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#hospital emergency response team

macgyvermedical · 2 years

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Using SALT for Triage

Hi Folks!

I just got back from the yearly training for my hospital's Hospital Emergency Response Team, and there are big juicy changes to the main triage system used in the US. The new triage system comes from the CDC and FEMA, and is to start trickling down to state and local levels in the coming years.

What was the triage system like before? To answer that, I encourage you to read this post evaluating an episode of the TV show Code Black, which describes the US Incident Command System (ICS), the Hospital Incident Command System (HICS), and the START triage system.

But now onto the new system, which is called SALT. SALT stands for Sort And Lifesaving Treatment.

Step 0: Setting the Stage

SALT takes into account a few situations that were found in the Las Vegas Shootings. The first is that previous versions had assumed that everyone would show up at once at the scene of a mass casualty incident.

While this could be true of, say, a 10-car pile-up, what was found in reality is that EMS weren't the only ones accepting patients and that hospitals were actually doing the bulk of triage over the course of days or weeks. Piles of people came in via private vehicle and in the backs of pickup trucks. Some walked or were dragged into emergency departments. And since no one was communicating with the hospitals before dumping patients off, hospitals couldn't easily control access the way they could with EMS. They now had to do a lot of their own triage continually.

The second thing is that with previous systems people on scene tend to "over triage". That meant that on average triagers tended to say people were more in need of immediate medical care than they actually were. While it may seem like over-triage is preferable, in reality that led to loads of people who apparently needed help immediately overwhelming emergency departments when they actually could have waited a few hours for care and been fine. Had they been triaged correctly, this may have prevented the department from being overwhelmed and increased the quality of care for everyone.

The third thing is that the available resources change over the course of any mass casualty incident. Previous triage algorithms do not account for this. SALT deliberately creates space for re-triage as it becomes necessary and as resources change.

The fourth thing is that the previous algorithms relied on vital signs as part of the triage algorithm. Triagers in loud or chaotic environments can't easily count a pulse or respirations, especially if they are wearing heavy PPE, such as might be required in a biological or chemical attack.

Step 1: "Global Sorting"

The first step in this system is to sort people visually into 3 categories. This is so that in Step 2 you can individually assess the most seriously injured first. The "global" categories are:

Walking

Waving

Neither

Walking- literally means the person can walk, and can be assumed to fend for themselves for a while or even maybe help. These people will be individually assessed last.

Waving- the person can make or copy purposeful movements, can respond relatively appropriately to commands, but cannot walk. These people will be individually assessed second.

Neither- the person is awake but very confused, or is unconscious. Also in this category would be any obvious life threat, like spurting blood or not breathing, even if they might temporarily fit into one of the above two categories. They will be assessed first.

Step 2: "Individual Assessment and Life Saving Treatment"

Now all of the triagers can get started individually assessing the members of the "Neither" group.

For each person, if trained and able to do so, a triager can do one or more of the following:

Tourniquet or otherwise stop heavy bleeding.

Open the airway by inserting a basic airway device or turning someone on their side. Children can be given 2 rescue breaths.

Apply or improvise a chest seal (for a hole in the chest) or needle decompression (for a tension pneumothorax as evidenced by tracheal deviation).

Give an emergency antidote, such as for a chemical weapon attack.

After life-saving interventions are performed, the triager assesses whether or not the person is breathing. If the person is not breathing, they are tagged as BLACK- they are currently or will be shortly dead.

If they are breathing, the triager asks the following:

Can the person obey commands or make purposeful movements?

Do they have a peripheral pulse (or a cap refill of <3 seconds on the hand if a pulse cannot be reliably felt through PPE?)

Not in respiratory distress?

Is major bleeding under control (with tourniquet or direct pressure)?

If the answer is NO to any questions above, the triager asks one final question: Assuming the current level of resources, could this person be expected to survive?

If that answer is also NO, the person is tagged as GREY.

GREY is a new category. People tagged as GREY will be re-evaluated every time the resources significantly change. This still probably means they are going to die, but at least there is a possibility that more rescuers or equipment will arrive and make it possible for them to be saved.

If the resources are such that the person IS likely to survive, they are tagged RED.

If all of the questions above are YES, but the person still has substantial injuries that require treatment, they are tagged as YELLOW.

If all the questions above are YES, and no major injuries are apparent, this person is tagged GREEN.

When it comes to treatment, RED are treated first, then YELLOW, then GREEN. GREY will be re-triaged into one of the above categories as circumstances change, or as BLACK if they no longer meet the criteria for RED/YELLOW/GREEN.

#triage #whump reference #writing reference #hospital life #hospital emergency response team #START #SALT

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hualianisms · 4 days

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verified ways to donate to gaza directly

Help a Palestinian family directly:

gazafunds.com - Donate directly to a Palestinian family in urgent need of evacuation, medical attention, daily necessities, rebuilding homes, rebuilding businesses or more. Site run by Palestinians, all GFMs verified. Spotlights 1 stagnant GFM at a time. (*If you can't decide who/where to donate, just go here and donate to the 1 GFM they show you!)

Help provide tents: (*emergency as Rafah is being bombarded as we speak)

The Sameer Project: Currently providing tents & transport for families in Rafah who urgently need to evacuate to Deir Al Balah. Has a team on the ground in Gaza who have supplied tents to 1% of the displaced population in Rafah. Run by Palestinians. (paypal) (gfm)

@helpgazachildren: Currently helping Palestinians in a refugee camp in Rafah flee the Rafah invasion to Khan Younis. Funds go directly to a Hussam, a Palestinian in Rafah who hosts a refugee camp. Funds will cover the cost of tents & transport fuel. Managed by a Palestinian @.fairuzfan. (gfm)

Food, cash & essentials:

Care for Gaza: Palestinian charity on the ground in Gaza distributing food, cash, medicine & other essentials to displaced families. Proof of their work found on their Twitter. (paypal) (gfm)

We Feed Gaza: Team of Palestinian volunteers in the heart of Gaza distributing food & water to 344+ families. 100% run by Palestinians. Vetted & promoted by LetsTalkPalestine. (gfm)

Direct Aid for Gaza: A Palestinian activist on the ground in Gaza distributing food, cash & other essential supplies to displaced families. Proof of their work found on their twitter. (paypal) (gfm)

Water:

Gaza Municipality's water campaign: The official Municipality of Gaza needs help rebuilding the water infrastructure in Gaza City to restore access to clean water & waste management services for the people of Gaza. (*This campaign only has a few weeks left but it's still only at 15%!)

eSIMs (urgent):

guide to buy & send esims to gaza

Crips for eSims for Gaza: If you don't know how to buy esims, don't have enough $ for an esim plan, or don't have the capacity to manage them (e.g. topping up regularly), you can donate any amt to this team of volunteers who pool funds to buy & maintain gaza esims regularly (see their financial accountability document).

Medical Aid

Palestine Children's Relief Fund: Recently launched emergency humanitarian aid response for displaced children in northern Gaza, 97% rating by Charity Navigator.

Medical Aid for Palestinians: Currently trying to rebuild Nasser hospital, has on-the-ground team in Gaza, 95% rating by Charity Navigator.

#btw even $1 can help! small amts add up! if u cant donate just share & consider organizing an event to raise funds (both irl and online)#these links I vetted but feel free to vet yourself. most of these I got from links vetted/shared by palestinians or even run by palestinian #in fact all in this list except Crips for Esims and PCRF and MAP are run by palestinians themselves #(afaik Palestine Red Crescent Society's staff is usually mainly palestinians. they were the ones trying to rescue hind rajab. their medics #and ambulances keep being targeted by isr4el)#if you can't decide just go to gazafunds.com and donate to the 1 gfm they show you!#i also wanted to focus on the ones that are actually reaching gaza - ideally with a presence on the ground in gaza #big intl orgs' aid is still stopped at the border #donating to palestinian GFMs directly or to palestinian volunteers on the ground distributing food to fellow palestinians (eg CareForGaza)-#-is most reliable rn.#palestine #Palestine aid

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heritageposts · 8 months

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Medical Aid for Palestinians

Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP) works for the health and dignity of Palestinians living under occupation and as refugees. We provide immediate medical aid to those in great need, while also developing local capacity and skills to ensure the long-term development of the Palestinian healthcare system.

you can read more about their ongoing emergency response here

Responding to this emergency situation, Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP)’s team on the ground in Gaza are releasing all of our pre-positioned stocks, worth $570,000 USD (approximately £465,000), to ensure hospitals and emergency responders have the supplies they need to cope with an unprecedented influx of casualties. The list of supplies provided by MAP includes essential drugs and disposables, lab reagents and support for Gaza’s blood bank services. Some of these supplies are already being delivered to Al Awda Hospital.

If you have money to spare, please consider donating

#palestine #from the river to the sea... 🇵🇸

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solaireverie · 7 months

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cl16 | are we out of the woods yet?

summary: [ charles leclerc x f!driver!reader — social media au / fic ] after you get into a rough crash, charles is faced with difficult decisions

request: can i get a female driver reader injury/crash angst with daniel, seb or charles pls love your fics!

warnings: crashes and injuries, general medical stuff, unspecified mentions of death (implied to be jules and hervé), open/unclear ending

author’s note: hihi lovely!! tysm for requesting <3 hope this is enough angst for you ;) also i have no clue how to write injuries soooooo just roll with it

5,891 likes

ynupdates y/n has been taken to the medical center following her crash in the #brazilgp. no further news has been released yet. we're all behind you, y/n! 🤞

view comments

user did anyone see if she was able to get out of the car by herself?

↪ user no, i think she had to be extracted by the medical crew 😬

user i hope she's okay...

Charles' phone is halfway out of his pocket when it starts ringing. Glancing at the screen, he swipes to accept the call when he sees that it's from your mother. He had called her a few minutes ago, when the sight of your crash had first appeared on the screens in the Ferrari paddock, but she hadn’t picked up. Her voice filters through the speakers of his phone, worry tinging her tone.

“Do you have news yet?” she asks.

“Don’t know,” Charles replies, “I’m on my way to see her now. It… might be good to book a flight — and soon.” He doesn’t want to alarm your mom but it seems inevitable and he knows that you would want her next to you.

“Okay,” she breathes shakily, “and Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“She better be okay when I get there.”

Charles winces. Of all the people in the world, he knows all too well why you can never make any promises, especially in Formula 1.

“I’ll do my best,” he says and ends the call.

There’s a marshal waiting for him in the tiny waiting area in the medical center. He’s pacing nervously and immediately strides towards Charles as soon as he sees him.

“Mr. Leclerc,” he begins, “the doctors wanted to see you before they take any further action. You have medical power of attorney for Ms. L/N in case of emergency, correct?”

Charles nods numbly. It had been a precaution at the time because you had insisted that out of everyone in the paddock, you trusted him the most. He had accepted it without thinking twice but now the weight of the responsibility settles heavily over his shoulders. He follows the marshal past empty treatment rooms until they reach one with its door thrown open.

Charles feels his lunch crawling back up his throat as he stares at your figure. You’re laid out on a stretcher and you’d almost look peaceful if not for the numerous medical apparatuses connected to you and the thin trickle of dried blood on your temple. He somehow finds his voice again.

“What happened?” he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.

A paramedic steps forward. “Ms. L/N took quite a knock in her crash, I’m afraid,” she explains gently. “Something came loose in the cockpit and hit her head. We’re not sure if there’s any further internal injuries, but our professional opinion is that she should be moved as soon as possible to a hospital for further testing.”

Charles swallows around a lump in his throat. “Is there any particular risk with transporting her in this state?”

The paramedic shakes her head. “No more than the usual, which is relatively low compared to the risk that we run by keeping her here without knowing if there’s anything else wrong.”

Charles follows your ambulance all the way into the hospital in a haze. He barely registers the press grouped outside the entrance, pushing through them, always keeping you in his sights. He waits outside of the examination room they bring you into and follows as they wheel you around, receiving god knows how many tests.

After a while members of your team start showing up, although they keep a respectful distance from Charles. He’s glad. He knows, rationally, that you were just unlucky, but the irrational and protective side of him is screaming at him to place the blame at someone’s feet. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate him blowing up at your team, though, so he doesn’t say anything to them and keeps vigil by your side as the doctors poke and prod.

Eventually you’re carefully placed in a hospital bed and Charles is pulled aside by what seems to be the main doctor assigned to you.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if we will have to operate on Ms. L/N,” he says gently. “Someone else will go over the details with you, but long story short she’s bleeding internally and it’s imperative that we get to it as soon as possible. Of course, any operation of this size could potentially be dangerous, but I strongly recommend taking action sooner rather than later.”

Charles shakes his head, the words not yet registering in his scattered mind. “Is she going to be okay?” he mumbles, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.

He can feel the doctor’s pitying gaze on him and Charles doesn’t have it in him to tell him that he’s been here before — not this specific hospital, no, but he’s been on this side of the conversation that they’re having already, and it tears his heart up just as much as the first time. The only difference this time is that he’s the one who has to make the choice, not anyone else.

“We can’t make any guarantees,” the doctor cautions, “but it would significantly raise her chances of survival if we act now.”

Charles winces at the doctor’s words. Survival. Drive to survive, surviving to drive, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on him. He uncurls his fingers gingerly from where he had been unconsciously gripping his pants.

He wants to avoid the decisions he knows he will have to make in the next twenty-four hours. He wants to pretend that nothing happened, that you’re still on the track, passing everyone in your way. He wants to go back to this morning, when he had kissed you goodbye before jogging off to get ready for the race. He wishes he had taken time to do more than peck you and throw a “love you!” over his shoulder. Charles wants to hide from the cold, stark reality he’s faced with. Your life lies in his hands and Charles is so, so tired of bleak hospital hallways.

He wants to scream at the heavens. He’s suffered and given so much already. Is one shred of happiness too much to ask? Charles had known the risks going in when he started dating you — one Formula 1 driver was usually more than enough jeopardy in a relationship, let alone two — but he’d never really thought that the day would arrive where he would have to make decisions about you, without you.

Charles stares at your face through the window to your room, tracing the curves and slopes with his eyes. It’s the face he wakes up next to almost every day and he curses himself for not cherishing the time he’s already had with you more. His brain is moving a mile a minute, running through all the possible outcomes. At the end of the day, though, he’s only got one choice.

Charles Leclerc has always been selfish and he’ll be damned if he lets another person he loves slip through his fingers.

“Where do I sign?”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau

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astrophileous · 7 months

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Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

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wolfiesmoon · 4 months

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Eyes on me

floyd x gn!reader

Its rlly hard writing this w one hand because i had a bit of a medical emergency last night (in fact i'm in the hospital as i'm typing this) but we survive

so imagine my surprise when i got my baby boy floyd in all his basketball glory (as a consolation from the sevens i assume)

long story short this calls for a floyd fic

(also i use the word stadium a lot here, by that i mean a more small, local stadium and not one of those big NBA league ones)

"I told you, I'm not playing." Floyd crossed his arms and pouted like a little toddler. "Floyd. This is an important match. We have no time for one of your tantrums." Jamil tried reasoning with him, but it was all for naught. It seems like Floyd is inconsolable right now.

The coach was very close to losing it at this point. The match was drawing closer and closer and Floyd's mood was getting worse and worse.

The team could already hear the people coming into the stadium.

"What are you even so sad about?" Ace questioned, getting a bit annoyed with Floyd.

"Little Shrimpy promised to come see me but isn't here yet... " Floyd glanced at the people sitting on the bleachers, searching for your face in the crowd. When he didn't see you, his pout increased.

"... That's why you're refusing to play?" Jamil couldn't believe his ears. Neither could anyone else in the club right now. Is this dude really 17 years old? He seems like a bit of an overgrown 5 year old right now.

Well, the coach knew he was taking a risk when placing Floyd on the team seeing as things like this are very likely to happen. All he can do now is hope you actually show up so he won't have one potentially amazing player less.

"Oh crap, Floyd's match! I almost forgot!" You quickly got up, startling your classmates. You had to stay with some of them to work on a group project professor Crewel gave you. "Anyone wanna come watch basketball with me?"

A few of your classmates agreed to go while others said they had plans to get to.

And so you went.

"Can't believe you forgot it, idiot." Grim scolded you. "Oh yeah? and who was the one sleeping away in my lap while we had to do all the work?" you shot back and he grumbled something under his breath as a response.

The two classmates going with you huffed in amusement at your reply.

By now, you were already at the entrance to the stadium. You saw Floyd play before at practice and you know how good he can get when he's fired up. But you also know how he can be when the opposite is true.

You just hope he's in a good mood right now. If he isn't, you'll just cheer for him until he is.

You sat down on the bleachers, chatting with your classmates about the project as you waited for the match to start.

"Hey, isn't that the Prefect right the-ack!" Ace got pushed away by Floyd who's eyes immediately scanned the bleachers again. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face.

"Shrimpy is here!~" the sudden change in mood surprised even the coach. Well, he supposes the issue is solved now.

His eyes darkened, however, when he saw you laughing with your classmates. You're here for him, not some rando dudes from your class.

Suddenly, he feels determined to play so well you won't take your eyes off him for even a second. He'll make sure of it.

"Hey. We're going to beat the other team so hard they cry. Got it?" he suggested with a horrifying expression on his face. The entire team felt too afraid to do anything but nod in agreement.

That's the second mood change he had in a matter of 30 seconds. Now the entire team is just generally concerned for him.

As the NRC team walked out, you smiled at Floyd and waved to him, Grim raising his little paw to wave too. He smiled back at you widely, flailing his arms around like an excited child at you. When he looked away, however, his expression darkened once more.

Better keep your eyes on him the whole time or someone from the other team might not make it out unscathed.

#˗ˏˋ ★ ♡ 「Wolfie’s other works」 ♡ ★ ˎˊ˗#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x mc #twst x reader #twst x you #twst x yuu #twst x y/n #floyd leech x yuu #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x y/n #floyd x reader #floyd leech #floyd twisted wonderland

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ssahotchnerr · 9 months

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hi!!!! I love your writing so much and I'm not sure if you're taking requests, but I'm in the hospital at the moment and it isn't the best weekend of my life!! thinking about if reader got injured and aaron got the phone call that she was in hospital?? thank u!!!

collisions

:( i'm so sorry to hear that oh my gosh, i hope you're alright, recover quickly, and can leave hopefully soon <33 cw; car accident, description of injuries - reader is mildly hurt, anxious aaron

what started as a calm workday, changed with one phone call.

you had been in a multi-car accident, a string of rear-ended collisions, the slick roads all to blame. an ice storm had rattled the area unexpectedly, coating all roadways and making all driving conditions hazardous to the extreme.

aaron had been in the roundtable room with the team, debriefing, when his phone began buzzing, the vibration lightly shaking the surface of the table. caller id read the name of the local hospital, resulting in all color leaving his face. he got up so rapidly a few sheets of paperwork wafted to the floor.

deep in his gut, he immediately knew it had to be in regards to you. the feeling was too intense to be anything else, and god he hoped his intuition was wrong.

but just his luck, it wasn't; he didn't receive much information during the call, just that they were contacting him as your emergency contact, and that there had been an accident with you stuck in the middle. the state of your injuries, he didn't know.

by the time the call ended, dave had trailed out behind in concern, following with the simple instruction to 'go.'

the drive frustratedly and understandably took longer, all cars proceeding with caution. the pace only heightened his nerves; his knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping onto the steering wheel, and when stalled within traffic, his wrist rest atop the wheel, his thumb rubbing against his index finger in his self-soothing manner.

if that wasn't enough, the foot not occupied by the gas and brake tapped in place, as if it would somehow speed things along. even during his drive he witnessed several cars nearly slide off the road, felt his own wheels yearn to move to their own accord at times. and each time, he imagined you and how you must've felt. the fear that must've filled you.

you had to be okay.

the prolonged drive also allowed, in his usual self deprecating fashion, much time for him to blame himself; he should've called and insisted you stay home the moment he heard the hard ice pattering against his office windows. he should've driven you himself. he should've done something. anything.

finally aaron arrived at the hospital, mindlessly flashing his fbi credentials at the first desk he found and mentioning your name, and how he had to see you. if showing his badge actually contributed to anything, he wasn't quite sure, he displayed it in an urgent panic, but he was quickly ushered to where you had been recovering.

when you were finally in view, could he finally breathe.

"thank god," he exhaled aloud in relief. you were sitting upright, responsive, chatting quietly with the nurse who had been doting on you.

"aaron," your eyes lit up, his name leaving you in a sigh.

the nurse informed him you had escaped with a mild concussion, a few bruised, but not broken, ribs. as they relayed the details, aaron silently thanked himself he had taken your car to get a tune up before the winter months released their wrath. if he hadn't, the outcome could've been horribly, horribly different.

"sweetheart." he grabbed onto your hands once the nurse left to attend to another patient, bringing the warmth back to them. he could feel the prick of tears behind his eyes, "are you in much pain?"

"i'm fine my love. jus' shaken up." you answered him, nodding your head in further reassurance, in hopes to relieve the distressed expression plastered on his face. but you immediately regretted the subtle movement, wincing heavily as pain tweaked within your ribs.

"don't move too much." his hands shot out to cup your face, his touch extremely tender and gentle, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. he couldn't help but exhale again, "fuck, i'm so glad you're okay."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you

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wosoamazing · 3 months

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The Birth

Warnings: Premature, Emergency C-Section, Emergency Hysterectomy, Bleeding, Ambulances, Hospitals, please let me know if anything else.

A/N: This isn't super happy but it has a happy ending (overall). Also decided to release this a bit earlier than tonight…

Katie woke up during the night to an indescribable pain, she felt like her uterus was contracting whilst she also felt a stabbing pain at the same time, and with every beat of her heart it felt like her abdomen was filling up. The pain was something else, it was a new level, if she had to rate it, it would probably sit at a 100/10. She rolled around trying to get comfortable but she couldn’t so she woke Caitlin up. “Cait.” Katie cried out, Caitlin immediately woke to the sound, “Something is wrong. It hurts. Really bad, and it feels like my water broke or something” Katie said out of breath due to the pain. Caitlin pulled back the covers to see a pool of blood between Katie’s legs. “Shit” she mumbled under her breath, not allowing herself to panic. She placed a hand on Katie’s shoulder, and gave her a soft warm smile.

“Babe, I think we should call an ambulance, but first do you want to stay here or move to sit somewhere else?” Caitlin felt her heart rate increase with every millisecond as she tried to suppress her ever growing fear and panic, needing to stay strong for Katie.

“Floor?” “Yeah sure let me just get some towels,” Caitlin replied hoping she suppressed the shakiness of her voice enough, she sprinted down the hall and grabbed some towels, coming back quickly laying them on the floor, before helping Katie out of the bed and onto the floor, practically holding Katies body weight as she slightly swayed. Caitlin began to dial 999 as Katie whimpered out “Cait, I-” “Are you going to be sick? Pass out?” Katie just shrugged in defeat, Caitlin quickly grabbed the bucket just around the corner from the bathroom and placed it in front of Katie, crouching down next to her, wrapping an arm around her body to hold her up and also comfort her. Just as Caitlin connected with a dispatcher, Katie threw up, Caitlin was rubbing Katie’s back as she spoke to the dispatcher.

Not even five minutes after she had connected with the dispatcher the paramedics arrived, there was an emergency response team and a normal team, they worked quickly on Katie, whose condition worsened by the second, whilst all Caitlin could do was stand there and watch, feeling helpless, she couldn't help but let a small amount of the panic and fear to bubble over, causing a few tears to leave her eyes. She knew something was seriously wrong, the towels were drenched in blood after only a few minutes.

One of the paramedics came over to Caitlin “They are going to get her onto the stretcher and you’re going to come with me, so we are ready to leave as soon as they are.” Caitlin nodded, and quickly grabbed their phones from the night stand, as they walked towards the door the paramedic stopped, “are these the house keys?” Caitlin tried to speak but she couldn’t so she just nodded, “I’ll put them in the door, they’ll lock up as they are bringing her out” a pained yelp was heard from the bedroom, causing yet another tear to fall from Caitlin’s eyes, “It’s okay honey, they are taking care of her.”

_____

“What’s happening?” Viv and Beth said as they walked in, Caitlin had called Steph straightaway, and Steph met her at the hospital. She messaged Viv and Beth to cancel their coffee and dog walk tomorrow morning not knowing how long she would be at the hospital for. Beth had been awake and saw message deciding immediately that they would come to the hospital too.

“We don’t know,” Steph replied, looking down at caitlin to check on her, she was resting on Steph’s shoulder, her face was tearstained and her eyes red and puffy, she also had a constant look of panic, concern and terror on her face.

“She woke up and said something was wrong and it hurt and she was bleeding, like heaps, so we called the ambulance and as I connected she threw up, I honestly thought she would pass out, but the ambulance came insanely quickly and they got her loaded up. I sat in the front of the ambulance and when we showed up there were like heaps, I mean heaps of doctors at the door waiting for her, and they took her through immediately. I was directed to wait here and they would come update me, when they had an update, if they had an update” Caitlin said in shock. Both women nodded before moving towards the two Aussies. Beth sat down next to Caitlin, and placed a hand on her thigh, letting her know they were there for her, Viv sat next to Beth.

A little while later a doctor came in, and took Caitlin to a more private room, before giving her an update.

“Baby is healthy, doing excellently. Due to her prematurity, she is in the NICU, but she is excelling at all the standard tests and exceeding expectations, which is absolutely amazing to see. So she is just in the special care unit. Katie is in recovery she is doing good, she lost a lot of blood so she had to have a transfusion, we also had to do an emergency hysterectomy to stop the bleeding, she will be in the hospital for at least a week but it could be longer,”

“Can I see her?” “I will get a nurse to take you up to the NICU, yo-” “No Katie, I can’t see our little girl without her, that wouldn’t be right” “I’m sorry but you won't be able to see Katie for another hour or so,” Caitlin nodded glumly before following the nurse up to the NICU.

_____

Caitlin had just finished visiting you, she expected you to be more fragile than you were, she had mentioned to the doctors that throughout the pregnancy everyone was saying you were developing quicker than expected, and whether that was why you looked good for a 32 weeker, the neonatologist informed her that you were in fact 35 weeks not 32 weeks, they had started counting the weeks from the confirmed result not the transfer day. He also informed Caitlin that due to this mistake he had to ‘report’ the clinic, but reassured her that Katie and Caitlin would not be involved in this report in any way, which made Caitlin slightly relieved. She decided to call Jonas quickly before going up to visit Katie.

Caitlin: Jonas I need to take some time off, Kati-

Jonas: Absolutely Caitlin, Steph messaged me, she only told me that something happened and she asked if she could have the day off to be there for you. Please take as much time off as you need, we will work around the both of you, and we will follow your lead. In terms of Katie’s recovery, is that something she will be doing with us?

Caitlin: Um, I haven’t spoken to her yet but I would assume so, if you want we can arrange a meeting for like a week, over the phone obviously, we will know more in a week, in terms of the recommendations for getting back and stuff.

Jonas: Yes of course Caitlin, I can arrange that for you. Also, are both of them okay? You don’t have to say anything if you don't want to.

Caitlin: Yes, they are, she was born, which makes her early, and they actually had to do an emergency hysterectomy on Katie but in the long run they should both be okay, and Katie should have no further complications.

Jonas: Caitlin, I’m so sorry to hear that, please know that the club will be here to support you both if you ever need anything. If you don’t have anything else to say, I’m happy to let you go as I’m sure you want to get back to your family.

Caitlin: Um, just one more thing, because I know Katie will ask, in terms of the fans and the media, um, well-

Jonas: The club is happy to release a statement on behalf of you both, we can just say personal reasons or if you want to say more, it's totally up to you, and no rush to make a decision, if there are questions on Sunday when the game comes around, we can say as little as you weren't available for selection.

Caitlin: Okay thank you Jonas, I’ll talk to you later. Bye

Jonas: Bye

_____

Caitlin walked into Katie’s room, to find her lying in her bed awake, Caitlin’s heart melted, she had not expressed it but she had been so scared of losing Katie, so to see her awake albeit slightly groggy filled her heart. A few soft tears rolled down her face as she walked to sit on the chair that was placed near Katie’s head.

“I love you, Katie, I’m so glad you are still here.” The Australian said as she leant over and placed a soft kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

“Have you seen her?” Caitlin nodded “How is she?”

“She is very cute, looks just like you. Our little girl. They don’t know when she will be allowed to go home but she is doing great, h-” “I’m sorry” Katie cut of Caitlin, the overwhelming feeling of guilt building up inside of her.

“None of this is your fault, you did nothing wrong, okay, you need to understand that. We did, you did everything right, we couldn’t have seen this coming and we couldn’t have done anything to stop it from happening, and I just want you to know that I am going to be by your side every single little step of the way. I told Jonas that I needed some time off and he said that I could take as long as I need. We are going to get through this together, and face any challenges that come our way together, okay. I love you so much”

“Some of the girls are here by the way, in the waiting room, I told them to go but they insisted on staying.”

“Oh, have they seen her?” Katie’s heart broke a little at the thought of her teammates seeing you before she did.

“No, only I have. Our little lion cub does need a name though.” “Can we think about that tomorrow?” Katie asked as her head dropped back against the bed in exhaustion.

“Well I was actually thinking about Y/N, I think it suits her well.” Caitlin said smirking as she saw Katie open her eyes, knowing very well she had just caved in, allowing Katie to win the 5 month long fight they had been having, but Katie deserved it, and truth be told you did suit Y/N.

“Really?” “Of course babe, how bout you get some sleep. But just remember I love you” she said, placing a kiss on Katie’s lips, who smiled before quickly falling asleep.

Caitlin sent a message to Steph, before she sent one to Beth and Viv, thanking them for being there, and giving them an update, before she decided to try and get some more sleep herself.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord x reader

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gothhabiba · 7 months

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From the Palestinian Red Crescent's twitter, 13 November 2023:

🔴 Al-Quds Hospital still under intense gunfire.

🔴 The IDF claims to be attacking a "Hamas terrorist" who is firing a rocket-propelled grenade launcher from Al-Quds.

🔴 The main power generator at Al-Amal Hospital stopped working. The hospital is currently relying on a very small generator to supply electricity only to the maternity ward and emergency lighting. Remaining fuel is expected to run out within the next 24 hours.

11:01 AM:

"🚨 The vicinity of Al-Quds Hospital 🏥 is still witnessing intense gunfire, with the presence of Israeli military vehicles. Our staff are trapped with patients and the wounded, without electricity, water, or food. We hope for their safety. 🙏"

1:10 PM, in response to this tweet from @IDF:

[ID: Tweet by Israel Defense Forces (@IDF) at 3:22pm on November 13 reading: "What could these Hamas terrorists possibly be doing with an RPG at the Quds Hospital?" Attached is a 20-second drone video of the hospital with overlaid text reading "Enemy fire from the entrance of the 'Al-Quds' Hospital towards IDF troops: terrorist with RPG launcher."

The PRCS issued a statement reading:

🚨 The Palestine RCS strongly condemns the false claims by the occupying forces about armed individuals launching projectiles from inside Al-Quds Hospital. The PRCS sees these claims as a blatant attempt to incite further targeting and besieging of the hospital, constituting a clear violation of international humanitarian law. ❌ PRCS rejects these baseless allegations, as the published video clearly shows that the armed individuals approached from the street while the occupation tanks were stationed in front of and shielded by the hospital, endangering the lives of medical teams and patients. The PRCS confirms that there are no armed individuals inside the hospital, and no shots have been fired from within. Everyone within the hospital are patients, their families, and the medical staff. 📣 PRCS calls on the international community to intervene immediately to protect its teams besieged inside the hospital, facing imminent danger with each passing moment.

4:22 PM:

"🛑 Today's attempt to evacuate Al-Quds Hospital failed after the IOF decided to return the designated evacuation convoy to the association's branch in Khan Younis, despite receiving prior approval.

"🚨 The decision was rationalized by referring to a security incident in the vicinity, despite the convoy undergoing thorough inspection. It is noteworthy that yesterday, displaced individuals were allowed to exit through a route specified by the occupation forces, under specific and challenging conditions.

"🧑‍⚕ Our medical teams, patients,and the wounded, along with their companions, remain trapped inside the hospital without food, water, or electricity, and their is 300 person."

4:49 PM:

"🚨 ⚠️ Today, the sole power generator at Al-Amal Hospital, affiliated with the PRCS in Khan Younis, stopped working. This threatens the lives of 90 patients receiving treatment, including 25 in the medical rehabilitation section who now face the risk of death at any moment. Additionally, around 9,000 displaced individuals have sought refuge in the PRCS premises and the hospital.

" 🏥 The hospital is currently relying on a very small generator to supply electricity only to the maternity ward and emergency lighting. It's important to note that the remaining fuel is expected to run out within the next 24 hours.

"🛑 The power generator's failure is impacting the operations of both the PRCS headquarters and Al-Amal Hospital, which includes the emergency operations room for the Gaza Strip. This has resulted in a loss of communication with the operation rooms scattered across the Gaza sector and the cessation of VHF communication services."

#Palestine #Gaza #PRCS #al quds hospital #al amal hospital

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workingclasshistory · 1 year

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On this day, 4 June 2020, 75-year-old peace activist Martin Gugino was violently attacked by police in Buffalo, New York, during a Black Lives Matter protest. While he was merely walking, he was shoved to the ground, smashing his head on the concrete, fracturing his skull. While he lay on the ground with blood pouring from one of his ears and pooling around his head, more than 12 officers walked straight past his unconscious body. He suffered a brain haemorrhage and spent weeks in hospital recovering, and suffered long-term memory and mobility impairments as well as hearing loss. Following the incident, Buffalo police lied and said Gugino merely "tripped and fell". Then-president Donald Trump falsely claimed that Gugino was an "antifa provocateur" who was "pushed away after appearing to scan police communications in order to black out the equipment." But the assault was caught on video. When the two attackers, members of the Emergency Response Team, were suspended from the police force, all 57 officers on the squad resigned from the unit in protest. This led many people to question the narrative of bad policing only being a problem of "a few bad apples", as clearly every officer in the department supported their ability to violently assault members of the public with no consequences. In the end, there were no consequences for the perpetrators, whose charges were dismissed. More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/10451/martin-gugino-attacked https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=638270981679454&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

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big-tiddy-bi · 1 year

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Without ao3 I became inspired. Ok so being tired of the justice league not helping/believing brakes into the tower while a meeting is taking place to show one of the heroes what is happening I.E. you failed and don’t come here we don’t want you, we don’t need you. You come here and you will be treated as a super villain and dealt with as such.

—————

Danny was sick, tired and powerful. A dangerous combination for most peoples. Myths and legends written throughout every religion every people every and every world based on gods feeling those exact things, and that is the thing Danny closest too, not ghost, not human, but a god. Even if he does not himself as such.

Today was the justice league’s last chance, Walker had decided to change up his tactics. Instead of going after Danny directly he was going to play dirty. Imprisoning 300 living for ”harboring a fugitive”. The justice league was called, one last chance before thing got out of hand. 300 people held captive in another dimension should be a priority for a group called the justice league.

Their response “the justice league contact system should only be used for emergencies, pranks will not be tolerated”. a simple response. directed and to the point. A metaphorical death sentence for the justice league and the people of amity’s faith in them.

No one died, thank the ancients, but blood was spilled. Red and green fell to the floor like water from the large cuts on Danny’s arms and the side of his torso, he was mostly fine, a couple stitches, about a gallon of filtered ectoplasm and a trip to the nasty burger had fixed him up. Meaning that every time he tried to move his arms he felt like he was being stabbed and he could not breathe without pain, which in all fairness was kind of normal for him, it sucked but it was normal.

The real problem was the 300 people I’m the hospital, ecto contamination, not to the extent of being fatal but extremely painful. That could have been avoided if Danny had more help than just his team of 4 other teenage vigilantes and his adult sister.

So after that fiasco Danny did something, else, something more political, he mad deals. With permission from the most important people in town the ones who keeps everything running, IE Mr lancer and Jazz. He also got permission from the mayor, bribed with Danny going to a Green Bay packers game with him.

Johnny 13 and kitty could joy ride before 12 am and after 9am as long as property damage stays at a minimum, a couple smashed mailboxes, broken windows and spray painted cars/buildings paid for by the mayors office was better than bad luck to the entire town and people disappearing.

Skulked got to hunt Danny in a building made for that purpose, Spector-cameras installed in it so people could stream it live to “witness the greatest hunter of the ghost zone”.

Ember got to play her music and travel on tour as she pleased as long as she didn’t mind control people.

Some wouldn’t take the deals but most of the heavy hitters did, it calmed down a lot, but as they say it the calm before the storm.

With the viewers of the “ghost battles” (it was basically a game of extreme tag) and embers fans talking, the ghost situation became a known thing

And again the justice league responded. “we will be there in a month”

No apologies for not believing them no apologies for not helping, just a we are on our way 8 months after the incident and they were going to be there 9 months after. All the people where health again, Walker was punished, locked in his haunt for the next 100 years. The justice league has nothing to do. They have no point in coming to amity. Where they just going to show up, say “sorry for not helping you, welp peace” and then just leave.

Maybe that was the point, that though crossed Danny’s mind as he read the message out loud to his team. They didn’t have any to do, a vanity project, help the small community that they abandoned so that the people don’t go blabbing to the papers, a pr move.

Sam and Valerie had voiced the same opinions on what the justice league was doing. The rest of the team agreed after a short conversation.

This led to Tucker hacking the league computer system to find the next meeting date and we’re it would be held. “Unhackabal my ass” and a plan was made.

So here he is, invisible, intangible and floating above the justice league. Batman walked up to the podium and began to present.

“8 and a half months ago the league got a report of 300 people being kidnapped and sent to the ghost dimension, this was believed to be a prank and filled as such, we were wrong” he said while clicking through slides, some of medical reports of the victims, some of the photos taken of him helping people out of the portal next to the hospital he mad to help the victims faster. Then he said “ this is the city’s resident hero team” the next slide showing the picture of Danny, Sam , Wes, Valerie, tucker and jazz receiving the key to the city.

“We one know of this misstep because of videos posted online of phantom pictured here” he pointed an Danny receiving the key, another picture of him helping a man to the hospital appeared “and here”

“Do we know who trained them they don’t look older than sixteen” Wonder Woman asked. Before batman could answer Danny revealed himself, though he made his skin slightly translucent to show his bones, it was all part of the plan.

He floated down to the floor and looked directly at her “we trained ourselves”

He turned to face the whole room. “ I am not here to fight you” he said as a couple of hero quickly moved from their seats. “ I came to warn you”

He took in a breath “ I came to warn you, stay out of amity and stay in your lane.” He put a small amount of his ghostly wale into his voice, just enough to shake up their hearts. “ we don’t need you. We don’t WANT you” he cold the room slowly a couple degrees a word. “ do not ask around for us ghosts, do not look for us, if you find one of us. RUN.” He dropped his voice louder as emphasis. “ if you find one of us causing trouble, send us a message, but otherwise don’t acknowledge us or amity, the dead have nothing to give to you” his eyes became fussy staring at nothing green tears fell out of his eyes,and his Lichtenberg scars began to glow Ice blue, but his voice did not waver,.“ you may not have killed us yourself but you signed our death warrant long ago, you have ignored us far to long” is voice soften at the last word.

Then his eyes turns red, as fast as he could he pulled Superman out of his chair and pushed him to the wall. Danny’s hand went intangible as he pushed in into Superman’s chest. His hand wrapped around Superman’s heart, Danny soften the intangibility so Superman could fell the hand but not get hurt. “I can rip your heart out without a single fight” his skin became entirely invisible to show his skeleton. “To all of amity” Superman’s breathing quickened “to me” he move close to Superman’s ear “you are villains, and will be treated as such” he dropped Superman to the floor.

“Stay in your domain and I’ll stay in mine” ice began to form at his feet, looking mor like crystals than ice. “Come to us with please of forgiveness is as pointless as asking of it from your god” ectoplasm dripped from his mouth onto the floor. “Do not come to amity” and with that he went invisible again and watched the room in amusement. He was kinda freaking out at how awesome he sounded.

A couple minutes of silence followed. As John Constantine entered the room, “what did I miss?”

———————-

Hope y’all like it <3 Sorry for spelling mistakes. I don’t think this need trigger warnings but if you think so please comment so I can add them. I started writing this and I couldn’t stop. If only I had that energy for the original story’s I want to write lol Have a nice day/night and drink some liquids that aren’t caffeinated and/or poisonous <3

#danny fenton #danny phantom #sorry for spelling mistakes #fanfic #fanfic ideas #dc x dp #dp x dc #justice league #Eldridge Danny phantom

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syneilesis · 4 months

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[fic] Pampertime

Pampertime

Love and Deepspace | Xavier (Shen Xinghui) x Main-Character!Reader | Explicit | 6.7k words | ao3 link

Butler Rule No. 1: From the moment you accept the role, be prepared to obey your lady’s every command. The bunny butler outfit makes a grand return. In bed.

Content tags: Established Relationship, PWP, Roleplay, Bunny Butler Xavier, Dom/sub elements, Sub!Xavier, Strip Tease, Hand Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Cunnilingus, Face-Sitting, Cowgirl Position, Riding, PIV sex, Creampie

A/N: My contribution to the bunny butler Xavier train. Only gave a cursory edit once, so any mistakes still my fault. I'm just glad I'm done, whatever. Divider by @/saradika

One bright and sunny afternoon, Xavier texts you: Emergency can U come up here to help me?

You're in the middle of cleaning your living room, after weeks of neglecting your household responsibilities due to the sudden influx of Wanderers in the neighboring city. The Hunters Association had been scrambling to send out their hunters due to the sudden invasion of Wanderers that resembled bafflingly like corgis—which was both a blessing and a curse, if one were to be asked. Blessing because, well, they were a breed that incited cute aggression and fluffiness, and civilian evacuation had resulted in minimal problems, if one ignores the influx of people into doglike Wanderers. A curse, because—well, they did look like corgis—fluffy like a bread with a cute butt, the kind that you would expect to see in the plushie line sold at Twinkle Toys Store. They're irresistible to drag your hand across their soft coat. A not-inconsiderable number of hunters realized the error of their ways in overlooking the fact that these floof of creatures were still Wanderers, and as a consequence, Linkon hospitals suddenly found themselves busier for a week or two.

Regardless, the corgi Wanderers were easy to take care of, once you saw past their clever ruse. The difficulty lay in the numbers. Like a relentless tsunami flooding the city, they undulate in droves, shaking their butts and bouncing around and generally making an oxymoronically cute menace of themselves.

As one of the hunters dispatched to the area, you valiantly resisted the siren cute-call and eliminated as many as you could. It took you and your team more than a week, and it would have been shorter than that, had Xavier been in the fray. But he had been sent in another region the week before, and was unable to join you in your fluff-filled resistance.

But now it seems that he's back and is in need of your assistance. Flashback to that time when his oven exploded due to his attempt at baking tarts, and you drop everything you're doing and fly outside, towards the elevator, fueled by fear and sheer panic.

When you burst into his apartment, using the spare key he left you, you cry out, “Xavier! Sitrep!”

A cursory survey of the area indicate neither fire nor flood, and his apartment seems undamaged. Fear subsiding, you finally take stock of the situation.

Perhaps it's not a kitchen emergency after all? There’s no smell of something burning, thank heavens for that. You do not want to apologize to his neighbors in his place again.

You call once more, “Xavier?”

“In here.”

His voice is coming from the bedroom, and that makes you waver. Why is he still in his bedroom? Maybe he's stuck in bed? Did he sleep for three days and wake up in an unusual position and in need of assistance to set back his limbs again? Weirder and weirder thoughts spiral in your head, and your lack of response prompts him to speak once more.

“You can go in, if that's what stops you.”

“Why can't you just go out?”

“I ... can't.”

The hesitation captures your attention. Xavier is probably entangled in the bed. You may as well help him.

“All right, I'm coming in then.”

When you open the door, you're expecting some sort of layers and layers of blankets, a sea of them, not just on the bed but also on the floor and other furniture. Xavier might be underneath in any of those blankets, and it's your duty to locate him and fish him out. You're ready to swim against these blankets, fight your way into it. Do your utmost duty as a combat partner.

Except.

Except it's not a sea of blankets that welcome you once you enter the room. It's—different.

So different.

So utterly different that you drop your phone. It clatters muffled against the carpeted floor, where it slightly nudges a gift-wrapped box. And that gift-wrapped box sits next to another gift-wrapped box, and another. And another. Until you lift your widening gaze to see that Xavier's bedroom is littered with a lot of them. And Xavier—

He's on the bed, all right. But he's—

He grins lightly, leaning back from his sprawled position. The pillows behind him sink under his weight.

“Kjalfjdsj?” you say, eloquently.

“I'm glad you came ...” A pregnant pause, before he drops the bomb. “My lady.”

Your brain short-circuits.

Xavier is sprawled on the bed, bunny ears on his head, waistcoat and tie, and—you just know, you can feel it in your bones—bunny tail on behind. It's exactly what he wore when you had your couple's photos back then. The fact that he's wearing it and, judging by the sudden change of interior design of his room, that he's replicated the decoration of the studio—actually, you don't know what you can glean from those points, because you're too busy picking up the remains of your brain matter to form a coherent thought.

He drops another bomb: “Why are you just standing there, my lady?” he says, and going by the quirk of his lips he knows the effect he has on you. Compared with the first time it happened, the shy reluctance is no longer present. “This bunny butler is ready to serve, just say the word.”

Your brain melts.

“Wha—I mean—um, guh—” You studiously reacquaint yourself with the concept of words. “I just—what is going on?”

Xavier blinks, and the bunny ears on top of his head twitch as if they are truly connected to his head. Your fingers twitch themselves in response, that urge to touch and feel them again.

“I just thought,” he begins, slowly at first as if testing the waters, “that you need to relax and get pampered after that difficult mission you've just had.”

The words percolate in your mind and you scrabble for an appropriate reply to that. To be fair to the man, Xavier is sweet thinking of your well-being like that. Or maybe he's guilty that he wasn't there to help during that corgipocalypse of a week. Regardless of his intent, you have to ask:

“You thought I need to relax and your solution is to dress up as a bunny butler?”

He has the gall to think about it at length. “Yes, my lady.”

You don't miss the way he spreads his legs a little wider at that.

And really—you're only human, with wants and needs and desires. It just so happens that the common denominator of those three aspects point to the ridiculous man before you, in that ridiculous bunny butler getup that you secretly love and hope to see again. Which—yeah, it's definitely the perfect solution.

Stomping your hesitation and pride, you stride towards the bed, and Xavier, watching your every step, reclines further, giving you space for you to place your knee on the soft mattress, between his legs.

The bedfoam dips, and he shifts to avoid sinking down the indent your knee makes. Your other knee follows, and you move towards him until the heat of his inner thighs touch the outer sides of yours.

At the proximity between the two of you, Xavier tips forward, and in spite of your positions he doesn't need to tilt his head much upward to meet your deliberating gaze. An anticipatory sharpness falls on his expression and, oh, you realize, he must've wanted this too.

Which is all that you need to fall into this completely.

And it's a transformation: a reshifting of limbs and the straightening of spine, something like a lock unlatching.

“Mr. Bunny Butler,” you begin, low and relishing and shy of being predatory, “bow your head.”

Xavier's nostrils flare at that. After a couple of seconds he complies, and seeing the sliver of his exposed nape opens something within you.

Against your shoulder the bunny ears snag, their length not allowing to fall along Xavier's pose. You bring one hand up to trace an invisible line across an ear, the fur short and soft. Xavier's quiet beneath you, but you can feel him stiffening at your every move. Braced a little behind his sides, his hands clench tightly.

“Can you feel it?” you ask, pinching the colored tip of the ear, pushing it back to observe its make. It's well-made, and you wonder if this one costs more than you'd expect.

Xavier shakes his head. You want to hear him, however, so you tap the back of his head in warning. He exhales loudly; breathes out, “No ...” and then tacking on: “Master.”

Your eyes narrow in pleasure, the flesh of your cheeks bunching from how wide your smile is. “That's my good bunny,” you praise him, caressing the curve of his head. He shivers—whether from the praise or the touch or both, you don't know.

To see him like this—a formidable hunter with centuries of experience, the force of stars pulsing underneath his skin, ready to rupture at his command—head bent low before you, hands closed in restrained fists, the lines of his body intersecting into a show of surrender. Yielding. It heats the core of your belly and your blood, and you can't help but bite your lip as you savor the image.

Leaning back and sitting on your calves, you catch Xavier's downcast stare. His brows furrowed as if concentrating, and when he notices you trained on him, his eyes do something that reminds you of the existence of the concept of puppy dog eyes.

Every time he does that, you think, you want to gobble him up.

Closing in on his face, you raise your left hand and cradle his jaw, tipping it up, gazes never leaving each other. Then you draw nearer, and nearer, until your lips almost brush against his. The sharp sound of his inhale is deafening in this lack of distance. Your eyes never leave his, but his drop down, nearly crossing, as he's distracted by your lips. His breaths are hot on your skin, and finally you aim at the corner of his mouth, and open your own to say:

“Don't move.”

And then you descend, trailing butterfly kisses along the edge of his lips, his cheek, his temple. Xavier goes spine-rigid at the first contact, forgetting to breathe for a second, before slowly exhaling, as if trying to hold himself together. His brows knit again and his eyes flutter closed, the line of his lips sloping downward.

He's controlling himself. And that delights you so much that you shift to kiss his earlobe and tug it once, then whispering directly to his ear, “That's my obedient bunny. Keep this up and I'll reward you.”

You stop to wait, and when nothing happens, you tug his jaw and take a bite at the shell of his ear—he gasps—and continue:

“What do you say?”

Xavier's shoulders lurch. He breathes once, twice, before answering.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“Good boy.”

The first reward: a kiss on the lips. A quick, initial press before you pry him open with tongue, and he welcomes you eagerly from the way he surges to meet you. The hand on his face holds him back, but his own hands fly to your hips and plant themselves there.

You slap them away, he resists. You break the kiss, and he makes a disappointed sound, chasing you, and then realizes what he's done.

“I'm sorry—my lady,” he stumbles, putting his hands back in their previous position. He looks so properly chastised, you love it.

Outwardly, you sigh in disappointment, and he whips his head up, stricken. “After I said that you're obedient, you do this. What shall we do, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

“What—” He swallows. “What do you want me to do, my lady?”

In all the times you've tried to fluster him, Xavier doesn't really redden. At best his skin produces a soft sheen of pink across his cheeks that linger over his ears. Never tomato-red though.

But now, his face glows bright pink that gradiates to a noticeable crimson, ending at the tips of his ears. This is good development, you decide, something that you want more of. So you push further.

“Are you truly sorry, Mr. Bunny Butler?”

He nods meekly.

“Then”—a finger pokes at the center of his forehead and pushes, his head docilely tilting back, exposing his slender, beautiful neck—“don't move this time.”

You slip two fingers under his tie and pull it loose. The unobstructed slide of the silken fabric echoes around the room, punctuated by the hitch of his breath. The bunny ears jerk. To his credit, he's still as a statue, and the giddiness that you've been feeling for a while now mounts to a dull yet insistent ache that pools between your legs.

Then you unbutton his collar, which reveals more of that pretty neck. An alarmed sound forms in his throat, and you call his name in warning. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows whatever he's about to say.

And that Adam's apple becomes your next target: your mouth molds around it, sucking, and Xavier gives a full-body shudder. A groan bursts out of him. He's trembling, his hands—leather-gloved and creaking at the strain of his fists—his thighs, his shoulders. You can see how he wants to turn his head, to retreat from your hot mouth, but thinks himself the better of it.

You place your left hand under his head and kiss him under the angle of his left jaw.

“Ah—”

With your free hand, you trace down the outline of his neck to shoulder. His breath catches, he jolts away, his eyes shoot you a betrayed look.

“My lady—”

You plant another kiss in the dip of his collarbone. “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?” you ask against his moist skin.

He releases a shuttered exhale. Behind you, his legs move in a way that comes across as avoidant, as if he's hiding something from you. You glance down and realize the reason for his discomfort.

Saliva pools in your mouth.

But you swallow the surging desire ignited by the image of his arousal. It isn't time yet; you want to draw this out as long as you can.

Head still tipped back, Xavier doesn't see your discovery of his want, his eyes half-mast and his focus directed on reining himself in. If you remove yourself from the scene and study him from head to toe, you'd find Xavier the perfect picture of temptation, restrained, controlled on the surface but a collapsing star underneath, gravity pulling you to him and there's no way to escape.

Not that you'd like to escape in the first place.

You repeat your question, this time against his Adam's apple: “What does Mr. Bunny Butler want?”

“My la—” He chokes. Tries again. “Whatever my lady wants.”

Ah. Such a good bunny.

Your hands drift down to the next closed button. His tie is loosened enough that you can remove it in one hard tug. And isn't that a nice thought: one strong pull and he's dragged along by the force, his lips inevitably landing on your lips, a welcome collision.

But you don't follow that path; instead, your hands drop lower, to the last button of his waistcoat. The sides of your hands brush against the seam of his pants, dangerously close to his already obvious bulge, and it dawns on Xavier that you're already aware of his worldly response, if the widening of his eyes is an indication. He whips his head to shoot you a meaningful look, as if begging you to ignore his lapse of control—as if that is an unwelcome development.

Sometimes, you think, Xavier wants to show you a side of him that only exudes assurance, a sharp blade and sturdy shield that envelop you in sidereal protection. Be it from outside forces and his own—and even yours. Physical dangers, most especially, but curiously enough: information. Knowledge. The matters of the past. The matters of the heart. The both of you may have confessed that day, the words of your promises embedded in your heart like an oath under the stars, but there are times when a shadow passes through Xavier's expression, and he seems so far away. Light-years away.

But right now, that thought isn't at the forefront of your mind: it is the way the redness climbs up his neck, his face, his cheeks, painting him a beautiful hue that reminds you of a recently blossomed rose. He truly is gorgeous this way.

One of his hands encloses around yours, stopping your ministrations. Minute tremors hum under his callused palm.

“I'm—” A quick breath. “I'm supposed to serve you, my lady.”

Ah. Truly such a good bunny.

You capitulate, hands retreating from the button of his pants, but not before caressing his trembling hand and squeezing it once. An indulgent smile unfurls in the line of your lips, and you make a snap decision.

The second reward: freedom. Xavier has expressed his desire to serve, to please, and you'll give him the freedom to choose how to enact it—

Under a specific instruction, of course.

“Yes, of course,” you say, tapping his warm cheek fondly with your index finger. “Serve me, then, Mr. Bunny Butler. Strip for me. Slowly.”

He catches that finger quickly with his mouth, bites it lightly, like it's a warning—or a promise. You let him nibble and lick your finger for a couple of seconds, the wetness sending electricity down your spine, and you can't stop the shiver that echoes throughout your body. Xavier narrows his eyes in satisfaction at your response, hints of a smirk around his lips, and that's insubordination if you saw one. So you snatch your finger away from him, and punish him by dragging your wet finger along the column of his neck.

He jumps at the sensation.

“Strip, Xavier,” you repeat firmly. “Make sure it's a good show.”

It just proves how dedicated he is at this roleplay: by this point he should have already ended this little act and would have taken over, but he's holding your critical gaze as his hands settle over the topmost button of his vest.

“I'll try, my lady.” His voice drops to a low, husky murmur, one that summons pinpricks down your nape and the back of your shoulders, crawling in a slow, deliberate tease.

He does try, indeed. He moves back, affording you space to see his torso without having to change your position. One hand to brace his weight, the other deftly maneuvering each button at a comfortable pace. For every button opened, he takes a deep breath, gives you a confident smile, albeit awkward at the edges. But the rhythm of it lulls you, and you find yourself playing with his bunny ears again—a right decision, because he makes a surprised sound, which morphs into a moan.

The returned proximity grants you the ghostly brushes of his knuckles against your clothed stomach when he opens another button. Because of this, the way your stomach contracts every time he brushes you becomes known to him, and Xavier huffs a laugh, and proceeds to be more purposeful with it.

You tug at his bunny ear, hard. “Mr. Bunny Butler,” you warn.

His shrugs his vest off as his reply.

Now, only left with shirt and tie, Xavier stares down at them, thinking about what to do next. You help him by pushing yourself flush against him, making sure that your thigh grazes his cock. He judders, shoving his face on the crook of your neck and groaning. Idly, you continue playing with the furred ears.

“My lady, my lady,” he mutters, and you feel him sighing, “don't tease me.”

You hum. “Then put more effort in your show.”

He peeks up at you under those pretty yet underhanded lashes of his, and you spy hints of a smirk in that mouth.

But before you can question him about it, a hand grabs yours and guides it to his tie, wraps it around the silk fabric, and pulls. Slowly, carefully. From this angle more skin is revealed under your wandering gaze—the tease of a nipple, flashing beneath that white shirt—and you gulp at the flutter in your belly.

Once the necktie is completely off him, he takes it from your hand and, indeed like a show, re-ties it around his neck, a ribboned gift. At this point you're ready to combust—and he's not even naked.

“Do you like it, my lady?”

“Yes,” you rasp, suddenly off-kilter, “very much.”

“Then ...” He resumes undressing, the buttons of his shirt easily extricated, his movements economical, and bit by bit his bare torso opens before your anticipatory eyes.

He stops at the tucked-in part of the shirt. Glances at you, bites his lip, and goes back to pull the front off so the shirt opens just below his shoulders, presenting you such a gorgeous view.

Xavier sinks into the propped-up pillows—and you unconsciously follow—and smiles. “All yours, Master.”

He knows—that little shit—the allure of incomplete nakedness. The gap, the gape, the patches of exposed skin surrounded by fabric. Xavier's using it to his utmost advantage.

By now you could have clawed his clothes away from his body, but somehow, this tastes more delicious, the promise of a tease, the prolonged heat-pulse that thrums in your core, and you're pretty sure, if Xavier's shallow breaths are an indication, that he's into this too.

Well. May as well take advantage of this luxurious present.

One hand descends on the side of his neck, and you see him tamp down the surprised jolt. This hand, light in its touch, ghostly, virtual, traces the edges of the necktie. You can hear Xavier's bated breath, waiting for your next step.

Then down, down, down to his collarbone, the dip of it, your index finger making laps twice, end to end.

Then further: his chest. And this time, it's not only your hand that wants to participate. You brace yourself on his shoulder and bend down to kiss the center of his chest. Xavier lets out a sound, and inhales sharply.

Next: his left nipple, with an additional teasing nip. His hips buck from the sensation.

You stay where you are, lifting your gaze to ascertain his expression. His head is turned away, hiding his face, a hand covering half of it. But it's useless for him to hide, because his ear is in your direct line of vision, and it's a glaring red.

This propels you to indulge more: the hand on his shoulder slides down to pay his other nipple attention. His legs shift, restless. The sounds of his gasps and moans occupy the room. You feast on him, laying your tongue flat on him and dragging it wetly until you hear him stutter your name.

“M-My lady—I—”

You surge forward, and the force topples the stack of pillows behind him. In the midst of this, you reposition your legs so that you're finally straddling Xavier, your skirt bunching up just below your waist, and—teasingly—grind against his straining cock.

He jerks, grabbing at your hips, attempting at more friction, but you remind him who's in charge, and he eventually relents, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“Sorry about that, my lady. I'm—I'm good now.”

“That's my good bunny.” Then you continue exploring his body with your tongue.

He tastes faintly of sweat but also the scent-taste of his body wash. He's showered just before calling you up. And for some reason, that does you: you rise to kiss him again, and your free hand sneaks itself under him—and grabs his bunny tail.

Xavier yelps, scarlet, shocked at the action, gaping at you and your smug face.

You squeeze the fluffy ball of a tail in response.

“M-My lady...!” he blurts.

“Shame that I didn't get to play with this last time,” you muse, feeling up the soft thing. It twitches under your curious touch. Delighted, you shift around Xavier's torso to lift his hips and study and poke at the tail repeatedly, entranced at the bounce and fuzziness of it. “A wasted opportunity, don't you think so?”

When you check Xavier's reaction, you have to hold back your laugh. He's clearly uncomfortable, but the discomfort is brought upon by embarrassment, as evidenced by his squirming and the persistence of his blush.

Words have left him, so he just averts your leery gaze, bury his face into the nearest pillow, and groans.

Taking pity on him, you release his tail—but not without giving it one last flick; he jolts—and slide your hands around the waistband of his pants. You're fumbling for the button and then the zipper when two gloved hands hinder your actions.

Xavier's face is rearranged into an indulgent yet mischievous smile. “My lady can enjoy me as long as you like. There's no need to hurry.”

But that's the thing, isn't it? You have already enjoyed him so much and enough that at one point things are bound to snap. He as your focal point of your want, the desire that thrums alongside your veins, almost like blood.

“But Mr. Bunny Butler,” you start, adopting a light, airy voice and tilting your head up at him, “there are a lot of things to enjoy from you. I'm not sure if one evening would do.”

Before Xavier can even get a word edgewise, you tear his pants open and yank his boxers down, freeing his cock.

“My la—”

His cock is a firm, solid weight on your hand, and Xavier bucks at the first contact, a halfway gasp ripping out of him. You watch his reactions as you stroke him slowly—painfully slowly, tantalizingly slowly—as your other hand crawl up his waist, flat palm spanning his side.

You know, intellectually and objectively, that Xavier is pretty. Gunmetal-grey hair that shimmers under the starry night sky. His smooth, unlined skin that you're harboring unholy envy for, soft under your curious fingers, almost pristine, untouched all his life. The column of his neck, strong bones underneath the layer of skin and muscle, the prominence of his Adam's apple. The outline of his body—even and proportioned, balanced like a finely crafted sword. And most of all: his eyes, the most expressive part of all of him. The color of an unperturbed sky, always clear and never lost. A steady glister in the darkness.

Right now, though, he's different altogether. Almost otherworldly in the way he's unraveling under your clever fingers. A shift of pressure and he's biting down the meat of his hand in a poor attempt to muffle his groans. A fleeting trail across the slit of his cock and his eyes flutter shut, his hips jumping off the mattress. He thrashes in chase of the pressure and pleasure you're providing him in crumbs, your need to see him lose that frustrating control of his. You keep stroking him and watching him blossom before you, petal by petal, limb by limb, nerve by nerve.

“My lady—” He's panting, running out of breath, his voice gaining that frenzied quality. It's music to your ears. “Master—Master, haa—”

He's coming, you can feel it. You can see it through his quickening breaths, the flush of his skin all over his body, the white-knuckled fist of his hands, the throb of his cock.

“My lady, I'm co—”

You release him, and the slow transformation of his face is such a fascinating phenomenon. From the crunch of pleasure, then crumpling into confusion. He raises his head to see you leaning back, hands away from him, his hazy eyes taking in what's happening—or its lack of. Then they widen, his mouth dropping open to release a sound of distress, round and full and cracking.

“Why did you ...”

You tug at the ends of the ribbon-necktie. He clicks his mouth shut.

“You said I can enjoy you as long as I like. There's no need to hurry.”

His gaze finally clears, and he gulps, nodding. Near your hips, Xavier's cock leaks.

“Then ...” You lay on top of him, chest to chest, thigh to thigh, your belly pressing against his pulsing cock (he freezes at this, and then continues to freeze), and place your arms on the sides of his head so your hands can reach the bunny ears. They still react delightfully under your roaming touch. “I'm going to enjoy these a little more. Don't move too much, okay?”

The room becomes pinched with quiet, and while you're intent on the furry ears atop Xavier's head, you can sense in your periphery his eyes on you. He's careful not to jostle you, the air he breathes catching on your skin, and you feel his arms snaking around your waist, settling on the small of your back.

“You really like the costume that much, huh.”

You hum in acknowledgment, rubbing the area where accessory meets scalp. You scratch it with your light fingernails, and Xavier sighs at the feeling.

When you leave the ears, you turn your attention to Xavier's expression next. He's still observing you, his flush now pale but enduringly distinct across his cheeks, and that entices you to meet his lips in a slow, patient kiss.

“It's nice, seeing you go through such effort to make me happy,” you answer him after you separate, punctuating the statement with a pleased, narrow-eyed smile.

A thought takes over Xavier, with the way his brows knit. Moments pass, you regard him, until he finally opens his mouth to articulate whatever has occupied him.

“My lady,” he begins, hesitant at first, but each word gains confidence, “there's something I want to do for you.”

“Speak.”

“I want you to”—and here his stare morphs into that puppy dog eyes again—“sit on my face. Please.”

You're stunned. The room continues to be quiet, and you're stunned. Xavier doesn't add anything after that; just waiting for your response. He's probably not sensing how you've finally shut down. You, felled by nine words, the last one an imperative period that brooked no refusal.

When he calls you, his face and his voice are tinted with uncertainty.

“Stars, Xavier.” You scramble up to reposition yourselves in accordance to his request. During this transitory moment, Xavier removes his gloves with his teeth. Now bare, both his hands come up to hold your thighs from behind, adjusting their spread and angle. You want to whine self-consciously, but glimpsing Xavier's eager expression as you move towards his head, you stamp that part in your mind. “Okay down there?”

He doesn't reply—instead he just goes for it.

Your hands shoot for the headboard, a surprised cry shocked out of you. Is this Xavier's way of revenge for denying his orgasm earlier? The way he confronts you is not unlike a battle, with his single-minded focus on his goal and his preciseness. He parts your folds with his tongue, pays attention to your clit first: sucks it lightly before dialing it up. You convulse, your hips digging down, and he moans, the vibration thrumming your flesh.

“Xavier,” you sob, “Xavier. Xavier.”

He laps around your clit like a thirsty man, hands kneading your thighs. He must've been thinking about this for a while now, with how methodical he's going by it, strategized to push you into becoming a complete and utter wreck. He kisses your clit then mouths it, moves his tongue in lateral glides that have you thrashing on your position. You grind against him, and he welcomes it wholeheartedly, and behind you his hips thrust helplessly in air, his stubbornly hard cock drooling with pre-come.

One hand nudges you forward and you follow, until his tongue enters inside you—you gasp and shiver at the slick intrusion—drinks you with such loudness that you wouldn't be surprised if his neighbors overhear what the two of you have been doing.

He knows how to prolong the barrage of pleasure, that heat and swell around your core, your undulating hips, sustained until you buckle and collapse from the force of it, your orgasm torrential like a storm.

When Xavier emerges between your legs, his face shines from your slick and his saliva. A fond smile slips out of you, and a finger traces the length of his lips; then your entire hand, cupping the side of his face, a tender caress. A smile of his own appears and he nuzzles your hand, kisses the center of your palm, eyes closed and sated.

“Good boy,” you praise, and he sighs happily. “So good for me. Have to reward you, don't I?”

The third reward: release. You move back to pull his pants and boxers off him completely, and Xavier just watches you with anticipation, breaths in quick bursts.

“You know the drill: don't move.” You underline this order with a tease of his cock, a line-trail from the tip to the base and then a quick squeeze of his balls.

When you align yourself above him and begin to sink down, Xavier goes rigid-stiff, daring not to breathe, careful not to move. You pause from your progress, and send him a worried look.

“Xavier?”

“I—I'm—” He bites his lip, exhales through his nose. “I'm okay, I just. I'm just trying not to react too much.”

“Why?”

He casts you a helpless gaze. “Because, my lady, I'm afraid that my control would slip, and I would have my selfish way with you.”

You falter at that. To be honest that's not such a bad idea at all, but Xavier knows that this is for you and your needs, and what you need right now—and what you want, if one were to ask—is him under you, at your mercy. Just as he is right now.

So you move lower, feeling the head of his cock open you up, slowly. And you can hear the hitching breaths unwittingly made by him, his eyes shut and his whole expression folded inward, as if he couldn't handle the pleasure descending over him.

A groan tumbles out of his lips, low at first, quick and fleeting, but as you inch lower and lower, the feel of his cock molding you inside, the wanton sounds he makes lengthens, gets louder, until he parts those glistening lips and vocalizes his satisfaction.

“My lady—you feel so—”

“Good, I hope.”

He doesn't wait until you bottom out; he bucks his hips to sheathe himself inside you completely in one smooth motion. You cry out from his action, his cock pulsing against your walls, and the feeling of him pulls you in further bliss that your eyes flutter closed and your back arches as the pleasure spreads throughout your body.

“The best, my lady.”

He gasps when you clench around him, your wetness dripping between your joined bodies.

You really think the best position Xavier has ever been is here right now: underneath you, helpless to your demands, seized by pleasure that you're giving him and taking from him. The way his face doesn't know what to do in the undulating waves of pressure as you begin to move above him, your hips lifting and then slamming back down; the film of sweat coating his skin all over, moistening the sheets beneath the two of you. The severe grip of his hands, bunching up the blankets in their deathly clutch. His rapid heartbeat under your palm as you support your weight by bracing yourself on his chest. His moans, his filthy, filthy moans—his moans that you will remember until your dying day because they are so far out of his cultivated normalcy—open-mouthed, slack-jawed moans that come from the core of his abdomen, surging upwards, frantic, crazed, melodiously and sublimely wanton.

“Look at you, Xavier,” you pant, and one of Xavier's legs kicks out. “Look at my bunny butler.”

“Master—Master—”

“What do you want, darling?” you ask, shakily tracing the side of his face. When your fingers near his mouth he turns his head to place a kiss at your fingertips, then drags his tongue out to lick at their length. Your index and middle fingers press flat at his tongue, and he groans around them. His puffs of breath beat in time with the movement of your hips.

One hand crawls towards your thigh, haltingly slides upwards, up to the junction of your hips, where it disappears under the spill of your skirt. Then it reaches behind to squeeze at the meat of your ass, and you gasp, stuttering your pace.

You take out your fingers so he can answer you, but Xavier grabs your wrist with his other hand and brings it back to his lips, trails kisses on each finger, murmurs nonsensical things against your saliva-coated skin until, louder, he tells you—

“Everything you can give me, my lovely Master.”

And, oh, isn't that a wonderful thing to hear? That readiness of his—be it in battle or in bed, he rolls with everything you throw at him, as though there's nothing that can taint you in his eyes, no betrayal to feel forsaken by. As though all that he's done, all that he's doing, is in service to you.

And it's because of this that you use the same hand to cup at his jaw and jerk it in your direction, bowing down to kiss him, bite his lower lip, thrust your tongue inside, lick the roof of his mouth, suck his own tongue—devour him fully and utterly.

He meets your intent with his own, just as intense, just as parched and hungry as you are for him. Every exhale is accompanied by a soft sigh, and you swallow his every sound—that lovely and soothing voice that lingers in your mind and haunts the edges of your dreams. His reaction just drives you to speed up your pace.

He's trembling all over, and tries to shift the angle from which you're riding him. Doing so affords his cock to hit something inside you, lighting up your body, starburst behind your eyelids, and you jolt, a whimper tearing out of your throat that Xavier drinks greedily. His hand on your ass traverses to your clit and plays with it, intensifying the blast of sensations on your lower body.

Obstructed by your mouth, Xavier tries: “My lady, I think—I'm close.”

“Me too, I'm—don't hold back—”

He doesn't. And he doubles his efforts in relentlessly stroking your clit and pounding up inside you, and the pleasure crests and crests and crests until you pulse and clench and come, sobbing at the white-hot crash flooding your nerves, collapsing on top of Xavier, mouths still connected.

And he doesn't stop. This time both his hands bracket your hips; grinds you down as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you. You're oversensitive but you don't stop him, just clinging to him and whimpering, and he begins to assail your ear, his panting tangible and hot against your skin.

“My lady, my lady,” he chants, voice shattering like glass. “My lady—Master—”

His orgasm feels like an echo of your own release, his spend filling inside you. Xavier gives a few more thrusts before slowing down and stopping. A self-satisfied sigh ripples over his relaxed body, and his hands climb to your back, guide you to pillow your head on his chest, embracing you as you melt on top of him.

Minutes pass, and his breathing evens; you expected him to fall asleep after, but when you look up his eyes are emphatically open.

“Aren't you sleeping?”

He glances down at you. Quirks a smile. “No, not yet.”

“Oh ...”

“We're not finished, my lady.”

“Huh?”

“You've had your fill, Master.” He smirks. Then flips you over, reversing your positions so he's now on top of you. He starts unbuttoning your shirt. “Now let me have mine.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fic #LaD fic #love and deepspace smut #LaD smut #love and deepspace xavier #LaD x reader #love and deepspace x reader #LaD xavier #nsft #fic #my fic #shen xinghui my beloved

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aurevell · 3 months

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In Case of Emergency, Call Steter | 9k | T

Peter only finds out he’s Stiles’s emergency contact when the hospital calls.

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Peter only finds out he’s Stiles’s emergency contact when the hospital calls.

After the initial moment of confusion, in which he’s certain there’s been a mistake, the receptionist takes his silence for shock and falls over herself to promise Stiles is in good hands. His injuries are not life-altering. He’s young enough to bounce back in no time. The medical team handling his case is excellent.

Peter contemplates hanging up on her. It’s the same impulse he has with telemarketers: the flood of information is pointless. Negligible. Water is wet. Stiles is human. He’s always getting battered and bruised. Evidently, he doesn’t even take holiday weekends off.

No one could possibly hold Peter responsible for this.

But then, apparently someone does. Someone has listed Peter as an emergency contact, even in place of far more likely alternatives. Scott McCall, for a start. Or barring that, his gaggle of underlings. Not to mention Stiles’s own father.

That’s an intriguing detail.

By the time the receptionist has begun rattling off the rules for visiting hours, Peter has changed his mind. It’s an unusual situation. A minor mystery. And Peter has never been one to leave mysteries to rot.

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Read the rest on AO3

#steter #steter fic #mine #true story i write soooo slowly #i really thought this fic was halfway done at 2k words when i talked about it on here at the start of the month #7k words later here we are lmao #it developed a second chapter all on its own i didn't even touch it

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thatsatricky1 · 3 months

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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖋𝖙

Pairing: Criminal Choi San x Nurse (afab) Reader.

Genre: Thriller, Crime, Romace

Warnings: Hospitals, slight gore, wounds, gun shot wound mentioned, blood mentioned, gun mentioned, criminal activities, bank heist.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction and does not accurately describe San, again this is fiction for entertainment purposes. Also I wrote this at an ungodly hour at night so please excuse if there are any grammar or misspellings (English is not my first language) I will go back to re-edit any mistakes later after I get some sleep.

Word count: 3,4k+

“I still remember you full of youth, wide eyed, holding a water bottle in one hand and a fall risk document in the other.”

“Ah yes when I was a resident still full of hope.” Y/n commented back not looking up from the computer where she was typing up a quick patient report. An already empty coffee cup in the trash can next to the desk and a freshly opened 500ml energy drink laid next to the computer keyboard.

“Now you’re just like the rest of us.” Chan spoke again with a small lopsided smile leaning against the desk, arms crossed figure still clothed in his lab coat.

“Chan, I love you but your shift ended an hour ago, leave before you get stuck here.” Y/n shut down Chan’s small talk.

“Couldn't I say the same for you?”

“No, understaffed as per usual meaning I’m doing a double shift.” Y/n answered back to Chan’s retort causing him to stand up straight.

“You are taking another double shift? You know you can say no sometimes.” Chan frowned watching her still typing up the last few sentences of her report on a new income patient.

“I’d love to but Yeji and Rose are both on holiday, Momo is on leave since she’s in her third trimester, Mark is sick, so is Yoona, Hani, Suzi and Doyoung. Oh and Irene got moved to ward F4.” Y/n listed off with her finger spinning in her chair to face Chan now.

“Felix?” Chan asked out stubbornly.

“He did the last double shift, late and night shift.” Y/n shot back.

Chan sighs moving to rub his eyes letting out a groan not liking how his ward was always understaffed but most ward were, that’s how it was. He was always asking the hospital to hire more nurses, it looked like even him, the head doctor couldn’t change their stingy ways.

Hospital staff worked as a team. Doctors, nurses, emt’s, cleaners, chefs, receptionists, therapists, interns, residents, technicians, all staff were a team together. If just one was missing, the hospital wouldn’t work.

“I’m going to try again at the next board meeting to get them to reconsider adding extra staff.” Chan mentions while Y/n gets out of her seat standing in front of him.

“Of course you will, you do every time Dr. Bang, but how about for now you go to bed, can’t have a sleep deprived doctor working on my patients.” Y/n teased a cheeky smile gracing her lips but eyes were evidently tired as she patted his chest.

“Alright, alright nurse Y/n. I’m on call though, so if anything happens it’s my number you need to call during Night Shift Alright?” Chan conceded one arm raised in mock surrender while the other patted her hand that laid on his chest.

“Good, sleep well Chan.” Y/n replied letting her hand slip away from being sandwiched between Chan’s chest and hand. No doubt already making up her mind to not bother on calling Chan as she was a pro in emergencies.

Y/n moving away over to the medication area opening the cabinets while flipping open the iPad going onto her patients medical plans to start preparing their medication before they’d be going to sleep.

Chan watched silently as Y/n moved with muscle memory reaching for different medications she knew like the back of her hand placing them in one use containers.

“Sleep well too Y/n after your shift ends.” Chan quietly spoke out in the room but loud enough to hear as she hummed out in response.

With one more reluctant look at leaving her alone for the Night Shift, Chan grabbed his things leaving the nursing room. Y/n hearing his footsteps faintly leave down the hallway.

Y/n taking in a deep breath, blinking away the heavy feeling in her eyelids. Hands moving nimbly as usually putting another 400mg pain tablet into a container.

It had hit 3 a.m. Y/n having just finished another round through her patients rooms making her way back towards the nursing room pocketing her low light torch and quickly checking the time on her pocket watch, a puff of air releasing from her mouth realising she still had four more hours till change over.

Unlocking the nursing room and pushing it open with her hip letting the door stay all the way open as she moved to grab her nearly finished energy drink. Moving it up to her lips only to pause hearing the night shift phone start ringing.

Only letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment of annoyance that coursed through her tired body knowing fully well she shouldn’t have hoped for a peaceful night. Yet even when placing the drink down in favour to grab the phone still holding on to a string of hope it was just Irene who was on night shift on F4 wanting to call to pass time and gossip about her new work colleagues.

With a click of a button she pressed the phone to her ear calling out her wards name, F2 and her name.

“Hey Y/n it’s Eunwoo, Irene is gonna look after F2 and F4 for a while. I need you down here for some extra help. Sorry sweetheart.” Eunwoo’s voice muffled out of the old desperately in need of updating, hospital night shift phone.

Just like that Y/n’s peace was broken, but she didn’t dwell on it and instead nodded to herself gripping the phone tighter as she stuffed her pocket with gloves, a Sutures scissors and hand bottle of disinfectant.

“Alright Eunwoo I’m on my way down to the Emergency ward, keep tight I’ll be three minutes max.” Y/n replied not waiting for his response as she ended the call already moving out of the nursing office, locking it behind her before rushing as quietly as she could down the hallway, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

Making it in under two minutes gloves on and ready. Swiftly making her way down the hallway, Eunwoo joined her halfway.

“What happened, Eunwoo?” Y/n asked straight to the point, turning her head to cast her gaze on her friend.

“Good morning to you too sweetheart, three guys came in severely wounded, one shot, the other two pretty scratched up. They won’t talk about it. My guess is some gang robbery on the trio went wrong and they're traumatised or still in shock from it.” Eunwoo informed, somehow slipping a joke in as well.

“And I’m here, why then?”

“Because my dear Y/n I have my hands full with critically injured patients and there is one guy left from the three that needs to be patched up.” Eunwoo finally explained.

“Eunwoo-” Y/n started to go on her rant but was cut off by Eunwoo who stopped them grabbing her blue medical gloved hands in his own matching pair.

“Y/n I wouldn’t ask you to come down without a reason, I’m on my second double shift in a row, I have four burn victims I constantly have to attend to until space frees up in the critical ward. We used to work in the emergency ward together so I knew you’d get it.” Eunwoo spoke this time seriously, squeezing Y/n’s hands gently.

Y/n gazed into Eunwoo’s eyes for a few seconds before softening her gaze, nodding understanding him. Eunwoo’s eyes brightened knowing he could count on her pulling her into a tight hug.

“He’s in room 4, thank you Y/n you are a lifesaver. I owe you one.” Eunwoo thanked her, taking his leave to rush back to room 6.

“Yeah, I know.” She muttered to herself, hands on her hips before looking over to room 4.

“I’m fine, like I said before you can attend to my friends first.” A smooth yet somehow gruff voice called out in the dim room.

“Well that’s an interesting introduction. And for your peace of mind, your friends have already been attended to.” Y/n spoke from the doorway leaning against it.

“You’re not that guy.” The male blurted out observing Y/n.

“Very observant. No I’m not, but you’re my patient now, so let’s have a look at what I’m working with.” Y/n clearly amused as she stepped properly into the room now, picking up the new patients chart.

Having to keep a poker face noticing Eunwoo’s chicken scratch handwriting with barely any information. Male, looks to be mid twenties, might have a cut on his right forearm and some scratches to the face. Not a lot to work off of.

Placing the chart down Y/n looked over at the guy taking in his appearance. He was quite attractive, that is something she couldn’t deny. Recently freshly bleached hair, black combat boots, plain black pants, an olive green hoodie paired with a questionable leather combat vest, that she hoped was just an odd choice of street fashion wear. One of his hands gloved with a chain attached to it, the other hand was covered in wrist bands.

“Are they really fine?” The guy asked, watching as Y/n grabbed supplies bring them over to the bed he was sitting on, legs placed on the floor in habit in case he needed to make a break for it.

“Eunwoo has magic hands, you’re friends are most definitely more than fine.” She reassured him.

“But you on the other hand, need to get patched up now.” Y/n pointed out hand gesturing towards his bloodied sleeve.

“It’s not mine.” San explained, the blood having soaked into his sleeve of his hoodie earlier.

Y/n held back from raising her eyebrow shaking her head pointing out “I’m going to assume you got blood on your sleeve from your friends gun shot wound.”

“Yeah something like that.” He nods.

“Alright so, I still need to patch up your face. Make sure those wounds don’t leave any nasty scars.” She spoke while preparing everything all while he watched curiosity clear in his eyes.

San could clearly tell the young nurse was tired, then again it was always said that nurses are overworked so he shouldn’t be surprised, it was also 3 something a.m.

“I’m Y/n F/n, but you can call me Y/n.” Y/n introduced herself before gesturing at her equipment asking permission silently to start. San giving a single not for the go ahead.

Y/n moved to start cleaning up the scratch that was clean along the bridge of his nose, it would leave a faint scar from the depth but with her skillful hands it wouldn’t be as noticeable. Being this up close to him made her realise he had an eyebrow piercing, something Y/n was a sucker for. But she was also professional.

“San.”

“No last name?” She hummed out eyebrows scrunching the slightest bit in focus, a detail San couldn’t help but burn into his memory gaze never leaving her face.

“Just San.” He replied back waiting to be further interrogated but was pleasantly surprised by Y/n not asking further questions on him. Yet for some reason also hoped she’d dig further.

“So do you always come waltzing through the emergency entrance with sounds wearing a leather vest or is this something you’re just scratching off your bucket list?” Y/n tried making small talk, wanting his attention off her face, noticing his intense stare.

“We got robbed, not something I put on my bucket list, don’t have one to begin with.” San replied with a small smirk placed against his lips at her words. The lies slipped off his tongue easily as it was a thing he did often.

“Mm, Eunwoo did say something about a robbery. At least you have a new conversation started to use on people.” Y/n offered up a barely good thing to come out of the situation that happened to him and his friends.

“You look tired.” San blurted out wanting to change the topic off of his friends and situation since he didn’t want to slip up on it and talk further on it as when Mingi, Wooyoung and he had gone to the hospital the furthest they’d made up on their alibi was getting robbed and none of the three would say more in case they gave different stories.

“Once again a great observation San, I’m on a double shift. I had a late shift. Now I’m on night shift due to our wonderfully understaffed hospital like every other hospital.” Y/n replied to him wondering if she looked like a mess for him to be pointing out she looked tired.

“Fuck. Sounds like it happens a lot.” San muttered out holding back a wince as she cleaned over a cut on his cheekbone, being used to the pain but that didn’t mean he was immune to it.

“It does.” Y/n hummed out before saying with an amused grin “Do I look that bad?”

“No, just because you look tired doesn’t mean you look bad. You look good.” San responded just as fast, eyes never falling from her face unlike how her hand faltered from where it was attending to his cheekbone.

“… Well you should see me with at least eight hours of sleep and in clothes that aren’t my scrubs.” Y/n teased out having to take a second, surprised by the sudden comment he made.

“Don’t tempt me, you know I’d want to see that.” San spoke out confidently, his pierced eyebrow raising. Only to wince at Y/n ‘accidentally’ pressing harder on his wound.

“Careful San if I didn’t think any better I’d say you’re testing your luck on a night shift nurse right after being robbed.” She shook her head to hold back her amusement.

“And what if I am?” He boldly asked hand slyly moving to grab her wrist gently stopping her from continuing with patching up his face. Y/n noticing just how close their faces were now.

“I’d say it would be a lost cause San, seeing as I’m your nurse and you’re my patient. Your not the first flirt I’ve come across in the work field and certainly not the last.” She put on a confident face tilting her head.

San’s eyes flickering the briefest second down at her lips before staring deep into her eyes, the smirk on his lips turning into a grin.

“Hasn’t stopped other people in the past. I like challenges Y/n.”

“This is a challenge you can only fail at San, I don’t typically go for guys without last names.”

“Choi.” San bluntly replied leaning another inch towards her face.

“I don’t go for bleach blondes.” Y/n responded right after not moving her face back.

“Hair dye exists darling.” San moved closer as if challenging her back, her head not retreating backwards.

“I like my men honest, wanna give me a rundown on how the robbery happened?” Y/n asked out while still doing her job causing San to let out a puff of air amused.

“If I get a kiss I might just tell you every little detail.” San was instantly sorting a made up robbery in his head.

“How about the story first?”

“No can do darling, the kiss comes first.” San denied his lips now so close she could nearly feel them against her own.

“Then I guess we are at a stalemate.” Y/n retorted yet didn’t move back.

San took this as a sign, eyes slowly closing as he moved forward only to be met with air.

Blinking his eyes a few times before fully opening them to see Y/n staring back amused, face a few inches away from his again.

“I got the last name, but your hair is still blonde and I didn’t get that story.” She shrugged, tugging her wrist out of his grasp easily seeing as he’d been holding it lightly in his grasp beforehand.

“Tease.” San groaned out moving backwards so his upper half of his body fell onto the bed.

“Whatever you say Choi San. Well as much as I enjoyed our interesting conversation, I need to go back to my ward to do another round on my patients seeing as you're all finished.” Y/n explained as she got up patting away the imaginary dusk on her scrubs after disposing of her one use gloves.

San was pleased to see no ring in sight on her now revealed hands. Sitting up with his hands holding all his wait he watched her put away the equipment she’d used.

“I thought I was also your patient, shouldn’t I get some of your time as well?” San didn’t let up not wanting her to leave so soon knowing fully well this could be their only interaction to his unfortunate displeasure at the thought.

“Well I can’t be using all my attention on one patient, that’s bias.” Y/n shrugged, moving to lean against the doorway of the room once again like she’d done when she’d first entered the room.

“You’ll probably be able to be discharged soon, be careful where you’re walking around at night with your friends. You’ve got a handsome face, one I don’t want to see get scratched up again and also in my hospital again, stay safe Choi San. Look after yourself.”

San smiled at her kind yet teasing words.

“I’ll try not to. But that doesn’t mean we won’t bump into each other again. The world is a small place you never know when we’ll see each other again.” San replied back.

“Sure thing.” Y/n nodded not thinking they’d cross paths again, but she wouldn’t mind it if it was in any other setting but the hospital she worked in.

Turning to leave Y/n held back an amused laugh hearing San call out to her as she finally took her leave.

“I’ll be waiting for that kiss Darling!”

“Darling?” It was a voice she’d thought she’d never hear again. Much less run into the man.

All she could do was stare in shock and slight anger at the sight in front of her.

San stood there gun in hand, face scratched up again because of the fight that had been taking place at 9pm on a random street in Seoul.

Y/n having been a random witness to the cruel street criminal actions taking place in the bank where’d she’d come by on her only day off she’d managed to get wanting to pay a bit of her student loans.

“You never got robbed.” Was all she could manage to whisper out, San having to strain his ears to hear it, but it was evident he’d heard her by the frown that had settled on his face.

San had been in a robbery gone wrong that night. Though he wasn’t the one who’d gotten robbed. He’d been the one trying to rob others. His grip on his gun faltered quickly, pocketing it in his waistband, glancing at the dead cameras shuffling closer to off duty nurse. Only for her to shuffle back from where she’d been sitting on the ground due to having been ordered by another man ten minutes ago to do so at the beginning of the bank heist currently taking place.

“Darling don’t, don’t you move away from me.” San scrambled with his words trying to back track this whole situation cursing out himself for life putting the two of you here at the same time and not some cliche bump into each other at a coffee shop cliche.

“You shouldn’t have told me your last name San.” Y/n spoke with determination, eyes barely managing to glare at her once patient who’d lied and flirted with her so easily.

“Well I guess that means we have a dilemma on our hands.” San clenched his jaw tight at her words.

“You won’t get away with this San, taking people's hard earned money like this.”

“That’s not what this is Y/n.” San denied desperately wanting her to understand the situation.

“That’s what it looks like to my Choi San.” She retorted, eyes flicking to his hands as he fiddled with something taking another step in her direction, eyes staring once again at that face he’d been thinking about this whole time since they’d first met months ago.

“Oh Darling. You have no idea.”

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