#it's said that doctors make the worst patients | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

softquietsteadylove · 1 year

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Hey hey! Love your doctor au!

My request: two patient coming in but they are highly aggressive and hallucinating very badly and suddenly They start attacking Thena. Lucky for her Gil sees this and protects her!

"Hey!"

Heads turn as one of the ER beds starts rattling. It's the last in the line, and Thena's voice travels out to the rest of the room as she tries to restrain her patient.

"No! No, they're everywhere!" It's a young male, late high school or perhaps early college age. He's tall, well built. He and the patient next to him were picked up in a convenience store parking lot on some form of substance.

Thena tries to hold his arm still. She wasn't even as far as getting blood pressure when he started thrashing. "Take it easy!"

"No! I have to get out of here!" The kid starts flailing even more, maybe not even aware of Thena yet.

"Oh my god," Ajak gasps as she sees it, waving to the security guards stationed closer to the main door, "help her!"

The two rush over, but the kid is full of adrenaline, and the other one needs restraining too, up and screaming about locusts in the air vents.

"Thena!" Ajak runs over to her but skids to a halt. The patient is hallucinating, high on adrenaline and whatever else, in no state to be approached, that's for sure.

"Don't," Thena grunts as she tries to get the kid's hands off her face as he begs her to shut off the air in the room. He grips the collar of her scrubs, "provoke...him..."

Ajak looks around the room, but it's been a quiet night. All their interns are on other cases or on break. Even then, she doesn't know if any of them would be able to overpower this particular patient alone. "Where's Gil?"

The other nurses are already scrambling for the check in log, seeing if he's in the building or on a run.

"I'll even take Kingo."

"Gil's checked in as of 7 minutes ago."

"Get him here!"

The page goes out for active paramedics to triage. Ajak goes to the patient that security did manage to wrangle and gets a sedative into him. She looks at Thena every few seconds, anxiously keeping an eye on her situation of trying to talk down the more nervous one.

"You'll choke if you don't close your lungs!"

"Thena!"

Thena claws at him as his hands close around her long, slim neck. It's easy for his palms to press into her windpipe. She claws at his hands, his face--anything she can reach.

"Get off her!"

Gil charges over, barrelling towards them. The kid still doesn't blink, but Gil wastes no time, with no concern for being too rough with a patient. He grabs the back of the kid's neck, making him reflexively reach to stop whatever is causing his pain. Thena drops to the floor and gasps for air.

Gil throws the kid with one hand--tosses him like a doll into the wall behind them.

Thena draws air into her lungs desperately, coughing and sputtering as she holds her sore throat. She feels Gil lean down to her, his hand on her back, enclosing a safe space for her as she regains her bearings.

"Thena, hey, look at me," he whispers. It's gentle, as is everything with Gil, but she can hear the urgency in it. He's scared. "Please, Thena."

She pulls her head up to look at him, although the blurriness in her vision is a red flag. She blinks at him, feeling his hands on her cheeks. He pulls her closer to him, letting her lean against him. Adrenaline drains out and the heaviness of fatigue replaces it.

Gil holds her head under his chin, his hand on her arm and the other arm around her back.

"Everyone okay?" one of the security guards leans down to ask them.

Gil's glare sends him a step or two backwards. "Where the hell were you?"

Before security becomes the next target of Gil's undeniable strength - and surprisingly frightening temper - Ajak comes over. She puts a hand on Gil's shoulder, meeting his eyes to ask permission from him.

Reluctantly, he loosens his hold on Thena. It's enough for Ajak to pick up her fallen stethoscope and use it for herself, listening to her heart, listening to her breathing. She touches Thena's neck ever so gently.

"I'm fine," Thena protests, but it's a little wheezy sounding, and Ajak can see the redness where bruises will form in all shapes and colours.

"Fine my ass," Ajak glares at her, and finds that even Thena knows better to argue with the mother hen of the ER. She pats Gil's shoulder, "take her to the bus to get some cold compacts on that neck. I'll handle things in here."

"But-"

"Thena," Ajak snaps her fingers and points at her, silencing the doctor completely. Ajak nods them away, taking Thena's stethoscope with her. She'll get it back after Ajak is satisfied that she's been cared for.

Thena sighs, feeling Gil close in around her. She presses a hand to his chest, "I can walk, Gil."

He looks at her desperately, and her heart pulls.

"Really," she whispers, at least allowing him to help her to her feet. Her knees have a little bit of a wobble to them, but she's the Goddess of War, and she doesn't hobble away from anything.

Gil keeps an arm wrapped around her on the way to the ambulance, passing Kingo complaining to Ajak about what 'I'll even take Kingo' meant. "Hey."

Kingo notices Gil walking by, notices the ghostly silence of Thena hovering beside him, and notices them on their way to their ambulance. He nods.

Thena sighs again, testing the tenderness of her neck for herself, "I can't take the rest of the night off, you know. We sent all those damned kids home because it was so slow."

Gil shakes his head, guiding her gently by the shoulder to the back of the vehicle and holding her hand as she steps up into it. "If only they'd been able to tell us what they were on. We could have known they weren't marijuana high but something more dangerous."

Thena shrugs her shoulders as she takes a seat on one of the benches, "these things happen."

"Yeah, but it happened to you," Gil argues with a deep set frown, pulling the doors closed behind him as he sits next to her, "that's the problem."

Thena moves silently, letting him turn her back to him in the small space. He pulls at the collar of her scrubs gently, afraid to so much as brush his fingers against her already damaged skin. "It could have been worse."

"Sh," he whispers, collecting her hair out of his way oh-so gently, "let me work, Doctor Thena."

She puffs through her nose in a soft laugh, turning her head to let him continue his examination. She can feel just the tips of his fingers travelling around the bend of her neck and the curve of her shoulders. She lets him turn her again, keeping her head angled as he examines the front damage.

Gil tugs her shirt as needed, although there's no hint of blunt trauma anywhere even as far down as her clavicle. He runs his fingers along the prominence of the bone, casting shadows along her ghostly pale skin.

Thena's breath hitches.

"Sorry," he whispers, not asking if it's his cold hands or if it hurts or if it's just a sensitive spot for her. He moves back to her neck, with clear marks already of where those hands had closed around it. He hovers his fingers near it but doesn't dare make contact. "Hurt?"

Thena stays quiet, and she's obviously thinking about lying to him about it. But he brushes his thumb along her jaw and she deflates, "a little sore."

Gil nods. He can imagine it's sore; it's going to bruise something awful, that's for sure. He reaches into a drawer and pulls out an ice-gel pack. "You should get something on that to help the blood flow."

Thena smiles, letting him press the cold against her neck for her. She sighs faintly at the relief of it, her hands coming to rest on his wrist as he holds it for her.

"Really scared me, y'know."

She opens her eyes, and he has that same heart wrenching look on his face. He looks like a puppy left out in the rain. She imagines she goes tender in the eyes as well, leaning her cheek against his hand on her neck.

Gil reaches up with his other hand, brushing her hair away from her face. "I've never been so terrified as when I saw him holding you like that."

Thena's eyes drift down between them. She can't imagine what it would have been like for him to arrive on a scene like that. She remembers the fear that had gripped her during the car crash incident that had Gil fainting in her ER. She...could have handled that better, in retrospect.

Thena's eyes flutter as Gil pulls her forward, pressing his lips to her temple (the way she had done for him that time, and then run away and refused to talk about it).

"You know I'm not leaving your side for the rest of the night."

Thena smiles, half-encircled in his warm, strong arms in her half-turned position. Their knees knock together, but she turns her smile into the inside of his wrist to hide at least some of it. "You have a job to do, Gil. We both do?"

"Kingo will cover for me," Gil says a little more easily, and Thena lets out a faint laugh this time. It's still a little thinner and gaspier than he would like, but it's still her laugh. "You said it was a slow night. And you have - what - seven more hours? I'm not letting you do that alone."

"Ajak is in there alone now, I have to get back to her!"

"Okay, okay," Gil pulls away with a lopsided smile. He lifts the compress, checking if it did anything. The redness of her skin has improved at least a little. "Okay, fine, I admit it's pretty surface. No need for a full on neck brace or anything."

Thena claims and savours her victory.

"But you still shouldn't strain your voice tonight," he continues as they both stand to go back inside. "Let Ajak or me do most of the talking. And I'm filing a complaint about those security numbskulls."

"Don't file a complaint," she scolds him as he helps her down from the step at the back of the bus. "HR will drag it on and on and on."

Gil frowns, his hands settling on her hips as he keeps her with him for a second longer, "I find their failure to do their jobs pretty serious, Thena."

She shakes her head at him, resting her hands on his hips to match his posture. "It's their job to protect both patients and staff, not me specifically, Gil."

He pouts at her.

"Don't look at me like that," she smiles, slipping her hands away but tugging at one of his belt loops to pull him with her again. "I'm already letting you follow me around for the rest of shift. I can only make so many exceptions for you."

"You?--making exceptions for me?" Gil scoffs as he walks in beside her, "you're lucky I haven't thrown you over my shoulder and walked out with you."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't tempt me," he whispers, shrugging off his work hoodie and laying it over her shoulders. She looks at it but he puts his hand over it, not willing to accept it back for the rest of the night, "Doctor."

#Thenamesh Doctor AU #the dRAMA!!!!#I love it though #Protective Gil but also caring Gil #he is so so gentle with her #the softest looks #the softest touches #he has the most experience with caring for her after all #it's said that doctors make the worst patients #and I'm sure that's true #in any case except Thena and Gil #Thena is like so I shattered my ankle on the way to work but I tied a chunk of ice to it I'm fine #Gil is like absolutely not I am going to fill the rehab pool with ice and throw you in it so hELP ME #meanwhile poor Ajak is like #this is all great will one of you please help me with the patients

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roosterforme · 1 month

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The Younger Kind Part 56 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finally gets word about a return date, he has no idea what he's about to walk into at home. You tried your best to take care of things by yourself, but your visit to the hospital shows you how much you need someone with you for physical help as well as emotional support.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pregnancy topics, hospitals, mentions of miscarriage, swearing, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

You managed to get in the car even though Natasha was protesting. "What's wrong?" she asked at least a dozen times as she tried to call an ambulance for you. But you just told her you could drive yourself to the hospital to be checked out. You thought you said the word pregnant to her at some point, but you weren't really sure. Nothing was making very much sense right now.

There was traffic on every road as dinnertime approached. Everyone else was going out for the night, perhaps for a family meal at a restaurant. You saw kids walking along the sidewalks with their parents, and you started crying. You didn't like leaving Noah to wake up from his nap with Natasha suddenly there instead of you. She would take care of him, of course, but it might confuse him. You didn't see what choice you had in the matter though, as your mind was flooding with worst case scenarios.

What was happening to the baby?

You sobbed as you ran through a yellow light to try to get there faster. What if it was already too late? You were educated enough to know that there were about a million different things that could be going on right now, and they ranged from innocuous to horrifying. Maybe you did something to cause some minor bleeding. Or maybe the baby was already gone.

"Please, no," you gasped as you parked at the hospital and walked quickly through the increasingly dreary weather to the emergency entrance. Your phone was vibrating in the pocket of your sweatpants as you headed right for the desk and blurted out, "I'm pregnant, and I'm bleeding."

The exhausted looking nurse looked up at you and said, "Please have a seat in the waiting area, and I'll come get you when I'm ready for you."

You blinked at her. "I'm bleeding," you repeated in a harsh whisper. "And I'm pregnant."

"Yes," she replied with a nod. "I'll be with you in just a minute."

You took a seat and cried, afraid to use the bathroom in the waiting area, terrified to see more blood when you wiped yourself. Anytime patients came to see Dr. Kelly, you made sure you took care of them right away, especially if they were bleeding or upset. You couldn't stand the tears that would well up in a child's eyes along with uncertainty and fear.

But then you got it. It only took you a minute to understand that if there truly was something wrong with the baby, then there was nothing they would be able to do at this point.

Your phone was ringing again, and it was Natasha. As the nurse came to retrieve you from your seat, you texted her and let her know you made it to the hospital and to focus her attention on Noah. You were shaking again as the nurse took your temperature and blood pressure, and you wanted to scream at her to do something more than check your vitals. You needed an ultrasound. You needed a doctor. You needed someone to focus on why you were bleeding.

She handed you off to another nurse, and at least he smiled sympathetically at you and said, "We'll get you checked out in no time." But you could barely walk, and you felt his hand wrap around your bicep to keep you upright as he guided you into one of the many rooms in the emergency medicine corridor. "I'll get a doctor right in here, okay?"

His voice was calm, emulating what you tried to do at your own job, and he left you a gown to change into. Once he was gone, you put it on, afraid to check your underwear as you settled onto the narrow bed. The room smelled sterile, and the fluorescent lights were making you nauseous, but he was true to his word. You started counting to yourself, trying to keep track of how much time had passed without panicking, and a few minutes later, a doctor appeared in the doorway.

She spoke your name, and when you nodded, she introduced herself. "You're pregnant?" she asked you evenly as she reached for some latex gloves. She reminded you a bit of Dr. Kelly, and you immediately felt a little bit calmer.

"Yes. About thirteen weeks along, and I just started bleeding like an hour ago." Your voice broke on your words, but you tried to keep it together. "I'm a pediatric nurse, so I'm not completely proficient in obstetrics, but can you give me an ultrasound and check? I need to know if the baby is okay."

"Lay back so I can see what's going on here." You did exactly as you were told as your heart pounded and panic rose within you. The baby was already so loved; you and Bradley were both looking forward to the due date. Sure, you'd been a little scared of the unknown, but the idea of miscarrying had you sick with worry.

If Bradley were here right now, you knew you'd feel so much safer, but if the baby was gone, your preference would be to deal with this yourself. The disappointment on his face would be too much to bear. You'd rather never look at him again then have to see how sad he was going to be when you told him. If you had to tell him.

You ran your thumb along the band of your engagement ring as the doctor gave you a quick examination. "Have you had vaginal intercourse in the last forty-eight hours?"

"N-No," you sputtered. "My fiancé is deployed. He's in Japan."

"Did you masturbate?"

You shook your head; you were so tired, you could barely clean up after dinner each day, let alone get yourself off. "No."

She pulled the gown down again and said, "It's most likely just your cervical tissue reacting to something, but let's get you taken back for an ultrasound to be sure."

"Thanks," you sobbed, letting your palm come to rest on your belly as you closed your eyes and tried to stay afloat in your own terrible thoughts. "I just want to know if I'm still pregnant."

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

"Finally," Bradley muttered, running his fingers through his hair as he walked through the hangar with his helmet in his hand. Six weeks was a long time to be away from you right now. Too long, really. He had kind of fallen in love with flying Shadowhawk, but nothing compared to sharing a bed with you and reading bedtime stories to Noah. And he was itching to see the newest ultrasound photos.

He'd been confined to the Naval base at Yokosuka except for one day when the weather was too unsafe to let him fly. He took a short trip back into the city, chaperoned of course, but he was allowed to visit a bookstore. He ended up buying eight books for Noah and the baby, and he couldn't wait to show them to you. And he'd be able to do that soon, because he finally had a return date. If he did his math right, he'd be home in time to take Noah out to get candy on Halloween, as long as he wasn't delayed.

With just a few days left flying Shadowhawk, he really let the throttle tilt. He could hear Admiral Palmer warning him about his speed over the crystal clear comms, and he smiled before he responded. "Yes, sir. I'll ease off." But he didn't until he made a beautiful loop through the air. He was getting used to the ridiculous pressure on his body now, and when he got to San Diego and switched back to his Super Hornet, he was going to miss this feeling. He couldn't wait to try to describe it to you.

He knew what was coming. He was anticipating hours spent looking at his own flight data with the officers, but when the time came, he just felt antsy. The sixth-generation fighter had been moved back into the hangar for storage. He'd taken his last flight. His bags were packed, and he was ready to go home, but he had to pretend to be interested in what came next: at least fifty admirals sifting through data before anything would be determined. Bradley hoped these jets would eventually come to find a home with the US Navy, but it would be years from now if they did. He had done his part, and he wanted to be let loose again.

When he woke up on the day of his departure, he signed a final set of privacy forms before his phone was returned to him as he was ushered out to a car waiting to take him to the airport. He couldn't leave soon enough at this point. All he could picture was your face and Noah's, happy to see him home again. He could practically feel your body in his hands, and it was the only thing he wanted.

Once he settled in for the short ride, he turned his phone on to find that he only had a tiny bit of battery left. Without even checking to see what time it was at home, he called you. He'd let his phone die talking to you right now if need be, and then he could charge it later. But you didn't answer. That was okay.

"Princess, I'm coming home. I'm on my way to the airport in Tokyo right now, and it's a ten hour flight. I think I'll be landing after midnight, so don't worry about getting Noah out of bed to come pick me up. I'll get an Uber or a taxi. I can't wait to see you, Baby. I love you."

He ended the call, and as soon as he started to investigate all of his missed text messages, the phone died. He was dropped off at the airport with barely half an hour to spare before his flight was scheduled to leave, and that's when he realized he didn't even have his phone charger with him.

"Fuck," he muttered, rooting around in his bag but coming up with nothing. Maybe it got lost in his room in the barracks when he dumped his bag out? Maybe it was in his duffle which he checked at the airline desk. Regardless, he didn't have time to try to buy a new one, because his flight was already boarding by the time he found the gate. After questioning the flight attendants as to whether or not they had the type of charger he needed, he gave up hope, tossed his phone into his bag and tried to sleep for as much of the ten hour flight as he possibly could. He would be home with his family soon enough.

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

You played the voicemail message from Bradley over and over again, but you could barely understand a word that he said. It sounded garbled and fuzzy, and it kept cutting out. He said something about being in Tokyo and something about Noah, and then he told you he loved you, but that's all you could figure out for sure.

"Can you understand what he's saying?" you asked softly, holding up the phone for Natasha to listen to it pretty much as soon as she walked through your front door in her uniform. "I've been trying to decipher this all day."

She took it from your hand and listened to it on speakerphone and then listened again with it pressed to her ear as she made a face. "Hang on," she muttered, playing it a third time.

She'd been staying at the house with you since your overnight visit to the emergency room. She had essentially been doing everything for you and Noah so you barely had to lift a finger after work each day. You wouldn't have been able to do it on your own, but every time you tried to thank her, she told you it was no big deal and that Bradley was her best friend. You were afraid you were eating into her time with Javy, but she just rolled her eyes and said, "Hoes before bros."

She listened to the message one more time before she said, "It kind of sounds like he's coming home? And he's going to arrive after midnight? And he's getting an Uber from the airport?"

Your heart beat faster. "Do you think he means tonight?"

Noah came running into the living room with a coloring sheet in each hand and Skittles bounding after him. "Aunt Natasha!"

"Hey squirt," she said, picking him up and flying him around the room. She turned back to you and said, "Hopefully it means he'll be back tonight. Let's just leave the porch light on after dinner in case." Then she hauled Noah off to the kitchen where she started cooking while you took a shower.

Dr. Kelly had immediately cut your hours back for which you were so thankful. She was very understanding when you talked to her. Tomorrow was Halloween, and it was Saturday. The plan was for Natasha to wear the costume you originally bought for Bradley, but if he arrived home tonight and was able to function tomorrow, maybe he'd want to go out to collect candy himself. You were just aching to see him at this point, and now your skin was tingling with the anticipation of him holding you.

After you ate, you tried to clean, but Natasha said, "I'll clean up after Noah's in bed." And then she sent you to the couch with a blanket while she and Noah took Skittles for a long walk down to the beach. You fell asleep there shortly after they left, and you weren't surprised that you ended up in your bed even before Noah was in his for the night.

You let Natasha take care of everything while you tried to text Bradley again. You'd been trying all day, but he hadn't responded to a single one of them. You checked to see which flights were currently on their way from Tokyo to San Diego, and three of them were arriving late tonight. Honestly, the garbled voicemail had you on edge all day long, making you more exhausted than usual. You fell asleep hoping that he was on one of the flights and that he would be home soon.

And then you woke up to a loud voice coming from the living room. You jolted in bed, throwing the covers off of you in alarm before you realized that the voice was familiar.

"Princess? Baby, it's me! It's Bradley. I didn't want to scare you."

"Bradley," you gasped, jumping out of bed and grabbing at your nightstand until you could get your footing. "Bradley!" you called out a little louder.

"It's me, Baby," he answered. "Is Nat here? Why is her SUV in the driveway?"

You nearly collided with his best friend in the dark hallway, and when you both made it out to the dimly lit living room, you saw him standing there. Tears filled your eyes as you raced for him, and he picked you up into his arms and cradled you against his big body while Skittles whimpered at his feet.

"Daddy," you whispered, aware that Natasha was standing right behind you. "I missed you so much."

He kissed along your neck and your cheek and all of the parts of your face that he could reach as he said, "I love you. I love you so much. I missed you and Noah and the baby." He ran his nose along the shell of your ear and said, "Hey, Nat. What are you doing here? And why are you holding my mom's antique lamp?"

You turned to glance at her over your shoulder where she was indeed standing with the lamp in her hand at her side in her ratty old shirt and lounge pants. "I was making sure you were really you and not an intruder."

He laughed. "You were going to beat the shit out of me with a lamp?"

"Absolutely," she said with a yawn. "Welcome home." Then she turned and went back to the extra bedroom leaving the two of you alone.

Bradley's lips were on yours immediately, and even though you knew you had so much to tell him, you let yourself enjoy the indulgence of his kisses. You whimpered against his mouth and brushed your fingers softly through his hair. "I'm assuming we need to talk," he murmured. "You wanna tell me why she's here?"

You nodded and whispered, "Let's go to the bedroom."

He left his bags on the floor and carried you there immediately, setting you on the unmade bed and dropping down next to you. The room was pretty dark, and you curled up against his body, getting as close to him as you could. You inhaled his scent and soaked up his warmth, finally feeling better than you had in over a month. All of the fear seemed to wash away as he said, "I'm sorry I only left you that one message, but my phone died, and I can't find my charger. Nobody on my flight had the right one either, because apparently my phone is as ancient as I am."

You laughed softly. "I like vintage things, remember?"

"I do recall that," he replied easily. "Is tonight the first night Nat slept here?"

You took a deep breath and whispered, "No. She's been staying here for about a week to help out. Ever since I started... bleeding."

"Bleeding?" he echoed, his arm wrapping around you a little tighter as you nodded against his neck and tried to gather your thoughts. "Princess, what happened?"

His voice was alert and strong yet worried and cautious, and you told him, "I went to the bathroom last week, and when I wiped I was bleeding." His sharp intake of breath had you scrambling as you said, "The baby is okay."

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently rolling you onto your back to get a better look at your face. "Fuck. I should have never agreed to go away." He ran his big hand across your forehead and down your cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," you promised as you cried for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I was just so scared," you admitted, your voice barely a squeak. "I was so scared the baby was gone."

You realized Bradley's fingertips were rubbing soothing circles against your side as he whispered, "I'm sorry I left. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to take care of everything. Please, tell me what happened. Tell me everything."

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

Bradley got you cuddled under the covers, and he turned the lamp on so he could better see your face. You looked beautiful if not exhausted, and he was so grateful for his best friend being there for you. "I guess I overdid it a little bit," you admitted. "I took some extra hours at work and started getting the bedroom ready for the baby. I just wanted the weeks to pass quickly, you know? When I started bleeding, I called Natasha, and she came right over. She's basically been here since then."

He kissed your nose. "What did the doctors do?"

You closed your eyes and whispered, "They checked me over. Every inch. And they found that I needed progesterone shots. They caught it just in time, so maybe it was good that I ended up there."

Bradley felt like an idiot, but it didn't matter as long as you were okay. "What's the progesterone for exactly?"

You smiled as you snuggled closer to him. "It'll make my uterus better for the baby. Safer. The injections are pretty common, and I only need to get them a few more times. But I'm tired of all the needles, and now I can kind of understand how some of my own patients feel."

Bradley laced his finger with yours and asked, "And you're sure you're okay? Perfectly safe and healthy?"

"Yes. The baby is, too."

He kissed your forehead as he realized he was crying. "Just as long as you're okay, Princess. I love you." You nodded as you fell asleep, and he knew how badly you needed to rest. After he turned the light off, he held you against his chest and tried to make sense of everything.

You and the baby were okay. Your doctor and the staff from the emergency room were monitoring your blood work every week now. You were getting injections in your thigh which were making your leg sore and bruised, but it was helping the baby. As much as he'd loved flying Shadowhawk, he regretted his time away from home a little bit more now.

When you rolled away from him around six o'clock, he had barely slept. Carefully, he extracted himself from the bed, and Skittles came trotting right over to him. He picked her up and straightened out the wrinkled clothing he had been wearing for way too long, but when he walked out to his kitchen, he found Nat was already there. She turned to face him as Skittles started licking his face, and he walked right into her arms for a hug.

"Thank you," he whispered, letting her hold him while he cried. "Is she really okay? She told me she's fine."

She rubbed his back and said, "Mostly. I think. She is stubborn, Bradley. When I got here, she drove herself to the emergency room before I even had a full grasp of the fact that she was pregnant. She told me to stay with Noah until she came home, and when I told her I'd get Javy to come stay here while I met her at the hospital, she yelled at me."

"That tracks," he said softly. He thought about how you stood up for him and Noah and fought alongside him for custody. Even after you got hurt. Even after he hurt you.

"She was terrified that you'd be upset about a potential miscarriage."

Bradley felt like she slapped him in the face. "Shit," he grunted as she released him from the hug. It wasn't like that kind of thing could usually be prevented. He would have been sad, yeah, but only because he was so excited. He wouldn't have been upset with you though. Not at all. "I'll talk to her more about that when she wakes up." He scratched his head and set Skittles down. "Did you clean my kitchen?"

"Yes," she replied evenly as she switched on the coffee maker. "And if you try to thank me for anything I did, I swear to god, I will fucking key your Bronco. I did it for her, because she needed help."

He caught himself before he could thank her again, too afraid to find out if she was telling the truth. She probably was. "I'll make sure she's getting all the rest she needs. She will not be lifting a finger around here."

"That's what I like to hear," she said, patting him on the chest. "Now, I'm going to take one of your travel mugs full of your overpriced coffee from your fancy machine and head back to my place. I'll call you later, and I'll stop by tonight to hand out candy to your trick-or-treaters while you take Noah around the neighborhood."

"Shit, I guess I need to go out and buy candy and costumes and everything."

As her coffee brewed, Nat said, "It's all been taken care of. The bags of candy are on top of the fridge."

Bradley glanced in that direction and said, "You have to let me repay you, Nat."

She grabbed the travel mug and pulled her keys out of her pocket, brandishing them in his face. "Fuck around and find out, Bradshaw. You will not thank me, and you will not pay me back. You'll just let me come over and play with Noah at least once a week now while you take care of your wife-to-be. Those are my terms. Have a nice day."

"Okay," he called out, following her to the door to make sure her key went directly into her own ignition where it belonged. Then he got to work, pulling up some recipes on his phone; he was going to attempt to be the best dad and almost husband in the entire world, because that's what his family needed.

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

If you have been through any of this kind of shit like I have, I'm sending you a hug. It's stressful and scary, and not something you should have to deal with alone. Bradley is home and ready to be the absolute best. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 57

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writeyouin · 3 months

Text

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hell's Assumptions

A/N – Okay, I think that’s everyone on the tagging list. So, here’s to Chapter 4. Raise a glass.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx@sseleniaa@randomgurl2326@22carolina08@astrxwitch@yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe

People were staring.

The worst part was, you weren’t sure who they were staring at, you or Lucifer. It could have easily been him since he was the King of Hell, and even those who didn’t immediately recognise him could sense the power he exuded. However, it was just as likely that they were looking at you and wondering who you were, and how you had managed to get their ruler to walk with you, especially since he wasn’t known for going out much.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

You shouldn’t have reminded him where he was going. It was obvious he hated Heaven for their treatment of him, yet yearned for it and the life he had lost within its pearly gates where nothing went wrong for anyone.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe you. Only the night before, you had told him to grow up, with such confidence, and now here you were struggling for words. He bypassed the awkward situation with ease by asking, “Will you be visiting the Hotel today?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

You had been about to mention Angel Dust. Today was one of his work days. You would like to check that he was okay. You didn’t mention him however, with something like a confidentiality clause stopping you, though you weren’t his doctor, nor was he your patient. You didn’t want to talk about his suffering; he was more than his trauma.

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

Lucifer ruminated on this for a minute. Whatever your motivations, he was glad that you were giving him and his daughter some space. Granted, the Hotel was large enough to house many conversations in separate areas but by making the offer of keeping your distance, you were giving Lucifer some breathing room; that was good.

Had you not made that offer, Lucifer might have brought up the topic of moving you back into the Hotel to Charlie, but in respecting his boundaries, Lucifer was starting to think that you weren’t so bad… for a Sinner.

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

Instead, he became annoyed as two Sinners, one who looked like a nine-year-old boy’s dream with bazooka arms and rocket-infused shoulders, and the other a winged bear-woman wielding a machine gun burst through the building on the opposite side of the road, waging war upon one another.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You thought she might struggle to lift the wreckage off him and were about to ask for Lucifer’s help before your barrier would inevitably crumble. Yet, the female imp was stronger than she appeared and she threw it off Moxxie. She then lifted him bridal style, and ran from the danger, shooting you a grateful look from across the street.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

“It was a nice thing to do, but what’s the point? Look around,” Lucifer threw his arms up dramatically. “Someone built something nice, and now it’s gone, all because two Sinners couldn’t take their petty power struggle somewhere else. Nobody benefits from this.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

“I’m not delirious, Millie,” Moxxie said pointedly, clinging onto her shoulder to support his weight; his leg was in all likeliness broken, but being an imp of Hell, it would heal quickly enough.

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good Lady,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re welcome,” You smiled. Then, with a small flourish of your fingers, Moxxie leg was bandaged and he was provided with a crutch to hold onto. You were no healer, but that would help the bone set correctly.

Moxxie and Millie thanked you both again, presuming that Lucifer had been part of the rescue (and in a way he was, for when the warring Demons saw him, they took their battle elsewhere), then they were gone, one limping down the street on his new crutch, and his wife offering to carry him.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say about that. They were only imps. Why did you think they mattered? Yet, after watching the loving couple thank you for their rescue, Lucifer wasn’t certain that he trusted his assessment of the situation. Charlie wanted to redeem Sinners, you had just saved the lowest of all Hell’s beings and he…? He needed to reassess how he thought about things.

The two of you didn’t speak after that and Lucifer assumed that you were mad at him until you reached Heaven’s Embassy. Lucifer stared at the building, broken and hopeless, thinking about how he would have to fight for Charlie.

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

When Lucifer returned home, he was exhausted. The meeting had been lengthy and derogatory. He had been treated with barely disguised disdain and talked in circles, but finally, Heaven had agreed to allow his daughter passage to Heaven.

It was never an option really. As the ruler of a powerful realm, Lucifer had to be treated respectfully, even if all of Heaven hated him. Yet, just because they had to acquiesce to his request didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. The only good news was that it had been Sera and a few of her assistants who hosted the meeting, not that ignorant prick Adam; Lucifer hated that guy… though his taste in women had always been spectacular.

Still, it had all been worth it when he got to the hotel and Charlie thanked him and invited him to stay for a while. They had caught up over tea, and he had gotten to know a little bit more about her and her relationship with Vaggie. Lucifer likely would have stayed longer seeing as he’d also been invited to games night, but then that red-headed bastard was there, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and Lucifer had made his reasons to leave.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

On his way upstairs, he heard the long-neglected TV blaring in one of the living rooms. Feeling somewhat guilty about his unsupportive attitude towards you earlier, he decided it would probably be good for him to make amends and apologise. So, before isolating himself for the evening, he sought you out.

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Lucifer stood quietly behind you, watching as Katie Killjoy reported, “While Hell will be royally fucked by the impending extermination it seems that King of Hell Lucifer is being royally fucked by his new bimbo bitch, seen walking with him today on the streets of Pentagram City.”

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

Katie clutched Tom’s neck in one hand, never looking away from the camera as she cut off his air supply, “Nobody gives a shit about your limp-dick opinion Tom. We’re all here to speculate about who’s raw-dogging who. Now, onto our cooking segment, It’s Dahm Good, with host Jeffrey who is making a delicious spleen soufflé. Jeffrey-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

Lucifer straightened up with a smile. So, you classed him as a friend? He didn’t confirm or deny your assumption of friendship. He waved his hand, unbothered, “Let them think what they want to think. It’s Hell, nothing matters. Besides, 666 News is trash.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

And so it was that you and Lucifer started to find some common ground, that slowly built the gap from two people who barely knew one another, towards friends.

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1: Got the News Today, Doctor Said I Had to Stay

Collaboration with the fabulous @corroded-hellfire

Series Summary: Based on the Jonas Brothers song of the same name. You and Eddie share a hospital room in the wake of Hawkins' turmoil, striking up an unlikely friendship that could lead to much more.

Chapter Summary: When you're stuck in the hospital after the Hawkins "earthquake," you're surprised to find comfort in your new roommate, Eddie Munson. But when you find out that your injuries may compromise your dreams, the cheery façade threatens to come crashing down.

Warnings: eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), Eddie survives the Upside Down, hospital, mentions of surgery, controlled use of pain medication

WC: 3.9k

A/N: There will be six chapters to this series, one for each Jonas Brothers album. Try to spot the Easter eggs we've planted throughout!

Divider credit to @firefly-graphics

“I said, get this murderer out of my room!” A shrill voice from across the hall startles you from your sleep. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 7:05, but you can’t be sure if it’s morning or evening. The bright lights of Hawkins General Hospital have your internal clock all jumbled, and the constant barrage of nurses checking on you certainly doesn’t help.

“He should be locked up in prison or rotting on death row, not using precious resources that could be used on law-abiding citizens!” the shrieking woman continues, and you grimace as your head throbs. It seems like the pain never ceases; it only travels around your body. You’ve been here for two days, and you have more questions than answers.

There’s quiet for a few moments before the door to your room swings open and a second bed is being wheeled in, more IV lines hooked up to the poor patient than you’ve got going on. A nurse pulls the curtain separating the two sides of the room before you can get a look at whoever is lying in the bed.

“Well, that was a record,” a male voice says from the other side of the curtain. “How long before that one freaked out? Six minutes?”

No one answers the man, but you can hear nurses and orderlies setting up any equipment the patient would need.

“Don’t blame them,” a woman eventually mumbles, moving a machine over. “Kid killed a cheerleader and then fled the scene. I wouldn’t wanna bunk with him, either.”

A new pair of footsteps joins the crowded room, but this time it’s just your nurse, Mandy, coming in to check on you. She’s a pretty blonde woman, and though she’s usually smiling, her lips are puckered into a pout.

“I know this is far from ideal,” she says softly, checking your vitals and marking notes on her chart, “but we’ll have people in here making sure nothing happens, okay?”

“I think she’s pretty harmless, just loud,” you lightly joke, assuming that Mandy’s referring to the banshee across the hall. “Worst thing she’ll do is trigger a migraine.”

She shakes her head. “No, hon. I’m talking about your, uh, new roommate. Edward Munson.”

Well, that explains the whole murderer outburst. Still, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Eddie? I went to school with him. Guy couldn’t even be bothered to turn in his part of a group project; I highly doubt he could pull off a murder.” You’d think he would have had something done, considering it was his second time taking O’Donnell’s senior English class, but he’d shown up empty-handed, leaving his poor partner scrambling at the last minute.

Mandy nods, looking a little relieved herself. Maybe the thought of her having to be his nurse had been eating at her.

“Is he awake?” you ask. You can only assume he’s not, because the Eddie Munson you remembered would never have been quiet for this long.

“Sleeping,” Mandy says. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

“Um.” You wrinkle up your nose as you think, a sharp pain taking that moment to shoot down your leg. “When can I get some more pain medication? And food?”

Going through the papers in your chart, Mandy’s eyes scan lines of writing until she comes to the answer she needs. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes until I can give you your next dose. Luckily, dinner should be here quicker than that.”

“Okay,” you say with a sigh, sinking back against your pillows.

After another round of pain meds, you’re able to drift off into a light sleep. You don’t have dreams on the medication; you’re simply floating in a haze of pinks and purples. Perhaps the dreamlessness is a good thing, considering the memories buried deep inside your unconscious mind. Your roommate is not so fortunate.

“No! Stop!” Eddie whimpers from the bed next to you, startling you from your sleep. You can see through the translucent curtain that he’s trying to thrash, but his injuries limit his movements. “Henderson, help me! Get me out of here!”

“Hey,” you whisper, but when he cries out again, you raise your voice slightly. “Eddie, wake up!”

“I won’t run away, didn’t run away, gotta save Chrissy,” he mumbles, still trapped in his nightmare. “Don’t let me die. Don’t wan’ die.” The urgency in his tone falters, and you realize that he’s crying.

“Eddie, you’re alive!” you call out to him, wishing you had the strength to walk to him and shake him awake. “You survived the earthquake, okay? But you gotta wake up!”

You watch as he jolts up involuntarily, groaning loudly as pain blooms throughout his torso. “Fuck,” he moans, clutching his ribs with one arm. “Wha—where am I? Oh, shit.” He lays back down as the realization sets in. He tries to choke back a sob, inadvertently sending himself into a coughing fit.

“Here,” you call out to him, grabbing the cup of water on your bedside table. “Can you open the curtain and reach?”

Eddie’s able to yank back the cloth fabric, but neither of you can move close enough for him to grasp onto the cup. The two of you are confined to hospital beds, arms outstretched pathetically just to pass a glass of water. The scene is so absurd that you have to laugh.

“You think—cough—this is—cough—funny?” Eddie asks, but his grin indicates that he also finds it amusing. “I survived the Up—earthquake, and—cough—now I’m gonna die from—cough—lack of water?”

“‘M sorry,” you manage between peals of laughter. “I’m just imagining how ridiculous we’d look to someone passing by.”

Eddie uses his last bit of strength to lunge, finally securing the cup and guzzling down the water. “Thanks, um…” He cranes his neck to see your name written on the whiteboard above your bed. “Oh, shit! Did we go to high school together?”

You nod. “We did. I graduated last year. We had Mrs. O’Donnell’s English class together.”

He wrinkles his nose at the mention of his least favorite teacher. “Ugh, yeah. I mean, not ugh that we had a class together; ugh at O’Donnell,” he blabbers. “And an extra ugh for me having to take that class again this year.”

“I thought a certain metalhead was missing from graduation,” you tease.

“Aw, you noticed?” Eddie’s smirk makes you laugh, the pain meds probably adding to your bubbly mood.

“Well, no one caused a commotion or flipped off old man Higgins, so yeah,” you say. “And there was a distinct lack of Black Sabbath blaring through the parking lot.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. “Gotta stay inspired, y’know? I don’t want to be one of those musicians who has someone write their shit for them. It makes it less real, or whatever.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You write all of Corroded Coffin’s music?” you ask incredulously.

Eddie nods. “Well, me and the rest of the guys—wait,” he pauses, eyes narrowing with suspicion, “you know the name of my band?”

“Mhm,” you pick at the itchy wool blanket draped over your legs. “You played at the middle school talent show. I was in seventh grade, so you must’ve been in eighth.”

He doesn’t say anything for a bit; he just studies your face until a huge grin forms from cheek to cheek. “You’re the dancer!” he exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You did that routine with the, um, the fancy shoes…”

“Pointe shoes,” you giggle. “Yeah, people weren’t too impressed. Apparently a twelve-year-old flailing on stage to Swan Lake was not the hit I’d thought it’s be.”

“Flailing?” Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, you were amazing. Don’t tell my friends, but I, uh, secretly wanted you to win.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you.” He matches your surprised tone, making you laugh again. “I thought it was totally badass, getting up there and doing ballet when all the other girls were jumping around to Blondie.”

“Don’t knock Debbie Harry,” you warn him teasingly, poking your forefinger in his direction. “She is an icon, and you will show her some respect.”

Eddie brings a hand to his heart. “My deepest apologies, to both you and Ms. Harry.” He flashes another sweet smile that could melt an iceberg. “But I really did want you to win. I’ve always rooted for the underdog.”

“Well, I appreciate it.” And you do. It’s nice to know that someone besides your parents believed in you.

“You, uh, you still dance?” Eddie asks abruptly.

“Yup,” you tell him, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s actually what I go to school for.”

“Good,” Eddie muses, averting his gaze from your side of the room. “You were too talented to give that up.”

You’re about to respond when there’s a knock on the door and you see an orderly walk in with a food tray. You drop your head back on your pillow, humming your happiness. The orderly sets your table within your reach before placing your tray on it. Before the man can even step out the door to grab Eddie’s food, you’re inhaling the soup you’ve been given. You’re distantly aware as Eddie gets his food, but you’re busy trying to figure out what type of soup it is. Is that potato in it?

A groan from the other side of the curtain has you looking in Eddie’s direction as you swallow a mouthful of soup.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing,” Eddie says, clearly lying.

“If we’re going to be roommates, we’re going to have to learn to be honest with one another.”

He huffs a laugh as he clangs his silverware together. “S’just that it’s gonna sound ridiculously stupid after what everyone has been through.”

“Humor me,” you say before ladling another spoonful of soup in your mouth.

“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “I got green Jell-O. I hate that shit.”

Your eyes lock on your own Jell-O, bright red where it sits next to your piece of bread and cup of water. “How do you feel about red?”

“Much better,” Eddie says, tearing off a piece of his own bread and shoving it into his mouth.

“Wanna trade?” you offer.

“Y’don’t have to do that,” he says through his full mouth.

“Nah, come on,” you say. “Besides, green’s my favorite color.”

Eddie looks over at you, a skeptical look on his face as he chews. But you pick up your sealed cup of Jell-O and toss it over to him. Smiling, he throws the green in return, which you manage to catch.

“Thanks,” he says. You hum in acknowledgment as you tear off the foil lid.

There’s a beat of silence as you both eat what Hawkins General considers dessert. “I don’t know how you like the green one,” Eddie pipes up.

You shrug. “Jell-O is Jell-O,” you say nonchalantly, taking a big spoonful to emphasize your point.

“Nuh uh,” Eddie shakes his head, wincing at the twinge of pain it causes. “Cherry is the superior flavor, and everyone knows it.” He slurps it obnoxiously, making you roll your eyes.

“Geez, how does Chrissy put up with you?” Your tone is light and joking, so you’re taken aback by the darkness that takes over his face. “What?”

“How do you know about Chrissy?” he asks, voice barely audible.

Your face heats up; you’d forgotten that he didn’t know you’d heard him talking in his sleep. “Um, you said something about saving her when you were having that nightmare,” you admit, softening when you realize how vulnerable he is. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, she isn’t—wasn’t,” he amends. “She was the girl who died in my trailer. But I…I didn’t kill her, I swear.” Eddie looks over at you with misty eyes. “I can’t tell you what happened, but you have to believe me.”

You hold his gaze. “I believe you,” you murmur, quiet but assured.

The two of you go back to your food, plastic utensils scraping styrofoam bowls, until Eddie speaks up again. “You…you said I talked about Chrissy in my sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“What else did I say?” He looks ambivalent, like he’s unsure if he wants to know what his subconscious mind churned up.

You think back for a moment. “You asked someone for help, and then you said you didn’t want to, um…you didn’t want to die.” Your eyes flit over to his side of the room, but he’s practically boring a hole in his Jell-O cup with how intently he’s staring at it.

“Did you tell me to wake up? That I survived?” He finally allows himself to make eye contact with you, a trace of a smile dancing on his lips.

“Yeah—I can never remember if you’re supposed to let the nightmare end naturally, but you seemed really upset.” You gnaw on your lower lip anxiously.

Eddie rests his head on the pillow. “God, this is gonna sound corny as hell,” he starts, chuckling to himself, “but when you did that, it was like…I saw brightness, y’know? Not like, Eddie, come into the light,” he drops his voice an octave and wiggles his fingers, making you giggle, “but like the sun was coming out from behind the clouds. Does that make sense?”

You nod, watching him exhale in relief.

“Guess you’re my sunshine then, huh?” He gives you a shy smile that you easily return, trying to push down the spark of electricity that seems to flow between you.

“Hey, how about this?” Eddie asks as he lands on a channel. Your eyes feel like they’re going to roll back in your head when you see a NASCAR race on tiny television.

“Absolutely not,” you answer.

“Aw, come on,” Eddie says, shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s an American pastime.”

“It’s one big left turn, is what it is,” you shout. “Toss me the remote?” Eddie chuckles and goes to throw it your way before you wince and add, “Watch the leg!”

He’s careful to avoid the area as he sends it your way, but his eyes drift down the blanket at the mention of your limb. “Is that why you’re in here?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to vacation here,” you reply, maintaining a deadpan expression.

“I hear the eleventh floor is just wonderful this time of year,” Eddie throws back, feigning a posh British accent. Terribly, you might add. “How bad is it?” he presses, motioning towards your leg.

“Dunno yet,” you answer honestly. “They took some x-rays and did a bunch of scans; now I’m just waiting for the doctor. They’re probably just overwhelmed.”

Eddie nods. “Nothing like a good, old-fashioned earthquake to shake things up.” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to react to his pun. Nothing. “Oh, c’mon! That was a good one!”

“You’re a comedic genius, Eddie Munson,” you joke, and he flips you off, nearly snagging the IV tube pinching his skin. “I’m sure everything’s fine. I’ll probably be in a cast for six weeks, maybe have to do some physical therapy. This isn’t my first broken bone.”

“How do you do that?” Eddie muses.

“Do what?”

“Be so…positive,” he explains sheepishly. “I mean, you could be all bitter or anxious, but you’re calm, cool, and collected.” He fiddles with his fingers, frowning as though something is missing. “You really are a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“That’s me.” Truthfully, you’re worried that this could be more than just a run-of-the-mill break, but you don’t let that fear seep through. Instead, you aim the remote at the tiny TV in the corner of the room, settling on a soap opera rerun. It’s not what you’d usually watch, but you’re determined to get your revenge for his NASCAR escapades earlier.

To your chagrin, Eddie’s enthralled with the on-screen drama. “Oh, shit!” He rubs his hands together. “Is this the one where Shelby sleeps with Theo and his identical twin brother, Mark?” He chuckles at the bemused look on your face. “I got hooked on this show when I was home with the flu last year,” he confesses, though he doesn’t look the least bit ashamed.

“Eddie Munson, secret soap opera aficionado?” You waggle your eyebrows. “Scandalous. What will your fans think?”

“I am what I am, Sunshine.” He sits up a little straighter as a woman with big hair and even bigger breasts shoves ultrasound photos at an impossibly handsome man. “No fuckin’ way!” Eddie gasps. “She’s knocked up!”

“How did you not see that coming? It’s like the oldest trick in the book!” you ask incredulously. “Now she has to figure out which brother is the dad.”

Eddie’s beautiful brown eyes widen in shock. “But they’re identical! How’s she gonna do that?”

“Guess you’ll just have to watch and find out!” you chirp, giggling as he lets out an impatient sigh.

“Mr. Munson?” a nurse calls from the doorway, pushing an empty wheelchair. “We’re ready to run your tests. Just have to transfer you to the chair.” She pats the back of it, trying to keep some level of professionalism, but you can tell that she’s nervous being around an alleged murderer. She holds out her hand to help Eddie out of bed, and he shoots you a tight grin.

“I’m goin’ commando under here, Sunshine,” he warns you. “Look away. This show ain’t free.”

You cover your eyes dramatically as he plops into the chair, grunting and groaning the whole way down. “Is it safe?”

“You’re good,” Eddie reassures you as the nurse starts to wheel him out of the room. “Hey, let me know who the father is when I get back. My money’s on Theo.”

You narrow your eyes. “How much money?”

“Hmm,” Eddie taps his chin with his forefinger, pretending to be deep in thought. “It won’t be as much as usual, since I already bought a beach house and a Jaguar this year…$3,000 sound good?”

You give him a little salute, turning your attention back to the show. Settling in against the pillows, you get immersed in the show yourself, rooting for some characters, and wanting some to get stabbed in the backs like they deserve. Just as it comes back to Shelby’s storyline, your doctor walks in, a tight smile on his lips.

“What’s the news, Dr. Sanoj?”

“Well,” he says, looking down at the chart in his hands. “Like we suspected, it’s your femur. It was crushed pretty badly. It’s going to need a few pins in it, which will require some surgery.”

Letting a deep sigh fall from your lips, you nod your head. “Okay. Was kind of expecting that.”

“Now, we won’t know for sure until we get in there and take a look at things, but there’s a chance you’ll need a mobility aid to help you get around.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brows pinching in confusion. “Like crutches?”

“Crutches are one type of aid, yes. But they range in variety. It’s things like wheelchairs, walkers, canes. But this will be a better discussion for once we see how the surgery turns out,” Dr. Sanoj says.

“Would I need to use one forever?” The sympathetic look that softens your doctor’s face lets you know he heard the trepidation in your voice. “Will I be able to dance again?”

“Like I said,” Dr. Sanoj says, “this discussion is best for once the surgery is done.”

You nod your head, knowing you probably won’t be able to get any further information on the subject out of him. “When will I have the surgery?”

“Scheduling is going to work that out and they should let you know by the end of the day. You can expect to be here the days following the surgery, but you shouldn’t be cooped up in these hospital walls for too much longer. You’ll get there, you’ll see. One day at a time.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

A funk has taken over you once Dr. Sanoj leaves the room. A mobility aid? Could you dance with one of those? Surgery and recovery you planned on, but the goal was always to get you back in the dance studio, and needing a device to help you simply get around was not what you had been expecting.

Allowing yourself to stew in your own self pity for a few moments, you realize you’ve missed the big reveal on which brother is the father of Shelby’s baby. You’ll have to tell Eddie that. Explain the doctor came in and you were talking to him. But, you think to yourself, Eddie doesn’t need to know just what rough shape your leg is in. He calls you his sunshine, doesn’t he? That would just bring some gray clouds that he did not need in his life. He’s got a lot going on and is going to need to keep his spirits up. That’ll be easier for you to do if you pretend like everything is rainbows and lollipops.

The door opens and Eddie is wheeled back inside, groaning in pain as he holds a hand over his ribs.

“Right here with the pain medicine,” Nurse Mandy says, stepping in behind him.

“Oh, please be mine,” Eddie says, watching the bundle in Mandy’s hands like a hawk. “Sorry roomie, I think I need it more than you do right now.”

“S’all yours,” you tell him.

Mandy sets a bag of IV fluid up as the transporter helps Eddie get back in bed. His face is pale, and you’ve learned that comes when agonizing pain is ripping through you.

“Okay, Mr. Munson. Should start hitting you at any minute now,” Mandy says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, letting his eyes drift closed. He stays that way after both the nurse and the transporter leave the room. You think he’s fallen asleep until he speaks again. “So, which brother was it?”

“Ah, sorry, Eddie,” you say. “Doc came in and I was talking with him, so I think I missed it.”

“Good news?” Eddie’s opened his eyes and turns his head to look at you, genuine concern written across his face.

For a moment, you contemplate spilling everything: the surgery, the mobility aid, the possibility of never dancing again. But you shove it deep down, determined to keep your cheery disposition that he so desperately needs. “Y-Yeah, everything’s looking ship-shape.” Ship-shape? You’re a terrible liar, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice.

“Thas’ good shit.” From the dreamy quality his voice is taking in, you can tell the pain meds are starting to take effect.

“How’re you feeling?” you ask.

“Sore as hell from how they had to maneuver me for x-rays. But I feel the medicine kicking in.” A smile comes to his face and you can tell the giddiness of the high is hitting him. “Time for me to fly.”

You giggle and turn your attention back to the television. A game show is on now, so you snuggle in to play along. The contestant is getting an obvious puzzle wrong and it makes you roll your eyes. You’re about to say something to Eddie about it, but then his soft snores reach your ears. Turning your head to look at him, you notice how peaceful he looks. All you can do is pray he stays that way and isn’t plagued by any other nightmares.

Sunshine, he calls you. It’s the nicest nickname you’ve ever been given. You’re hoping you can keep that bright and optimistic attitude up enough to help him out when the clouds come rolling in. It’s not a one-way street, though. Eddie is going to be your light, your breath of fresh air, your optimism. You just don’t know it yet.

#albl #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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frvnkcastles · 5 months

Text

ONLY HOPE FOR ME ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After you’ve gone through a surgery, Frank is there to support you through the recovery.

Warnings: Mentions of surgery, feminine nicknames, just a brief mention of a shower together, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: This is straight up just me trauma dumping LMFAO but I thought maybe someone else will find themselves in a similar situation and could use something like this. I had to get surgery because of a tumor in my ovaries and I’m currently in the process of recovering and all I want is Frank to be real. GAHHH.

”I’ll be right there when you wake up, okay, sweetheart?”

Those were the words Frank had reassured you with right before you had been taken to the operating room, and you clung onto them like a mantra or a prayer to keep you going. You had never been in a situation like this before, and despite all the calming speeches you had gotten from the surgeon and the anesthesiologist, you were scared. You were nervous. But above all, you were glad that you weren’t alone — you had Frank, and that was giving you all the courage you needed.

You imagined holding his hand when they inserted the cannula, and you pictured his kisses on your forehead when they started giving you oxygen, and when the doctor warned you that the medicine for the pain would make you woozy, you closed your eyes and thought about Frank’s beautiful, beaten face to give you comfort. And thinking about him was how you passed out, without even realizing it.

Hours had passed, but to you, it felt like you had only blinked when you finally opened your eyes again. Everything was blurry and disorienting, and for a moment you thought you were still on the operating table, but as you slowly adjusted to the bright surroundings, you realized that wasn’t possible. No, instead, you were in the recovery room, concealed from prying eyes by white curtains, and your whole body nestled comfortably under the heated blankets.

”Hey, there’s my brave girl”, a familiar, deep voice cut through all the confusion and buzzing in your ears, and immediately laser-focused on him, you rolled your head to the side and found Frank seated next to you, just like he had promised. Your eyes still felt so heavy and difficult to keep open, but you could still see the faint smile directed at you, and a quiet giggle rose up your throat as you lazily gestured at Frank’s nose to brush against him.

”You’re here”, you whispered, almost like you couldn’t believe it, and Frank chuckled.

”Promised ya, didn’t I?” he retorted before taking your hand and giving it a soft caress. ”The doctor was here just a few minutes ago. Said everything went just as planned. You did perfectly, sweetheart”, he continued, and with a bashful smile, you let your eyes close again.

”I didn’t do that much”, you pointed out, and shrugging, Frank shuffled closer to kiss the back of your hand.

”Seems to be like you’re the perfect patient”, he hummed, and you couldn’t help but snicker slightly.

Before you could say anything more, your nurse appeared from around the corner, asking if you were feeling up to eating something. You answered in the affirmative, and as she left to get you a sandwich, you looked back at Frank.

”I hope you know how much it means to me that you’re here”, you murmured, your speech still a little slurred, but Frank didn’t mind. He wasn’t cowering away from this side of you — you had seen him at his absolute worst, so now that it was your turn to be vulnerable, he was honored to be by your side.

He would have told you as much, but your nurse returned with a snack and something to drink, as well as some painkillers, and Frank respectfully moved aside to let her do her thing. Once she had set all the food down, you began to awkwardly inch upwards to sit, and only then you realized how much in pain you were. You grimaced and whimpered as you attempted to sit up, and before the nurse could move a muscle, Frank was up from his chair and letting you put all your weight on his arm so you could comfortably adjust your position. You must have dug your nails into his arm, but he didn’t flinch — something that made the nurse smile as she thanked Frank for the help.

You squeezed your eyes closed and exhaled deeply, trying to breathe through the pain, but as soon as you got your hands on the water brought to you, you downed the painkillers eagerly. Frank watched attentively, back in his chair, a concerned gaze over his dark eyes as he followed your gentle movements to pick apart the sandwich you had in front of you.

”Need any help, just say the word”, Frank assured you with a gravelly tone, and you knew that he would have fed you if you had asked for it. Still, you managed, and simply let your other hand rest in his while you ate.

Once you had eaten and the nurse had helped you to the bathroom, you were officially allowed to go home — on the condition that you wouldn’t be alone for the first 24 hours, and Frank was taking that immensely seriously. He swore to be by your side, and as much was obvious from the get-go.

”You sure you feelin’ okay? You look a little… I dunno. Don’t wanna offend the lady”, Frank cleared his throat while walking you towards the car, his hand gently on your back to support you, your bag slung over his shoulder so you didn’t have to worry about anything extra.

”I’ll be okay, Frank, thank you. Let’s just go home, okay?” you pleaded, and with a curt nod, Frank helped you to the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel and starting the car.

”Home it is.”

Needless to say, you were bedridden for the days to come, and Frank wasn’t kidding around about it. He practically carried you to bed when you first got home, and he made sure to fluff your pillows and get you at least two different kinds of drinks to keep you hydrated. When you got hungry, he was happy to help you eat, and when you needed to get up, he was right there to keep you upright. He delivered you your medication right on time, and you weren’t allowed to worry about a thing. When it was time for your first shower, he got undressed with you and made sure to tenderly wash you and take care of you, his calloused fingers carefully peeling the bandages off of your body.

The next problem was falling asleep. You were tired, drained even, but not being allowed to roll on your stomach was a personal level of Hell you hadn’t been looking forward to. You were propped up on several pillows, laying on your back, groaning and complaining and Frank was by your side, drawing soothing patterns on your arm.

”Sleep will come, baby. Just lay here with me, yeah?” he grunted, and supposing you had no other choice, you reached for his hand and squeezed it tight.

You could tell he hesitated, but slowly, he draped an arm over your belly, careful not to put too much weight on you, but simply just aching to hold you and be close to you. He breathed you in and kissed your shoulder softly, and it made you smile.

”Thank you, Frank”, you whispered, and with a quiet sound of disagreement, he lifted his head from his pillow.

”You got nothin’ to thank me for. It’s my pleasure, sweetheart. I like takin’ care o’you. And I’mma do it properly”, he insisted, and as you looked at the sincerity in his eyes, you were mere seconds away from tearing up. Going into the surgery, you had been so anxious, wondering how you’d get by without your family to support you, but turns out, you didn’t need them. You just needed Frank.

”I love you”, you spoke quietly, and for a moment, the two of you just stared into each other’s eyes, nothing but devotion between the two of you.

Slowly, Frank leaned in to give your lips a kiss, sweet but deep. ”I love you, too”, he smiled before kissing your forehead once more, ”now get some sleep, pretty girl so I can look after you again tomorrow.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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drferox · 8 months

Text

My MS Diagnosis

So I’m approaching the 2 year mark since my Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis and I thought I’d better document how I got here, because being the patient is a weird experience, especially for a condition that had kind of vague symptoms that needed a fair amount of work up.

My symptoms actually started in early 2020, when I was in the third trimester of pregnancy. The main symptom was mistaken for carpal tunnel syndrome - numbness in my fingers that would progress to increasingly violent pins & needles sensations, that would progress to burning if I tried to push through it. Only this sensation would extend all the way up to my shoulders at times. I stopped performing surgery, because not only was I unsatisfied with my lack of sensation to know what I was doing with my tissue handling, but the pain would get worse quickly in constrictive surgical gloves in the presence of patient warming. So I stopped performing surgery in late pregnancy and was told it would get better a few months after giving birth.

It did not.

So six months after giving birth, finding myself able to use my hands for short periods but still unable to perform surgery to my standard, I went back to complain to the doctor. I also couldn’t play video games properly, my arms would often be numb when I woke up, all the way up to my shoulder, and they were super temperature sensitive. Even hot water from washing dishes would set them off.

They sent me down a carpal tunnel work up - ultrasounds and talking to a neurologist. The short version is they did tell me I had mild carpal tunnel… on one side only.

Which did not make any damn sense considering I had symptoms on both sides all the way up to my shoulder.

The worst neurologist in the world could not explain to me why a mild problem on one wrist was affecting sensation all the way up to the opposite shoulder, and just said ‘it happens sometimes’. Now, I like to think I have a solid understanding of the basics of how a body works, and was really unsatisfied with this answer. They recommended I talk to a surgeon, since I’d already been doing a bunch of physiotherapy, but I decided not to. Surgery could have put my hand in a cast for up to 6 weeks, I had a 6 month old baby to care for at home and a partner who was useless at best, and abusive at worst. I could not afford the time in a cast.

So I went to try something else, visiting an osteopath to see what they could do about my ‘mild’ carpal tunnel, and while I’m there, these headaches I’ve been getting.

She spent a good long while stretching out different muscle groups, and found that certain neck muscle stretches changed the sensations I was getting in my fingertips. So whatever was causing the hand problem was coming from somewhere in the neck, and she recommended I get a CT scan.

Went back to my doctor to get a referral for a CT scan, and explained what was going on. He thought about it for a minute, didn’t voice his concerns, and upgraded it to a neck MRI.

That MRI found a demyelinating lesion in my neck. So went back for a full Central Nervous System scan and found a couple more borderline ones.

That sent me back to a (different) neurologist, had a proper neurological exam that found a few random patches of altered skin sensation in addition to the arm weirdness I had going on. So I was probably a MS case, but not particularly severe as MS goes.

To confirm it I needed a lumbar puncture to look for oligoclonal bands in by CSF. The lumbar puncture was a moderately unpleasant experience which then mandated that I remain lying down for 24 hours so that my spinal fluid didn’t spring a leak. With a baby and a distinctly unhelpful partner, I barely made it to that 24 hours.

And then… I sprung a CSF leak. Which is a jolly weird experience I can tell you.

When your CSF leaks from a lumbar puncture you will feel perfectly fine… when you are lying flat on your back, because your spine flops over the hole and plugs the leak. If you’re upright at all the spine flops away from the hole and it slowly leaks out, and you get more of this weird frontal headache that gets worse the longer you’re upright, standing there talking to the ER admissions nurse. And the info I had explained that it can progress to seizures and similar the worse it gets, but I only got as far as pain and fuzzy vision. I seriously could only be upright for ten minutes without pain, and had to lie down to resolve it.

That required some medicine-that-looks-like-magic to fix, called a blood patch. Doctors took some of my blood, fresh out of the vein, and inserted it into my spine approximately where the leak should be, so that the clot would cover the leaky patch. Self blood magic. It worked brilliantly, about an hour later.

The CSF tap ordeal confirmed the presence of the oligoclonal bands, and then I got stunted into the public health system, in a department specifically geared towards managing Multiple Sclerosis patients. They debated for a little while, at a multidisciplinary meeting, whether I was really MS or a Clinically Isolated Syndrome (which is like Multiple Sclerosis but without the ‘Multiple’ part), but settled on MS. Yes, Tumblr, I was nearly diagnosed with CIS.

The shoe thing took about a year from when I actively complained to doctors, or about 18 months from the first probable symptoms. That’s approximate because some things that were thought to be pregnancy symptoms could have been due to MS, like fatigue and leg weakness. I’m pretty lucky that I’m comfortable in hospitals and with medical procedures, am reasonably medically literate. I think the magic phrase that got things to happen quickly was ‘these symptoms are greatly affecting my ability to do my job’.

I don’t think my MS has progressed since starting the medication (and I’ll talk about the medication in another post). I’ve acquired one additional brain lesion since diagnosis, but I have no clue what physical symptom it’s associated with.

While some symptoms are better, I still cannot perform surgery to the standard or with the endurance that I used to,so I basically don’t any more. I can do about ten minutes, which is enough to bail a new graduate vet out of trouble, but not enough to take over completely for them. I’ve had a few years to think about it but I don’t know what the MS is going to do to my career, only that I can still practice for now.

It’s not great, but it could be a whole lot worse, and that’s how I got here.

#multiple sclerosis #MS #medical diagnosis #me the patient

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tiredfox64 · 17 days

Note

Hello! Can you write a Smoke x reader scenario where Smoke is in love with the reader but he doesn't realize it because he's never been in love before (not even have a crush) but he knows he strongly feels something and asks for advice on his feelings and for that person to be like "dude you're in love." And tries to help Smoke confess his feelings to the reader?

Sorry if this is very long lol 😅

Spit it out!

Prior notes: Hi hi! Not long at all. Let’s see what we could do with this sweet man of ours.

Pairing: Tomas x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: None you silly goose

There is a feeling that Tomas gets whenever he looks at you. It feels like a whirlwind is starting up in his stomach. His heart rate skyrockets to the heavens above. His mind gets clouded with thoughts about you. What is this feeling?

Tomas doesn’t know. But he yaps about it like crazy. He talks about it like a patient would to a doctor. Filled with curiosity and even some concern as if he hopes it’s nothing too bad.

“I mean, I don’t get it. There’s no reason that my heart should be beating that fast and tingling. I don’t feel like it’s a heart attack. Do you think they have some sort of power or ability to do that to people?” Tomas asked Kuai Liang.

He didn’t even realize that Kuai Liang stopped drinking his tea. He had this blank expression yet his eyes show that he was lost in thought.

By the gods, he doesn’t know does he?

“But why would they try to do that to me? Or even cause me to get distracted during training? It’s so weird. And when I get images of them in my head I feel-“

“Tomas.”

“Huh?”

Kuai Liang took a deep breath before calmly trying to explain to Tomas what he was feeling.

“You’re in love. It is simply that.”

“…oh. But what does that have to do with that feeling in my heart?” He’s like a clueless puppy.

Kuai Liang couldn’t blame his brother for not understanding his feelings. His father nor his mother had the time to teach him how to deal with his feelings. It was all just training to become a Lin Kuei assassin. Looks like he has to be a good brother and help him out.

“That’s how love works. It makes you feel things. That feeling won’t go away unless you confess your feelings.” He calmly told Tomas.

Immediately Tomas was against the idea. He didn’t even know he was in love before. Now he’s being told to confess his feelings for you? That sounds hard, impossible even!

“I will help, Tomas. There is no reason to be afraid of confessing your love. I confessed mine and now Harumi is my wife. The worst they could say is no.”

Tomas contemplated for a bit. This is all too much. But if Kuai Liang is right, maybe it is for the best to just spit it out. You never made him doubt that he couldn’t trust you or that you would ever hurt his feelings. At least if you’re gonna say no, you will do it gently. You better do it gently.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You were a little nervous when your grandmaster said he wanted to see you in his office. You didn’t do anything wrong, trust me.

You knocked on the door of his office where you heard him call you in. You opened the door and were surprised to see Tomas there as well. He looked a bit paler for some reason. It looked like he was hiding something behind his back. Yet Kuai Liang looked as if nothing was strange.

“Ah good, you’re here. I must apologize however as I need to step out for just a minute. I will get back to you soon. I’m sure Tomas can keep you entertained.” And just like that Kuai Liang was out of the room as if he just set it on fire. It was only you and Tomas now.

“Tomas, are you okay? You looked like you just saw a ghost.” You asked with concern as you went up to him.

He was already a nervous mess, confused on what he was supposed to do. It didn’t help that your hand went up to feel his forehead as if you were checking for a fever.

Just give them the flower. That’s what Kuai Liang said, right? Oh god they’re touching me. Why do I feel so hot? Damn they look fantastic today.

“I-I, Kuai Liang said-uh, I’m s-supposed to…” Not a great start.

In a moment of panic Tomas dug into one of his pockets and threw down a smoke bomb. Just like that he was gone and you were left coughing from the smoke. Well that was strange.

Once your coughing died down you could hear what sounded to be arguing from the other side of the door. You couldn’t make out the words but you figured out it was Kuai Liang and Tomas having a scuffle.

And you would be right. The moment Kuai Liang saw Tomas teleport out of the room with his smoke magic he told him to get right back in the room. Tomas just felt worse now and he was begging his brother for another way to do this. But there is no other way. How else will you find out that he loves you if he doesn’t say it.

“I can’t, Kuai Liang. It’s so hard. They looked too perfect today and I froze up which isn’t really new. I told you they distract me. Their hands felt so nice, is it normal to want to hold their hand? Does love make you want to do those things?” He would have said more until he heard you speak.

“What?!”

Kuai Liang and Tomas didn’t realize you opened the door when he was going on his little tangent. You finally saw the flower in Tomas’ hand which you assumed was for you. That’s just an assumption after what you heard. Kuai Liang quickly turned his brother around to face you so he can properly confess. And also to apologize for almost causing you to have an asthma attack.

“I-I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any issues. I didn’t even realize I was in love with you until Kuai Liang told me. That sounds dumb I know. How was I supposed to know thinking about you a lot and feeling warm inside meant I liked you?” He said that with a bit of embarrassment.

You didn’t find it dumb however. You actually found it cute. You took his hand into yours with a warm smile on your face.

“Love isn’t the easiest thing, ya know. It takes time. We all learn to love eventually. And I do have the time to teach you how to love in many ways.” There was a look in your eyes that was screaming at Tomas that you liked him back. He didn’t catch that though.

“Teach me? But I just want to be able to love you.” Whoosh

You heard Kuai Liang slap his forehead. This poor man.

“Brother, please, I love you but you’re killing me. That’s what they mean. Say yes already.” Kuai Liang sounded exhausted.

“Sorry, still very new to this. So does this mean now that we are…?” Spell it out for him, please.

“It means we are a couple. We will take it slow don’t worry. Just know that I accept your love.” You said warmly.

Tomas felt like his heart just exploded. He hasn’t been this happy in so long. He feels all warm and tingly inside. Everything he thought was weird and strange before now feels right since you are his partner now. This feels great to him!

He was over the moon. He picked you up in his strong arms and hugged you tight. All with a cute smile on his face. He never wants to let you go now. And neither do you. Cause why wouldn’t you love such a strong, brave, skilled, expressive, and sometimes sassy hunk of a man like him.

What a successful and productive day for Tomas. What an extremely long day for Kuai Liang. You have to thank him though for pushing Tomas to confess to you. Cause you sure as hell couldn’t do it. You probably would have messed it up more than he did. Though you knew that you loved him, you also knew that you weren’t the smoothest person in the universe. You still got your happy ending.

After notes: Those cookies in the corner of my room are calling for me and I told myself I can have a bite if I finished this. Hopefully I have succeeded in my duties in pleasing you. If i haven’t you can force me to drink cranberry juice by itself. I love this man to death he is literally my main. Gotta give me a kiss goodnight later. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #smoke mk #mk smoke #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas x you #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas x reader #smoke x reader #mk fanfic #fluff

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amateurduhhh · 7 months

Text

What About Me | Harvey x Reader

Summary: A story about how Pelican Town's bus revamp sends Harvy into a world of worry with the farmer.

Content warnings: injury

It was a calm evening in Pelican Town. Closing time was nearing, but Harvey always stood by for any emergencies that may need to be addressed. That was part of the glory that came with living above his practice.

"Okay, Dr. Harvey, I just clocked out, I'm gonna head home now!" Maru declared.

"Alrighty, see you!"

He leaned back in a desk chair, filing paperwork and checking inventory. In a quiet town like Pelican Town, it was relatively uncommon for anyone to need something when he wasn't open. Occasionally, the farmer would pass out in the middle of god-knows-where and that horizon would only be expanded by the new bus repair that was somehow managed.

Harvey didn't mind helping you out. In fact, he found it amusing at first. He understood it may have been hard to fully understand the body's limits with the work experience of an office worker. It was just something to scoff and roll his eyes at. What a silly farmer, he thought.

That is until it became more frequent. It took a copious amount of begging and guidance to improve your habits. Harvey even informed you of the purple mushrooms, starfruit, magma caps and nutritious meals that might keep you in good shape while monsters tear at your flesh. As a result of your constant accidents, he made sure to keep his elixirs extra stocked. He only hoped that the distance from the Calico Desert and Ginger Island from Stardew Valley would encourage you to be safer.

A shrill ring from his phone blared next to him. He sighed and picked up the receiver, holding it to the side of his face. Regretfully, Harvey never even glanced at the number who called. Never did he expect it to be dispatch, calling in about an emergency trauma situation.

"Emergency? How bad is it?" Harvey stood up, and scrambled through the building to prepare for the patient. "Uh- y-yeah, bring ‘em in... I have the supplies."

He prepared an operation room as fast as he could.

The emergency door burst open, and two people propelled a bright yellow stretcher to his operation room. The person was unconscious and blood sprouted out of their arm in sync with their heartbeat. "Patient was found in the Skull Cavern mines of Calico Desert. Patient is hypotensive and we can't find a pulse. We believe they suffered blunt force trauma to the chest. We recorded several medial lacerations on their left arm. There is atrial hemorrhaging–"

"I can see that!" He said. Harvey, examined the patient, his eyes catching sight of the face, causing his stomach to lurch and anger to set in his chest. In his residency, he was always good at handling the sight of blood, broken bones, and organs. It was never an issue. Until they had come from you. It wasn't something he could prepare for. The sight had caused a rock to form in his stomach.

"What the hell," he breathed out in white-hot rage. Harvey was fuming. "Why hadn't you put a tourniquet on their arm yet!"

"Doctor," the paramedic's voice was worried. "Patient's heart rhythm..!"

Harvey's eyes widened at the monitor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was no other option than to remain calm.

"Sinus Tachycardia. Shit, the hemothroax is making her heart tamponade. Get me an eighteen gauge needle, I need to get the fluid out of their chest, ASAP."

"I'll prep the EGC first!" A paramedic offered.

"I don't have time for an ECG, dammit!" Harvey snapped. The paramedics scrambled at his outlash for his request.

He felt his nerves explode and knew it was for the worst. Panic made his hands sweat and slick underneath the latex gloves he wore. There was a great tightening in his chest like a furnace of hellfire every time his eyes dared glimpse at yours.

The paramedics prepared the entry site and handed Harvey a large needle. Now he knew he had to get it together. He drew in a sharp, deep breath. To calm his nerves he thought it was good you were unconscious to spare you the image of the largest needle you'd ever seen plunge into your chest.

The thin needle glided through to your flesh, without any navigation Harvey bore the task with nothing but intuition, until the needle penetrated the pericardium. Behind him, one Paramedic had their back turned, unable to watch this infinite medical wager. A true test of a gut feeling.

Sweat slid down Harvey's forehead when he felt the needle had found the pericardium. He steadily lifted the syringe, the paramedic watching it fill with blood while Harvey had his eyes on the heart monitor. A great flood gate of stress opened and deposited his mind to see your heart rhythm steady.

After the surgery, and the departure of the paramedics, Harvey remained slumped against the hospital wall. It took a while for him to work up the energy to be upset. First, he was thankful, second, he was angry. He decided to wait until you woke up to be angry.

Days passed since the surgery.

As of now, he stood weakly beside your bed, he had a tight grip on your hand. His brownish locks swept messily over his eyes, dangling like vines in front of his glasses that slid down his nose. He was no longer wearing his white lab coat and the sleeves of his button down were rolled up, his necktie was nowhere to be seen.

After shock exhaustion hit him hard– something he experience a lot during his career but even harder since it was you on the operating table.

Harvey began coming up with random grievances, many of them being very valid. Like why is there no medical center near a very dangerous mine, let alone a desert. And why must you always venture alone? Especially without telling anyone? Why didn't you think things through before going down there?

A soft groaning sound came from your mostly motionless form. All except your eyelids remained still. A sudden wave of fatigue and a bone chilling pain all over made it almost impossible to move without wanting to die.

"Har... vey...?" you muttered, slightly craning your head to the side. He was just in the corner of your vision. His flustered face in all of its glory.

Harvey's physician instincts kicked in and began checking your vitals as well as asking you questions. "Do you know what day it is?"

"'s it the seventh of sp...ring?" you recalled.

"Where do you live?"

"Stardew Valley."

"Do you know my name?"

"Harvey."

"Now last question," said Harvey, a little irritated. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

It took you a moment to reply. The question didn't quite sound like it had an answer. You opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out.

"What?" you said, tensing up a little.

"I've lost count of how many times I've asked you to please be careful." His tone was desperate and distraught. You didn't pick up on the sincerity of his voice, being too involved in the pain in your side.

As soon as you realized what this was about, all the tension in your shoulders deflated. You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Come on Harvey. I'm going to be okay."

"You don't know that," he stressed. There was a hot anger in his tone that sent tendrils of worry down your spine. "So stop acting like your skin is made of platinum. You don’t even realize it, but you may just be the luckiest person in the Ferngill Republic! This isn't the first time you came into my clinic an inch away from death and every goddamn time... I don't know if you're going to make it."

You frowned. "Now... wait a minute..." Everytime this happened you saw the way Harvey's jaw locked, waiting for you to go home from his emergency surgery so he could break down over the fact he'd have to do it again.

He felt like his soul was becoming too big for his body, like a shaken Joja Cola threatening to burst. All he could do was tremble with desperation and anger. "You can't go back to Skull Cavern... and don’t think I don’t know about your little ventures into the Ginger Island volcano, hell, even the local mines-- you’ve lost your fucking mind-- you can't--."

You felt indignant. "That isn't your call Harvey." Even in your most vulnerable state, you stood your ground. It made sense to Harvey why you always ventured out into danger. "I can't believe you would even suggest that... that's so... selfish!"

"Maybe it is," he argued.

"What about my job, I make money by doing this! What about me leaving Joja Corporation to be here? The community center, too. Didn't get fixed without a few broken bones. What about that?"

The Joja Cola inside Harvey had finally exploded. A loud thud shook the bedside table and Harvey was standing, fuming. Tears cascaded like waterfalls down his eyes, ignited with fire and determination. His voice was broken and sounded like a scratched CD.

"What about me!" He gestured to himself with intensity. “What about me! Oh, it’s just one crisis after another and it doesn’t seem like a crisis to you, but every time I see you on that goddamn gurney I feel like my world is coming to an end! Dammit, if you come in again, and I can’t save...” he choked on his words. “I thought you were going to die, don’t you get it?”

You clenched your jaw, your face radiated heat. Harvey had scanned your eyes, as if he was frantically searching for something. He must have seen something because seconds after, he looked away, rubbing his eyes from underneath his glasses.

“Would you save me again? If I ignored this little debacle between us. And as soon I could get back up on my feet, and I go back into the mines, come in with a hole in my chest, the size of your hand. Would you save me, if you knew you could? Or… or even if you knew you couldn’t?”

He winced, his moustache wrinkling on his lip. His head bobbed, nonetheless. “You’re so cruel, you know that.” he said, looking at you like you asked what color the sky was. “You have this terrifying grip on me and I don’t think you realize it. I would rather not think of anything like that... you dying. Yet you force me. Not just now, but every time I see you rolling into this hospital. If you died, if you were on my operation table, my emergency room, and you flatlined... I doubt I could bring myself to hold a scalpel again. I am so deeply in love with you. I'd save you a billion times in a billion different lives. Again and again and again, I would save you in a box, with a fox, here or there, or anywhere. I am saving you now, and you’re oblivious. The most potent medicine I can administer for the madness within you is my own goddamn pleading.”

"I'm tired of this," you confessed. There was long a silence of him examining you. There was dark reddish-purple bruising around your face and various large ones dotting the lengths of your appendages. Old bruises that hadn't yet healed reopened and fading lacerations from being handled by Void Spirits throbbed around your wrists. "You're right. I... need a break from the mines. I haven't let myself heal."

Harvey looked caught off guard. He froze, eyes glued to your pathetic, ragged form. Hooked up to countless monitors and machines.

"I can't keep getting hurt like this. I... I try to act like it's no big deal but... I haven't been sleeping, it's so scary. I need stone and ore and money to expand my farm. I've gotten so caught up in boosting my efficiency I've completely turned into who I was when I worked for Joja."

Harvey was silent for a good moment. He took your hand. "(Y/N)," he spoke tenderly, his throat raw and shakey. "You live comfortably enough to take a medical leave from work. Doctor's orders, you understand?"

You frowned. Farming was your passion. But he was right, and the break might raise the prices of your crops if they become higher in demand. You took a deep breath, barely managing a nod. "I'll be awfully bored and lonely if I'm not working." You complained.

"Don't worry." Harvey managed a gentle smile. "I'll make my visits frequent."

"And long."

Harvey smiled. "One day, they'll be permanent."

#fanfiction #stardew farmer #harvey stardew valley #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley x reader

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the-hopeless-haze · 1 year

Text

Worried About You

Chapter 4 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed On Me (House x reader)

“I need Vicodin,” Greg says to you, walking into your office. Well. Your office when you were here. You scowl slightly at the day-old coffee in your line of vision and think about how you’ll be scolded by the other people you share the office with the rest of the week when you inevitably forget that it’s there.

“Funny. I’m not your dealer,” you say.

You and Greg had hit it off, so to speak. Much to everyone’s chagrin and surprise, you continued seeing each other inside and outside the hospital. It wasn’t something either of you spoke about. Psychiatrists (or psychiatric doctors of nursing) are the worst patients and the best repressors. You did what you had to to be able to function like a member of society, but you were as fucked up as the rest of them. And you see Greg is similar. USA-renowned, if not world-renowned, diagnostician—but that was all he had besides a bum leg and a healthy dose of chronic depression and reliance on opiates to function.

When you finally had sex -heterosexual sex, dick in pussy sex - it was a frenzy fueled by alcohol and weeks long of teasing, and you saw glimpses of his leg in the midst of it and he saw the scars scattering your arms, but beyond the “oh, so you tried to kill yourself” he said to you when he edged you on the brink of orgasm the umpteenth time (and oh, boy, was that a mood killer) there were no comments about either.

But he kept you around and you weren’t entirely certain of why. It’s only been a month or so, and he’s not calling you his girlfriend or telling you he loves you, but he’ll still wine and dine you before railing you. And you don’t know if it’s out of obligation, if he feels like even though you’re not a hooker he has to pay you for sex, or if he genuinely enjoys your company. You think about how dissimilar you are to Wilson and how that’s the only person he keeps close. You wonder if maybe you remind him of his live-in ex that you’re almost certain he never got over. It’s a good time though, regardless. You make each other laugh. You both love The Rolling Stones. You begrudgingly agreed to be dragged to a monster truck show one night (“Wilson won’t come with me” he whined) and in return you made him go with you to see a local band perform that he wasn’t the slightest bit interested in.

It was that sacrificing that made you pretty close to a real couple. Wilson pointed it out to you and he no doubt pointed it out to Greg. You made a snarky comment about his marriage and you wonder if you should compare notes with Greg to make sure you’re both not using the same lines.

You don’t know why you keep him around either, so it’s fair. It’s nice to have a fuck buddy, you suppose, and it’s also nice to almost like them as a human being rather than a sex toy. It’s certainly not because you think you can cure him, because you know you can’t. You wanted sex and you didn’t want a rehash. All things considered, he was a thorough lover and cared about getting you off as much as himself, which somewhat surprised you given how selfish he can be in other settings.

It’s not a bad arrangement. At least not right now.

But you’re fucked and you know it. It’s why you were drawn to work with kids in the first place. At least you’d always have a leg up on them. Someone out there thought you were sane enough to be rent an apartment and be a licensed prescriber.

Oh. Speaking of.

“Come on. You have a license to prescribe. Just once,” he begs.

“Yeah. No. I think you’ve got me confused with Wilson.”

“You’re much hotter,” he offers.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It got you in my bed.”

You smirk, shaking your head. “Yeah. Fair. But that’s as far as it’ll get you. You can be lackadaisical with your license, but I’d like to keep mine until I want to retire.”

“How’d I get with such a goody-two-shoes? Even Wilson will play.”

“He’s not now, apparently. What gives?”

“I bet Cuddy clinic hours that I wouldn’t take Vicodin for a week. They’re all convinced I’m an addict.”

You snort. “Okay. I hate to point it out so bluntly, but this is prime behavior for addiction. Searching all channels to get a fix because you can’t go a week without it?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Okay. I’m going to do the week. But I need someone on standby. I’m only doing the week, and I don’t know that I’ll be able to get it prescribed afterward.”

“Chronic pain is outside my scope of practice. Best I could do is a suboxone MAT and say I’m detoxing you off Vicodin and keeping your substance use in check, but even that’s pushing it. There’s a conflict of interest.”

“You can’t keep the clinical and the personal separate?”

“Nope. Could you? If I was your patient this week, would you be able to? Bringing your ex-girlfriend into this is what got you into this mess. Don’t bring me in to try to fix it.”

“I’m not asking you to fix it. And you have a medical background. I’m asking you to write the order I’m asking for. I know how to manage my pain.”

“Why don’t you get through this week first? Then maybe you’ll take me up on the suboxone,” you say, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m addicted?”

“Jesus Christ, Greg, you’re smarter than this. You know what happens if you consistently take opiates. I know you need them for pain. I’m not denying that. But to think you’re immune to the side effects? It’s habit-forming. You know this. You’ve been taking it for years. You’re going to have withdrawal symptoms. You should be doing this in a detox facility if anything.”

“I work in a hospital. Opiate withdrawal never killed anyone, anyway,” he says, seeing no point in bluffing to you any longer.

“Maybe not. But you’ll suffer. I’ll meet you halfway, hm?” You say, looking up at him. “I’ll prescribe you comfort meds for the week. Ease you through it. Mirapex, vistaril, zofran, clonidine, bentyl…”

“Most of those aren’t exactly in your scope. If you want to be technical.”

“If I lose my license for any of those the board has far too much time on their hands. But you’re right. I’ll get Chase to sign them off.”

“Chase?”

“He’s the most desperate to get laid out of the three. I bat my eyelashes enough he won’t even question who the scripts are for.”

“Chase? Look at him. If he’s not getting laid none of us should be.”

You scoff. “I guess pretty boys do it for you, but not for me. But no…I can tell. He reeks of desperation.”

“It’s desperation to be liked by authority. Not desperation for pussy. He’s swimming in it.”

“Okay. We’ll see if he folds,” you say, winking.

Greg sighs. “Is this some kind of game?”

“What isn’t, with you? It’s all games, it’s all puzzles.”

“Why Chase?”

“I told you. I know you’d rather me go to Cameron, but unfortunately, I don’t think flirting would get very far with her. Foreman will never fold.”

“You don’t have other doctors you work with you could ask?”

“Greg, it’s just fucking comfort medications that you probably will have too much pride to even touch. Again. Not risking my career for you and letting people that actually respect me think I’m a nutcase because I slept with you.”

“So… you want to fuck Chase. Right?”

“Where in that insecure little man brain did you think of that? It’s your other head, right? I must want the sexy Australian because all the other girls are doing him? Because I want to ask him to prescribe meds? For you?”

He shrugs. “Matter of time. ‘Oh, I had to blow him, that’s the only way I could get him to do this’ or ‘oh, honey, good news, he said if I sleep with him three times a week he’ll prescribe your Vicodin’.”

“Stop with the immature bullshit. If I wanted to fuck him, I’d just leave you, not worry about the meds, and do it. Grow up, Greg,” you mutter, walking away.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenges, hating himself as the words leave his mouth, hating how unattractively juvenile he was coming across. But there were reasons, the need to push you away to see if he would get pulled back, the need to be contrary, the need to know. Know what, exactly, he’s not sure.

He already knows he’s in for one of the worst weeks of his life. Even if the withdrawal symptoms are mild, he’s going to be in terrible, unmanageable pain, and all the Tylenol and Motrin in the world aren’t going to even come close to touching it. And he’s going to be more miserable than usual. No pain relief. No euphoria from the high when he takes just one… or two… or three extra than he needs. He knows he’s addicted. He tries to roll it off his back, saying it doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t change perceptions of him, it’s something he needs for pain, and it doesn’t affect his ability to practice medicine.

But sometimes he’s afraid. When James looks at him in concern but doesn’t offer any solutions because there aren’t any real ones, are there? He needs opiates for pain. Nothing else will work. Whether it’s pure heroin or your gold-standard synthetic hippy bullshit medication-assisted treatment… it’s still an opiate. Naloxone embedded in the pill or not. Having to go to a clinic to get dosed and having to have checks and balances on his use or not. It’s still an opiate. There’s still a stigma. It still pinpoints his pupils, lowers his respiratory rate, and hopefully, hopefully, takes the edge off so he can function but he knows. Addiction isn’t his specialty, he never wanted it to be, but he knows. One day it’ll be his last Vicodin, or the Vicodin won’t work anymore, and hey, you know what’s instantaneous? Spinal morphine. Can only use that card once or twice, have to tell Wilson he’s in excruciating pain and guilt him into enabling. He’ll only go so far. And then…well, then it’s IV heroin or fentanyl, whichever is easier to get, whichever is cheaper.

Greg knows that addiction treatment centers are revolving doors. He knows that you saw the same people back and forth and back and forth sign in and sign out, sign in and sign out. Change their medication plans a million times. And some of them still died anyway.

He’s afraid. He’s afraid of dying by his own hand by accident, alone and blue, nodding off forever. Sometimes he wishes for it, an end to the pain, but he also doesn’t want people to find him like that. A predictable end to a predictable story. World-renowned diagnostician died the same way a poor broke junkie did on the streets. Hooked on drugs, overshot it.

And it’s not that he thinks he’s better than those people. He knows he is those people. Even prior to his disability he dabbled in drugs, never enough to create a habit but enough to definitely indicate the potential of a problem. He’d tried almost every illicit substance “just to see how it felt” by your age. It feels good. Drugs feel good. It’s how they work. And your brain wants to feel good. It’s how they keep working and you keep using.

He knows. He’s in a vicious cycle he’ll never claw his way out of.

And you know it, too.

And yet you’re wasting your time fighting with him instead of walking away.

Why?

He doesn’t know that.

“Yeah. Why don’t I fuck him?” you snark back, turning on your heel and walking back toward him, drawing him out of his pity party and back into the misery he created for no reason other than to drag you down with him, make you choke on it with him. “I don’t want to. That’s why. I want to fuck you, although believe me, that thought is getting less and less appealing every time you open that fucking mouth and speak.”

“It does have better uses,” he quips, shrugging, almost visibly relaxing at hearing he was chosen, that he hadn’t scared you off yet.

You roll your eyes. “When does the detox start?”

“Now. It’s been a couple of hours.”

“So you wanted to kick it off and try to put both of us in a shitty mood to start with? Not your brightest idea, huh?” you ask.

He doesn’t say anything and you nod, feeling slightly more in control now that you rendered him silent without any arguments. “Go home. You can’t think clearly if you’re going to be actively detoxing.”

“I still have to make them think I can function without it,” he says after pausing. He would’ve lied to you too, put up a façade with you too, but that’s the thing about addiction. It’s easy to hide dependence to people who don’t know what to look for, but you do. And you would smell it on him.

“I thought you didn’t care what people think?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why take the bet at all?”

“I’ll get out of clinic hours.”

“Right. You would never do something like this to prove a point,” you say sarcastically, leading him out of the office. —————- “Why are you with him?” Chase asks. “And you care enough about him to ask me to use my medical license for a script.”

“You’ll see I don’t care enough about him to risk using mine,” you counter. “It’s comfort meds. Just write the scripts and I’ll leave you alone and we can go back to never talking, which is honestly how I prefer it.”

“I’ve done nothing to you.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I’ve heard enough, though.”

“Does he… what does he say about me?” he asks, a look between bewildered and terrified crossing his face.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Forget I said anything. You’re fine, I’m sure, I just don’t want to be entangled in the team. I already work with Wilson. One facet of House’s life needs to be separate from me.”

“Right. So you’re asking me to prescribe him medications.”

“As a doctor. Which is your job,” you point out. You sigh, looking at the pretty blond man sitting in front of you. Maybe Greg was right to be afraid. Most women your age would be begging to spread their legs at the thought of carrying this man's children. He's more stable, at least comes off that way, and he doesn't have an addiction and a crippled leg.

“Why stay with him if you know he’s an addict?”

Why are you staying?

You look at him for a second, reading his face. “You hate people that struggle with addiction, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say I hate them. I just think they don’t realize the pain they cause and it’s unfair to the sober people in their life.”

“Everyone is someone’s burden,” you say.

But why did you take him on?

“So you think he’s going to detox.”

“I know he’s going to detox. Which is why. Once again. I’m asking you to prescribe him comfort medication for the aforementioned detox.”

“You guys really like each other, huh?”

Why did he take you on?

“No. I want my week to not be miserable. This might lessen it a little bit.”

“Oh, and you’re deflecting just like he would.”

“Just prescribe me the damn meds, Chase.”

“You’re going to be miserable anyway,” he says, shrugging as he takes out his script pad. “You owe me one.”

You know he's not wrong.

“Yeah. You’ll get a psych consult on the house,” you agree.

“Why’d you ask me?”

You sigh. “Can’t ask Wilson. Too close. So it had to be one of you three. Foreman just wouldn’t. Cameron would ask me too many questions and she’d tell everybody.”

“And me?”

“Process of elimination, really. Thank you, you know," you say, deciding to leave out the part where he gets off on sucking metaphorical dick for the chance at appealing to authority. Sometimes you wish you were as crass as House. You come up with some good ones if you could only find the guts to just say them.

“He’s not going to take them.”

“Probably not. But I’m doing my part.”

“As what? His girlfriend?”

“His… friend,” you clarify, and you walk out of the office with the scripts in tow to fill at the pharmacy. Later you hand them to him and he takes them without a word. He opens all the bottles, takes one of each pill in his hand and he pops them dry. Terrible for his esophagus, you tell him, and he mutters something about how he’s wrecked his liver and everything else has to catch up. He opens a bottle of wine and you lean against his chest, barely processing the cheap soap opera flashing in front of you on the TV. He's already sweating, you can feel his shirt damp against your cheek. You don’t know why you’re here. You don’t know why he made a show of taking all those pills in front of you. Maybe to show your efforts were appreciated without having to say the words, even if he thought it was stupid. Maybe it was a desperate attempt to make this all suck less. Maybe it was because this was bending the rules a little, a detox with help, however minor, and he always wanted to see how far he could push before the consequences could roll in. Let’s cheat a little. Instead of a slice of pizza on a diet let’s have a hydroxyzine in a cold turkey detox.

He asked you to come over tonight but he hasn’t said much of anything or initiated much either. Why does he want you here? To know he’s not alone this time, that you’re willing to face the brunt of this pain with him when it returns, like Stacy was unwilling to?

You don’t know.

You don’t want to know. It’s best he keeps that information in his own head where it belongs. You don’t want to get too attached, too close, too entangled. This is fine how it is.

But you still wake up drenched in sweat that isn’t yours.

#house md x reader #house x reader #greg house x reader #gregory house x reader #greg house x you #house x you #gregory house x you #house md #house md fanfiction

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taintandviolent · 8 months

Text

tendencies ; au!James March x reader

summary: You're a new patient at Cortez County Sanitarium, and a particular Doctor has taken a liking to you and your murderous tendencies. w a r n i n g s: 6k words. au, female reader, shameless smut, female receiving, medical kink, examination kink, possible abuse of power, fingering, masterbation, penetration, mentions of murder/death. a/n: [requested by anonymous, some ideas were changed due to personal preference! i'm so sorry it's another long one I ramble alsjfhdskjfhsk. if you see any mistakes, no you didn't because this wasn't beta-read at all!] full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

It finally happened. You’d had one too many manic episodes where you swore up and down you were going to kill them both for treating you the way they did, and your parents institutionalised you. You’d threatened them with the axe your father always kept in the garden, and that was the final straw. Father was on the phone before you had a chance to even get the axe. Off to the looney bin she goes! Mother packed you a suitcase despite father insisting you wouldn’t need it where you were going. She snapped the latches shut and tossed you and it into the backseat of your father’s Ford.

Swell.

Your mother cried as two men in white uniforms approached you, each of them taking an arm. They gripped them a little too hard and you thrashed, which they took as a threat. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw your father take your mother into his arms, trying to calm her as pet her hair soothingly. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, blotting away the running mascara. All for show, you thought.

“When I get out - I’m going to find both of you!” You promised, howling. “CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!”

Your screams echoed down the hallways as you tried to wrench yourself out of the grip of the two men. You certainly weren’t making a good case for yourself that you weren’t psychotic, but your anger blinded you. It filled your veins, rushing through as naturally as blood, and would only subside after you’d heard your mother’s terrified whimper.

The first few days had been every bit as protocol as you’d expected. Dreary and professional, filled with every bit of staunchness possible. The nurses seemed to have a perpetual frown, while the orderlies puffed their chests up, determined to appear as intimidating as possible to the crazies.

Day one was depressing. Intake consisted of them stripping you of your clothes and all belongings, manhandling you as they unzipped and unbuttoned. They promised that your items would stay in the office where you could have them once you were discharged. The tone in the nurse’s voice wasn’t encouraging — but you were certain you’d get out one day.

The orderlies then hosed you down with ice cold water, the frigidness burning your skin in the worst way. Front and back. They handed you blandly coloured clothes without a towel. Of course not. They watched as you uncomfortably dressed, yanking the gown over your head. The fabric stuck to you in the most horrible way as they steered you down the bitterly cold hallways.

Screams, laughter and everything in between echoed off those cold stone walls. As you passed, a few residents came to their doors, peering curiously out the small cutaway in the door, wanting to see if they were the one getting a new neighbour.

You were thrown into a room. Five straps; two for your arms, two for your legs, and one across your forehead. You were told that you’d stay just like that, secured to a bed until you calmed down, which was around lunch time, when your rumbling tummy trumped your need to holler until your throat was sore.

After a blandly coloured pasta dish, you weighed your options and decided that staying out of the straps was ideal, so you behaved yourself for the rest of the evening. You were escorted to another room, much farther down the hall. The number on the door said seventy-eight.

On Day Two, you’d been informed of the rigorous schedule that took place here at Cortez County Sanitarium, and naturally, you’d forgotten it as soon as it left the orderly’s mouth. You didn’t care about the community time, or the rec room, or the biscuit making. You didn’t care about anything, except planning your revenge on your parents and their selfish decision.

Your parents had never wanted you, always wanted you out of the house. They kept your schedule full with extracurricular activities, forcing friendships and relationships, toting around how you “were going to marry early, she’s just such a catch”! You all knew that wasn’t the case at all — you were sick. Sick, delusional and unstable. Hardly wife material for anyone.

They just wanted their house to themselves.

Even if you’d wanted to, you wouldn't be able to join community time seeing as you had been assigned to solitary confinement for an indeterminate period of time, due to your ‘severe tendencies’. Whatever your egocentric, hateful father had told them scared them enough to treat you like public enemy number one. Out of safety for themselves and their fellow patients, the orderlies had flanked you, escorted you to your room, sat you right down on the bed, and locked the door. Who knows what they’d done with the key. All you knew was that three times a day, someone opened the latch in your door, slid a tray of food in, and left again. Nurses came in infrequently to complete routine check-ups and change your chamber pot.

You had nothing to read but the Bible, and nothing to look at besides a confusingly angled visual of the outside world, obscured by a metal grate and brambles. The food was decidedly a highlight and the biscuits were particularly good. Made on site, one of the nurses had said.

On Day Three, it was raining. You took all your bedding off and rearranged it so that your feet faced the window. You’d much rather wake with the sun, and be staring at the door before any of the nurses came into rouse you — they were vicious with their sharp fingertips, prodding you like a child seeing if roadkill was really dead.

As you stood back to admire your interior decorating, you decided that if someone came in and rearranged it, you’d throw a tantrum like the girl three doors down who howled like a banshee every time someone touched her.

The next day, it was raining still. After some bored and delirious pacing of your room, you thumbed through the paper thin pages of the Bible, skimming excerpts that you recalled from childhood as your father had always tried to install religion and morals into your daily life. Aside from knowing the Ten Commandments, he failed miserably. As you flipped through, you noted your copy had been well loved or deeply hated, you weren’t quite sure because every mention of sex had been ripped out or scribbled on.

This isn’t so terrible, you thought. Despite the lack of reading material and the overall monotony, you enjoyed your solitude. Left alone to your own devices all day, free to plot your revenge, and free to rearrange your little room however you wanted.

On the fifth day, there was more rain, but with the exciting addition of thunder. Loud enough that you almost didn't hear the knock. Your eyes flitted from the cool, cement flooring to the door. Someone rapped their knuckle against it several times. There weren’t any words, only painstaking seconds of silence. Finally, the door opened, revealing a man with dark hair and even darker eyes. He stood tall, had a thin, movie-star moustache, and must’ve been a sharp dresser, because beneath his pristine white coat, thin white pinstripes decorated his navy blue trousers.

Despite his charismatic pull, you’d learned to not immediately trust everyone that walked through your door - most of them had a syringe in their pocket and were just waiting for the opportunity to plunge it in.

“Good Morning.” He crooned. “My name is Doctor March, I’m head of this facility.”

Was it morning? You hadn’t gotten your food yet. You pulled your knees up to your chest, staring at him hard. His eyes dropped, momentarily gobbling up the visual of your white underwear, covering a tantalising mound of flesh. He blinked sharply, returning his eyes to yours.

“No need to be afraid, my dear. I’m only here to ask you a few… questions. Simple examination. Get to know each other.”

He took a stethoscope from his front pocket, draping it around his neck. You were hesitant. Maybe it was run-of-the-mill for the head doctor to make his rounds, he did this to everyone, it wouldn’t take long and you would be back in your lonesome before they brought your breakfast. Maybe.

“Now, tell me…” He began, as he confidently approached you. “Why were you brought here?”

“I told my parents I was going to kill them,” you started. “And I — “

“How? Tell me how you wanted to kill them…”

His question stopped you dead in your tracks — up until this point, that was all they needed. Every nurse, assistant, or doctor had heard that singular phrase and scribbled something on their pad. But this Doctor…. This doctor wanted the gory details. He didn’t even have a notepad.

“I told them that I was going to chop them up into small pieces. Like that Lizzie Borden girl.”

“She was acquitted, you know.” He added, warming the chest piece of the stethoscope with his breath. Huh-huh.

You sniffed, adjusting yourself on the bed to move closer to him. The rusty springs squeaked underneath your weight. “Well, if she did do it… I understand why.”

He hummed, pleased. Your red-rimmed eyes darted up to him, confused by the sudden… heavy aura in the room.

“What?”

He said nothing, just grinned one of the most sinister, tight-lipped smiles you’d ever seen. “Deep breaths for me, please.”

He dipped his hand into your gown at the neckline, navigating around the fabric until he felt skin. He pressed the piece to your chest, listening wordlessly. Your heart started racing, and you swung your eyes away from him, hoping to calm it before he noticed. “Go on.”

You took a breath and exhaled once, hard. He moved it to another position on your chest, his knuckles grazing the plumpness of your breast. You took another deep breath, and another exhale. He pulled the stethoscope away, and returned it to his neck. With a single finger, he tapped your bottom lip, indicating that he wanted you to open your mouth.

“So. You wanted to kill your parents with an axe, did you? What else?”

You furrowed your brows at him, perplexed by his unique interest, and stuck your tongue out. He took a depressor from his pocket, and pressed into the meatiest part of your tongue, farther back than you were used to. Your gag reflex threatened, your throat pulsing, but you relaxed. He nodded slowly, seeming pleased. He still looked like he was poised, waiting for your explanation. Your eyes darted from the blurred tip of your tongue to his eyes. Alright, you’d do your best, then.

“Ah tah tha ah wah gahaa tah buh—“

Doctor March laughed; a low, breathy hum. He removed the depressor, wiping your saliva on his inner sleeve. “Apologies. Try again, my dear.”

“I…” You cleared your throat. “I told them I was going to bury the small pieces in the garden and let the Burkes’ hounds eat the rest.”

“Devilish,” he hissed.

“Um…. The Burkes are our neighbours.” You added. He nodded passively.

“Did your parents look fearful? Could you see their expressions glaze over in terror, lives flashing before their eyes?”

“Um… when I went to get the axe, my mother screamed. Loud. I’d never heard her scream like that. I ran towards the door — it was in the garden shed — but she howled and clutched her neck like I’d already done it.”

As you spoke, his eyes were locked on you, enraptured by your telling of this near homicidal experience you’d had. He understood, the drive, the hunger to want to end someone’s pathetic little life. To play God, as it were.

“That’s when my father called the police, and I suppose they called you.”

“Indeed they did. The officers spoke to me directly.”

“They did?”

“Yes. I specialise in murder, you see. Murderous tendencies, rage… both of which you seem to have.”

Shyly, you nodded. You supposed you did struggle with anger issues from time to time….

Noting your sudden sheepish disposition, he cleared his throat. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Rage is a normal human response. To feel unbridled hatred towards someone or something… every human being on earth experiences it. Of course, whether or not they act it, well that defines monster from man. And in some cases,” He added. “The rage is justified.”

To hear that sent a shiver down your spine. The validation, the understanding… perhaps this wouldn’t be such a bad place after all. If being a monster meant feeling, then you were in fact just that. Happily. A monster towards anyone who had wronged you.

“As is that, my dear.”

“What is?”

“Arousal.”

The slat flipped open. An orderly pushed a pale green tray into the slot, as they did every mealtime. Dr. March noticed this and straightened up, removing his hand from your shoulder. He walked to the door, thanked the orderly, and retrieved your tray before setting it at the foot of your bed.

“I’ll let you eat… thank you for allowing me some of your time.”

You could only nod feebly as he walked out the door. Once the lock clanked into place, you reached between your legs, ready to scoff at his accusation until your fingers met your slick cunt. Part of you was embarrassed, another part sour that he knew, and the final part had her tongue out, panting like an overheated dog, wanting him to return.

It was just after lunch time when he came back the next day. The same knocking on your door before it opened, and this time, you felt your heart jump into your throat, thudding away foolishly. This time, he hardly asked any questions, just dove right into examining you like any other patient. Though you hid it, you were in seventh heaven with the way he handled you.

The Doctor took your pulse, pressing his fingers into the inside of your wrist and counting on his watch. While he focused, you studied his face, swearing to remember his dashing features long after he’d left your room again. His black eyes darted over, and you flicked yours away, bashfully. He seemed to commit a number to memory, his lips moving ever so slightly as he said it aloud.

“Head up, please.” His fingertips guided your head, angling it slightly. Without another word, he then pressed two fingers into the pulse in your neck, allowing it throb against the pads. Your breath hitched in your throat.

As though he knew, he stared into your eyes. Confirming that he was right, you stared right back. His breathing was shallow, washing over your lips. Heat bloomed in your cunt, pulling up with a deep clench. He inched closer, somehow still monitoring your pulse. Had the roles been switched, you would’ve forgotten how to count by this point.

“Have you ever wanted to kill anyone?” You asked in a whisper. Your throat was dry.

He leaned so close to you that you could feel his cool breath on your cheeks. “Many times.”

You swallowed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

This time, he didn’t answer immediately, in his swoon-worthy confident way. Instead, his eyes tunnelled into your soul, dreaming about taking fistfuls of your patient gown and tearing it half, tossing it to the floor and dancing across your naked form. His heavy coat hid what you wanted to see, but he watched your eyes trail down. Had it not been, you would’ve seen exactly what he needed to hide — for professionalism’s sake.

You were unlike any other patient; not in the sense that you wanted to kill people, or even had. Those were a dime a dozen. Your hunger was erotic, and needed sating. Like him, you’d savour the tinier details. You’d take great pleasure in it and after, play gleefully with their blood. He could smell it on you, the need for carnality, for violence.

“You have…” you whispered, closing in the distance. Your underwear were slick with your arousal, you felt your cunt glide against the cotton fibres as you moved towards him. He straightened up, inhaling deeply through his nose. The sudden separation was painful, and you were fairly certain you had let out a pitiful whine.

On the seventh day, it was sunny, but the only hospital staff that visited you was a nurse, who delivered a medication in a tiny paper cup. You clamped your teeth shut, refusing. She tried to force your jaws open with her bright red manicured nails, but you still resisted. With an annoyed huff, she gave up, making a note of the behaviour on her clipboard.

You angrily fingered yourself that afternoon. You thought of Doctor March and his cool hands, and the way that they’d ghost over your skin before roughly grabbing your limbs, yanking you in the direction he wanted you to go. You imagined the way his moustache would tickle the soft flesh of your inner thighs, his teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

Another thought - a darker thought plagued your mind while you pleasured yourself. The thought of him killing. Which, at that point, you were fairly certain he had. The way that he had hurriedly left, refusing to speak any further had told you of his guilty (or perhaps not guilty at all) conscience.

You wondered if he’d killed someone here. Perhaps a patient, perhaps an unsuspecting nurse who had been a little too flirty with him, and he’d used it as an excuse to get close enough to strike. Perhaps he’d killed a rival doctor whom had too big of an ego, a resident from another hospital who tried to climb the ranks of his hospital.

You pictured him, covered in blood and remains. Crimson dripping from his sculpted, veiny arms, with the sleeves of his pristine lab coat rolled up to the elbows. His hair dishevelled, dark strands hanging down in front of his black eyes.

It fuelled your fingers as they pumped in and out, only stopping to draw circles on your clit to bring the sensitivity higher. You came onto your fingers, saying his name over and over again. It started raining again.

It was the ninth day when he finally came back. You had heard his knock, and immediately rushed to stand at the your edge of your bed, hands clasped behind your back. You rocked back and forth on your bare heels, like a good little patient, waiting for instruction.

He opened the door, pausing to look over you. Jaw clenched, eyes burning with intensity. His expression said everything; the absence had been just as hard on him as it was on you — and perhaps, you two had came at the same time. You in your dismal room and him in his ornate, dark office.

He pressed the door shut behind him, keeping his hungry eyes on his meal.

“You crave what I crave,” he hissed, hoisting you up in his arms and slamming your back against the cold wall behind you. Every word sounded so suggestive coming from his mouth, and you longed to hear him speak about everything and anything all at once. You responded by wrapping your legs around his waist, squeezing tight. Your underwear pressed against his coat, fabric grinding against fabric. You whimper at the feeling of the bulge in his pants and even through the layers, he can feel the wet warmth of your cunt.

His thumb hooked around the hem of your underwear, teasing the crease of your hip, before lifting the elastic enough to crawl his fingers underneath the damp fabric. With an exhale, he closed the distance, drowning your whimpers in devouring kisses.

“Just another examination,” he assured, before running his middle finger up and down your slit, smearing your wetness everywhere he could.

There was something thrilling about being fondled by a doctor, perhaps the threat of it being wrong and immoral. You’d heard whispers of hysteria — something that while in his grip, you agreed to having. You were hysterical for his touch, and wanted everything he was willing to give you, despite the ethics. As far as anyone in the halls were concerned, he had every right to examine this patient, and find the cause of her lunacy. The thought had you leaking onto his hand, coating his thick digits in your arousal.

He inserted two fingers into your dripping cunt, sinking them to the knuckle. You wanted to whine, to scream, to bite his collar, and fill the cold hallways with your moans. Instead, you laid your head down on his shoulder, rocking against it in the rhythm that his fingers plunged into you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you pressed your cheek into his white lab coat and panted as quietly as you could. His fingers curled inside of you, exploring your insides curiously. You felt them everywhere, pumping in and out easily.

“Doctor March?” Came a voice from outside.

He froze.

Wide eyes flitted to and fro, your chest heaving with desperate, terrified pants. What would happen if you two were caught? Would it matter, in his grasp? His black eyes rolled upwards and with a displeased groan, the doctor dropped you to your feet. He wiped his fingers on his coat, then turned away from the door to stuff his stiff cock into his waistband, where it would remain until the erection faded. Whatever menial task he was doing would eventually consume his mind enough to take all his thoughts off you. Maybe. Maybe not.

He was gone before you could protest, and you collapsed against the wall in a sweaty mess. But before your depression could sink too deeply into your psyche, the door opened again, and the orderly stepped towards you. Doctor March was still in the hallway, fingers laced in front of his crotch. He was waiting. With two fingers, the orderly beckoned you forward.

“Oh, what now — OUCH!”

As soon as you were out of your room, the orderly took hold of you, digging his thumb deep into the muscle of your upper arm. What was it with them? Couldn’t they just kindly guide you? You wanted to kill him for handling you like that. You wanted to snap his neck, feel the dull crack beneath your hands, and watch as the life disappeared from his eyes like the sun behind clouds. You want to feel his heartbeat slow to a stop, thudding one final time before it faded into nothingness.

When you snapped back to reality, Doctor March was staring at you with a very knowing smile. He bowed his head slightly and swallowed.

“She getting a lobotomy, Doc?” The orderly asked, genuinely curious.

“Something of that nature,” he concurred. “I’m going to start treatment in attempt to cure her hysteria, and preform whatever tests necessary to properly diagnose what ails this young woman.”

You knew what he meant. You felt what he meant. Deep between the slippery walls of your cunt, you felt what Doctor March meant by that. He wasn’t going to lobotomise, he was going to fornicate. You tried to crane your neck to look at him, but he was too far out of your peripheral, and the orderly shoved you forward.

“Good luck to you. She’s a real basket case.”

Once you’d all reached the examination room, which was upstairs and at the very end of the hall, you traded hands, Doctor March putting on a good show for this orderly. He gripped your arm hard — not quite as a hard as they orderly had — enough to depress the skin.

“Thank you, Sam. Please let the others know that I require concentration. Avoid any disturbances at all costs.” “Sure thing, Doc.”

The room was filled with shelves, packed with books on the human mind and all of its maladies. Specimens decorated the shelves that weren’t filled with books; mummified brains, organs in jars. A few plants were shoved into the tiny crevice of a windowsill. You began walking towards them, enchanted by seeing greenery for the first time in almost two weeks.

His stern voice came from behind you, cutting the fascination short. He reached into his coat pocket, retrieving a pair of black rubber gloves. He slipped his fingers into each one, pulling them down and letting the rubber snap back against his wrists. “Ah-ah. The table, please.”

You hadn’t really anticipated a full on examination. Had you read everything wrong? You jumped with each snap of the rubber gloves, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps he was going to lobotomise you. With a dejected sigh, you turned. Maybe later. Putting one foot in front of the other, you made your way over to the examination table and stood obediently in front of it, waiting for his next move. After slipping his arms out of his white coat, Doctor March flicked on a light above, and the shiny metal seem to glimmer underneath it. The coat was hung on a nearby coat stand, and you took a small moment with the delicious new visual. He wore a white shirt, as pristine as his coat, but with black suspenders and black trousers with dark grey pinstripes.

“So, you’re going to attempt to cure me?” You asked, sucking coyly on your bottom lip.

He didn’t answer. Doctor March’s lips collided with yours almost straight away, tossing all tact out the window. He knew what he was doing uncouth and borderline criminal. Of course, a distinguished doctor shouldn’t be dry humping one of his patients in his examination room. It had become uncomfortable though, his arousal swelling well past the point of being ignored. His cock burned with a demanding, carnal need. He continued thrusting his hips upward into your tummy as he peppered your neck with kisses, unable to control the urges to do so.

It was your fault. Simply for being you, which he was unable to resist. He knew that you wanted to kill people as much as he did and that you’d relish the tinier moments of murder. The thought drove him wild, picturing you spattered with someone’s blood, chest heaving, eyes wild with the titillating glimmer of manslaughter. Abruptly, Doctor March pulled away and spun you around, your back facing him. He slid his hands over yours until they reached the shoulders, where he squeezed softly, leaning into you to take in your scent. You could hear his uneven, lust-broken pants as his wide gloved hand eased you down into a bent over position, pressing your bare chest against the cool metal.

“Whether or not this cures your hysteria will remain to be seen… it certainly won’t cure mine. Once I have you, I’ll only want you more.”

With your face smashed against the examination table, you moaned. He had kissed your lips raw, they stung.

“Are you certain you… consent to this treatment?”

You nodded too quickly, wiggling the plump curve of your ass against his crotch. Doctor March groaned — a deep, guttural moan — and took hold of your hips, yanking them backwards into his own groin. “Splendid. Then, up onto the table you go, my dear.”

Obeying him, you turned around, placing both hands on the table and hoisted yourself up into a sitting position.

“Lay back, please.”

He began to examine you as any doctor would - pressing and prodding. You weren’t in any pain, so naturally, the only sounds were your shallow breathing. He felt your lymph nodes in your neck, pressing two fingers delicately against your throat, skating down over your collarbone. Your eyelids fluttered helplessly, which he noticed. They then travelled… carefully… towards your breasts, taking the fullness in the palms. You writhed on the cold, metal table as he squeezed them, rolling your nipples between his gloved thumb and forefinger.

“Perfect,” he crooned. “Perfect.

His hands continued trailing down, pressing firmly into your organs. His fingers traced the curve of your hips, fiddling knowingly with the hem of your underwear, tugging them down slightly. With a deep breath, you dug your heels into the table, lifting your ass off the table. Doctor March smiled, and pulled them down your legs.

“As I said before, my delinquent little darling, you seem to crave what I crave.”

Doctor March took his middle finger, trailing your slit. He then took his forefinger and middle finger and pressed them down on either side of the slit, spreading your cunt wide. The cool air hit it, and you shivered.

“Cold?” He asked.

“The opposite, actually. I feel like I’m on fire.”

Another gloved hand pressed against your naked abdomen, feeling the heat that radiated through the thin rubber. “Indeed you do… and my, my. All for me?”

“All for you.” You echoed.

He inserted one finger, the rubber sliding into your cunt easily. His eyes were on you, locked, to see your reaction. Your eyes closed, you exhaled.

Two fingers, and your stomach muscles clenched. Your pelvic muscles clenched too, pulling his thick fingers further into you. With his thumb, Doctor March encircled your clit, still swollen from the pleasuring before. Your back arched violently, the same way patients’ backs did when hundreds of volts of electricity coursed through their pliable bodies.

Your clear, slick arousal collected in the webbing of his gloves, and Doctor March withdrew them suddenly, holding them up to the light above you. Crystal strands strung between his fingers before breaking into droplets on either side. He smiled inwardly, pleased.

Doctor March leaned down, dragging his flattened tongue the length of your cunt, stiffening the tip of it once he reached your clit — you let out a piercing whine, and he chuckled. “Your sensitivity seems… high.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Please sit up, and move to the edge of the table.” He barked, as he undid his own restrictions. You heard the clang of his belt. “Now.”

You did as you were told. The moment approached quickly, and your cunt clenched at the thought.

He wrapped his hands around your backside, pulling your closer to the edge of the table. With ease, he hoisted your legs into the crook of his elbows, holding them there. Your blushing cunt spread open for him, dripping eagerly. Hard enough that he didn’t have to hold it, Doctor March lined his cock up with his hips, pressing his squishy, hot tip into your slit. He took a fistful of your gown, tucking it back behind you so that he had a clear view of the treatment.

The first breach stung, stretching until your cunt finally gave way to his thick cock. The doctor let out a low sound, his legs quivering with the sensation. He wanted to ruin you, to split you wide open and make you cry so loud that all the orderlies came running. But he exercised restraint… slowly sinking his cock into you.

You trembled in his grip, unconsciously trying to writhe away from him, which only pulled an instinctive ferocity from him. He dug his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your closer to his torso. “Stay still.”

The first few humps were steady and slow, the kind that were accompanied by sweet hushes, and ‘it’ll be okay, my darling’s. However, they disappeared as quickly as they’d come — Doctor March began pounding himself into you, sinking himself all the way in.

As he drilled himself into you, the empty examination room was now filled with a cacophony of sounds; skin slapping wetly against skin, panting breaths, and ecstasy-ridden moans. Every shift of position brought his thick cock deeper into your cunt, hitting the deepest spot he could, until it ached each time the head bumped into your cervix.

You weren’t sure how long he’d been fucking you when you'd heard the hinges on the door creak as it opened. Doctor March didn’t seem to hear it, but you certainly did. You blinked, lifting your head heavily. A nurse stood in the doorway, her slender silhouette illuminated by the brightness of the hallway.

For a fleeting moment, you felt fear. You two were caught. Surely, there’d be consequences. But the thought quickly dissolved when you focused on the feeling of the doctor’s cock stretching you wide open, slipping in and out easily with the mutual arousal that leaked out onto the metal table below. You were the one in the arms of the head doctor — any punishments went through him first. Besides, if he was the one to punish you, you’d willingly accept it. The fear was replaced with deviousness, with delight and you stood your ground, waiting for the nurse’s undoubtedly shocked reaction.

Her eyes flitted all around, taking in the scene in front of her. Bemusedly, you watched as they trailed up his legs to his pants, hanging just below his ass as it bucked back and forth with each thrust into you, burying his cock deep inside. She scanned over your fingers as they curled possessively around the back of his neck, stroking his sweat-soaked skin. Your lips twisted into a wicked, daring smile as your eyes met and it was then that she gasped, covering the entire lower portion of her face with her slender, manicured fingers.

Doctor March, now noticing that you had stopped moaning in his ear, straightened up slightly, keeping the rhythm of his thrusts. He lazily turned his head to look behind him, but he was far too deep into euphoria to respond appropriately. His eyes were heavy, half-lidded as he too made eye contact with the nurse. He didn't stop fucking you. Instead, he groaned hard, and dropped his head into the curve of your shoulder. You heard the sound of the door pulling shut, and her high heels echoing hurriedly down the hall.

“She saw us,” you whispered. “She saw you taking me, Doctor March….”

His thrusts became harder and more erratic as his orgasm built and finally spilled out into you in hot spurts. The coil in your stomach twisted tighter until it snapped with a gush and a screaming, begging moan. You two had both been driven over the edge by yet another concerning fascination, voyeurism. The nurse witnessing this foul, illicit act had been so arousing to the both of you that you had, in unison, come undone on each other.

His breathing eventually slowed, and he backed himself out of you. You felt his cum running out of your cunt and down your legs as your dropped them onto the rim of the table.

“Well, how do you feel?”

“Worse.”

He quirked a brow, tilting his head to the side. “I have another hunger now, Dr. March. I want sex… and murder.”

He smiled deviously, slicking his hair back with one hand. “Indeed. Indeed you do.”

As he retrieved your underwear for you, you hopped off the table. “Do you think she’s going to tell?”

“If she does, we’ll take care of it, won’t we?”

The next day, the tenth day, you woke up with a smile on your face. The rain had stopped, the storm system moving away from your location. It remained cloudy. You hadn’t done anything that morning, except eat breakfast. You’d gone to sleep late that night, waiting until all the whispers and wails had died off. And you pleasured yourself again, knowing that the remnants of the Doctor’s thick cum was still inside you.

Just before lunch time, there was a faint knock, and the door opened. The same nurse who had seen Doctor March fucking you was the one who had come to check on you. You two wordlessly stared at each other, daring the other to speak first. Neither did.

She approached you hesitantly, clipboard in hand and the second she was close enough, your fingers clamped around her wrist, yanking her towards you.

“If you say a word about what you saw, he’ll kill you, and I’ll help him.”

She yanked her wrist back, the fear permeating through her core. Though she didn’t acknowledge your threat before hurrying out the door, you felt that she believed you.

Which, all things considered, was a bit of a shame.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @kaisbasementwhore / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @evansb1tch / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha

#James Patrick March #James Patrick March x reader #James Patrick March x you #James Patrick March x yn #ahs smut #ahs fanfiction #myfics #requests

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Note

I am IN LOVE with your writing! I’m a dedicated reader! 💓💓 thanks for taking the time to do it!

Hear me out. Reader pulls a 24 hour shift in the local clinic on a busy day and we get a protective worried din?

He would also be busy but he would definitely pull reader out and make her take a nap AT LEAST. 😂 anyway, I just thought that would be cute to think about.

I hope you have a wonderful day and keep up the good work!

[a/n: anybody wanna guess how many times it took me to try and post this b/c tumblr wanted to keep glitching and destroying it?? FUCKING FOUR. lord, im gonna go scream in a pillow. anyways, thanks anon for the great idea! also pls consider this my apology for the cliffhanger that i am so sorry (but not really) for.]

'A FRESH START' DELETED SCENE

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: reader overworks herself, mentions of injuries (burns specifically) but not in great detail

Word Count: 1,934

Summary: Everyone needs a break, and Din is hell bent on ensuring you don't skip yours.

#MID 17: TAKE A BREAK, DOC

[so not between chapters, but a scene within one of the time breaks in chapter 17.]

"be with someone who will take care of you. not materialistically but take care of your soul, your well being, your heart, and everything that's you." -unknown

Trying to get the emergency clinic established was not easy. You agreed to the job, and Karga had given you free reign. The High Magistrate was essentially allowing you to run the clinic as you saw fit. Which in part was fantastic because it gave you incredible freedom, but it was also your worst nightmare. All your training had taught you was how to handle the medical aspect of an office. The business and organization side was a whole other issue. Especially because the people of Nevarro were not understanding that this was for emergencies only.

“My ankle hurts.”

“Alright, when did this start? When did you get hurt?”

“I twisted it while jogging three years ago.”

“You⏤ Wait, what?”

In order for this to work the way it needed to, you’d have to focus on actual emergencies only. Alone you would never be able to handle the patient load that would come with servicing an entire city. Plus, you really didn’t want to. The amount of time it would take to even attempt that was insane, and Din needed your help with Grogu.

So, the plan would be to establish that this clinic was emergencies only, emphasize it to everyone who walked in the door, but for today you’d manage all the small, routine problems.

Just for today.

By lunch time, you had already seen 47 patients. None of which were emergent. In fact, the biggest injury was a young man who had dropped a glass plate at home and accidentally cut his hand. He needed four stitches.

“Aayla?”

“Four more in the waiting room, doctor!” Aayla called out without even having to be asked the question. She was a gift from the Maker today. Already, you had decided to try training her more in depth medically and hire someone else to work the front desk. “You also have a guest.

“What?” You breathed, barely able to catch her words.

Aayla didn’t need to repeat herself because that was the moment Din swept into the room with the same confident strut he naturally seemed to have. At the sight of him, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as your lips curled up into a smile.

“What is going on?” Din asked as he drifted closer to you. There were still two patients sitting on cots waiting for you to finish with them, but Din commandeered your attention by settling his hand on your lower back and staring down at you. Even through the helmet you could feel his concerned gaze. “Why are you so busy? I thought you were hired for emergencies only.”

“I was, but apparently nobody told all of Nevarro that.”

Din stiffened. “Did Karga⏤”

“No. I don’t think he tricked me into this or that this was on purpose.” You said quickly. “And everyone who comes in, I’m telling them that from now on it’s emergencies only.”

“But today?”

“Today, I am seeing every Nevarro citizen.” You chuckled. “You want a check up, Mando?”

“Ner kar’ta,” Din shook his head, “Have you taken any breaks at all?” You shot him a sheepish smile. “Come. Let’s get lunch.”

“I can’t. I’ll just get further behind.” You mumbled. Din looked like he was ready to argue with you. In fact, his hands even drifted to his hips as his head tilted. You had seen him take on the same stance before lecturing Grogu. You wrapped your hands around his forearm and gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. “It’s fine. I’m just sorry I’m bailing on you for lunch.” He sighed. “You poor thing, now you’ll have to spend more time with Mayfeld.”

Din huffed and you chuckled. Aayla called out that more people were filling the space, and for a second you thought the Mandalorian Marshal was considering sending everybody home just so you could have a moment for lunch. You squeezed his forearm.

“Fine.” Din grumbled.

“Also, I know this won’t help my argument or convince you of anything, but,” You scrunched your nose with a small wince, “Do you think you can pick up Grogu today?”

Din seemed taken aback based on his voice alone, “How long do you plan on staying?”

You knew his question was one more focused on the concern of you staying here for too long versus him being upset that you couldn’t get Grogu. When you shot him another sheepish smile he just grumbled under his breath in Mando’a. Din caught you off guard by leaning forward to lightly rest his forehead against yours for a second.

“This conversation isn’t over.” Din said simply and you just chuckled in response.

He squeezed your hand once before leaving and you were forced to return to the patients you had. Ten minutes passed at the most, you got two patients out with Aayla’s help, when Din’s heavy footfalls returned. You glanced over your shoulder to see he was holding a bag of food. He crossed the space to set the bag in your hands and you peered in to see it was your favorite sandwich from the local shop. Your eyes glanced back up at him with a grin. The warmth of being seen and known settling in your chest.

“Eat.” Din said firmly.

“Thank you.” You replied. “I’ll eat it as soon as⏤”

“No.” He interrupted. A tilt to his head and a challenge in his voice. “I’m not leaving until I watch you take a few bites. At the least.”

You rolled your eyes, in good nature, and handed him the bag so you could wash your hands in the sink off to the side. On your way back to Din, you asked Aayla to bandage one patient’s knee and get imaging of another patient’s hand. Din had already pulled out your sandwich to set on the desk you had brought into the corner. Before you could reach for it, Din pointed to the desk chair. With a chuckle you dropped down into the seat, the first time you were off your feet all morning, and only then did Din push the sandwich toward you.

“Thanks.” You said after your first bite. More sincere than your last. Din was leaning against the desk beside you. Close enough that your arm could press against his thigh if you moved it over even an inch. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Apparently, I did.” Din chuckled. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have eaten at all.”

You couldn't argue. Instead, you just shook your head, “Not gonna lie, I always did have a bad habit of getting caught up in my work.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“Doctor, can you take a look at this?” Aayla called out.

You quickly took one last, large bite of your sandwich before standing. Din pushed off the desk to tower over you again. He nodded. “I’ll pick up Grogu, but if you’re not home by 5 I’m coming back to drag you home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You teased.

Din leaned over to lightly tap his forehead against yours and you chuckled. He reached over to pick up your sandwich and held it up towards you. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t budge. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over and took another bite. Holding a hand over your mouth, tucking the food into your cheek, you spoke. “Happy?”

“Yes. Be careful. Message me if you need anything.”

You watched him leave with a bemused smile.

Never before had you been so acutely aware of the saying ‘when it rains, it pours’. Today had already been stressful and busy so it would make sense that at 4:25 in the afternoon an actual emergency rolled in. Nothing to test and stretch your skills like having to handle a trauma case after a full day of working. There had been an incident, on the other side of this world deep in the lava plains, where a group of smugglers got a bit too close to a river of lava with their weapons and nearly blew one another sky high.

The least injured of the three had flown them in. She had some superficial burns all along her left side. Then the other two had third degree burns that required some serious fluid replacement. You didn’t stop working, barely paused to take a breath, until all three were stable and resting comfortably. Only then did you drop down into your desk’s chair and rest your head on your arms with a sigh.

About twenty minutes later, a pair of hands settled on your shoulders, squeezing in comfort, and you would’ve been startled if you didn’t recognize the creak of Din’s leather with the comforting smell of his flight suit’s detergent and the polish used on his beskar.

“What time is it?” You groaned.

“8:42.”

“You’re nearly four hours late.”

Din squeezed your shoulders once more before letting a hand settle on the back of your neck. You found the weight of it grounded you. “I got here at 4:50. Saw you were busy with something important. Left then came back.” His thumb caressed your skin, and you pushed your head up to glance at him. Din had the hand not on your neck resting on the desk. “You alright?”

“Just tired.” You mumbled and rubbed your face with one hand. “Grogu?”

“He’s with Peli. Missed you at dinner though.” Din replied. “He acts up when you’re not around.”

“No, no. He’s a perfect angel, always.”

Din snorted at that, and the sound made you chuckle. You glanced over at the cots that held the three smugglers who slept soundly. All their vitals still stable. Din’s hand slipped down to rub your upper back soothingly. “You coming home?”

“I can’t. Not until the emergency shuttle gets here to pick those three up.” You sighed. “They have to be at a facility with a higher level of care than just me.”

“‘Just you’ saved their lives.”

“You know what I mean.” You shrugged. “You should go though.” Din tilted his head. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the ship to get here. I already sent Aayla home. I’m just babysitting right now. You should pick up Grogu and head home. Get some sleep.”

Din shook his head as if it were the stupidest thing you had ever said. He gently wrapped his hand around your upper arm and pulled you up from your seat. You let him drag you along to the fourth cot in the room which was currently empty. “You sleep. I’ll babysit.”

“Din…”

He lightly pushed down on your shoulders until you were seated on the cot. You stared up at him in question, but he just shook his head. “If something changes with their status I’ll wake you.” Din pushed you down a little further so you were laying down. The moment your body hit the relatively soft bed you felt yourself sink into it with exhaustion. Din went to walk, but you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the cot as well.

“You can babysit while laying down, can’t you?”

“My armor isn’t gonna be much of a pillow.”

“Neither is this cot.”

Din chuckled and dropped down to lay beside you. You rested your head on his chest, the cool metal of the beskar biting into your warm cheek, and just sighed. It hadn’t occurred to you how tired you truly were until now. Din had an arm wrapped around you so he could grasp your shoulder with his hand and use his thumb to trace patterns there.

“Take a break, doc.” Din hummed. “I got you.”

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writeyouin · 3 months

Text

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hell's Assumptions

A/N – Okay, I think that’s everyone on the tagging list. So, here’s to Chapter 4. Raise a glass.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEMALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

TAG LIST: @lxkeeeee @moonieper

People were staring.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good fellow,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

And so it was that you and Lucifer started to find some common ground, that slowly built the gap from two people who barely knew one another, towards friends.

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azaleakoneko · 6 months

Text

Doctor’s Orders

Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem|Reader

Requested by: @strawheart-pirate

A/N: Hii! I went back and forth for a bit about how exactly to do this prompt, but I hope you like it 😊. It was a nice little challenge ❤️‍🩹

Warnings: Super short lived anxiety to set the scene for the fluff! Soft Doctor Law 🫰

Word count: 3.4k

Please note that just because this work is fluff and appropriate for consumption of any age, that cannot be said about the rest of my blog. This is primarily an 18+ Blog and will stay that way, so keep that in mind, thank you!

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༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚ ༝༚༝༚

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Docking on islands to restock when possible certainly wasn’t unusual, but what was intended to be a short stay somehow turned from one day to three — from three to a week and then two as Law agreed to take on patients in return for the supplies he was receiving.

Normally he would’ve just done the bare minimum to get in and out of a town before getting too comfortable and letting his guard down, but something about this island didn’t want to let go of him. It was like he had been called there and didn’t quite know the reason, that is until he met you.

You were so sweet and personable with himself and his crew as you took it upon yourself to load his temporary office with the required supplies donated by the town. At first he hardly spoke a word to you aside from the usual gratitude, but he couldn’t help but take an interest in you the more you came around — admiring how hard you worked to help them out when you really didn’t need to. Your excuse was always something along the lines of ‘doing your due diligence for the town’, or simple enough excuses of citizens personally asking you to deliver goods on their behalf, but to him it always felt like there were words left unsaid behind those pretty lips of yours.

Eventually he accepted that alongside his frequent supply deliveries would be an opportunity to get to know you better, something he disliked less and less the more you opened up to him. Your smile alone made his heart leap and his face heat in a way that left him wondering for a while if perhaps he had caught something while treating the locals. However, after similar symptoms popping up at things like the sound of your voice, slight lingering touches from your delicate hands when you passed him things, or even the way you’d take an interest in his work — even the doctor had to admit to himself that there was more to his interest than just appreciation and that he indeed wasn’t sick. At least, not the type of sick medicine would cure.

Things continued progressing this way, sweet and slow, until one day there was a sudden heavy storm that threw off the routine he had grown to love.

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“She should have been here by now…” Law said to himself as his mind began to drift to the worst case scenarios as he rose to his feet, shoes thudding against the floor anxiously as he walked over to the heavy wooden door, swinging it open to stare out into the downpour. His heart sank and he had knots in the depths of his stomach at the thought of something terrible happening to you. His eyes scanned the darkened horizon and immediately widened when he saw a soaked figure surrounded by parcels being pelted by a merciless torrent of rain. Without a second thought he had already bolted out the door alongside a snap of lightning and rolling thunder outside, thinking about nothing else other than ensuring you hadn’t been harmed.

“Y/N! What were you even thinking still trying to make your delivery run out here in this nasty weather?” Law said with a bite to his voice, but the tremble gave away his true worry. “Come on, let’s get you inside so I can look you over and make sure these scrapes are just artificial.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to retort as he swept your drenched body up into his arms and began to carry you back inside, disregarding the drips littering the floor as he moved to place you down on the sterilized bed usually reserved for the temporary patients that came to see him. “Just lay back and let me check, alright? You’ve seen me use this before, so there’s nothing to fear y/n-ya.”

You nodded and would’ve attempted to stifle a giggle from his concern if it weren’t for your chattering teeth and trembling body preventing you from finding much of anything funny at the moment. “Mhm, I-I trust y-you Doctor.” You managed to murmur out, feeling a bit guilty for making a mess and causing so much unnecessary concern all because you wanted to keep to your schedule so you could spend another evening chatting with him about everything under the now clouded over sun. You certainly got your wish, but you hoped it didn’t come at the cost of wasting his time. “Oh n-no, the supplies!” You said, attempting to sit up and move.

Law placed a firm yet gentle hand on your shoulder with his eyebrows knit together in concern, not even needing to use much force to get you to lay back down on the mattress. “Supplies be damned — they can always be replaced, you on the other hand can’t be. Now let me do my examination before you try to move again. Doctor's orders, you hear me?”

You complied, wet clothing making a soft squelch against the plastic of the bed as you settled in, laying perfectly still with your gaze locked on him in fascination as he began to use his devil fruit powers to check over you with extreme precision. You already knew it was no use protesting until he had made sure himself, regardless of what you said. “S-So? What’s the verdict Doc? Am I gonna live?” You asked with a smirk, wishing you had a warm change of clothes so your teasing wouldn’t lose part of its playful effect from your continued shivering.

Hearing you joke around paired with the conclusive results of his powers had his shoulders sagging in relief. He sighed and put a tattooed hand to his head, satisfied that you really weren’t injured. “Yeah, thankfully you’re gonna be fine. Seriously though, what were you thinking y/n? You’re lucky you weren’t out there too long before I found you.”

“Still w-worrying about me, Trafalgar? I’m fine, really. I’m just a l-little cold and um, quite d-damp…” You said as you lifted one of your waterlogged sleeves as an example. “I just wanted to bring you what you needed — you’re not mad are you? I’m really sorry, I j-just wanted to see you.” It was clear enough by your honest tone that you were remorseful, but it made you worry if you had said something wrong when you saw him look momentarily bewildered by your innocent confession before it seemed the puzzle pieces finally clicked together in his mind. It was for him.

“…” Law looked upset but said nothing as he shook his head and offered his hand out for you to help you up from the examination table. “No, I’m not mad. Not at you or the situation,” He said as he waited for you to sit up and have a firm grip on his hand. “-so yeah, I was worried about you. Now come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom so you can shower and get warmed up. Wouldn’t want you to actually get sick… I have some things I can give you to change into when you’re done. I’ll leave them by the door and toss your wet clothes into the dryer afterwards. Does that sound okay with you?”

You nodded with a genuine smile, more than happy to have been offered his kindness instead of a frigid biting response on this already chilly evening. “Mhm, t-thank you very much d-doctor.” You muttered thankfully as he ushered you into the bathroom and waited for you to close the door.

Once you turned the water on and began to strip away the wet garments that had been stripping you of your body heat you heard his footsteps recede for a bit, returning a few minutes later with a soft rap on the door with his fingers that read ‘e’ and ‘a’. It nearly made you jump since you weren’t accustomed to showering at someone else’s home, let alone someone you were infatuated with, but he was respectful and as promised left the dry clothing by the door; his yellow sweatshirt with his crew’s symbol and a comfortable pair of sweatpants.

“Take your time, I’ll get started on making something hot for you to drink when you get out. Feel free to use any of the stuff in the shower, I don’t mind. Just leave the wet things on the floor, I’ll take care of them.” He called out as he headed to the kitchen, letting you ease into the steaming water to ease away the chill and scrub away the wet filth.

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When you got out you felt fully refreshed, the shivering from the cold now replaced with a slight nervous tremble as you looked at yourself in his clothes — a slight blush decorating your cheeks. “He’s just being nice, don’t think too much of it..” you said to yourself as you ignored your own words, gripping the front of the hoodie and bringing it up to your nose to inhale the scent that still lingered there. It was a musky pine scent that made butterflies tingle in your stomach before you dropped the material and cleared your throat, not wanting to be flustered when you joined him again.

You left the wet items on the floor despite feeling a bit guilty for leaving a mess, but he did say he would take care of it after all. Since you were done you took one last glance at yourself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom and going to look for him. It didn’t take long, you just followed your nose to the alluring scent of hot chocolate and peppermint to the kitchen; eyes widening in delight when you saw the steaming cup topped with whipped cream just waiting for you on the table across from the considerate doctor himself.

“That smells delicious! Thank you, Trafalgar…” You gasped as you picked up the cup and eagerly took a sip, disregarding the white foam that now covered the top part of your lip. The hot liquid scorched your tongue and throat a little as you gulped it down, but the way it warmed your insides had you sighing contentedly before flashing him a grateful smile. “I don’t know how to repay you for all of this…”

“There is no need for you to repay me y/n. You do plenty just by bringing me supplies and giving me company all the time…” Law said as he held up a hand and shook his head, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks as he looked at you. It also seemed you weren’t the only one that liked how you looked in his clothing, evident by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you now. “If you really want to thank me though, please be more careful. I like seeing you too, but not if it puts you at risk.” He said before diverting his attention from you and grabbing his own cup in an attempt to hide his embarrassment from sounding like an overprotective partner when it hadn’t even been something in your control — let alone the fact that he was just being a friend to you and nothing more.

At least that’s what he continued to think to himself as he put his cup down and cleared his throat. “I’m really glad that you’re alright though... It’s still too stormy out there for me to feel comfortable sending you home. You can stay here tonight if you’re comfortable with that? I can take the couch — you can go ahead and take the bed for the night.”

You nearly choked on your drink when you heard him offer his bed for the night, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of not having to leave was appealing. You carefully set the cup down with a delicate clink against the table and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “R-Really? I wouldn’t want to impose… I can take the couch, it’s not a problem. Besides, I’m not even tired yet.” That was true enough. How could you possibly be tired now knowing you would be sleeping under the same roof as your beloved doctor? It seemed impossible, improbable even, yet that was your current predicament thanks to the heavy rains.

“Tired or not it wouldn’t be right to have you sleep on the couch when I have a perfectly good bed you could use. Doctor’s orders.” Law said as a playful smirk began to pull at the corners of his lips, clearly loving being able to take advantage of his title to force your hand on the sleeping arrangements. Not like he minded — he’d fallen asleep in much more uncomfortable places than a soft, warm couch during his countless hours of medicinal study.

You puffed your cheeks up and crossed your arms but knew he’d already made up his mind. “Fine, but can we just… talk for a while? I mean, I did almost die and all just so I could come and give you some company.” Sure it was a dramatization, but he was already not playing fair so you weren’t going to either. “Or are visiting hours done for the night?”

Law scoffed amusedly and walked around the table so he was in front of you before plopping one of his hands on the top of your head to ruffle your hair softly. “I think I can push back visiting hours, just for you. But first... you have something on your face just here—” he mumbled as he raised his other hand, index finger swiping along your top lip to collect the forgotten cream from the hot chocolate before thoughtlessly popping his finger into his mouth, swirling the cream off of his finger with his tongue before realizing that was probably too much.

You were stunned as you watched him, feeling your heart skip from his closeness and the random act of intimacy. “T-Trafalgar…?” You stuttered his name quietly, all hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks gone out the window. If it were possible you’d probably have steam coming out of your ears, but in reality you stood there like a deer in headlights with widened eyes and a yearning expression on your face. Part of you wished he would’ve just kissed you to get it off, only making your mortification worse.

Law thought about it too as he saw your sweet, confused yet wanting expression, but he wasn’t sure if it would be too much so he chose to back off a bit with a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head and took a step back. “Sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away didn’t I… Here, let me take your cup. We can just go sit on the couch and talk until you get tired, if I didn’t make things weird?”

It took a moment for your brain to rewire, but when it did you cleared your throat and shook your head. “U-Um it’s not weird, I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought you were going to.. going to um..” you began to say before stopping yourself. “Never mind, it’s not important! S-Sure, sounds good to me.” Never before had you wanted to kick yourself more than in that moment, but he just smiled at you knowingly as he took the cup from you and began to wash it in the sink along with his own before setting them both in the dish rack side by side.

He then led you to the couch and let you get settled before sitting beside you, noticing your feeble attempts at maintaining distance as the two of you discussed everything you’d initially planned on bringing up to him. That didn’t last long however. The more you talked and the later it got, the more you sank into his side until he had his arm slung comfortably behind you, casually holding onto you as if it were a normal thing between the two of you. It was comforting paired with the sound of the rain still pelting the windows outside, urging you to stay inside with Law where it was safe and warm.

“Are you getting tired yet…?” Law asked softly as he raised his other hand to tuck some of your loose strands behind your ear, feeling his heart spill over with warmth and unbridled affection when you looked up at him. His devil fruit allowed him to steal hearts at will, but that look you gave him alone ensured that you had stolen his without even trying. “You look like you’re barely keeping your eyes open. I can carry you to the bed if you need me to, y/n.”

A sleepy pout knitted your brows together and your hand attempted to grip onto his shirt in protest but your grip was hardly strong enough to do so when you were only barely staving off the lull of sleep thanks to his attentiveness and warmth. “I’m not falling asleep. I’m wide awake, see…?” You said as you made a show of widening your eyes just for your lids to quickly return to their half lidded state — your hand partially sliding down his chest since it took everything you had just to stay conscious.

Law chuckled, his laugh reverberating in his chest and making you shake slightly and making it ten times harder to stay awake from hearing the soft pleasant sound you adored so much so closely. “Yeah, I see that…” he said as he sighed and pulled you closer into his side, angling his hold on you so that it would be easier for him to scoop you up and carry you into the room when you finally passed out. “You put up a good fight, but I think it’s the sandman’s shift with you now sweetheart…”

If you were more conscious that comment would’ve sent you into another fluster, but all you could process was him trying to move you and it resulted in you using the last of your energy to cling to him. “Please just let me stay wherever you are, Traffy…”

Law paused for a moment at your use of a nickname on him in return while asking something like that of him. It was so cute watching you fight him even now, and he had to admit it was a nice thought — getting to fall asleep with you tucked inside of his arms, safe from the rainstorm and warm in his bed. He sighed once more and leaned his head down to place a chaste kiss against your forehead as a distraction before swiping you up effortlessly in his arms, head nestled against his shoulder, and took you into the darkness of his organized bedroom to lay you down on his bed.

He placed you down on the bed, helping you slip under the covers with a tender smile on his face as he watched you dig your face into his pillow and visibly relax. “That’s it, get comfortable.” He hummed quietly as he tried to back off and let you fall deeper into the slumber you so badly tried to put off, but your hand caught his when he tried to walk away, your next words making him feel like he had no choice but to give you whatever you wanted.

“Can you please stay with me? I want you here…” You said with a half conscious yawn, struggling to open your eyes and look at him. He’d be sure to tease you in the morning about how you refused to let him leave the room, but for now his resolve crumbled and he crawled into the bed beside you, pulling you against his chest — not even surprised at the contented hum that left your lips as you nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder, eyelids beginning to flutter closed once again now that you’d gotten what you wanted. “Thank you, that’s much better. Goodnight Traffy, you’re the best…”

Law couldn’t take how sweet you were being to him, feeling like he would burst from the happiness he felt. He stroked your hair affectionately with one hand as he gently tilted your face towards his, almost talking himself out of it when he saw your sleepy confused expression, but nonetheless he pressed his lips to yours in a short and sweet kiss. “Goodnight y/n… Sleep well, sweetheart.” Then he sank into the bed and pulled you close once more.

There was so much more he wanted to say, so much he wanted to offer you; like joining him on the Polar Tang when they did decide to leave, but that would have to wait until both of you were rested. For now all he wanted to do was wait out the rain wrapped up in this cozy little bubble with you.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©HauntedHeartHowl, previously HowlTheSanjiSimp. Please do not copy, modify, translate, feed my fan fictions to AI, repost or promote my writing or graphics on other platforms. Please DO feel free to comment, reblog or follow <3

#hauntedhearthowl #howl’s saccharine autumn #one piece fluff #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar law fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #one piece law x reader #one piece x female reader #one piece x y/n #Spotify #no beta we die like men

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year

Note

I reaaaally love your blog and writing. You deserve all the followers and attention!! Yandere is so difficult to make accessible because it has so much potential to be negatively triggering instead of….like….arousing…ly? The whole fear to….haappy chemicals…I don’t know the science 🥹 but you do it perfectly.I am always amazed and in love with what you write❤️❤️❤️

For your follower event, if you arent too full alreadddy. Thinking “You were only supposed to be a temporary psychologist where a member was confined “ with Hoseok or Seokjin?

I had a dream like that recently and I can’t get it out. I would love to see your rendition 🙏

Happy Easter, I hope you enjoy the chocolates and bunnies ❤️

My Sunshine

Pairing: Patient!Jung Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Slight sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: ahhhhh yes, our love for twisted love! Tysm for loving my works! Belated Happy Easter hehe this was late but tysm for celebrating with me.

3000 celebration

He kept on smiling.

Had you met him under differences circumstances, you were certain that the thought of him being a danger to the society wouldn’t cross your mind. You were sure that under different circumstances, you and him would be friends. He had that specific aura in him, as though he was the sun that brought light to the world. He looked as though anyone could mess up and he wouldn’t have it in him to be angry. Not only did he look kind, but he was one of the most good looking men you had ever laid eyes on. His prominent jaw and his heart-shaped lips were only some of the attributes that stood out. His eyes were crinkling as he continued smiling at you.

Jung Hoseok looked like the kindest person you would ever meet.

Except that he did send twelve people to the hospital. The worst part of it all was that he was seen to be laughing as he beat up the men. He was said to be having the time of his life as he bathe on their blood.

He was happy.

Just like now.

You cleared your throat and crossed your legs, your notepad resting on your thighs as you tried to calm your nerves. Hoesok looked like he was not affected by any of this, as though he was not mandated by court to be evaluated psychologically. He was too calm as though he wasn’t currently confined in a mental institution because, and he quoted, he was a menace to the society.

Yet there he was, sitting on the couch in front of you with his hands resting on his lap- an image of a good, patient student.

“You look nervous, Doctor. Please, don’t be,” he broke the silence with his comforting voice, his eyes shining with genuine worry over your state. “I don’t bite.”

Oh, but he did bite that one guy. But not you, though. He decided you looked like a good person. The psychologist that came before you was on mental health leave. He stated that Hoseok’s case was stressing him out, that he was beyond saving and so they temporarily sent the new doctor in. For the life of him, he didn’t know why he was the cause of that doctor’s stress when all he did was smile at him.

Maybe he should stop smiling? Ahh, but he was just so happy, he thought.

“How are you, Hoseok?” You finally asked, looking up from his files to the man himself who was still…smiling so unnervingly.

He tilted his head in what someone could described as adorable. “The food is bland, doc. I think I’m losing weight since they sent me here two months ago,” he replied with a shudder, remembering the tasteless meals they made him eat. He even volunteered to replace the cook and they only looked at him with fear in their eyes. He was being serious, though.

You stood up without a second thought, going straight to your bag to grab your packed lunch. You were walking to him when you paused, suddenly thinking of the warnings they told you.

Don’t get too close, they said.

Don’t get fooled by his innocent face, they said.

He’s dangerous, they said.

He’s obsessive, they said.

In hindsight though, you should have listened to them. But then you kept on walking and placed your food container on the coffee table in front of him. He was watching you curiously, that smile was still ever so present on his face. He watched you hesitate before looking at him, your hand holding your own utensils.

“I won’t hurt you,” Hoseok claimed with a nod. He knew you what you were thinking. He wasn’t a bad man, he would never hurt you.

You blinked owlishly when he caught on what you were thinking before slowly placing the utensils in his large hand. “I’m choosing to trust you, Hoseok.”

A bad decision, really.

That day, he finished the food for the first time since he was institutionalized. You were good at cooking, and he found himself looking forward to his visits. He found himself hating when the clock strikes one hour. He hated when he had to leave.

The first few visits, he would only smile at you and would evade your questions with his silence. And so, you started talking about your day, your family, your work- anything to fill the silence for an hour. Jung Hoseok merely listened. You did it for another two visits until he started chiming in, asking you follow-up questions with such genuine curiosity. It was during the fifth visit when he started sharing about his childhood, about how he had a loving mom and a younger sister…about how they both perished because of some stupid break-in that happened when he wasn’t there to protect them.

He was sixteen.

You told him it wasn’t his fault, that he had no control over what happened before. You told him that he shouldn’t blame himself.

He grinned at you and told you that yes, he didn’t have control before. But now, he had all the control and power. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to my family again.”

You frowned at his words before looking down at the file you had already gone through several times. Did you miss the information about his family? You were certain he had none. He was said to be merely existing with no known ties. Or had all of you been fooled?

“You’re cute when you’re confused,” he observed as he leaned in, his chin resting delicately on his hand. “Your face is so expressive. You’re like a…sunshine.”

Your eyes widened from his unexpected compliment, and you couldn’t help but feel you cheeks warming up. “And I like how sunshine makes me feel,” he trailed off before smiling even brighter at you.

Brushing off the confusing feelings he evoked from you, you looked at the peculiar man, in front of you before straightening your back. “It says on the file that you no longer have living relatives.”

“I’m referring to the future family I’ll surely have, sunshine,” he divulged dreamily as though having a family of his own was promised to him.

That day was the first time you saw the swirling darkness and insanity in his eyes.

You didn’t look up when he entered the room for his visit this time, your eyes focused on your laptop to keep your emotion in check. You heard the nurse removing his straight jacket before leaving the room.

Hoseok observed you from the distance he hated, your head bowed on the device when he heard it. You sniffed, your eyes looked swollen.

Were you crying?

Hoseok felt his hand turned into a fist, his smile faltering slightly. He badly wanted to come to you if not for the device enclasping his ankle. He detested that thing- how it could control him, how it could stop him from going to you.

Additionally, he wondered why he cared…or why he didn’t care that he was falling for you.

“Who do I have to hurt, sunshine?” He inquired with a reassuring smile that did anything but reassured you. You haltered your movement before slowly sitting down in front or him.

“I didn’t bring you food today. I’m sorry-“

He waved his hand at you, his focus not on the delicious meals you always brought him. His main focus was on who he had to hurt for hurting you. “Why are you crying, sunshine?”

You swallowed the rising tightness in your throat, tears desperately wanting to fall. “I’m not-“

“Tsk. We don’t lie here, sunshine. You made me promise not to lie to you. Shouldn’t you, too?”

“I just-“ you took a deep breath to calm yourself before looking at anywhere but him. “I just had an awful week, Hoseok. It’s just a lot. My other clients aren’t exactly as…kind as you are. I have a lot of responsibilities on top of my grandmother’s hospital bills-“ you cut yourself off before you could even rant longer. You dared to raise your eyes to his, only to find him listening intently. The twisted gears in his mind turning as he processed what you were saying. “I-I’m sorry. You’re my patient. I shouldn’t have-“ you trailed off before clearing your throat. “That was unprofessional of me. You have your own problems and you didn’t need to hear mine.”

He regarded you for a moment with silence that wasn’t welcomed, a tad bit too long before he beamed at you once again. “Would you like to hear about my past, sunshine?”

“Of course,” you answered, hiding your excitement. You barely scratched the surface with him, only letting you know what he wanted you to know. And besides, his old psychiatrist would come back soon. After all, his court hearing was fast approaching.

He smiled eagerly at you before tapping the space next to him. He saw you hesitated. Hoseok hated that. Oh what he would give to see you come willingly to him, he thought. Ah, it would come. He was sure.

“It’s a secret, sunshine,” he added as though it would convinced you. “You need to come near me so I can whisper it to you,” he reasoned out with a pout, his eyes twinkling with mischief. You were safe with him. He promised himself never to hurt you when he accepted that he was falling for you. He watched you with enthusiasm and when you finally sat next to him, he felt the happiest. He turned to you before thoughtlessly holding your soft hand in his larger one. Your heart beat faster. You never expected his hand to be warm and strong. He was confusing you. Jung Hoseok was messing with your emotions. They did warn you, but you had always been a stubborn girl since you were young. You were about to pull it away from him when he spoke.

“My father was the leader of an…organization,” he began, his eyes focused on the way your hand was smaller than his. He loved how the size difference made him feel. He loved… “It was his enemies who murdered my family.”

You stopped pulling your hand away from him. He was finally sharing. He was finally letting you in his dark and bloody past. “Where is your father, Hoseok?”

He chuckled as if you asked him a funny question. He was now nuzzling your hand, rubbing it so gently against his cheek.

You didn’t have to know who was his first kill.

You didn’t have to know it was his own flesh and blood.

“He’s dead, sunshine. Not that I care,” he mused before planting small kisses on the back your hand, his hold tightening when he felt you about to pull away. “He was an abusive person who hurt my mother. That’s not love, right?” He asked you before turning his head to you. He was close…so close that you could clearly see the color of his eyes, could clearly count the little freckles on his face. He was so close that you could feel the heat coming from him.

Hoseok smiled at you before lifting his hand and caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. He was watching his hand touched your skin as though he was enchanted by it. He smiled, still smiling when the conversation was as heavy as this way. “You don’t hurt the people you love. Because if you did, that’s simply not love.”

You went home that day with your thoughts scrambled by what he revealed. You weren’t aware that he was that powerful, that his family was one of the richest and most powerful family in the country. You weren’t aware of how dangerous he really was.

But you were now as you looked at the email from the hospital stating that your bill and any succeeding treatments were all taken care of by none other than the Jung Group of Companies.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said for the fifth time today, your patience running thin from how stubborn he was. You were sitting in front of him despite his insistence that you sat next to him. He missed you. Thrice a week visitation was starting to not be enough for him. He worried for you constantly.

Did you eat?

Did you come home safe?

Did any other fuckers looked at you?

Did they?

Did they try to get your attention?

Did someone try to touch you?

Did they?

See, he worried. And it was for that reason that he had someone following you for your protection, and well…his sanity.

“Come sit with me, my sunshine,” he smiled at you as he patted not the sit beside him, but his lap this time. Your eyes widened at what he wanted. You weren’t a fool, you noticed him becoming touchy with you. You noticed him starting to be possessive of you. You were shaking your head before walking further away from him.

He hated seeing you walked away from him. He tilted his head to the side before giving you what he knew you couldn’t resist. “My sunshine,” he called you in a sing-song voice, smiling so sweetly at you it made you sick. “If you come to me now, I’ll tell you about why I beat those boys. And wouldn’t that make your job easier?”

He could see the fight in your eyes, could see you wondering whether you should trust him. In his opinion, you should trust him. He only wanted what was best for you, and well…he was the best for you. He watched you make your decision, and at the end, your sense of self-preservation lost the fight. He was triumphant as he held you in his arms, his hand caressing your waist.

God, he loved you.

“You see…those men,” he whispered from behind you, his lips touching your neck as he spoke and you couldn’t help but feel goosebumps from the way he touched you. “They were the one who murdered my family.

You stiffened from what he said…and from his lips that were peppering open-mouthed kisses on your neck. His hold on you was tight, his other hand caressing your smooth thigh. “And if you do a bad thing, shouldn’t there be consequences? You know…I waited too long for justice to come. I was patient, until I wasn’t. They weren’t atoning for their sins, sunshine. They keep on hurting innocent people. And I stopped them,” he whispered hotly in your ear, his finger so close to your core. Fuck, were you just as twisted as he was? How could you be attracted to him? To this?

Your core clenched when he traced your slit on top of your underwear. He chuckled when he felt how wet you were. He couldn’t wait to marry you. He couldn’t wait for the beautiful family that the two of you would create.

“That way, they could no longer hurt anyone. Am I not the good guy here?”

You could see it clearly now. Jung Hoseok had a distorted concept on what was right and wrong. He saw everything as black and white, his foundation was that he was good to those who were kind, yet he was even worse to those who were bad.

He enjoyed delivering his twisted justice.

“And if I’m the good guy, don’t I deserve the happily, ever after?” He whispered. You turned to look at him, his pupils blown wide evidencing his lust. He smiled at you before leaning in and kissing you so softly you thought it was your imagination. “I think I do, my sunshine. I think I deserve you.”

A knock woke you up from the twisted and hypnotic words from Hoseok. Your hour was done. You stood up hastily, fixing your skirt and blouse before facing him. Fuck, what had you done?

“I-I think…I think you need another doctor. This is our last meeting,” you stammered at the calm Jung Hoseok. He was sitting on the couch with his legs spread apart, his eyes focused on you. For the first time since you met him, he lost his smile. He looked dangerous. He was dangerous.

You should have listened to them.

Next week was his final hearing, and he already knew what would happen. He wasn’t a Jung for nothing. If you thought you would leave him that easy, you were in for a treat. He would be with you after his hearing. It would all be done. You would finally be in his arms each night. And it was that thought that calmed him down.

He only smirked, “See you next week…my sunshine.”

#3000 celebration #jung hoseok fic #bts fic #bts yandere #jung hoseok yandere #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x you #j-hope fic #jung hoseok x y/n

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skullytotheark · 3 months

Text

Timothy Wright “Masky”

For beginners and people who want accurate/canonical lore

[i spent an hour writing about tim lore so i said fuck it and decided to post]

[NOTE: Alot of this is canon Tim lore except for headcanon stuff, The Original source for Tim is Marble Hornets.]

Bio

Name: Timothy Wright

Current Age: 35 [late 20s when marble hornets ends]

Height: 5’6

Canonical Physical appearance: Timothy Wright is a slightly chubby build man with noticeable stubble and sideburns along with a combover hairstyle

Tim’s overall personality: Tim is a level-headed, cautious person, but he is not afraid enough of his advisories for them to disable him. Tim can also be socially awkward at times but tends to be calm a lot of the time

Canonical sexuality: Asexual [Confirmed by Tim Sutton]

Original source material: Marble Hornets [2009]

Creator: THAC TV [The Marble hornets crew], Troy Wagner, Joseph Delage [Writers of marble hornets] and Tim Sutton [Actor of Timothy Wright]

Lesser known facts

Tim’s final words to Brian who is revealed to be Hoody in entry 86, Were “I’ll Kill you”

When Jay is reading Tim’s files in entry 60.5, There is a noticeable detail in the documents that says “Does patient smoke” or something of this nature and it is ticked “Someone in the house smokes,” Implying that one of his family members smoke and this habit soon grew onto him

In entry ######, The person speaking throughout the video is confirmed to be Tim [the actor], Which Means that this is the first and last time where Masky has spoke

Tim was going to college originally wanting to do photography [confirmed by Tim or Troy]

Despite popular belief, Masky / Tim is not a proxy. This being confirmed from the multiple times both Masky & Hoody constantly avoid or run away from the Operator / Slenderman.

After we are led to believe the worst when Marble Hornets ended [believing that Tim offed himself]. Skully in issue 3.5 from the official Marble Hornets comics confirms that Tim is in fact Still alive. This statement is also made true in the canceled Clear Lakes 44 series by Troy Wagner when we see footage of Tim returning to a normal life and working moving supplies

OOC fact that i think more people should probably know about: The Cheesecake joke is a fatphobic joke made via the creepypasta fandom along with other viewers who would make negative remarks towards Tim's weight, Tim later develope a eating disorder because of the constant insults he got about his weight

[Canon] Important events & Lore for Tim

[For people who don't wanna sit through the entire series and kinda want it summarized through]

[NOTE: Rake note that I will be updating certain points if they are incorrect lorewise since alot of this is based off of my own interpretations and memories of the marble hornets series]

Tim’s childhood:

At First Timothy Wright was a very normal lad, Although socially awkward and having a slightly shaky relationship with his mother and father, Tim was considered a normal child. However It is when Tim is 8 to 12 this is when he’s beginning to experience symptoms that are under the hallucination and schizophrenia category. After multiple visits to the doctor his mother “Janet Wright” finally decides to send Tim to the local psychiatric ward where he is further treated by the doctors within the ward, But no matter what they’ve tried it seem that every now and then Tim will have a episode where he breaks out of the ward and run into the local park rosswood national park or hide in a maintenance tunnel which was close to the ward. Always claiming that he was hiding from whatever that he was seeing before bringing him back and locking Tim into his room and giving him large doses of his medication.

College:

A Couple Of Years Later, [around early 2000s] Tim is released into the world and is stable enough to go to college and get proper education, Tim originally studied for photography however it is when his close friend “Brian Thomas” introduces Tim to “Alex Kralie”, Brian was originally auditioning for Alex’s student film “Marble Hornets” but soon Tim was somewhat pressured into auditioning himself. Alex takes note of both of the two’s auditions and later hires them for his student film. Everything started off very tame, The cast would often go off to small locations and film for the movie until later on Alex seemingly becomes more paranoid and slightly aggressive towards his cast. While location hunting with Alex Tim takes him to an old abandoned location near his psychic ward he spent as a child, However after Alex pestered him about the ward Tim soon unwillingly showed him the ward where Alex later attempted to kill Tim. Tim narrowly escapes Alex and although Tim had no memory of this encounter Tim & Alex soon loose touch

Mid Marble Hornets:

[#54 to #59]

In the early 2010s Having no memory of most of the filming during Marble Hornets, Tim was now living a somewhat stable life with a small job. Everything seemed surprisingly normal in life until one of Brian’s Mutuals “Jay Merrick” requests a few of the tapes Tim had that he was given to by Alex so he can use some of the scenes to finish the Marble Hornets Film Alex was working on. Tim gives the tapes to Jay and Jay asks Tim to take him to one of the locations him and Alex visited to, Although slightly skeptical Tim agrees and takes him to the abandoned location. Jay strangely having a weird fixation on the abandoned ward next door to the location Tim originally took Jay to, While roaming within the halls Jay notices a hooded figure roaming down the halls and chases after him. Very suspicious of Jay’s behavior after this encounter, Tim discovers the “Marble Hornets Youtube Channel” and realizes that Jay was lying to him about wanting to finish the film. Tim confronts Jay in a parking lot and tells Jay to never talk to him again. However Tim’s medication was stolen by the Hooded figure that appeared in the ward and Tim has a seizure, When it ended Tim didn’t seem like his regular self as he dawns a mask from the hooded figure before entering rosswood park, Jay following the two in an attempt to help Tim while he was in this strange autopilot like state where Tim is extremely hostile and non talkative.

Masky: “A Mask Of My Own Face”

[Appearances:#18, #19, #23, #33, #35, #45 #50, #52, #61, #76 and # 86]

Originally appearing in entry 18, This strange state Tim appears in every now and then where Tim is mute and often hostile to most People. A possible Theory is that this State is the body’s self defense mechanism for an entity known as the Operator who has haunted Tim all of his life and is the possible reason he spent most of his childhood in a psychiatric ward in the first place. As mentioned this mechanism seemingly puts the body in an autopilot like state where Tim acts without second thought. The Hooded Figure seemingly knew this and exploited Tim’s defense mechanism to have Tim attack Alex multiple times, During one of these attacks Tim attacked Alex [who was visiting an abandoned location with Jay] wearing a white Mask that had black outlines going around the edge of the mask, Black teardrop shaped outlines going around the mask’s eyeholes, U shaped eyebrows and lips painted onto the white mask with black sharpie or paints. During this attack Alex tied Tim and had Jay hold him down before Alex smashed and broke Tim’s leg with a block of cement [this action from Alex caused conflict between him and Jay]. In another attack with Alex the hooded man distracted Alex as Tim got the upper hand and threw Alex to the ground, Tim then tries to smash Alex’s head in with the Rock but fails so attempts to choke him. However this attack failed and the two ran off when they noticed that the Operator was protecting Alex.

“The End Days”

[#63 to 83]

Towards The End. After Jay and Tim make an agreement to help each other, The Two begin going location to location in attempts of finding any pieces to the puzzle Jay has been trying to solve for years now, In attempts to avoid Alex the two would go hotel to hotel while constantly going to new locations slowly but surely piecing things together. During this Time Tim and Jay form a small friendship between each other while also sharing possible theories to what happened during marble hornets, Such as Where to find a missing person named Jessica Locke and why Alex did all of this. However things take a turn when Jay and Tim are attacked by the Operator while searching at Alex’s old house, This attack sending Jay in a state where he is barely aware of his surroundings and aimlessly wandering. Of course Tim tries to lessen the side effects from this attack by giving Jay some of his medication however Jay is very stubborn and seemingly refuses any help while in this state. A short while later when Tim and Jay discover that Alex was hiding in Tim’s house waiting for Tim to come back so he could kill Tim and hopefully Jay, A small argument sparked between the two about whether they should go to the house or not, They soon go to Tim’s house to learn that Alex was kidnapped by the hooded man and is holding him at a abandoned school. However Jay soon attacked Tim and snatched a tape recording that Tim was hiding from him, Jay leaves and watches the tape to find that the hooded man and Tim [while in autopilot state] abducted Jessica possibly in an attempt to drag her out of the whole marble hornets mess, The three go to Rosswood park only for Alex to attack them, Jessica defends herself from Alex when realizing Alex was the threat and not the two masked men before retreating in the forest only for the Operator to abduct her. Learning the contents within the tape only caused conflict to spiral between Tim and Jay when Jay pinned the blame on, Jay attempts to attack Tim but Tim disarms and ties Jay up, informs he’s going to the abandoned shool and leaves Jay at his house. While Tim was having a coughing fit moments after he exits the school and runs to his car he hears a loud gunshot, He recollects himself to find Jay’s camera which shows that Alex shot Jay and in response lock himself in a room only for the Operator to kidnap Jay. Upon learning about this Tim pins the blame on both Alex and the hooded man, A few days later Tim and the hooded man have a fight that led to the Hooded man falling out of the window and to his death. Leaving only Tim and Alex left,

“The Day, The Music Died"

[2014]

In the final days, Tim and Alex was teleported to different locations Tim has been to during marble hornets, The two often exchanging blows to each other while Tim attempts to persuade Alex into stopping this madness, However Alex believes that everyone he had killed was infected with a sickness and that if he hadn’t kill them the sickness would spread, Tim’s counter argument to this is that Alex was only being used by The Operator as a source of power. However when Alex finally gets a grip on Tim, Tim stabs Alex in the neck before stabbing him multiple times in defense. Ending the madness, A few days later Tim was last seen interacting Jessica who was revealed to be alive until Tim suddenly disappeared off the face of the earth.

Personal Headcanons

Tim often avoids wearing clothing that he wore during marble hornets, Especially his Tan jacket he wore as Masky.

Tim sometimes gets recognized as the “Masky guy from That one web series”, A Lot of the time he tends to avoid interacting with people who recognized him since what happened during Marble Hornets greatly scarred and traumatized him. But every now every than he kinda has a small outburst where he basically says “Don’t talk to me or bring that shit up” before storming off

Tim often spots Skully in the distance watching him, Skully is the walking and breathing embodiment of everything and everyone he wants to forget but no matter how hard he tries Skully just seems to find them, Alot of the time he tends to ignore them but recently Skully has been standing in places where they are more noticeable so Tim can see Them, But whenever Tim asks if anyone saw Skully they don’t know what he’s talking about. He’s not even sure if Skully is real at this point.

The Operator doesn’t seem to stalk Tim as much as he expects, The Operator in fact barely follows him anymore due to the lack of conflict Tim has been involved him, Basically meaning that Tim is semi free from this parasitic worm clinging onto him and using him as a source for violence. But of course Tim doesn’t know this and is still extremely paranoid.

Tim finally is doing his original passion which is photography. He often tends to avoid going into wooded areas but every now and then he notices that sometimes his photos contain a bluejay in the background which, Sometimes saddens him but mostly makes him feel better. Tim usually takes photos of small flowers and places that often have beautiful scenery

Tim has a job in repairing computers and getting rid of viruses on old people’s computers. But 99% of the time he’s standing at the cash register having old people ask weird and specific questions about the camera models they’re buying, Sometimes he wonders if working at mcdonalds is better but he does like getting paid

Proxy Tim AU

In this canon/au where Tim is working as a Proxy, Tim is seemingly hypnotized into working for The Operator. But little does the Operator know Tim is slowly but surely slipping out of his puppet like state

Alot of the time Tim hates interacting with other proxies, They’re so loud and honestly so disgusting. Tim is a regular guy amongst a crowd of killers who get their kicks off of killing innocent people just because this eldritch like being tells them to. He kinda finds them pathetic…

Tim despises himself for working for the Operator, Tim thought he couldn't hate himself anymore but he has proven himself wrong yet again. He’s becoming more and more unphased by being told what to do by the Operator and it scares him. He doesn’t want to become like Alex but it seems that there’s no stopping that now.

Tim’s original mask has seen better days. Every now and then he does attempt to clean it but staples and glue can't do a lot when your mask was crushed by a bunch of junk after you throw it away. So eventually Tim does get a fresh mask which has slightly smaller eyeholes and more pronounced lips then the last one but overall both masks have the same paint job, Also worth mentioning that Tim dons a new fur collar jacket and black leather/plastic gloves

#marble hornets #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #masky marble hornets #Masky #tim wright #Timothy Wright

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twice-inamillion · 4 months

Text

Sorrow

Angst (Fear, Sadness, Hate, Anguish, Loss)

Chapter 219

2,070 Words

(Sana’s worst fears comes to pass. Twice tries their best to help Sana process this difficult moment.)

“There’s blood,” says Sana to Nayeon and Jeongyeon with a terrified expression.

Jeongyeon pulls Nayeon to the side, “I think this is serious. She shouldn’t get bleeding like this.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, when you were helping walk to the bathroom, I saw a stain of blood on heels bed.”

“We should let the others know. I’ll stay with her while you wake up the rest.”

Jeongyeon nods, goes towards Jihyo’s room, and nudges her shoulder to wake her up, “Jihyo, wake up.” Jihyo turned over to face Jeongyeon and slowly opened her eyes. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Get up, it's an emergency.”

“Okay, but what’s the emergency?”

“It’s Sana. She woke up saying that her tummy was hurting and started bleeding.”

Hearing what Jeongyeon said, she got up, put on a body pillow to prevent Jisoo from falling, and walked towards Sana. “Go wake up the rest.”

“Okay.” Jeongyeon walks towards the other rooms and knocks on the doors once she notices they are locked.

Jihyo enters the bathroom and sees a crying Sana, “Jihyo, what’s wrong? Why am I bleeding? Is my baby going to be okay?” Jihyo notices the blood stain, tries to cover her expression, and comforts Sana instead, “Don’t worry, we’re going to get help. Stay with Nayeon right here, and I will call the Doctor.”

Sana nods as she holds onto Nayeon’s hands. Jihyo grabs her phone, pulls up the Doctor’s phone number, and calls. The phone rings twice, with the Doctor answering, “Hello, how can i help you?”

“Doctor, this is Park Jihyo. We have someone currently pregnant and is complaining of stomach pains and is bleeding.”

“Okay, tell me this: has she had other symptoms in the past few days?”

“Yes, She had a fever earlier today.”

“Okay, I highly suggest you bring her into the clinic. I will reverse a room for the patient. Would you like me to send over an ambulance?”

“Thank you, but that’s okay. We can take her ourselves. We should be there in amount twenty minutes.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you at the front entrance.”

Jihyo hung up, walked back to the bathroom, and noticed that the rest of the members had woken up. “Everyone, I just called the Doctor, and we’ll be taking Sana to the clinic. I will need some help with putting blankets and bringing her down to the car. I’ll need someone to pack a bag with Sana’s belongings and meet us down there. The rest of you can stay and take care of the kids, maybe bringing them to the living room and setting up the mats for everyone to sleep together. Also, someone must call Oppa and inform him of what’s happening. He’s staying at the office again and needs to meet us at the clinic.”

Everyone nods and goes right to work, following Jihyo’s instructions to the letter. Tzuyu places mats on the floor against the living room couch while Chaeyoung brings blankets. Jeongyeon packs Sana’s bag with clothing and important information before helping Nayeon and Momo bring Sana down to the car. Sana cries in pain as she walks down the stairs, even with the support of Nayeon and Momo.

Eventually, she makes it to the car, and both of them get inside with Jihyo. Okay, the four of us are going to go with Sana to the clinic. The rest of you stay put and call Oppa to let him know. We’ll update you if there are any changes. The rest of the members nod and bring the children down to the living room as the others leave.

“Girls, I’m scared. What if there is something wrong with my baby?” cries Sana.

“Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay.”

“Yeah, like Nayeon said. You’re going to be fine.”

“But, what it's not. What am I going to do? I don’t want anything to happen to my baby.”

“Sana, stay strong. You’re going to make it through this and come out stronger than ever. I know you can,” says Jihyo.”

“Jihyo’s right. Stay strong, Sana.”

Jihyo makes her way down the dirt road and onto the highway to the clinic. She tries to go as fast as possible with the members in mind. It takes about fifteen minutes to arrive at the clinic, but with Jihyo’s driving, she makes it in ten. When she got there, she saw the Doctor and two nurses waiting in a wheelchair at the entrance. Jihyo parks the car before them as Momo opens the door and helps Sana get into the wheelchair.

“We’ll take care of your friend,” the Doctor and one of the nurses say as they take Sana into the clinic.

“I know that all of you are worried about your friend, but I’m going to ask you to fill out some paperwork and sit in the waiting room.” She escorted the rest of the members into the waiting room and gave Jihyo the paperwork for her to fill out.

————-

You’re working at the JYP building and ready to sleep on the couch when you receive a phone call from Tzuyu. You answer the phone, and the first thing you hear is Tzuyu crying on the phone, “Oppa…”

“Tzuyu, what’s wrong?”

“Come home quickly.”

“Tzuyu, why are you crying?”

“It’s Sana, she went to the hospital, and she’s bleeding…”

Suddenly, you hear Dahyun’s voice, “Oppa, it's Dahyun. You need to come home right now; actually, you need to go to the clinic. There’s something wrong with Sana and Jihyo, and some of the members took her to the clinic to get checked out. Jihyo told us to call you, so go there quickly.”

“Okay, let me put on some shoes, and I’ll head to the clinic right now.”

“ Okay, I’ll call Jihyo to tell her you are going there. Stay safe.”

Dahyun hangs up the phone, and you rush to put your shoes on and grab your bag with your car keys. You rush out of the office, down the stairs, and towards your car in the parking lot. The wheels of your car screech as you speed out of the parking lot and onto the street. “Please let it not be anything serious.”

————

“Sana, we will run some tests based on your symptoms.” Sana nods and hears the Doctor tell the nurse to perform some blood tests, a pelvic exam, and an ultrasound.

“Doctor, do you know if my baby will be okay?”

“I can’t give you an answer right now, but after running these tests, it will give us a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Okay, but please make sure my baby is okay.”

————

You arrive at the clinic, see Jihyo’s car in the lot, and park next to hers. You run towards the entrance and knock at her door. Nayeon opens the door, lets you in, and informs you about the situation. Jihyo pulls you to the side and explains the situation from the beginning until you arrive. You curse at yourself for not being there for her and pray that your baby is okay. All of you wait in the waiting room for any news on Sana. It isn’t until a bit over an hour when the nurse comes out and asks, “Has the father arrived yet?”

“Yes, I’m right here.”

“Okay, come with me.”

You follow the nurse into a hallway leading to Sana’s room. You see Sana lying on the bed, but she gets up when she sees you. “Oppa, you’re here,” with a faint smile.

“Yes, sorry for not being here with you from the beginning.”

“It’s okay. The girls have been with me the whole time.”

“How are you doing?”

“A bit better. They gave me some medicine for the pain and took some tests but waiting for the results.”

“That’s good, as long as you’re fine.”

“I’m just nervous about the baby. I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“Let’s pray that everything goes well.”

An hour goes by, and the Doctor, along with the nurse, come inside and shut the door. They scroll in a monitor, hook it up to the outlet, and turn on the screen.

“We got your results back and noticed a low level of hCG hormones in your system. We also see that your cervix has begun to open.”

Sana, a bit confused about what the Doctor is trying to say, asks, “Can you explain it a bit better? I don’t seem to understand.”

With a heavy sigh, the Doctor says, “I’m sorry, Sana, but your baby does not seem to have a heartbeat.”

Her brain, not being able to process what the Doctor just said, looks at you and the tears falling down your cheek. “No, no, you don’t mean…”

“I’m very sorry; I’ll give you two some time.” She stands up to leave, but Sana grabs her coat, “Doctor, please… my baby can’t be dead. Check again; you’ll see his heartbeat, please, Doctor.”

You grab both her hands and say, “Sana, look at me.” With tears in her eyes she says, “Oppa, he can’t be dead. My baby can’t be dead…”

“It’s going to be okay, we’ll get through this…” As she places her head against your chest, Sana begins to bawl out loud.

In the waiting room, some of the members pace around and wait for any news from the nurse. After an hour of waiting, they see the Doctor come out from Sana’s room, and Jihyo goes up to the nurse and asks, “Is everything alright?”

Then, she hears Sana bawling, she gets her answer on Sana’s condition. The members stopped what they were doing and ran to the door to see a crying Sana. The girls can’t help but cry, seeing their member in this situation, but they want to give the two of them space.

“Poor Sana-chan, she was really looking forward to her baby.”

“We need to be there for her,” says Jeongyeon.

“What are we going to tell the rest?” asks Nayeon.

Jihyo then responds, “I’ll talk to them. Let’s just give them time to process the news.”

Dahyun hears her phone vibrate, notices it is Jihyo, and answers, “Unnie, how's Sana doing? Is everything okay?”

“No. From what I could tell, Sana lost the baby.”

“Wait… No, how?”

“I’m not sure, but let the others know. I don’t think Sana will be able to go home anytime soon. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Dahyun hangs up, and the members ask, “Is Sana and the baby okay?”

“No, Sana lost the baby,” and begins to tear up. She looked at the sleeping Da-eun and couldn’t imagine what Sana was going through.

About an hour passed, and Sana went to sleep after crying the whole time. The members get up when they see you walk into the waiting room. “How is Sana doing?”

“She tired herself from crying and fell asleep.”

Jihyo places her hand on your shoulder, “How are you doing?”

“It doesn’t seem real. I lost my baby, boy.”

They all walk up and hug you, “It’s going to be alright. You’re strong, and you’ll get through this, but you need to make sure that you’re there for Sana, too.”

“I’ll try my best.”

Momo and Jeongyeon ask, “Can we see her?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” and see the two of them go into her room.

The members visit Sana as she is sleeping and stay with her until you shower and come back from the house with some personal belongings. You prepare the pull-up bed but instead sleep alongside her as she cries herself to sleep in the fetal. You holder tightly every time she wakes up from her nightmares throughout the night.

It’s morning, and Sana wakes up with bags under her eyes from crying most of the night. You hold her hand as the nurse lets the two of you know that the Doctor will meet with you both shortly.

“I hope you both had some time to process the news from yesterday. I know it might be too sudden, but I need to talk to you about the next steps that come after a miscarriage." Sana and you hold each other’s hands tightly as the Doctor closes the door.

#twice #twice angst #kpop angst #twice sana #sana angst #sana minatozaki #minatozaki sana #sana #idol angst #g idol angst #TM smut

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