

The ride there was crazy. I had no thoughts and all the thoughts going through my head. My heart was nauseous. I set a quick group text to my immediate family. We saw the helicopter fly over us and it was a sigh of relief-knowing we were FLYING down the highway but she would be there faster.

We pulled up to the ER/Trauma Center. I got out and ran in. All I could get out was “Natasha” until they asked my relation and I somehow got out, “my baby...” They valeted the car so Daniel could be with us. They were rushing to get her into surgery. They brought us into the trauma room (families usually aren’t permitted there but there was no time) and pulled up some waiver and permission forms. They briefly explained the surgery, we signed, then it was GO TIME.

We stepped out of the room as the table with my baby strapped to it-full of wires and tubes-flew out of the trauma room. The anesthesiologist made brief eye contact with me, halted the team, and said, “Let her kiss her baby.” He knew she could easily not make it through this surgery. Daniel kissed her and loved her for a few seconds and backed away with teary eyes. I laid my forehead against her cheek. I sobbed and screamed. I kissed her over and over as my tears soaked us. I told her I was so so sorry and that I loved her so much. I wished it was me.

They took her away then. The team saw my raw sorrow. I got a very quick but kind pat on the back and they took off.

We were met by a social worker who brought us to a private room where we could chat and have some water. Of course, we were asked all the suspected child abuse questions, but they got the idea pretty quickly that this was a freak accident.

After the interview, we were brought to a huge waiting room that must have been filled with 100+ seats. We found a spot and the social worker left us. We sat for a moment, touching hands. They we both had to cry, then stand, then pace... The wait took forever, even more so not knowing if she was even going to live.

My brother, Jason works out that way and asked us if we needed anything right at that moment. I was wearing a paper shirt provided by a nurse, so we gave him a small list and he stopped by. He and Daniel stepped out for some fresh air while I sat breathing deeply and trying not to worry myself into another panic episode. Then, an actual angel emerged from the hospital doors.

Dr. Leon Moores, a pediatric neurosurgeon at Pediatric Specialists of Virginia performed the emergency surgery. I called for Daniel as Dr. Moores hugged me so tightly. I didn’t know if this was a good or bad hug yet.

Daniel and Jason walked (ran) back in and sat with us to hear the outcome. He told us that he was able to remove a blood clot the size of his fist from Natsha’s skull and that her vitals were wonderful. So she had 100% survived the surgery. Next was about brain damage, and by some miracle, her brain remained unharmed. Dr. Moores saved my baby.

While they were getting her settled into the PICU, Jason took us to Target to get some clothes and snacks. We had no idea how long this journey was going to be. We got back to the hospital, gave gigantic hugs, and went up to see our baby as she woke up.

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Note

Hiii do you have any relationship Hc's for goshiki

Hmmm this is gonna take a bit, but I have some ideas in mind:D

Our weird bowl cut boy lol

He’s gonna be Shiratorizawa’s ace... someday.

I’m gonna split this to two parts, because I write long hcs and I wanna write out how you guys dealt with your feelings before actually dating.

👾Goshiki👾

✨Confession✨

- Really clueless at first.

- By really clueless I mean REALLY CLUELESS.

- When you joined the volleyball team as manager, he definitely tried to talk big, trying to give you a good impression of who is and why you “shouldn’t mess with him.”

- He refused to get close to you, despite your efforts in trying to get him to loosen up.

- “You’re just gonna be a distraction.”

- “I’m here to beat Ushijima and become the ace of Shiratorizawa, not make friends.”

- Ah yes, the typical no bullshit shounen anime protagonist that ends up somehow becoming the little brother of the team.

- And also ends up as a tiny crush for a certain someone.

- You don’t really know when you started noticing him that much. He was kinda just... there.

- But alas, seeing how determined he is to get to the top? Mad respect.

- Maybe with time that respect slowly became admiration and attraction.

- You wanna know how determined he is? Think Kageyama, but times ten.

- This bitch waits for everyone to leave the gym after practise, then continues to train his ass off for hours. I’m talking 4-5 extra hours of training.

- You only know this because you stay behind in the gym to clean up the equipment, and he doesn’t leave the gym when you do, which is about an hour or two after practice ends.

- Whenever you ask him when he’s leaving, he just waves you off halfheartedly, usually muttering a casual “I’ll be leaving soon, don’t worry.”

- And if you think that’s it? Oh nononono.

- There has been one instance where you saw him passed out.

- Like Goshiki trained so hard he just blacked out due to exhaustion.

- How you found him?

- Well,

- Your dumbass left your textbooks in the gym, so you had to go back and retrieve it.

- It was like what, 8 in the evening, but the lights and air conditioning were still on.

- You were already weirded out, so you decided to be extra careful. You know how high schoolers are these days, who knows what they’re doing behind closed doors sometimes.

- You creak the doors open just a bit, taking a peep.

- And your eyes land on a motionless Goshiki just laying on the gym floor.

- That scene scared the shit out of you.

- You checked his pulse, and his breathing. To your relief, his pulse was still there, although it wasn’t as strong as it should be. However, his breathing was definitely shallower than usual.

- Thank god for that emergency treatment course you enrolled for last year. You knew how to treat Goshiki almost immediately, raising his legs and keeping them up with a stool you found. What you didn’t expect, was for him to not wake up even after 5 whole minutes of you checking on him.

- That time you literally called an ambulance.

- Needless to say you definitely scolded him when he woke up, before forcing him to eat and drink something.

- Turns out for the past months or so, he’s been training for an extra 4-5 hours a day, without enough food or water to replenish himself.

- It would be about 9-10pm when he got home, where he had to finish his homework and finally get some food in his system, mostly leftovers. When he’s done with homework, it would be around 1am, which would be when he actually cleans up and hauls his ass to bed.

- He has to wake up at 5am for morning practise.

- You were about to punch him when he told the doctor all that.

- Since that worrying experience, you’ve forced Goshiki to leave the gym after a maximum of two hours.

- You walked him to the bus station after every single practise, just to make sure he doesn’t pass out.

- (And also to stare at him while he listens to music and tosses the ball occasionally, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

- Goshiki honestly appreciates the walks to the bus stop and the casual conversations you guys can hold.

- And to be honest, he was pretty surprised you’d actually go along with what you said in the hospital and “Walk him home every single day until he’s done with volleyball in highschool.”

- These days you patiently wait for him to finish his extra practise, and set an alarm for 2 hours. Once those 2 hours are up, you’re dragging his ass out of the gym with his stuff all packed neatly. No buts, nope, don’t wanna hear it.

- Maybe it was the determination you had to make sure he was safe and healthy, or the dumb conversations you had every single day about mermaids getting laid and unicorns getting horny.

- Because with time, Goshiki eventually succumbed to his feelings and admitted to himself.

- He had fallen for you. Hard.

- And there was nothing he could do about it.

- Except,

- Avoid you as much as he could.

- Poor little Goshiki was so clueless that he thought avoiding you would eventually cause his feelings to just disappear like how my dad went to get the milk.

- Whenever he saw you in the hallways, he’d just blush and walk the other way, even if it was the opposite direction of where he was supposed to be going.

- Nope, no fist bump, hi five, nothing.

- Alas, he couldn’t avoid you much anyways, since you were the manager for the volleyball team, and you also persisted on walking him to the bus stop every single god damned day.

- All he could do was try and muster up the driest possible responses to anything you said.

- “So, how was practice? You feeling anywhere near as powerful as Ushiwaka yet?”

- “Eh, it was okay.”

- “You want something to eat or drink? We can go to that boba store around the corner from last week and get something.”

- “Nah, I’m good.”

- You were weirded out, to say the least.

- Since when did Goshiki pass on boba?

- “Oi, Tsutomu, are you feeling okay? You’re acting a bit odd.”

- You raised your hand to his forehead, feeling the warmth on your palm as Goshiki flared 50 different shades of red.

- “U-uh, my stop’s there, I’ll see you tomorrow bye-” he rambled, stuttering over his words before zooming towards the wrong station.

- “What just happened?”

- All Goshiki could do was get home as quick as possible, finish all his work, eat up, clean himself, and just scream into his pillow.

- “I’ve been avoiding her for so long, why is she still stuck in there?”

- He was being so blatantly obvious with avoiding you that the volleyball team eventually had to speak up.

- That went terribly.

- “Goshiki, why aren’t you focusing these days? Is there something troubling you?” -Shirabu

- “Plus, you haven’t even spared a glance at y/n, let alone talked to her. Aren’t you guys like best friends?” -Tendou

- “Goshiki do you like her?” -Ushijima

- Goshiki almost choked on his water.

- No, not almost. He definitely choked on his water.

- “What? ME? PLEASE! OF COURSE NOT!” -Goshiki, in denial, blushing

- “Seems like you do to us.” -Ushijima, as blunt as usual

- “Well then, you should’ve just told me Goshiki. I never knew you disliked me.”

- Oh shi-

- Well isn’t it convenient? You were standing right there with volleyballs in hand when he decided to belt out that statement.

- For the next few weeks, you both avoided each other as much as you can. You even stopped walking him to the bus stop.

- Until the day before their match against Karasuno.

- At this point, Goshiki had had enough.

- This was troubling him to an extent already, and he also had the match to worry about.

- At the end of practice, he waited until all the members of the team (especially Tendou) left the gym, before harshly pulling you into the storage room, pulling you down to sit next to him on the floor.

- “What do you want Goshiki-”

- “I like you. That’s it.”

- What the hell.

- Your mouth hung open, you face and neck feeling hot, as he made his way back into the gym, practising yet again. All you could do was sit in the storage room, still not comprehending what had just happened.

- Not knowing how to deal with this, you grabbed your stuff, and made your way home as quick as you can, not wanting to deal with the situation at hand yet. You flop onto your bed once you reach your room, and scream into the pillow out of frustration.

- “Why did I do that? That was my chance, I blew it! I’m so stupid oh my god.”

- Goshiki was also being extra aggressive with the volleyballs too. By the time he had finished his extra practise, his palms were scathed and sore, red marks scattered all over.

- During the match agaisnt Karasuno, he was extra nervous, not wanting to screw up.

- But at the same time, the events of yesterday replayed in his mind like a broken record. The way you stared at him in shock, not even making a sound. How you left the gym as quick as it happened, not sparing even a glance at him. It made him regret ever befriending you in the first place. He should’ve known that this was bound to happen.

- This led to him being extra aggressive during the match. Both teams were shocked and quite frankly, a bit intimidated too.

- Goshiki was fueled by all his pent up rage against himself, a seemingly dark aura radiating off of him on the court. He was stupid. An absolute imbecile. A moron. An idiot that put his heart on his sleeve, not once thinking about the consequences it could bring.

- When coach Washijo decided to scream “if you’re gonna stare, at least stare at a damn girl” at him, he sneered so hard at him his face was about to become permanently contorted. Even his own coach, the spawn of satan, was taken aback.

- The fact that Shiratorizawa ended up losing did not help. At all. All that did was make his day even shittier.

- Until you finally told him you reciprocated his feelings.

- Not long after the loss, the team all went their own way home, feeling miserable about the game.

- Goshiki had his earphones in, walking towards the bus station, head hung low as he silently sobbed, feeling like absolute shit.

- You caught up to him, before basically engulfing him in a huge hug from behind, nuzzling your head into his shoulder, refusing to let go.

- He was flustered, to say the least. Frozen in place, tears continued to stream down his face in steady streaks.

- “I’m sorry for your loss today, and for yesterday too.”

- His eyes widened at your apology as he furiously wiped the hot tears, his eyes still slightly puffy and his nose still red.

- At this moment, Goshiki needed someone. Desperately. In one swift motion, he had turned around and held you with an iron grip, a hand pushing your head into his chest, his back hunched with his head in the crook of your neck as he cried, this time letting the sobs and whimpers become audible. His salty tears met your skin, rolling down to your collarbone.

- “So the reason why you’ve been avoiding me was because you liked me?”

- Goshiki nodded into your neck, still crying.

- “Well I’ve liked you since the start of the school year too, so don’t worry. I’m here for you.”

- Hearing that, he detached himself from your neck, staring at you, surprised at how calm you were and how dense he had been.

- “Wait for real?”

- You were in a hurry, since you promised to run some errands, so you did the first thing that popped into your mind.

- On your tiptoes, you gave his lips a quick peck, before running away, your face completely red.

- “For the record Tsutomu, we’re dating now I guess.”

✨Dating✨

- What a sweetie.

- At first, he’s super secretive with the relationship, not wanting people to find out.

- Especially not his parents. He would have hell personally sent to him in a cute little death package if they ever found out he was dating someone.

- He tried his best not to show any trace of him being in a relationship during practice.

- But alas, Tendou once sneaked up on you two holding hands at school and instantly knew.

- This redhead announced it to the whole team that you two were dating and you almost beat him up.

- Now, he’s opened up a lot more about this than when it first started.

- No, his parents still don’t know about you two.

- But his friends knew not to hit on you, and the volleyball team would constantly tease him when you walked by, making kissy noises and over the top fake moans. Tendou once shoved two balls up his chest just to imitate you. You looked over to see your third year senior with an ahegao face, two volleyballs unevenly shoved into his shirt as he skipped around. You stared in disgust, giving him a slight scowl before turning around and continuing with your shit.

- Needless to say his other balls were absolutely wrecked by Goshiki.

- Will spoil you so badly like damn.

- Occasional gifts from lil bowl cut is something you should definitely expect.

- Sometimes you’ll just randomly find a new pair of earrings or a new phone case on your desk with a note from him, while your classmates stare in awe and lowkey envy you from afar.

- Very, very frequent dates.

- I’m talking like every weekend, and sometimes even after school on friday.

- Dates planned by Goshiki aren’t ever extravagant or anything, but god damn do they make you feel blessed. Usually it’s just to a cute cafe, maybe a carnival, or a movie date.

- Dates planned by you though? Ohohohoho he was in for so much fun. I’m talking trampoline parks, amusement parks, gaming cafes, volleyball dates, all that fun shit.

- You would let him teach you how to play volleyball, and end up laughing your ass off at how incredibly bad you were while he kinda just gives up on teaching you and goofs around.

- Your hands running through his hair is literally the best thing he has ever felt no cap.

- Likes to cup your cheeks a lot, just to make you flustered.

- (Secretly loves it so much when he’s able to make you all blushy because oh my god you look so cute.)

- You’re not allowed to sleepover at his, nor is he allowed to sleepover at yours because strict parents!

- The rare times when your parents allow you to go “help your friend Goshiki study,” you guys actually do serious studying.

- Then right after that comes the cuddling.

- Okay let’s be real, Goshiki would probably be really awkward at the start.

- He’d probably try make sure you were comfortable, so his body would be twisted into some weird position.

- But he eventually found his favourite way to cuddle with you, in a way where both of you could just lay in peace comfortably without breaking your backs.

- Most times, he would lie sideways on his bed facing you. He’d snake one hand around your lower back, the other to your head as he pulls you in close, resting you against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, which sped up every time you nuzzled against him.

- Cute.

- Will give you pecks on the lips every single morning when he first sees you, wherever he is.

- It do not matter to him how many people are watching, he do not care. At all.

- Holds your hand e v e r y w h e r e .

- He’s also very fond of forehead kisses.

- He just finds them so heartwarming and intimate in a non sexual way.

- Every time something was bothering you, or you were just breaking down because of how shitty life was, he knows exactly what to do.

- He’d pull you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head while drawing circles on your back with his fingers.

- If it was worse and you were crying, he likes to wipe your tears for you, kissing the stains on your cheeks, before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

- Loves it when you wear his hoodies.

- They’re oversized on you and oh my god sweater paws are the death of him.

- You’re honestly relieved he’s not looking for anything sexual.

- He’s too pure for that shit, keep his innocence.

- You made a promise to cheer for him wearing his jersey whenever he played in matches, and you’ve never broken it.

- PDA.

- SO MUCH PDA.

- This boy. He loves showing you off to his teammates so much.

- “I may not be as good as Ushijima at volleyball yet, but at least I’m not a crusty single bitch.” -Goshiki to some rando that insulted his skills and personality

- “You guys go look for your own plus ones to the school dance, I’m keeping y/n.” -Goshiki to his friends

- “Stop imitating her Tendou-san, it’s insulting to her. You’re too odd to get even close to imitating her accurately.” -Goshiki to Tendou who had volleyballs in his shirt and pants

- Please just protect him at all costs, he’s so precious.

Love how the request was for relationship hcs and I ended up writing more backstory lmaoo

Still hope you liked it though I worked on this for days xx🥺🥰

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #hq headcanons #hq hcs #shiratorizawa #karasuno #goshiki tsutomu #haikyuu goshiki #hq goshiki #goshiki x reader #ushijima #tendou #volleyball #hq x reader

170 notes · View notes

purple-dahlias · 3 years

Note

“What’s the point?” for recovering!au?

thank you for the request! sorry this has taken such a long time to get out, but it’s here now!

trigger warning for eating disorders, relapse and hospitals

“You heading for the OR?” Connor asks, falling into step beside Ava as they exit the lifts together.

“Yep,” confirms Ava. “Got another CABG scheduled. Been almost practically back to back all afternoon. How about you?”

“Surprisingly, I’m free now. Patient cancellation.”

“Lucky you,” Ava grins as her phone pings in her pocket.

Taking it out, her eyes scan the notification, smile dying on her lips.

“Ava?” Connor asks, concern filling his voice as he eyes the expression on Ava’s face.

“It’s Sarah,” she manages, the words heavy in her mouth. “She collapsed in the ED.”

“Again?” Connor remembers the last time this happened, a little over four months ago.

Ava nods, knowing exactly what Connor is thinking. “I have to go,” she says finally. “Could you—“

Connor doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Go,” he says, placing a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll take your surgery.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispers, gratitude in her eyes as Connor waves her thanks away, nudging her gently back in the direction of the lifts.

“Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?” She hears him call as she steps into the lift, anxiety filling every inch of her.

The last three or so weeks had been insanely busy, for both Ava and Sarah, what with the way their shifts had worked out. It had meant in the end the two had always ended up missing each other, with one leaving as the other arrived, or one returning when the other was preparing to go. And with that, there had been little communication, other than perhaps a passing hello in the corridor, a kiss goodbye, or a hug before having to get out of bed at some ungodly hour. So having this knowledge, and with what she had just learnt, Ava knew this was a red flag. She knows almost exactly why Sarah had collapsed, and it’s hard for her not to blame herself.

Maybe, she thinks, if she had made more of an effort to ask, had paid more attention, had passed over some of her surgeries or post-ops to Connor, anything so that she could have been there more, she might have seen the signs.

She hopes, oh how she hopes she is wrong, and that this is completely unrelated, and that she is blowing this out of proportion, that there is some other, alternative reason.

But she just can’t shake the sick feeling that pools in her stomach as she exits the lifts beyond the Emergency Department.

She’s wracking her brain, trying to think of any rhyme or reason why this could have happened, if indeed it is what she thinks it is: the thought she just can’t seem to rid her mind of, the one that she keeps coming back to.

“Where is she, Maggie?” Ava asks, on seeing the charge nurse.

“Treatment four,” she hears, and doesn’t stick around for any more, heading straight there, heart beating at what she knows is well beyond the normal rate.

Ava pulls back the curtain to find April adjusting an IV line, while Natalie scrolls through what must be Sarah’s test results on her iPad, concern written across her face.

But her eyes fall on Sarah, lying there, looking so small and frail in her hospital gown.

“What happened?” Ava demands, and April leads her outside, just beyond the curtain, with Natalie following.

“Natalie called her down for a consult. Things were okay until she collapsed right there in front of the patient. Scared us all half to death,” April informs her softly.

“You might want to see these,” Natalie says, and Ava doesn’t miss the sadness in her tone as Natalie hands her the tablet.

It’s just what she had thought they would show, and Ava shakes her head, blinking back tears as she sees how much damage had been done, how much progress had been reversed in just 3 short weeks.

“According to her charts it looks like she’s missed her last two appointments with Dr Richardson. Did you know things were bad with her?” Natalie asks, a hand to Ava’s shoulder, and Ava feels like the worst person in the world.

“No,” she hears herself say, though it doesn’t sound at all like her voice.

This is all your fault. If you had paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Ava,” she hears Natalie, noting how the doctor had switched to the voice she often heard her use with paediatric patients. “None of this is your fault.”

It’s as though she can read her mind.

“But it is. Sarah is supposed to be my responsibility,” Ava hates the way her voice sounds, broken, as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Some things you can’t control,” April says beside her. Ava knows she means well, but it’s all just wrong and backwards. Because for Sarah, this was all about control. Ironic, really.

“For now,” Natalie begins, that coaxing voice back, “you should just be with her.”

Ava just nods, letting the curtain fall behind her as April and Natalie take their leave.

She takes a shuddering breath and drags the stool to Sarah’s bedside, where she sits, taking hold of the thin, limp hand of her girlfriend.

“Ava?” Comes a voice, weak beside her, and Ava swears that if she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon, she would have thought her heart had stopped.

“I’m right here, Sarah,” Ava tells her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Where am I?” Sarah asks, a little groggily.

“In the ED. April said you fainted.”

“Oh,” returns Sarah, her voice small, panic filling her face as she notices the IV line in her hand.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Ava croons, taking hold of both Sarah’s hands when she sees how distressed she is. “It’s just some fluids to help give you your strength back. You need them, okay bokkie,” Ava continues, using the pet name.

“No, I don’t! What’s the point?” Sarah cries out, every word punctuated with an agony that pierces Ava’s very soul.

“Nothing I do will work and I’m just so tired. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is bad! I shouldn’t be having this problem. Ava you know I try, but…” Sarah trails off, and Ava can’t help but notice the way Sarah runs a finger over her clavicle, a subconscious habit she had.

“Sarah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you,” Ava begins after a pause. “But—“

“Then don’t,” Sarah grits out, harshly, cutting Ava off. “Please, Ava, just go,” Sarah practically begs, bunching up the thin bed sheets and turning to face away from her.

Ava sits there, a few moments longer, until it becomes clear that this won’t be going anywhere, that Sarah isn’t ready to talk.

Twisting her hands, she lets out a sigh she hopes is mostly silent.

“Okay,” she says, willing the heaviness in her voice not to be too pronounced. Ava stands and moves to adjust Sarah’s pillow just how she likes it, the only way she can think of right now to give Sarah a little more comfort. “But Sarah,” Ava gently tells her, “I’m here for you, okay. No matter what. Please know that.”

There’s no response. Not even a shift in the bedsheets. And if the machine monitoring Sarah’s vitals wasn’t still beeping quietly in the background, well, Ava doesn’t want to give much rise to that particular thought.

With a final kiss to the top of Sarah’s head, a last attempt to let her know she is here, Ava turns to leave, drawing the curtains back around Sarah.

“Well?” Natalie asks her from her position at the nursing station, breaking away from a conversation with Maggie.

Ava just shakes her head. She doesn’t know quite what to say. What does one say? Besides, Ava really doesn’t wan to have to talk right now. With anyone. All she can think about is how much she had let Sarah down. How she should have been paying attention. And now she couldn’t even get Sarah to talk, much less get to the bottom of what triggered this.

It’s windy up on the balcony, and the evening is drawing in as Ava stares out onto the city of Chicago, a hundred thousand lights twinkling below. There’s still no more word from Sarah herself. Only that Ava can gather loud and clear she wants to be left alone. Which is especially hard to know.

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, making Ava jump. The fact she didn’t even hear him coming is a telltale sign something is wrong. Ava normally never misses anything.

“Your CABG went off without a hitch,” he begins lightly, trying to gauge Ava’s mood.

“Wish I could say the same about other things,” Ava deadpans, staring off into the distance, her focus on nothing in particular.

“How’s Sarah?” Connor frowns, leaning against the railing.

“Nat messaged to say she’s being transferred up to a bed to stay overnight for observation. She still doesn’t want to see me.” It comes out a little cold, detached. And honestly, Ava’s just feeling more than a little numb right now, so that assessment it’s about right.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Connor assures, putting an arm around Ava, who leans into him.

“Ooh my ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice from behind.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Ava manages a weak, sort of washed-out smile.

“How are you holding up?”

How was she? How did one answer that? How was someone dealing with all of this supposed to be?

Connor’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence.

“It’s Latham,” he says, checking.

“You’d better go,” Ava tells him, grateful for the diversion.

“It’s gonna be okay, Aves. You’re gonna get through this. You both are.”

“Thanks,” Ava sniffs as Connor pulls her into a tight hug, wanting desperately to believe his every word.

And then he’s gone.

“How’s Sarah,” Ava asks, eyes trained on the spot Connor had just vacated. She’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Pretty much the same. I’ve paged Dr Charles though. I hope you don’t mind?”

Ava shakes her head sadly. “Maybe he’ll have better luck than me.”

“Oh, Ava,” Natalie hums, holding her close, up there on the balcony. She doesn’t even care that Nat is probably using some of the tactics she uses on kids down in the ED. Because all Ava wants to do is believe things will be okay.

“How about I drive you back to yours so we can grab some things for Sarah?” Natalie suggests, filling the silence, smoothing Ava’s hair.

Ava agrees with a small nod. That seems like a logical suggestion. And in any case, she’s not sure she should be driving herself anywhere right now.

“Great,” Natalie says softly, her arms still safely around Ava. “And Ava, I promise you: everything will work out. It may not seem like it right now, but it will.”

There’s a fierceness in her voice, and Ava just clings to her. She wants to believe her. Wants it to be true with her whole heart. Because it has to be.

#recovering!au #my aus #sarah reese #ava bekker #they're both going through it #connor rhodes #natalie manning #april sexton #chicago med #reesker #asks #buiscitsandbooks #mutuals #eating disorder tw #hospitals tw #tw ed #my writing

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nicka-nell · 4 years

Text

I'm Kiyoomi Sakusa and I'm a germaphobe - Chapter 2: I’m not a germaphobe

Words: 1.466 Warning: none

Chapter 1 - Bacteria, fours and everything else | Masterlist

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = last name | (e/c) = eye colour | (h/c) = hair colour

„Tell Fogawa-san how is your wife?" (y/n) asks her patient as she slowly loosens his threads and pulls them out of his arm. „Oh you know, (l/n)-sensei, she’s fine. She went to our daughter’s house yesterday and will stay there until tomorrow. You know, our daughter is about to have a baby." The elderly man boasts with joy and only briefly deforms his face when the second thread is pulled.

„Oh, that's great news. Congratulations, does she know what it’s gonna be?" Briefly, her (e/c) eyes look at him, but quickly wander back down to his arm. „A girl.“ he smiles openly. Just when (y/n) can say something, the door behind her is torn open with an incredible force.

While Fogawa is frightened and convulses, (y/n) calmly pulls the threading out of his arm. „(l/n)-sensei! I am so sorry, but the young man here just stormed off and I couldn’t stop him anymore." Wakami tries to apologize. (y/n) could almost feel sorry for that poor woman. She’s only been here a month and has to deal with a special person like this man.

„I have an appointment, and it’s exactly in two minutes." Sakusa hisses and enters the room. But (y/n) doesn’t answer him. The last thread is now drawn, and she looks up joyfully to Fogawa. „This looks good, doesn’t it? Here you have the recipe for the physio lessons. We have a physio practice nearby. You can go there if you want. But of course you can also choose one that is closer to your place of house. Say, unknown wise, my congratulations on your daughter’s pregnancy, yes?" With a calm voice she gets up from her chair and helps the man to get up. Still somewhat confused, he looks back and forth between her and the two people in the door, but then thanks her and says goodbye.

„(l/n)-sensei...I'm so sorry..." Wakami tries to apologize again with a sad look. „Wakami-san, please go with Fogawa-san and leave the new patient to me." Her calm voice makes Wakami relax a little and her shoulders fall down.

Still (y/n) has not turned around. Instead of welcoming the new patient, she first disinfects the bed on which her patient sat and then drops the bottle. With a sigh, she then turns to her colleague and her new patient and takes off her one-way gloves to throw them away in a bucket next to her.

„And you’re the impatient patient who doesn’t want to go to the emergency room because of a broken finger, but needs an appointment right away... Then come here." she says monotonously, but if he listens carefully, he can hear a small hint of sarcasm in her voice. With her words, she puts on new disposable gloves and sits back on her chair with crossed legs.

Only her eyes are visible, as her face mask covers the rest of her face. But he had never seen such beautiful eyes. Like a cat, she checks him out. He didn’t expect to find such a young, pretty woman. Aren’t most surgeons old men or women? She must have started her studies pretty early...

„Do you just want to stand there now?" her voice pulls him out of his thoughts. „Sit down.“ With a head movement she signals to him that he should sit on the freshly disinfected couch. „Wakami-san, please go now and close the door behind you." Nodding, she quickly grabs the door handle and closes the door, leaving (y/n) and Sakusa alone in the treatment room.

With his hands in his jacket pocket, he walks towards the gurney and sits down skeptically. „So unknown one, then show me your hand, so I can’t see anything." (y/n) smiles with a sarcastic undertone.

„I'm Sakusa. Kiyoomi Sakusa.“ The black-haired man answers her in a calm tone and takes his hands out of his jacket pocket. Cautiously he takes off his gloves and hides a painful sound.

(y/n) already noticed at the beginning that he wears a facemask. At first she thought, by the appointment request and the mask, he would have a previous illness and so did not want to expose himself to any danger. But now that she sees his dry, cracked hands, she realizes a lot. He's a germaphobe.

„You have dry hands." she says, looking at the hand that supposedly has the broken finger. „You’re supposed to look at my finger and not rate my skin." He just hisses. „You're suffering from germaphobia. Don't get me wrong. A life as a germaphobe is not easy. They are limited in their professional life, social contacts and general life. But no one tells them how to live. Just do me a favor and buy yourself an salve for your dry skin. When your skin bursts, it provides a much larger area of attack for bacteria. I’ll prescribe you an salve." She mumbles to herself while she looks at his fingers. „I'm not a germaphobe...“ he hisses again, but looks closely at the young woman in front of him.

„Oh? Then you surely have no problem to shake hands with me, do you?" With her eyebrow raised, (y/n) looks at the black-haired man in front of her. Annoyed, he turns his head to the side. „I don’t know why it matters now." He grumbles when he sees the young woman’s hand stretched out before him. Triumphantly, she pulls her hand back and says nothing more.

Energetic (y/n) gets up from her chair and asks Sakusa to follow her. „We have to x-ray the finger once. After that we know more, but for me it looks more like a sprain, how did that happen?" She asks curiously, as she, with Sakusa behind her, goes into the room for the x-rays. „In sports.“ he barely answers her as he catches himself watching her hip swing. How disgusting Kiyoomi, he thinks and only shakes his head.

„Let me guess, from your build, I would consider you a volleyball player... Strong arms, strong back... are you an ace?“ she mumbles in front of her and puts a lead apron around him and pushes him down on a chair. Concentrated, she fixes the apron.

“It’s not hard to see, I’m wearing my team jacket." With his eyebrow raised, he looks through the room. „How interesting..., do you really think that I take care of that? Small talk is probably not your thing what? Then just stay there. Do you wear jewelry?" With her head tilted to the side and her hands on her hips, she looks at the man in front of her.

Shaking his head, his gaze wanders from her to his hand. For the fact that she was so friendly with her previous patient earlier, she is quite tough with him. „I leave the room for the X-rays and I’ll be right back." She calls out to him on the way out.

Several recordings are made and the two wait for a moment until they see the evaluation of the recordings on her PC screen. „Everything looks good so far, no fracture, your finger’s just sprained. I’d give you a bandage and you’d rest your hand for a few days, all right?"

Her gaze changes between the recordings and Sakusa as he nods and looks at his hand with relief. He’s glad it’s not boken. After wrapping the bandage around his finger and writing him a recipe for a skin salve, (y/n) gets up and opens her room door. „All right, then you can go now." As if another person were standing in front of him, she smiles at him with her beautiful eyes.

„Goodbye (l/n)-sensei." He says goodbye to her as he passes her. „Goodbye Sakusa-san... Oh yeah and... the next time you have a sprained finger... Go to the emergency room like everyone else, because of this, my break is gone." she spits at him.

There is the familiar mean devil Sakusa had not seen in her for a short moment. For a brief moment, she looked to him like a peaceful doctor’s angel. But now that the door was slammed in his face, he knew that this woman was anything but not an angel.

Annoyed, (y/n) holds her finger to her temple. „What a weird guy... I'm not a germaphobe. Sure.“ she grins and just wants to disinfect the bed when she sees an unknown key ring lying there. It must be from Sakusa.

„Oh damn it...“

Chapter 3 - A woman?

Taglist: @kara-grayson04

#kiyoomi #sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #omi-omi #omi-kun #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #haikyu x #love #fluff #grown up characters #short story #story #just an idea #Nela's story

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