#medical dry eye treatments

[dreamgrlarchive]

High Maintenance 101

Prissy Girl Beauty Regimens 🎀

my prissy girl guide to beauty services and building a beauty lifestyle that fits you 💗

Skincare:

Essential Skincare Routine ❤︎︎

twice daily, in the morning and at night

daytime: gentle cleanser, toner, serum, eye cream, moisturizer, SPF

prep and protect skin

nighttime: double cleansing with oil and cleanser, exfoliation, treatments, moisturizer

wash away the day and help skin accept treatments and actives during your beauty sleep

products will change depending on skin type and goals, but sequence will more or less stay the same

Face Masks + Treatments ❤︎︎

Face Masks -

typically done at home 1-3x/week

clay, gel, mud, cream, liquid

my fav masks at home:

aha + bha liquid mask by the ordinary: a literal overhaul of my pores. it’s refining and helps reduce texture and hyperpigmentation. 1-2 x/week

korean modeling mask: i use this after doing everything in my routine. it’s super cooling and smooths my skin out. the low temp of the mask reduces flushing of my skin and helps the steps in my routine absorb better. 2-3 x/week

Treatments -

done either 1-3x/week and/or exclusively at night

consumer grade Retinols, AHAs, BHAs at high strength

little extra things i like to use to enhance my routine:

gua sha, ice pack, rose quartz roller, however often i choose

Facials ❤︎︎

done every 1-2 months by licensed estheticians

often includes exfoliation and extraction

Classic Facial: cleanse, extract, massage, moisturize

HydraFacials: extracts pores while infusing serums to boost skin’s vitamin and nutrient content

dry, dehydrated skin

Microdermabrasion: microabrasive tool removes outermost, textured, damaged layer of skin using suction to reveal a smooth and refined new layer of skin

sun damaged, aged, textured skin or skin with hyperpigmentation

Chemical Peel: application of medical grade AHA, BHA, Lactic Acid, Fruit Enzymes, or Retinol to peel away top layers of skin over the course of 1-2 weeks

pore refining, brightening, and anti-aging

after care is crucial. skin will be peeling and sensitivity to sun is increased. SPF MUST be used. it’s heavily advised that clients stay home for the first few days.

HydroJelly Facial: facial made of electrolytes, algae, organic white grain oat flour, rice flour, and white willow bark powder. leaving your skin hydrated, plump, and nourished. forms a vacuum-like seal that compresses facial contours.

there are 25 different hydrojelly pro masks for most skin concerns you may have, check here

More Facials ❤︎︎

Contouring Facial: sculpting, tightening, and lifting of facial muscles

LED Facial: uses LED light to soothe inflammation, aiding in acne healing and prevention

Vampire Facial: plumps skin and improves wrinkles by extracting blood, removing its platelets, then either re-injecting it into the skin or applying it topically

Diamond File Facial: finely ground diamonds resurface skin by filing to improve dark spots

Glass Skin Botox: multiple tiny botox injections just below the surface of the skin. alleviate fine lines, redness, texture, and more achieving glass skin

AquaGold Facial: microinjections that combine vampire facial methods, hyaluronic acid, botox, stem cells, antioxidants, vitamins, peptides, etc. improves fine lines, wrinkles, pores, pigmentation, acne scarring, dryness, tone, texture, skin elasticity, and more

cite

Hair:

Hair Care ❤︎︎

Wash Routines:

curly textured: wash and condition every 2-3 weeks, deep condition every 1-2 weeks

straight: wash and condition every 2-3 days, deep condition every 2-3 weeks

Styling ︎❤︎︎

Hair should have a style everyday! At home hairstyling is limitless and really depends on your taste and lifestyle. The everyday woman does her own her once every 1-4 weeks using natural hair products, heat, or other tools.

Professional Stylists:

hair is styled every 1-3 months: uses heat to straighten or curl, extensions to lengthen and add volume, shears to maintain/attain a shape and length

trim ends: every 6-8 weeks

hair color: touched up roughly every 6-8 weeks (depending on how fast your hair is growing and how fast your color will fade)

Silk Press:

after a clarifying wash and deep conditioning, natural hair is straightened using flat iron and/or pressing comb, then usually curled in feathers or pin curls to preserve the style

lasts 3-4 weeks depending on maintenance

preserved by wrapping hair at night, keep hands out of hair, and using a wide toothed comb only

can be further styled with different kind of rollers, or with pin curls

Braids:

afrocentric hairstyles typically done to protect hair while maintaining beauty

lasts 3-8 weeks

styles include knotless braids, faux locs, stitch braids, french braids, etc

Extensions:

hair added to natural hair to enhance length or volume

can be done at home with patience and proper materials

sew-in extensions: (my personal fav) 1-2 months

your natural hair gets braided down flush to your scalp and the bundles are sewn on by the wefts in a flat pattern typically with a section of hair left out to cover the wefts $100-600

microlinks: up to 4 months

i-tip extension is added to hair using micropliers, clippers and loop tool. takes far longer than most extension methods but looks the absolute most natural $500-1000

tape-in extensions: up to a year, touch ups every 4-6 weeks

medical grade tape is used to attach extensions to small sections of hair $200-400

clip-in extensions: 3-6 months

extensions are clipped on by the wefts. the hair itself can last up to six months, but it’s not recommended to sleep, shower, or swim with the extensions in $50-100

Natural Styles:

all last roughly 1-2 weeks at most. allowing hair to completely DRY is crucial for these styles. your natural hair can be further changed in styles like buns, puffs, etc once dry

natural hair essentials: scalp oil, leave in conditioner, detangling brush, wide tooth comb, curling cream, styling gel, edge control and edge brush

wash n’ go

wash and detangle, then use leave in conditioner to keep hair moist. oil on the scalp and ends is recommended for growth and healthy ends

bantu knots

a traditionally african style where the hair is cleanly sectioned (usually parted in a cute pattern) and twisted into knots. style can be worn just like this or taken down for curls

braid/twist out

a specific pattern of curls is achieved after hair is twisted or braided with curl preserving products. end result depends on how big your twists or braids are

roller set

hair is sprayed with water and curl cream applied before roller of your choice is added. hair is left to dry usually overnight for springy well formed curls

Brows and Lashes:

Brow Shaping ❤︎︎

in salon or at home

Waxing - every 3 weeks

Threading- every 2-3 weeks

Razor Shaping - weekly

Brow Enhancement ❤︎︎

Tinting - monthly

can be done at home or by pro in the salon

Microblading - every 1-3 years + annual touch ups, exclusively professional work

cosmetic tattooing using a manual tool with nearly invisible hair-like needles to inject pigment in brows to create your desired brow look

Lash Enhancements ❤︎︎

*done exclusively by professionals

Lifts - every 6 weeks

basically a perm for your lashes to curl them semi-permanently for lashes to appear longer

Lash Extensions - new set every 6-8 weeks, fill ins every 2-3 weeks depending on quality and style

false individual strands of lashes glued to natural lashes to create semi-permanent length and/or volume

lash baths: wet lashes and apply a small amount of gentle cleanser or a “lash bath” to lashes. cleanse lashes and eyelids for about 10 seconds. hold a towel under your eye and use a nozzle bottle to flush soap and bacteria from lashes then dry with a disposable lint free towel. finish by brushing your lashes with a spoolie. daily.

Lash Styles:

Classic: one lash on each fan, thin lashes

Volume: fluffier lashes with more lashes on each fan

Hybrid: uses classic and volume lashes to make an alternated look

Russian: volume lashes made with very thin individuals, 5-6 extensions per natural lash, fanned out look

DIY Lash Extensions - lasts about a week (sometimes longer)

lash fragments or individual wisps are glued either under the lashes or on the lash line. KISS Falscara is a product that makes this concept simple and easy

Nails:

all these services can be done at home with the proper materials and KNOWLEDGE

Classic Manicure ❤︎︎

every 1-2 weeks

nail service that consists of soaking hands in warm soapy water then drying them. nails are trimmed, filed, and buffed. cuticles are pushed back before applying nail polish (base coat, color, top coat), then finally cuticle oil is applied.

nails can be enhanced with rhinestones, glitter, or charms and attached with uv gel or nail glue

my fav styles are pink, cream, white, black and any french tip using those colors

Pedicure ❤︎︎

every 2-4 weeks

sister to the classic manicure, but can be upgraded depending on materials. steps are similar to manicure, except feet are scrubbed and exfoliated before feet are washed and dried to apply nail color

regular polish, acrylic, or gel can be used on toenails

Gel or Shellac Mani ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks

same process as the classic manicure, but traditional nail polish is replaced with uv base coat, gel or CND Shellac polish, then uv top coat that’s cured in a UV or LED lamp

longer lasting and more strong/3d than classic mani and is typically removed by soaking in acetone

Apres Gel-X Nails ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks

my personal fav at home nails using the artme yoko matsuda nails. after doing a classic mani sans polish, you apply a dehydrator and primer to prep nail for gel. then you apply builder gel to your natural nail and cure. then you apply that same builder to the nail extension after etching it using an electric drill or acetone. marry the gel to your nail and cure. then just shape to your liking and top with uv top coat. tutorial here

Acrylic Nails ❤︎︎

every 2-3 weeks, nails are fully grown out after 6 weeks

manicure done with liquid monomer and acrylic powder to build and extend natural nail, then polished with color or just a top coat if desired

Russian Mani ❤︎︎

every 4-5 weeks

essentially a gel manicure, but more invasive. the eponychium is snipped away so polish can be applied more closely and flush to the cuticle. this aids in visuals and longevity

service is seen as risky because the skin is more susceptible to fungal or bacterial infection. this is actually how i do my nails at home.

Body:

Bathing ❤︎︎

2x daily

self explanatory, we all know how to bathe. i have other posts that talk about my shower and bath routines.

use a gentle cleanser then a scented body wash to complement perfume and smell fresh all day.

if needed, you can use body soaps with actives like aha, bha or retinol to exfoliate or treat skin at night

exfoliation - 2-3x/week. using scrubs, loofahs, bath brushes, etc.

Hair Removal ❤︎︎

shaving - 2-3x/week

waxing - every 3-5 weeks

sugaring - monthly

ipl device - a device that uses light therapy to slowly destroy hair follicles and unwanted pigment in skin. i use mine after every 5-6 shaves but i could really use it more often.

Vajacial ❤︎︎

1-2x/month

a “facial” for your lady area

the esthetician will first wax, then cleanse and apply an enzyme exfoliant. then they extract any blackheads or ingrown hairs from the area before applying a soothing mask usually in the jelly form.

Moisture and Hydration ❤︎︎

body cream or lotion - daily right after bathing to hydrate skin

body oil - daily to seal in moisture and protect skin from debris and dryness

masks - weekly to address particular skin concerns

ex. when i was having eczema flare ups on my back, i used a dead sea mud mask every 1-2 weeks to help treat it

done at home or at spa

glycolic, clay, mud, salicylic, etc.

Enhancement Procedures:

the goal is to look younger and balance facial features. all these services are exclusively done by professionals usually in a medspa and are widely considered luxury.

Botox ❤︎︎

every 6-8 months; between brows, smile lines, outer corners of eyes, etc

discourages muscle movement to reduce wrinkles

Lifts ❤︎︎

lasts about 10 years; face, neck, brow, eyelids

skin is lifted to desired look, then excess skin is removed

Fillers ︎❤︎︎

every 6-12 months; under-eye, lips, jawline, wrinkle sites, cheekbones

injects acids (usually naturally occurring) like Hyaluronic Acid and Calcium Hydroxylapatite to add volume to your face

Body Contouring ❤︎︎

every 2-4 months until desired results are achieved

non invasive liposuction to achieve desired physique

CoolSculpting - cryolipolysis freezes fat cells for the body to the metabolize and and remove them

SculpSure - essentially the same as CoolSculpting, but uses heat and laser technology to destroy fat cells

Laser Hair Removal ❤︎︎

every 5-6 weeks; bikini, underarms, legs, arms

touch ups done every 1-2 years

hair growth is inhibited by exposing follicles to light at frequencies that kill them

Building the Regimen 🗒️💕:

when making appointments with your “glam squad” you can stagger your services by week depending on what’s being done. for example you can get your mani and pedi done one week. then your facials, brows and lashes another week.

Things to Keep in Mind 💭💞:

these frequencies won’t be the same for everyone depending on personal wants, budgets, etc. but will most likely land somewhere in the ranges i gave. if you need touch ups or redos any sooner than i mapped out, then the service most likely was of poor quality.

anything done at home may or may not be up to the level of detail and longevity as salon or spa work. if you see yourself doing the majority of your beauty maintenance at home, this can save money but may end up taking more time than professional services. so it’s a give and take.

More Resources:

manage your routines, services and products using a beauty binder

a look at my skincare routine

at home beauty treatments for the summer

my hair care routine at home

pretty on purpose by @shefromhouston

monthly beauty routine by @angeljpg

dream girl routines by me

#the prissy girl agenda #dream girl journey #prissy lifestyle tips 💕🎀 #dream girl routines #masterpost #my posts #skincare

[blurredcolour]

Born To Be Yours

[One-shot | Sequel to We'll Meet Again]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Despite the end of the war in Europe, violence still finds its way to the men of Easy company. Thankfully, Eugene knows just where to find you to get them help.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [Kissing, Necking, Dry Humping] - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: Slight warning - the events of this fic are centered around the shooting of Sergeant Charles E Grant. The title of this fic is based off the song 'Yours' by Vera Lynn. For your reference, the Cajun pronunciation of cher, Eugene's term of endearment for the reader, is 'sha.' Just to help you really imagine it in your head. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 3887

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

This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to be happening. Not here in Austria after the surrender of the German army. Not today, the anniversary of D-Day. And yet here Eugene sat, balanced over a stretcher bearing a motionless Grant, holding an IV of blood above his head as Speirs sped down the road toward Saalfelden where the 47th Field Hospital was set up on the edge of town. Talbert rode in the front seat, frequently glancing back at them over his shoulder.

It was a miracle Grant was still breathing after receiving the headwound, continued to breathe through the frantic bandaging and loading onto Speirs’ jeep.

“Where’s the nearest surgeon?” The Captain had barked and Gene had answered easily, known it immediately, because the nearest surgeon was with you.

After parting ways in Titz, following that very eventful Easter Sunday, your hospital had stayed precisely where it was intended to be – twenty-five kilometers behind the line as they advanced across Germany. You had surprised Eugene by sending your next letter not by post, but in the pocket of an ambulance driver who had been all too happy to receive a pack of smokes from you for his trouble. Your ingenuity had opened his eyes, and he’d sent his own reply back two days later, postage paid with chocolate from his rations.

Being able to write one another without the censors having a say, to share every detail of your daily lives without fear of the letter going missing – as long as you each chose a trustworthy deliveryman of course – was a relief after all the delays in communication the pair of you had previously endured. Eugene was admittedly disheartened when he learned that your station in Austria would be in Saalfelden with the majority of the 101st Airborne while Easy and the rest of 2nd Battalion found themselves a further seventeen kilometers down the road in Zell Am See.

There remained a remarkable number of things for him to do, and the lack of ambulance traffic, while a blessing, severely impeded your correspondence once more. In short, Eugene was feeling awfully guilty about the fact that he had not managed to visit you since the war in Europe had ended. As the jeep pulled up outside the requisitioned gymnasium that had been turned into the 47th Field Hospital, he was not certain if he hoped you were there or not.

He jumped off the back of the vehicle as Speirs and Talbert grabbed each end of the stretcher and the three of them rushed toward the building. Eugene hurried a few steps ahead to pull the door open, wincing a little as Speirs shouldered it open fully, sending into the wall with a ‘bang.’ There was a scurry of footsteps from down a hallway to the right before you stepped into view, clad in your white and brown striped hospital dress, a brown cardigan over top with the sleeves pushed up to your elbows. Concern etched your features.

“Follow me.” You said quickly, rushing to pull open the next door into the gymnasium itself. “On the table right there please, sir.” You gestured to a makeshift exam table built of filing cabinets and a cot.

“Chief Nurse?” A young woman poked her head out from behind a privacy screen and Eugene nearly tripped over his own feet.

Last he’d heard you were Assistant Chief Nurse, promoted after your natural leadership of the group of nurses during your nine hours of capture. You’d gone and gotten yourself promoted again. He fought the urge to grin at you proudly as they carefully set Grant down as instructed.

“Shirley, go fetch Dr. Brock from his office immediately.”

“We need a surgeon.” Speirs rasped and Eugene watched the girl halt her progress across the room and look back to you questioningly.

“Dr. Randall then, quickly.” You amended, shifting to begin triage on the patient by checking his vitals as Speirs took Grant’s hand in his tightly.

Shirley fled the room, returning in less than a minute with a dark-haired man wearing a white coat in tow – surely Dr. Randall. A cigarette hung for his lips as he looked to Eugene for the hand off.

“Shot in the head with a pistol, maybe twenty minutes ago? Bandaged and given blood by IV.”

He saw Shirley hand you a chart out of the corner of his eye and you quickly noted these things along with the vitals you’d been taking when the surgeon had walked in. Dr. Randall leaned down to lift the bandages, inspecting Grant’s wound.

“Jesus.” He muttered.

“What?” Speirs asked, looking to him quickly.

“He’s not gonna make it.” Dr. Randall said, taking a slow drag on his cigarette.

“Ya can’t operate on him?” Eugene asked incredulously. This man was a surgeon, this was his job.

“Not me. You’d need a brain surgeon. And even if you had one, I don’t think there’s any hope.” Dr. Randall rubbed at his eyes, obviously just as worn out from the endless number of casualties he’d born witness to, before walking off.

Eugene’s eyes slid to meet yours where you remained next to the spot recently vacated by Dr. Randall; felt his throat clench painfully at the look of deep sympathy you were sending him.

Speirs took a breath and turned to Talbert, breaking the stunned silence that had fallen over the group. “You find the shooter, I want him alive.” He pointed at him for emphasis before turning back to Eugene. “Come on help me.”

“What’re you doing?” Talbert asked, grabbing the end of the stretcher.

“We’re gonna go find a brain surgeon!” Speirs declared before they were off and running back towards the door.

“There’s a German hospital further into town, follow this road for five blocks then hang a left.” You spoke quickly, hurrying to hold open the doors to ease their progress back to the jeep.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” Eugene nodded quickly, ducking slightly as it had begun to lightly rain while they were inside.

“Take care.” Your voice shook a little and Eugene looked back to you once he’d resumed his perch on the back of the jeep, watching you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself as you stood in the rain, staring at him intently until the vehicle jerked into motion as Speirs took off in the direction you had instructed.

The hospital was easy enough to find, thanks to your directions, and Talbert secured another jeep there to carry out Speirs’ orders to find the shooter. The brain surgeon was not currently on duty, but Speirs was undeterred and demanded his home address, from which he fetched him out of bed to operate immediately.

“It will take several hours.” The German surgeon had warned them when Speirs had asked where the waiting room was.

“We’ll wait.” He had replied flatly, and Eugene had followed after him as a nurse led them into an empty room filled with worn chairs and a few side tables with outdated German periodicals.

Eugene watched Speirs sink into one of the chairs while he found himself unable to sit down, wandering the perimeter of the room quietly, mind turning over all manner of things, but always coming back to how reluctant you had looked to see him go. The guilt within him had multiplied astronomically – he had been a fool to not rush to see you the instant he could, and now your first interaction since Easter was purely professional and surely terrifying. Precisely why he had been so very reluctant to admit his feelings to you in the first place.

“Doc, if you’re not going to sit down, go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse, would you?” He muttered, pulling the garrison cap from his hair.

Eugene’s head whipped up to look at his commanding officer in shock. Shock at the fact that Speirs had had the wherewithal to notice the looks you had been exchanging over Grant’s prone form. Shock that he was allowing him the liberty to visit you. Pure shock.

“Otherwise, it’s going to be a very long couple of hours.” There was a dangerous edge to the man’s voice that made Eugene swallow nervously and nod sharply.

“Yes sir, I’ll be back in a few hou’s then, sir.” He moved to slip out of the waiting room.

“Be careful out there, Doc.” Came Speirs’ parting command and Eugene nodded once more before heading out into the street, thankful that the blackout was no longer in effect and he had the assistance of streetlights to retrace his steps back to the Field Hospital.

He made a much quieter entrance this time, finding the nurse, Shirley, at the desk near the door in the gym.

“Oh, you’re the medic from earlier – how is your man?” She asked in a hushed voice as she stood.

“In surgery with a German brain surgeon now…I was wonderin’ if I migh’ speak ta you’ Chief Nurse?” He tilted his head, and she nodded quickly leading him down the hall to an unassuming office door.

“She’s still here, working late again.” She laughed softly and knocked.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He nodded as she nodded in return before heading back into the gym as your door swung inward.

“Gene…” You breathed in surprise, peering into the hallway as if to confirm he was truly alone.

“Cher…” He murmured in response, tremor in his own voice this time, and your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him into the moderately sized office.

Your arms pulled him into a tight embrace as you nudged the door shut with your foot. He buried his face into your hair, fingers curling into the knit of your cardigan against your back.

“I’m right here, Gene.” You sighed soothingly, arms holding him so tightly, so warmly, Eugene was convinced you might actually be able to fuse his broken pieces back together. To make him feel whole again.

“Merci, cher.” He managed to find his voice after a moment, pulling back slightly only to press his lips to yours tightly in a physical expression of his gratitude.

Eugene felt the tremble that rolled through your body in response, his hands gripping you tighter as your fingers wended their way into his hair making him shudder in return. There was something about your touch tonight that felt like he was playing with fire, your entire presence loaded with explosive charge that could set him off at any moment. He pulled his lips back quickly before he did something wildly inappropriate in your office and panted against your mouth.

“M’sorry I haven’ come ta visit ya.”

Your response was a breathless laugh that made him bite the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve barely left this office. I’m beginning to think this promotion was a curse disguised as a blessing.” You smirked and stole one more kiss from his lips before straightening to look over his face warmly.

“It’s late, and I know ya don’ work nigh’s no mo’e…” He tried to keep the admonishing tone in his voice light, but he was admittedly upset you were working after midnight, something that even he was aware was unusual for a Chief Nurse.

“You know too much, Gene.” Your fingers smoothed his hair gently, restoring order to the strands you had put into disarray, a fond smile stretching his lips as he truly adored hearing you call him ‘Gene.’

His heart had nearly stopped when it had appeared in your letters but to hear it leave your lips was heaven itself.

“Let me walk ya home, tha man who did tha’ is still out the’e.”

He watched your eyes widen before you frowned deeply, shaking your head in dismay. “Did you find the hospital?”

“German brain surgeon’s operatin’ now…”

You took a slow breath before nodding. “I usually have an MP escort me, are you sure you don’t have to get back?”

He shook his head. “Grant’ll be in surgery a few hou’s longah. Cap’n Speirs won’ leave ‘till it’s ovah. Told me ta ‘go talk to that pretty Chief Nurse’ if I wouldn’t sit still.” Gene smirked ruefully and you blinked rapidly before biting your lip.

“Perhaps we have not been nearly as subtle as we thought, Gene…”

He laughed softly under his breath as he watched you turn to collect your things, sliding a small utility bag over your shoulder before turning out the desk light. The desk itself was still covered in stacks of files and he couldn’t help but frown as it seemed that your late nights had barely made a dent in the work your new position had foisted upon you.

“Wait here.” You said once you’d locked your office door and walked a little further down the hall to knock on another door.

He could barely make out another man’s voice, it didn’t sound like Dr. Randall, so presumably Dr. Brock, before you swung by the desk in the gymnasium to wish Shirley a good night. One last stop at the MP office to the left of the entrance where you informed your usual escort you had someone to walk you home before the pair of you were able to step out into the damp night. Thankfully, the rain had stopped falling but the puddles on the ground were plentiful as Eugene offered his arm. He could not help his fond smile as you took it without hesitation, hugging his elbow close as you walked side-by-side.

“I’m quite close to the hospital actually.” You gestured down the road and he nodded, turning that way.

“Tha’s how ya knew…”

Your soft laugh made his stomach quiver slightly though he did not miss the yawn you tried to smother.

“Ya been workin’ late a lot, cher?” He prompted softly, vigilant to your surroundings but so far, the streets were quiet.

“Mm.” You nodded slowly before sighing. “Seems the Chief Nurse before me was not such a fan of paperwork. Maude was a fantastic leader, we’re lucky to have her as the Assistant Director of Austria base, but if I had known what was awaiting me in that office…well I’d probably have asked to help her more when I was her assistant.”

He felt you tug on his arm and looked down to you quickly to see you pointing across the street to a modest apartment building.

“We’re quartered here.”

Eugene nodded and led you across the street as you fished for the keys in your bag. He couldn’t help but notice that you were in fact only a few blocks from the German hospital where Grant was still undergoing surgery. He said another silent prayer to guide the hands of the surgeon to success as you led him up to the building entrance.

A pair of sharp cries cut through the night, making the both of you freeze briefly.

“Hey!”

“Stop right there!”

The voices were still a block or so away, but belonged to men that Eugene knew a well as his own family.

“Inside cher, now.” He said quickly, pulling you toward the building.

“Second floor.” You uttered quickly and he pushed you up the stairs front of him, hands on your hips as he could hear the voices of Talbert and Malarkey growing closer, accompanied by footsteps splashing through puddles and the rumble of a jeep engine close behind.

You stopped at an apartment door and Eugene noted your struggle to line the key with the deadbolt, gently but firmly taking it from you to unlock the door and push you inside. He was quick to close and lock the door behind him, wanting you nowhere near the drunken madman who had already killed at least two people tonight. He heard you take a breath as you turned back toward him and he gently covered your mouth with his palm, shushing you softly as he listened for further noises from the street below.

They sounded as if they were right outside, their voices rising up through the stairwell as his wide eyes bored directly into yours.

“Yeah, that’s him!”

“Get in the jeep you son of a bitch.”

The sound of the engine faded off into the night and Eugene waited a full minute before lowering his hand from your mouth, the only sound remaining being the pounding of his heart in his ears. He heard you suck in a breath, the only warning he was afforded before your lips collided with his. He stumbled slightly, startled a moment, before the adrenaline in his veins was transformed into white hot desire. His hands clutched at your lower back, pulling you tightly against him as he blindly stumbled toward the doorway he had glimpsed upon entering your apartment.

He felt your body impact with something behind you and pulled back from your lips quickly to see he had backed you into the kitchen table. He felt you rise up onto your toes, seemingly intent on sitting on the tabletop and his hands quickly seized your hips, aiding you in your efforts by hoisting you the last bit of distance. He could not help the smirk that graced his features as you gasped at his strength; hard-won through years of training and carrying wounded from the battlefield. His mouth quickly returned to yours, shuddering as your tongue met his eagerly, your fingers once more burrowing into his hair.

Eugene’s lungs began to ache from a lack of oxygen and he reluctantly pulled back from your lips only to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your throat. Your shaky exhale filled his ears as your fingers began to tug at the buttons of his OD jacket, sending his own in search of the same on your cardigan. As he pushed the fabric out of the way, he slid his hands along your sides, sucking at the hollow of your throat, exhaling hotly against your skin as you parted your legs for him.

“Cher…” He rasped against your skin, gulping at the whimper that fell from your lips as he stepped closer, nestling between your thighs.

Your body felt so hot against him, even through his ODs and wool trousers, he was helpless not to press as tightly to you as possible, not even leaving a hairsbreadth of space. Your fingers curled into the front of his wool shirt, hips bucking against his slightly as you whimpered again.

“Gene!” Your gasped and he kissed you fiercely as his lower abdomen grew heavy with arousal, blood rushing to his already hardening length as he rutted against you obligingly.

The moan that rattled from your throat into his mouth had his head swimming, his baser instincts immediately taking over, demanding he do anything and everything to draw that sound from you again and again. His hands shifted to grip your thighs, pulling your body even tighter to his as he continued to move against you, delighting in your repeated cries of pleasure which he devoured hungrily. He barely noticed your persistence against the buttons of his uniform shirt until he felt your hands sliding around his torso with only the thin barrier of his undershirt separating your skin, a groan falling from his lips as he tore them from yours.

“Merde.” He hissed, screwing his eyes shut against the salaciously delicious friction between your bodies.

“Mm! I know that one…” You giggled breathily against his neck before your lips were on his skin, making his hips rock sharply against yours.

“Feel so good, cher.” He groaned again, hands shifting beneath the hem of your dress, beneath the hem of your slip, to find the bare skin of your thighs. Quite possibly the softest thing he’d ever touched.

“Yes, Gene.” You whined against his kiss-dampened skin. “Don’t stop.”

He grunted in agreement, fingers tracing higher to grip your hips, increasing the friction yet again as he rutted his fully hard cock against your underwear. The moan that fell from your lips contained an almost anguished tone and he had to grit his teeth against the desire to climax at just the sound of it. Your fingers were digging into his back through the cotton of his undershirt, hips echoing every motion of his as his fingers delved past the edge of your underwear to curl into the soft flesh of your buttocks.

“Oh god Gene I’m…” You panted, head rolling back, and he nodded vigorously, eyes latching onto your face, desperate to watch you fall apart in his arms.

Eugene had long been convinced that you could do everything with grace, and you once again proved his assumption correct as your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, your mouth falling open to emit a soft wail of pure ecstasy. Burying his face against your neck, he cursed harshly as his hips bucked sharply, all sense of rhythm and control abandoning him as his orgasm immediately overtook him. Sliding one hand out from beneath your skirt to brace against the table lest he collapse onto you, he smiled sheepishly as you grinned up at him, your lower lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sorry, Gene…” You murmured, running your hands along his back soothingly, your chests brushing against one another as you both struggled to catch your breath.

He shook his head quickly and then tensed. “Do ya….are ya the only one billeted in he’e?” He glanced back toward the hallway, suddenly aware of how much noise the pair of you had made.

Your bright peal of laughter caught his attention, and he turned back to you quickly.

“You ask me that now, Gene?!” You teased, gripping the back his neck to pull him down for a lazy kiss as he huffed a laugh against your lips in reply. “No, just me. Chief Nurse perk.”

He relaxed with a nod, straightening slowly as his legs finally felt like solid muscle and bone once more.

“The washroom is just down the hall if you wa–”

“Be my wife.” The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them.

He had intended to make more of a spectacle of it. Hell, he had intended to have a ring to put on your finger. But the way you were looking up at him now with glossy eyes still hazy with pleasure, crinkled at the corners as you smiled his favorite smile to date – he was helpless to hold them back.

Eugene held his breath as he watched your eyes widen, your mouth drop open, as his unexpected statement hung in the air.

“Are you…proposing to me Eugene Roe?” You exhaled and he gulped roughly.

“I understand if ya don’ wanna marry me, I still have ta go ta tha Pacific an’…”

“How could I say no, Gene, when I was born to be yours.” You eyed him softly but there was something about your words, and the way your lips were twitching with mirth, that tugged at the back of his brain.

“Cher are ya quotin’ Vera Lynn again?” He huffed and grimaced playfully at your answering laugh, yet felt his heart begin to beat double time as your hands cupped his cheeks and your expression grew serious.

“Eugene Roe, I would love to be your wife.” You nodded firmly and sealed your acceptance with a firm kiss that made his heart soar.

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

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @phyllisthefirst, @footprintsinthesxnd, @she-wolf09231982

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe imagines #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fanfic #hbo war fic #eugene roe #band of brothers

[imastrangeone98]

Enough

(A/N: yes to blade, yes to everything about him 🩵)

WARNING: extremely ooc!blade cuz stoic men are hard to write, fem!reader, smut smut, minors get the hell out of here or I'll smack u to Heaven and back; more plot than there should be tbh; also y/n lowkey being the stellaron hunters' favorite member XD

Being alone with Blade in the hideout is not how you wanted to spend your day, yet here you are.

Agonizing over the lack of Kafka and Silver Wolf (your two greatest- and only- friends in the Stellaron Hunters) helps distract you as you sweep the floor of the Hunters' newly occupied hideout.

It also helps keep your mind off your unexpected companion... the man you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

It's not that you didn't like him- quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings for the broody swordsman were... complicated. Of course he was visibly attractive, as well as emotionally volatile; you'd be blind to not notice it.

But you grew to enjoy seeing his reactions to the smallest of things- from his disgust at the tomatoes in his sandwich, to the smallest curl of his lip at the sight of a whetstone for his sword, to the faintest glimpse of peace in his eyes when he watches the sunset.

You grew to love him. How could you not fall for the sensitive soul who secretly fed the stray kittens near the base, who joined Silver Wolf on the couch to watch her play games, who quietly thanked you every time you patched up the wounds his healing factor could not, even though it was your job?

Your heart blooms when you're near him. But you know better than to think he feels the same way.

Kafka had told you of his reasons for joining the Hunters: a thirst for revenge against all who wronged him, and the undying desire for eternal sleep. His path of vengeance meant no room for any unnecessary things, you included.

You will never be a part of Blade's world.

So you keep your feelings under lock and key, choosing to ignore the fluttering of your heart whenever he helps you with the dishes, when he silently joins you on your trips to the market for groceries, even when he hands you a small souvenir from whatever planet his mission was in.

"Bladie certainly likes to give you special treatment," Kafka had teased you once as she helped blow dry your hair. "Any more of his flirting, and I might just have to fight him for attention~"

"Oh please, be serious, Kaf." You rolled your eyes at the thought. "Blade would never be interested in romance, especially with a dime-a-dozen medic like me. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at that bracer?"

"Well, if he doesn't want you, I don't mind picking up the slack~"

You smacked her for that. But even though she hadn't used her Spirit Whisper on you that day, her words stayed in your mind long after the conversation was over.

Her voice echoed in the back of your mind after that night, when you had encountered him broken and lost in the middle of the night, aching from pains you could not understand. You had taken him in your arms, unable to watch him suffer, and sung him to slumber, watching as his eyes slowly drifted closed as he relaxed in your hold.

Putting him to bed was no easy task, but it was when you were about to pull away that your problem truly began.

"Stay," Blade whispered, soft and drowsy- a sound you didn't think him capable of. It left you speechless, even as he pawed at you to pull you closer to him. "Stay here tonight."

The warning to stay away should have rung in your mind. But when he gazed at you with wide, almost desperate eyes, you could not say no. And so you stayed that night, his head resting on your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

You shouldn't have. Because now you're stuck in this situation, trapped in a corner, with the man haunting your thoughts hovering above you, a dangerous gleam in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine.

"C- can I help you?" you squeak out, a bead of sweat on your forehead. "I'll get started on dinner pretty soon-"

"You are very difficult to get a hold of." Blade cuts you off, leaning closer to you, nose brushing against yours. "Now you have nowhere to go... and no one to hide you."

You gulp. Aeons, you wish Kafka and Silver Wolf were here right now.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Your cheeks feel hot at his question. Is he really that daft? (No, he isn't. He just likes seeing you flustered; but you don't have to know that just yet.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you splutter. He stares at you, exasperated. "I'm treating you just as I always do!"

"...You're terrible at lying." He sighs and finally leans away from you; you hadn't realized you were holding your breath. But you're still not off the hook, because he slides a finger under your chin and tilts your head to maintain your gaze on him. "Since you're not willing to be honest, I will. You disappearing in the morning wasn't particularly... enjoyable for me. And here I thought we were getting close."

Blade lightly scratches your chin, and aeons, if your face wasn't hot before, it's burning now.

"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so. I thought-" He stops himself, but his wide eyes speak the words he cannot vocalize.

Your heart threatens to burst. You have tell yourself it's not real. There's no way this is real. Blade does not like you. Blade is not capable of love. He desires only revenge against the many who wronged him, against the one who holds the other half of his bracer, the key to his heart.

Blade does not love you. He loves only what you briefly gave him because he lacked so much of it in his mysterious past that he instinctively reached out to the first person who gave him scraps of what he deserved.

And that knowledge breaks your heart.

"...You don't know what you're saying," you say stiffly, your grip on the broom tightening. "You must be confused. When Kafka returns, I'll ask her to use her Spirit-"

"Stop," he growls, pressing against you once more. He's so heavy he nearly squeezes the air from your lungs. "I don't know what you're thinking, but that's enough."

Aeons, you're insufferable. Yet he can't stay mad at you, not when your expressions are so cute. He gently cradles your face, fingers lightly tracing your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, your soft lips.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to know if you taste as sweet as you look. If your voice is just as sweet singing his name as you sing your songs that soothe his soul, his mara, better than any of your healing balms or even Kafka's Spirit Whisper.

"Why won't you let me in, you stubborn woman?" Blade whispers, eyeing your confusion, your hurt that he doesn't understand. "What pains you so, that you won't even look at me?"

You grit your teeth. How can you tell him that what pains you is the very thing that brings his immortal life meaning? That you're just trying to make his life easier by not interfering with his plans with your own, temporary issues?

But nothing comes out except a half-hearted, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Bullshit," he hisses. "Everything you do concerns me. Your existence concerns me."

Your hands squeeze into fists. "And why's that? Am I that much of an inconvenience to you?!"

His lips curl into a pained smile. "Like you wouldn't imagine. You make me think of things that I don't need..." He glances down at his feet for a brief, long second, then looks back at you. His eyes are aglow with something you can't describe. "That I don't deserve to think of."

For as much as you want to harden your heart, Blade's words make your attempts meaningless. It's so full of fear and longing that you want to reach out and touch him, hold him close to your heart and never let him go.

You swallow, somehow feeling more nervous than before at what you're about to ask. But you want to know. You need to know, for your poor heart. "...And what is it that you think you don't deserve?"

His gaze softens. Blade leans down once more, and you feel his breath on your lips. He smells nice, you think hazily. Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed, too hyper aware of everything- his scent, the gentle brush of his fingers on your chin, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"You," he whispers, and softly presses his lips to yours.

He's warm against you. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Before you're fully swept into the storm that is Blade, a funny thought flits through your mind: for a man with such a sharp name, he feels so warm in your arms.

He groans against your mouth, hands moving to your cheeks, coaxing your lips open to slide his tongue inside, feeling every part of you. You're so soft, so sweet, so perfect- he swears that you must have been crafted by the aeons themselves to fit his taste, to his hold. He has to fight against every cell in his body to not rip your clothes off and take you against the filthy walls. As badly as he wants to taste you properly, he needs to move this elsewhere. You deserve better than the cold corner he trapped you in. (And if Kafka shows up early, he doesn't want her to witness the filthy things he wants to do to you. But the marks he'll leave... That's fair game.)

When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless, chest heaving, and your lips tingle with the heat of his own. Blade nuzzles against your neck, and leaves kisses down your throat.

"Come on," he whispers against your skin, and tugs at your sleeve. "Stay with me tonight."

It feels too good to be true. You should be more suspicious. Blade does not love. Blade does not care for love. He does not love you.

He doesn't...

But he smiles at you- a soft, innocent smile that tugs at the corners of his eyes- and you fall into him, helpless.

When he offers you his hand, you don't hesitate to take it.

Maybe you're too hypnotized by him, but time melts into one hazy fog of memories. He's gentle- leading you to his room, lying you down on his bed, peeling off your clothes, piece by piece, until you're left bare and wanting. He stares at you hungrily, but he makes no move to devour you just yet.

He's slow, too. Watching him remove his garments- untying his belts and vest, sliding off his glove, unwrapping his bandages- it was torture. You huff, displeased, and reach out to him to lend a hand, but he lightly smacks it away, a playful smirk on his face.

"Patience," he teases, "and I'll give you what you want... and more."

To drive his words home, he moves even slower. By the time he's kicked off his shoes and pants, you've given up on being patient and paw at his boxers, much to his amusement. His cock finally springs free, and you gulp- it's big. Thick at the base, you wonder how it'll fit you. But you can't resist the temptation to lean forward and lick the tip. He groans above you, hands resting on the back of your head to push you further against his groin.

You're so cute. He watches you, hearts in his eyes, slurping away at his cock, clumsy hands rubbing at the parts you can't fit. You reek of inexperience, but it's okay. He has more than enough time to teach you, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

But for now, he lets himself relax and enjoy the warmth of your throat. The urge to cum rises its head, but he pushes it back. Not yet. Not until he feels you properly. (But he can't deny the mental image of his seed dripping from your mouth is incredibly arousing.)

It's when you begin to choke on his length that Blade pulls himself out of his pleasure-induced stupor, and he pulls you off of him to lay down on his bed. He follows you, resting on one arm above your head while his other hand trails down your neck, to your breasts (sparing a few seconds to fondle and squeeze each one), down your belly to your thighs, lightly tapping your wet mound.

"I'm gonna stretch you out now," he says, making sure you're paying attention to him. "Or it'll hurt when I go in."

It hits you: he's done this before. The bracer flashes in your mind. For a brief moment, you think to pull away and return to your room alone, to lick at the wounds to your sensitive pride.

But you hear him call to you, soft kisses being pressed onto your cheeks, and you are pulled away from the storm into his solid embrace.

"You're thinking again," he sighs, and he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Whatever it is, think of it tomorrow. Just let me in; look at me."

Blade rubs his cheek against yours, giving you a reassuring look, then you feel his fingers, long and calloused, brush against your sensitive hole. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling and squirm, but he keeps you firm, kissing you deeply to distract you from the way they slowly press inside you.

Your walls are tight. Blade wants so badly to pull his fingers out and devour you from the source, slurp up every last drop of your essence. But he grasps hold on the last few strings of his unraveling patience, not giving in to his desires just yet. He needs to do this, lest you cry in pain when he finally pushes inside you. So he finds solace in your softness, in the rhythmic squeezing of your silky cunt, carefully stretching you out.

A tear slips out of your eyes at the painful pleasure, and he kisses it away. "There we go. You're ready," he murmurs, pulling his fingers out, your whines at the emptiness music to his ears. He brings them to his mouth, sucking off your juices and moaning at the taste.

"Don't... don't do that," you whimper beneath him. You stare at him so innocently, he wants to ruin you. "It's yucky..."

"It's you," he corrects you, and he adjusts himself so he's between your legs. He smooths his hands down your thighs and positions his cock right at your entrance. When the tip catches onto your hole, you both sigh in pleasure. "Nothing about you is 'yucky.'"

With that, he finally- finally thrusts inside you. You yelp at the intrusion- he stretched you out, but aeons, it's still painful... and he's still not fully inside you. Whimpering, you claw at his scarred shoulders, nails raking down his back. He groans at the sting, leaning down to kiss you, unable to escape your addicting lips.

He can't move. He's trapped by the tightness of your pussy, your wet warmth distracting him from the main course. But your cries of his name pull him out of that haze, reminding him of what he needs to do.

"You're okay," he manages to heave out, cupping your cheek before pressing his chest to yours, mouth smushed against your ear. "I'm here. I'm gonna move."

You whine a weak "Blade..." but he shushes you.

"Ren."

"...What?" you ask hesitantly.

"My name. My real name. Ren."

"...Ren."

Oh, aeons. Your voice is so beautiful saying his long-forgotten name, he nearly came inside you. But he works up the strength to push his cock deeper, until his hips meet yours with a wet slap.

You wail, chanting his name- his true name- as he builds up a semi-steady rhythm. And he makes love to you, for aeons knows how long, hypnotized by your sounds, your smell, your touches on his body as you scratch at him and bite his neck, as if leaving your mark on him. (He wishes he didn't have his healing factor. He wants your scratches to last. He wants to look at them in the morning.)

You manage to cradle his face in your palm and turn him towards you. You take the time to admire him- his gorgeous red eyes, his bare chest gleaming with sweat, his long hair forming a curtain around you, narrowing your sight to him, and only him. So it's just Blade.

No... Ren.

Your heart clenches at his amorous gaze, as if showing his devotion to you, and only you. You do not know if he loves you... if he is capable of loving you. You do not know if he will come to regret this come morning. But you will embrace him, and smile at him, like you do now.

Because you love him. You cannot deny it anymore. You love Ren.

"Ren..." you call out once more.

And he answers you. "Yes." His voice is breathy, and his touch gentle, for he cups your cheek in his hand and rubs soft circles into your sensitive skin.

He may not love you, but you love him. And that is all you need. And you let your love consume you.

"Ren."

"Yes."

You say his name so much you lose count. And he responds every time, sometimes with words, sometimes with his lips. Until he grabs your thighs and folds you nearly in half, hips now slamming into yours as he buries his length inside you even deeper than you thought possible. Your eyes cross and you howl at how impossibly deep he feels, pressing buttons you never knew existed.

Blade moans, drunk on his pleasure, on your sweet, sweet pussy. He feels that unfamiliar tightness in his loins, his balls aching for release. But he needs you there with him, standing at the edge of that cliff right by his side.

"'M close," he whispers hoarsely. His hand flies to your hidden pearl, rubbing at your clit through your folds. You whine pitifully, but this time, he pays no heed. "I need you, come on, I need you-!"

The burning warmth in your gut spreads faster at his rough administrations. You squeal at how sensitive you feel, but you can't outrun it. The heat reaches to your limbs, your eyesight is hazy, and all you see, feel, smell, know is Ren.

Ren, who grasps hold of your hand, urging you to jump off with him. And aeons, he looks so beautiful doing it.

You can't help the words that slip past your mouth: "I love you."

And you jump. You plummet into the canyon, hands intertwined, and you're swept under the waves of indescribable ecstasy that makes you see galaxies. You feel warm, much like the ropes of warm seed that fill you.

Your mind is foggy, but Blade's sighs of pleasure are clear and bright. You feel him thrust inside you, once, twice, four times, before collapsing on top of you. He nuzzles into your neck, taking in lungfuls of your scent, committing it to his memory so he can never part from it.

With shaking arms, you manage to run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and untangling the soft strands, trying to shake your sudden nerves as you realize what you just said in the throes of your first orgasm.

I love you.

But if he noticed, then he hasn't spoken up about it. Instead, he shudders at your touch, pushing his head further into your hands, a silent urge to continue. So you do, until your eyes can no longer stay open, and your hands fall limp in his hair.

He pushes himself up and gathers you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, close to his pounding heart. And he takes the time to admire your drowsy form, so vulnerable and soft, so trusting.

"You terrify me," is all he can whisper before he joins you into slumber.

Because you make him not want to seek death. But he knows he must search for it, now more fervently than before. So that when your time inevitably comes...

...He will be able to follow you.

[...]

"It seems like you and Bladie have been rather close these days~ Have you two finally fucked and made up?"

You blush at Kafka's stupidly accurate teasing. "Don't say it like that! We just... had a talk, that's all."

Your friend eyes the hickies on your neck with amusement. "Sure... a talk with teeth~"

"Kafka-"

"When's dinner? Are you gonna make pasta?" Silver Wolf pops up out of nowhere, eyes fixed on her game.

"Do you want pasta?" you ask her with a laugh. She can be so childish sometimes, but you love her nonetheless.

"Yeah. I like your pasta." The gamer moves to sit next to you, but her chosen spot is suddenly occupied as Blade slides in beside you. He gives you a knowing look, before sending a cocky smirk at Silver Wolf, who pouts and complains to Kafka.

You cackle at the sight before you, and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Blade says nothing, but the way he shifts his body for your comfort and wraps an arm around you tells you everything. You close your eyes in bliss, ignoring the chatter between your two friends as Silver Wolf decides to make a spot on your lap.

Blade is warm beside you. That is enough.

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

A/N: this b*tch took all my wishes but it's ok I love him. I'll hopefully be able to save enough for Dan heng's dragon form *wink wonk* also I'm reassuring myself that no matter how bad this is, hbo's the idol is far far worse 😃

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #blade x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader

[dream0fschism]

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

#konig x reader #konig x you #König x reader #König x you #konig smut #König smut #konig fanfiction #König fanfiction #König call of duty #konig mw2 #König mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 fanfic #könig x fem reader

[aphroditelovesu]

The Lost Queen - VII

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, possibly smut.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,003.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 7

Time was against you.

The more time passes, the more blood he loses and the more the chances of mortality increase.

You needed to be very careful and be as thorough as possible. Any wrong move or touch would result in Cleitus' imminent death.

The issue of medicine was also complicated and archaic and this only complicated everything. You weren't a doctor, but you knew enough about the human body and health care that you believed you could help save it. Your biggest concern, however, was the infection that could arise and how to treat the wound in his abdomen correctly and not make his situation even worse.

Those nights spent watching Grey's Anatomy could come in handy.

You almost laughed at that thought, but it was true. You tried to remember medical procedures and the biology books you had read in high school. You had to remember what was written.

You looked at Doctor Philip and frowned. He seemed more confused than you and that was because he studied medicine. Of course, not the medicine you knew, but still medicine even if archaic and probably with many flaws.

Obviously, Cleitus needed a hospital, with proper medical treatment. The only problem is that you were in the 4th century BC and not the 21st century and there were no conventional hospitals and there was the bonus that you were in a camp during a military campaign.

All the odds were against you.

The thought alone was very discouraging, but you weren't going to give up. You would do everything in your power to make sure this man lives and in the end it would all depend on how well you did.

Cleitus shouldn't die now and you were aware that saving him could change history even more, but you didn't care. Everything had already changed and you needed to save him.

You had to do it.

You washed your hands with the water that was there and the soap available. It wasn't the same as it was in its time, but it should help eliminate at least some bacteria.

You closed your eyes and counted to ten in an attempt to calm your nervousness and opened them again. You took a needle and sterilized it in beer. It wasn't what was recommended, but there was nothing else available so it would have to do.

Cleitus was lying on the cot, Philip was checking his temperature. You approached the cot with the needle and thread in hand, along with a wet and dry piece of fabric that was supposed to imitate gauze.

Philip looked at you suspiciously, ''What are you going to do?''

''Sew him.'' You replied as if it was obvious. You sat down on a chair placed next to the cot and grabbed the beer. You stared at your patient, Cleitus' tanned skin was pale and a wet cloth was on his forehead, as if it was trying to fight off a fever.

He was in a lot of pain and you would only make him feel more.

Your hands were shaking slightly and you cursed yourself for it. Taking a deep breath and praying to whoever was listening to you, you carefully cleaned the blood from the cut that was still bleeding, praying that internal bleeding wasn't happening.

You could stop external bleeding, but not an internal bleeding.

After cleaning up the blood that would get in your way, you threaded the needle and prepared to sew him up. Philip tried to help guide you, but you already knew what he was talking about.

You knew more about medicine than he did.

Trying to ignore Philip's babbling and the panic settling in your body, you pierced Cleitus's sagging skin and began to stitch him up. He was still and expressed no pain, but you knew he was hurting. The right thing to do would be to anesthetize him, but that was not an option available to you.

You managed to stabilize the tremor in your hands and finished the sewing, cutting the rest of the thread with a small knife. The wound had been closed and sterilized, Philip seemed satisfied and said that Cleitus could recover.

But you knew it wasn't just that.

A deep cut to the abdomen was dangerous and there were many risks to consider.

The cut had been closed but there were many things that could go wrong. An infection, internal bleeding or sepsis could occur. Or this could all happen at once.

The only thing left to do was pray and make sure he wouldn't die, at least not alone.

It felt like days had passed.

You had lost track of the time since you had treated Cleitus.

Your eyelids were heavy and you just wanted to sleep, but you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep, not until you were sure he would live.

In a way, it was your fault. You were to blame for him being in such a state.

Although it seemed unrealistic, you were sure it was your fault. Alexander had his share of guilt that was greater than yours, but you still felt so fucking guilty.

You blamed Alexander too. Oh, and how you blamed him.

What was wrong with that man? By god, why the hell does he want to marry you? He knew you for what? A day or less? And you weren't politically attractive.

Not in terms of beauty, you thought you were quite beautiful.

But not politically. You literally appeared out of nowhere, with just the clothes on your back and probably looking like a ghost and he wanted to marry you.

It seemed like a very bad joke.

Cleitus had been the only sensible one, you recognized that. You were too shocked to react and you blamed yourself for it. Maybe if you had said something, Cleitus wouldn't have been stabbed.

Or he would have been the same way.

There was no way you could have predicted it, but you wished you could go back in time again and reverse this situation. But you couldn't do that.

Or could you?

You shook your head, trying to get those thoughts out of your head. There was no point in thinking about things like that, you didn't even know how you ended up in this place, much less how to travel through time again.

Or did you know? Now, alone with Cleitus in a strangely silent environment, you were finally able to think and analyze everything that had happened a few hours ago.

This all started after you bought that book, you were sure of that. And that book was supposed to be magical, it was the only explanation, even if your mind screamed otherwise.

You have always had a scientific mind and have always sought answers based on science and this has always worked for you. There was nothing that science couldn't explain.

Except that.

Science confirmed that time travel existed, but only into the future and not in the way you were experiencing it. Albert Einstein's theory of relativity was always something to be credited with and you trusted him.

Now you weren't so sure about that.

Science went down the drain in this case. Maybe it was some god playing with you or you went crazy. But you dug deep into your mind, looking for any traces of what might indicate why you were here.

And that was when you remembered that strange man who had approached you before you went to the market.

You shivered when you remembered his words.

''The shadows of fate surround you... The world will never be the same for you, girl.''

Could he be the real culprit of your current torment? Possibly. In fact, him and that damn book were the things you could blame right now and only the gods knew how desperately you needed to blame someone or something.

You felt anger course through your body and you wanted to scream at someone. Preferably the culprit, but anyone would do in your moment of understandable outburst.

You felt tears in your eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of despair, but of pure anger.

You didn't try to fight back the tears, but let them fall and wet your face and the top of your blood-stained chiton.

All the emotions you had been suppressing finally exploded. The anger, the sadness, the fear, it all came at once like a devastating wave. Your eyes burned a little, but you didn't care.

After hours of anguish, you allowed yourself to freak out once and for all. And it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders after letting all your emotions out of you. You buried your head in your chest and folded your legs, trying to hide like you did whenever you were scared.

''(Y/N)?'' You raised your head and tried to focus your unfocused gaze on whoever had spoken to you. It was Perddicas. You smiled a little at his presence.

He approached you and gently touched your bare shoulders. You shivered a little at the sudden contact, but didn't try to push him away.

''Hey...'' You mumbled with a choked voice.

''How is he?'' He murmured, patting your shoulders.

You held back a sob, ''I'm not sure.''

Perdiccas just looked at you fondly with those beautiful blue eyes that you felt like you could get lost in them for hours.

''And how are you?'' His voice was a little louder than a whisper. He was trying to comfort you and you appreciated it immensely.

''Not great.'' You simply said, still looking into those mesmerizing eyes.

A hint of pain flashed across his handsome face. ''I'm sorry to hear that and for what happened to Cleitus.'' He mumbled and you could swear there were tears in his eyes.

''It sucks.''

He laughed nasally, ''Yes.''

No exchange of words was said after that. And it wasn't necessary, body and facial language said everything that needed to be said.

You were very close, closer than would be considered appropriate or comfortable but you didn't care. You needed this comfort, desperately and Perdiccas could offer you that.

He wanted to offer you this.

You knew it from your first interaction with him.

You leaned your face closer to his and his breathing became heavy, You didn't back away however. Your eyes were fixed on the general's full lips.

''(Y/N)...'' Perdiccas murmured, looking at your face with desire and affection.

Hearing him say your name like that sent waves of pleasure through your body. Your faces were close, very close.

''Perdiccas...'' He got goosebumps when he heard you whisper his name.

You no longer had any doubts.

Against all the common sense you had left, you sealed the distance between you. Your lips met in a shy and superficial kiss, but one that quickly became passionate.

You moaned softly and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his warm body closer to yours. Perdiccas touched your waist and squeezed lightly, deepening the kiss. Your tongues touched in a shy and passionate way, your mouths became one.

You reluctantly broke apart after the lack of air hit you. You opened your eyes and blushed when you saw his lips swollen from the kiss and his breathing a little labored. Yours was no different.

You took a deep breath and touched his face tenderly, stroking it softly. He was really very handsome, the kind of man you were sure you'd see in one of those magazines, maybe like Vogue.

''(Y/N), you...'' Perdiccas couldn't formulate a proper question, still very surprised and excited by the passionate kiss. He wanted to kiss you more and maybe even more than kiss.

You smiled at him.

You threw yourself against him, looking for the necessary comfort. Perdiccas hugged you tightly and kissed your neck, stroking your hair. You closed your eyes and gave yourself what you wanted most.

— lady l: You didn't expect that kiss, did you? Me neither. The idea for the kiss came up at the last minute and I had to write it, so... Yeah, we had a little kiss between our girl and Perdiccas. Will I mention the consequences this will have? No. Anyway, I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes and bad writing on the medical treatment part lol, don't repeat that! If you have been stabbed, seek medical attention! Love you all and see you in the next chapter ❤️.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #the lost queen #tlq #alexander the great #alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere alexander the great

[cryptwrites]

Poisons

Hello! I'm gonna share how I go about writing poisons and the things I think are helpful to keep in mind. Now, I have never actually poisoned someone - shocker - but I have done extensive research on the topic, so I would say I know a decent amount about how to effectively poison someone. Disclaimer: This is for writing purposes only, don't poison people. Thanks.

Keep In Mind:

Poisoners need little to no physical strength although they do need a strong sense of self control & nerves of steel. Shooting or stabbing someone takes a mere moment of consideration and is frequently the result of  a split second decision, while position requires dedication. Many poisons require a certain amount of time to work and the poisoner usually must administer several doses of poison in order to work. The poisoner also usually must be within close proximity to their victim and often will have to look them in the eye and engage with the person while the person slowly dies.

Exotic poisons can be more trouble than they’re worth. Importing exotic poisons leaves a trail for authorities to follow, and they require more research to correctly use.

Smart poisoners work with what they’ve got. The clever killer looks for drugs that are already in the victim’s medicine cabinet and that could be deadly. Read medical warning labels to get an idea of how to use them.

Poison can be used in ways that aren’t deadly. If the goal isn’t death, you can render someone dizzy or dopey, making a character vulnerable to a bad influence. 

Common Poisons

Hemlock: Poison hemlock comes from a large fern-like plant that bears a dangerous resemblance to the carrot plant. It was readily available for treating muscle spasms, ulcers, and swelling, but in large doses will cause paralysis and ultimately respiratory failure. 

Mandrake: It was used as a sedative, hallucinogen and aphrodisiac. Superstition mediaeval denizens believes when the vaguely human-shaped root was pulled out that plant gave a piercing shriek that would drive anyone to madness or death - hence the harry potter scene.

Arsenic: Arsenic comes from a metalloid and not a plant, unlike the others but it’s easily the most famous and is still used today. instead of being distilled from a plant, chunks of arsenic and dug up or mined. It was once used as a treatment for STDs , and also for pest control and blacksmiths, which was how many poisoners got access to it. It was popular in the Renaissance since it looked similar to malaria death, due to acute symptoms including stomach cramps, confusion, convulsions, vomiting and death. Slow poisoning looked more like a heart attack.

Nightshade: A single leaf or a few berries could cause hallucinations - a few more was a lethal dose. Mediaeval women used the juice of the berries to colour their cheeks, they would even put a few drops on their eyes to cause the pupils to dilate for a lovestruck look which is why Nightshade is also called ‘Belladonna’ or “Beautiful woman.” The symptoms include dilated pupils, sensitivity to light, blurred vision, tachycardia, loss of balance, staggering, headache, rash, flushing, severely dry mouth and throat, slurred speech, urinary retention, constipation, confusion, hallucinations, delirium and convulsions.

Aconite: This toxic plant, also called Monkshood or Wolfsbane, was used by indigenous tribes around the world as arrow poison. The root is the most potent for distillation. Marked symptoms may appear almost immediately, usually not later than one hour, and with large doses death is near instantaneous. The initial signs are gastrointestinal including nausea, and vomiting. This is followed by a sensation of burning, tingling, and numbness in the mouth and face, and of burning in the abdomen. In severe poisonings pronounced motor weakness occurs and sensations of tingling and numbness spread to the limbs. The plant should be handled with gloves, as the poison can seep into the skin.

If someones poisoning another:

The character should analyse the daily life of the target well before attempting to poison them. Note what sort of medicines they take, at what moments they are most vulnerable, how attentive they are to their surroundings, and so on.

Choose a poison that suits your needs. You need to be as discreet as possible and not arouse suspicion. Too dramatic and people will know something is up. Choose poisons that are easy to slip into meals/don't have to be administered constantly, or you could simply frame it as an overdose by using the target's own medicines.

Think of how you want to administer the poison. Some take effect through touch while some require being swallowed. Based on that, come up with a plan to poison your target.

Make sure everything corresponds with the plot and characters, and nothing becomes a plot hole. Don't have a typically nervous character be perfectly calm when thinking of poisoning. Don't poison someone just for the sake of it. Have everything tie back to the plot, your characters rarely should be poisonings someone just for the "cool" effect. Trust me, it doesn't actually have that effect and just comes off like lazy writing. Have your characters act in accordance with their personalities.

Research time periods and history when choosing poisons. Not all poisons were popular during the same time periods, and not all of them are native to the same geographical areas.

#horror writing #creative writing #writer #writing #writers #writerscommunity #writerscorner #writeblr #writing exercise #writer things #writers tips #writing tips #writing resources #writing is hard #poisons #writing poisons #writing challenge #writing reference #reference #fiction #fiction writing

[venturelovebot]

A/N: Another request off the list! This one was pretty fun, and thanks again for requesting! It really does mean a lot to me! Link to request here!

Premise: Takes place a little while after Venture's Adventures trailer! Silly goober does not realize taking on a deadly organization is not good for their health!

Warnings: Blood, a small argument but other than that there's nothing to worry about!

You press down the gauze onto the fresh wound on their arm, soaking up as much as the blood as you could manage. Within minutes it soaks the tight knit fabric a dark crimson red and you discard it into the nearby bloody scrap pile. You take another piece of clean, dry gauze and apply pressure to the area before wrapping it up and taping it off. Sloan winces and grits their teeth from your rough care.

"So..." You continue to treat their wounds as they watch. "You really did all of that? By yourself?" You ask.

Tears formed in their eyes as you dug into another wound to clean it. They blink them away before you can notice–

"Sure did!" They grin.

"Didn't we have this talk before?" You chide. The grin on their face immediately fades.

"Yeah, but if things went bad I could've gotten out of there no problem." They attempt to mask the defensiveness in their voice. You sigh and continue your cleaning and dressing.

Your soft, warm hands continue gently wrapping layers of fresh gauze around Sloan's clean wounds. The silence between the two of you feels immense. Without pressing the matter further, you finish up your work and move on to the next noticeable injury. However, there are several other cuts and scrapes across their skin, so you definitely had your work cut out for you tonight. At least the worst of the worst were already taken care of.

A laugh escapes their throat and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You're turning me into a mummy!" They joke.

You shake your head and sigh once more. They pout in response.

"Jeez, tough crowd." They add.

You hold back your frustration as you roll up their jeans to reveal more injuries in need of treatment. Once again you begin to wipe their skin clean with medicine and discard all bloody cloth into the growing mountain of medical trash. Your anger is evident in your body language.

"Hmph. Angela wouldn't be this mad–" You cut them off and they're caught by surprise. You shoot straight up and scowl.

"Well I'm not Angela, okay?" You argue, angrily tightening the cloth around their leg. They audibly express pain from your harshness.

You turn around for a moment and look for more medicine. Everything you grab lightly stains the container and their labels red in the shape of gloved fingers.

"I... didn't mean it like that..." There's noticeable guilt in their voice.

"You really just don't get it, do you?" You bite your cheek to stop yourself from further outbursts.

"Get what? That artifact was important to me–"

"And you're important to me!" You turn on your heels and meet their gaze directly. "You really think you could take on Talon all by yourself and not get hurt? You could have died!" You cry.

They blush and look away. "Aww come on, it wasn't that bad..."

"Wasn't that bad?! Look at your arms! I'm not even done with you yet! What were you thinking?" Tears of frustration form in your eyes.

Sloan is quiet again as the realization hits. They look down at their disheveled clothes and half patched up body. Oh my God– you were right...

You open your mouth to start yelling again but you stop when you feel their arms wrap around your waist. They nuzzle against your warm skin and close their eyes.

"I'm sorry." They admit.

You let out another sigh and affectionately pat their head in defeat.

"You really should take better care of yourself. I can only fix so much. What you did was extremely brave and admirable, but it was also extremely stupid and reckless–" You stop yourself mid lecture so you wouldn't make them feel worse than they already did. "What I'm trying to say is... archeology is important to you, and you're important to me. There will always be more treasure to uncover but there's only one of you. You can't ever be replaced, you know?"

They sniffle and hug you closer. You continue comforting them to the best of your ability as their emotions pour out onto your soiled shirt. You remove your stained gloves and reach into your coat pocket for an emergency lemon lollipop.

"Here." You take off the wrapper and hand the sweet to them. Immediately their eyes light up with joy, and they quickly wipe away their tears on their jacket sleeve.

"Aww yeah! You're the best!" They immediately pop the sweet into their mouth. "Thanks!" They mumble with a full mouth.

"This is not an excuse to forget what I just told you."

You take your hand and tilt their head up. From a nearby glove box you grab a pair of clean gloves and get back to work.

"I won't forget! I promise!"

"Isn't that what you said last time?" You remind them.

They remove the lollipop from their mouth and look at you in full seriousness.

"I promise I'll be more careful! You're my treasure. No one else is allowed to discover you. Finders keepers!"

You couldn't help but smile from the cheesiness.

Satisfied with your expression, they continue eating away at their lollipop. You continue to hold their face carefully while wiping away the dirt, grime and blood. As an extra treat you reach into your pocket again and place a skeleton bandaid on their cheek across a minor scrape they obtained.

"Alright. I think you're good to go. Don't get into anymore trouble, okay?" You ask them, borderline begging for them to be safer in the future.

"Finders keepers." They repeat, hopping off the table.

You finally toss the huge mess you made into the garbage and wash your hands. They head for the door before they stop dead in their tracks. They flick their leftover lollipop stick into the trash.

"Oh! I almost forgot!" They walk over to you and place a kiss to your lips.

"Finders keepers..." They smile. "But you make it hard to want to stay safe because I love seeing you."

You blush and let out a tiny giggle.

"You're my favorite patient. Just don't get maimed, alright?" You swat at them lightly. "I'm serious. Doctors orders."

"Sure thing, Doc. Are you free this Saturday by any chance?" A cheeky grin lights up their face.

"Only if you can go the rest of the week without getting injured." You place your hands on your hips and put on your serious face.

"You betcha!" Their grin somehow widens further as they spin around and head for the door.

You wait for them to fully leave before leaning back on the table and crossing your arms.

"I give them eleven minutes." You whisper under your breath.

#had to add some snark to this one i apologize hehehehehhehe #venture x reader #venture x you #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fanfiction #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #sloan cameron #sloane cameron #venture overwatch #venture ow2

[bigassmoth]

What in Hell is Bad Lucifer x reader 2nd pov r18,

Clit Clinic (roleplay, temperature play, medical kink, bondage, overstimulation, watersports(squirting), slight body modification (non-perm clit ring))

"The demons are quite rough with you." Lucifers voice came from between your legs. It was awkward enough laying down with your knees slightly parted- without him stating the obvious-all you could manage in response was a hum. You were dressed in a thin white hospital gown- much softer and silkier than you were familiar with in the human realm. The fabric pooled at your stomach as Lucifer lifted your legs, fully exposing your bare pussy to the slightly chilly room. You yelped in surprise and reflexively jerked away but Lucifer held firm. He frowns and lets out a short puff of disapproval.

"You will need additional treatment." He releases your legs and stands up. While you frantically pull your gown down to cover your cold lower body, Lucifer begins fiddling with the rigging system that hangs over the bed. You assumed the structure was in place for aiding mobility and keeping medical equipment organized but then Lucifer attached a set of fur-lined leather cuffs. Your eyes go wide and your throat dry.

"What do I need treatment for?" Your voice comes out husky and that alone is enough for Lucifers cock to start swelling. He looks at you and wordlessly holds out his hand. You place your ankle into his palm and settle into a more comfortable position as he raises your leg to the cuff and gently binds it.

"I will get cold. And I want a pillow." You request while offering him your other ankle. Lucifer hums again while he finishes buckling you in, taking a moment to look at your exposed bottom before leaving the room. You squirm once alone, you would be able to unbuckle yourself but it was more fun to pretend helplessness.

Lucifer comes back with a pillow and a hot compress which he slides under your hips to warm your lower back. You take the pillow from him and adjust it behind your neck as Lucifer straps your knees to each side of the rigging. Testing your restraints, your feet are held fast in the air while it becomes impossible to close your legs. Your hips wiggle but the motion is limited.

While you were feeling out your position, Lucifer had grabbed a number of items on a tray. He sat in his chair and rolled to the edge of your bed. You lifted your head but wasnt able to see what was on the tray. Without giving you a warning, something warm and wet touched your mound. A warm towel which was used to clean your pubic region, lips, clit, and the outside of your holes. Lucifers hands helped guide the cloth where is needed to go, he had already coated his gloves with warm lube. You hummed with his ministrations, trying not to tense and wiggle your ass as he rubbed tight circles in your asshole with the towel. Mammon had trained your body well.

Lucifer still wasnt done with cleaning as he peeled back the hood of your clit and used a wet q-tip to circle it. Your legs jerked against the restraints, his touch was firm despite the area being so tender. You cant think if you have ever had someone pay such close attention to the inner-most skin of your clit before- that even the hood felt tingly. As you pant above him, Lucifer finishes. His hands leave your pussy and you let out a breath you hadnt realized you were holding. Your hole throbs as your half-hard clit stands as evidence to the upcoming treat.

"Good, we will start with this." Lucifers voice is a thick whisper of anticipation. A smooth, cool, metal instrument coated in lube begins to caress your clit. You moan and squeeze your hands around your (now useless) gown. The instrument is rounded and gently scooped, perfectly sliding into hood and aroundyour clit again. Your noises escalate in pitch. He moves out from your folds to use the instrument to rub circles on the tip of your clit.

"Lucifer i-its hard." You are of course talking about your poor abused nub. He hums.

"Yes but we need more. I dont want your clit to be able to hide after this. To do that it must become swollen enough for me to see it through your underwear." The most youve ever heard him say at once and its that. Your heart is in your throat and you uselessly squirm.

"Ah- thats so embarrassing!" You play to the fantasy, remembering that angels are kept erect in cages. It was Lucifers remix of his past experience, having you express sexual energy without it being confined to metal.

The sensations on your clit stop. "Dont worry, it will go down by the time you leave." He misinterpreted your tone and casts you a slightly worried look while rubbing a hand over your calf.

You bite your lip and do your best to present a pitiful look. "Ah but Im here for two days...how will you know its still hard? Will you make me show you? Will I have to walk around in only thin underwear?"

Lucifers hot breath begins hitting your pussy as he pants, his face flushed.

"If you behave then you can wear clothes." His hands are rubbing the outside of your thighs, one gloves and smearing lube on your skin and the other sweaty and hot. When you nod your submission, Lucifer groans. This was a fantasy of his from being an angel, forced to contain his own raging sexual desire while cultivating and worshipping his Gods.

He picked up a bullet vibrator next and placed it below your clit so the vibrator just barely grazed the underside. You groaned and couldnt stop your twitching hips.

"Ah-wait I havent gone to the bat-" you start to panic but Lucifer only grinds the vibrator directly against the opening of your urethra. Your pussy clenches against nothing with only the ghost of vibrations to keep it company. The tender roof of your urethral canal directing vibrations into your clit. You cry as you squirt, Lucifer only removing the vibrator after you lost full control of your bladder. You whimper in the aftermath, legs trembling. Lucifer presss the vibrator directly to your clit before you have time to recover, causing you to thrash in the bed.

"Behave," he removes the vibrator while he speaks and pets your inner thigh with his free hand. "Or else."

"O-or else what?" Your body is shivering as you ask. Lucifer sets down the vibrator. You feel a band of cold metal slip over your clit, a loose fit, a jolt of electricity runs up your spine.

"A ring."

Lucifer groans out his threat and you moan in response. You wiggle your hips and whine.

"That wont work on me. its too big."

He is panting against you like a dog, going as far as to lean his cheek against your leg. Lucifers eyes meet your in a daze, both of you in dazed anticipation.

"It will fit." He picks up another tool from the table.

And fit it did. The process took about an hour and a half of rubbing in creams, using vibrators, and pulling out multiple orgasms from you without once touching your pussy or ass. With the ring at the base of your clit under the hood, your organ was forcibly erect. It would have been better to be naked, the crotchless panties you wore scratched at your clit. Lucifer checked on you frequently, lifting your skirt (he required easy access) to view the stickiness between your thighs. Politely he would lap up your arousal- never poking his tongue inside you despite your begging. Once cleaned he would perform "maintainance" on your abused clit, assuring you that it was necessary to keep it hard. He would suck and lick at your clit through the underwear until the fabric would cling to you. Then without providing you real sexual relief he would pull away and you would endure until he graced you with his attention again.

That night you went to his room for your final check. He removed the ring and sat your aching hole on his cock. But his hands held your hips down to his, forcing you to take all of his uncomfortable length. Despite your sweet kisses to his mouth he wouldnt move. Even worse, he came when he entered you so he wasnt in the state of desperation you were.

"Pleasure yourself." He whispered against your lips. You whined but relented.

"Only if you properly fuck me after, ok?"

Lucifer nodded eagerly, his entire body shaking. His eyes watched with rapt attention as you gathered some of his cum which had leaked from your hole. Your fingertips worked your clit and in a matter of seconds you were screaming as an orgasm shot through you. Lucifer groaned and released again, your pussy had been aching for hours and now held him in an authoritative vicegrip.

"Forgive me" Lucifer said to no one in particular as he finally began pumping in and out of you. You clung to his shoulders and sang his praises finally getting relief for the sweet burn he had lit in you. Lucifer came again shortly after, tears pricking his eyes as they roll back into his head. It was a delicious taboo, to break his oath of servitude to pleasure himself alongside you.

#wihib smut #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer

[steviewashere]

In it For the Long Haul (And Then Some)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Minor Internalized Ableism Tags: Post Canon, Post Season Four, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Medical Conditions, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma (Brief Mention), Amputee Steve Harrington, Amputee Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Disabled Eddie Munson, Whump, Implied/Referenced Depression, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve's Injuries Actually Have an Effect On Him, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names, Medical Accuracies (Surprising, I Know), Tattoos, Implied/Referenced Sex, Getting Together

Guys, oh my god, my Apple keyboard has prosthetic emojis?! That's so cool.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 He thought it’d be another concussion that would put him out this time. It’s practically the stamp of approval left on his body by the Upside Down. Should be bright green and sticky on his forehead and in big bold letters for everybody to read. But it isn’t a concussion. And he’s not sure what to do with himself.

Maybe they should’ve taken him to the hospital to get medical treatment after the bat bites. It wasn’t just on his back and arms and stomach. The marks were on his legs, too. Even though he had tried to kick the demobats off, they still sunk their teeth in when they had the chance, albeit briefly. Considering, too, he also walked through that hellhole without shoes on. He should’ve seen a doctor. First thing, he should’ve seen a doctor. But he didn’t. And he had the infection to show for it. Except, his body hadn’t healed the way it was supposed to. His immune system didn’t cooperate. It didn’t keep up.

The infection spread through the muscle of his left foot. And when it didn’t go away fast enough, it worked its way through his toes, shot up his ankle, and into his calf. Right below the knee.

His pinkie and ring toes went first. They—and he wishes he could spare the gruesome details—turned purple and swollen and numb. That’s when he knew things would be different. As soon as those parts were gone, he had begun to turn his face away from the window of hope. Instead, he looked out at the deep ocean waves of regret and grief, and imagined himself as a sinking ship. Filling with water. Plummeting to the bottom. Rotting.

Robin and the kids would all come around. Flood into his room. Talk to him while he was delirious from anesthesia first, then morphine next. Spoke to him when he hissed through phantom pains. Looked away when he had to be wheeled into the all too spacious hospital bathroom. “Tug the red chord if you get stuck,” he recalls a nurse saying. “Don’t put pressure on this foot, it’s still draining,” another had said. And by the time he could stay out of the wheelchair, he forgot what it was like to pee without the reminders, what it was like to go to the bathroom and be able to stand on his own.

Because of his luck, though, he lost the whole foot next. The infection had worked its way into his tibia. Didn’t fall asleep willingly after he was taken off of medication. Just sat in his cramped hospital bed, staring down at the stump of where part of him once was, and wept. Hands curled over his thighs, nails digging into his flesh, lips tight against his teeth, unblinking and weeping softly into the silence of his room. The first night without morphine and without the foot, he sat in the dark. In the black ink of his room. Choking on himself. Uncaring towards his limp and greasy hair dangling in front of his eyes. And he didn’t sleep. Didn’t want to. Couldn’t take the glare off his absent foot.

He stopped flexing the other foot, stopped running it against his left leg when he did try to sleep, stopped wanting to use it all together.

It wasn’t until the calf was removed completely, leaving him with half a leg and just his knee, did he stop talking. He just sat in the bustling white noise silence of his room. Wide eyes that were dry and red and bloodshot staring down at the thin cloth blanket draped over himself. An even thinner hospital gown stuck to his sallow skin. Stomach rumbling with hunger, but he couldn’t eat in the presence of himself. He just sat and thought of blankness, of absence, and of loss.

He’s been in the hospital nearly a month—endless surgeries and endless bouts of infections—when Eddie finally visits. Steve barely glances at him. Notices his silhouette and odd gait and the hiding of his right arm, but nothing more. Goes back to his lap with a raw emptiness, gaping and pulsing the more and more he sits in this room. Still recovering. Not even at the point of physical therapy yet. Still trying to heal his, how he views it, now useless body.

Eddie sits down in the chair to his left. Grunting with the exertion. He releases a measured, deep breath. “I heard from Robin that you were up here,” he states conversationally. “Thought I’d come up and see you now that I’m not stuck in my own room.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. Just traces his thumbs over the hem of his blanket. He thought he’d be angrier at the mention of Eddie being discharged. Filled to the brim with bitter jealousy. But all that tinges in his chest is a beastly want. An ache. The sizzle of something dwindling out.

“Haven’t had the chance to thank you, Steve,” Eddie murmurs. “I thought I’d die down there. Figured it was the best option, y’know, considering my circumstances? But then you and Dustin did the whole tourniquet thing and risked your lives and welcomed me in like a friend. So, my mind’s been changed. Hate this town and how it hates me, but I’m glad to still be here with some of the best people I’ve met,” he says sincerely. “But—I, uh—I wanted to come keep you company, as a friend. Show you something, too.”

At that, Steve raises his eyes slightly. Enough to catch on where Eddie’s knees are pressed firmly against the side of his bed. Angled oddly to stretch out and wiggle his right arm in sight of Steve’s vision. That’s when his eyes catch on the limp sleeve of the flannel he’s wearing. How it just flattens to the bed, red and black, lifeless.

The sleeve rolls up to reveal the stump of Eddie’s arm. His hand, wrist, and half of his forearm completely gone.

“We match,” Eddie says. And it should be grim. It should be a devastating statement to make. But something in Steve starts to warm. A desperation sort of growth, one that comes from the want and need to be seen. Eddie continues, “And—Look, I know it’s not ideal. It really isn’t. If anything, this is like majorly fucked up for the both of us. But…We’ll figure it out, you know? Get prosthetics. Cut up our clothes to accommodate our limbs, or well, lack of. But you aren’t alone; that’s my point.”

Hesitantly, Steve raises his head. Finally looking at Eddie in his entirety. The palm sized scar on his cheek, pink and shiny and stark against his face. The ring around his neck and the other red raw scars that creep into the collar of his t-shirt. And his hair. It’s gone. Shaved down. Replaced by a bit of fuzz and one long scar that goes from the widow’s peak of his hairline, to where it tapers at his neck. Steve doesn't remember Eddie getting injured there, but it must've been from when he fell through the portal—limp and loose.

He realizes, looking down at himself, that there are swirls of scars from the back of his own arms, deep white lines on his knuckles, the ring around his neck surely present, and that doesn’t even include the ones that ache on his back. He looks back to Eddie.

Eddie reaches out a slow hand, cupping his cheek, wiping at something. That’s when Steve realizes that he’s crying. “Hey, oh, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’m sorry, Stevie. I didn’t think that—“

“You get it?” Steve squeak-rasps. His throat throbs. It's dry and brittle and painful all the way through him; down to his stomach, into his sweaty palms, at the base of his stump. Phantom stings that make him twitch. But his voice...It's nothing like him. It's haunting to hear himself. And for a moment, he wishes he didn't speak. Eddie, however, startles and softens all at once. Eyes glistening at Steve, worried and concerned and cautious, but also enamored and welcoming and empathetic.

Nodding, Eddie says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I do. I’m still getting used to it, too.” He pushes up into Steve’s messy hair, swiping it away from his forehead. Doesn’t even grimace at how gross it surely feels on his fingers. “You don’t have to sit alone about this. ‘Cause I’m right here with you. And…” His eyes grow immeasurably softer. “…I may not have both hands, but I’ve got both arms to hold you," he breathes.

It’s easy to lean into Eddie’s hand. To close his eyes and let himself feel this. Sobbing quietly, muffled behind his lips. Shoulders shaking with it. He blubbers, “I hate this, Eddie. I hate this, I hate this, I—“ And cuts himself off with a loud, unashamed, explosive sob.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie is saying as he wraps himself around Steve. Tucks himself in close, to where Steve is able to set his head on his shoulder. He sits on the edge of the bed so that he doesn’t overcrowd. And just holds on tight. “You feel how you need to feel, Steve. Get it out, it’s okay.”

Steve groans harshly in the back of his throat. Gasping in short breaths, chest rattling with the effort. He slams his forehead into Eddie’s chest, over and over. Muffling into the fabric of his shirt, “Nobody else gets it. They don’t understand. They don’t…All of them.” Eddie doesn’t speak. Afraid that Steve will stop if he does. “They think I’ll just bounce back, but everything is different now, Eds,” he cries, “Everything.”

And he finds that he does mean that. He knows he's too quiet. Knows he's behaving too serious for his bones. Too mature for his lungs. He's hollow to his core, and bleeding between his teeth. There's something deeply fractured in him now, even if he were to ever show a sliver of who he was before.

He allows himself to cry for a few minutes more before slumping with exhaustion, but he doesn’t close his eyes. Doesn’t let sleep pull him under. Just shakes and shivers and twitches in Eddie’s warm hold. Until, Eddie pulls back. Arms set firmly on Steve’s shoulders. Eyes wandering his face, his hair. “You look so tired, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “When’s the last time you’ve slept?” Steve shrugs in lieu of a response. Eddie's eyebrows twitch down, a frown wanting to form, but he worms it away. Offering with a well-crafted small smile, “How about you sleep and I keep watch for you?”

He shakes his head. “They’ll take more of me if I close my eyes. They keep doing it,” Steve mutters. His voice is weak and slightly petulant.

“What do you mean, Stevie?” And Eddie's face drops again. Frowning through the floor.

“They come in here and tell me the infection spread. Tell me about how it goes bone deep. Or how my limbs are turning purple. Or how something doesn’t look good,” Steve rambles on, “Then, they have to take me back for surgery. And I have to let them because I get it, I do, because my body isn’t healing right. And it's not something I'll just make up for at home, so I let them. I let them and then...I wake back up and more of my leg is gone. I can’t let them take more from me. I can’t lose more of myself. I can’t, Eddie, I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—“

Softly, Eddie shushes him. Rubbing his remaining hand up and down Steve’s arm in long stripes, carefully avoiding his still agitated scars. “Shhh, baby, you’re okay. It’s scary, I know. But they said that you’re doing better. Treatment is working, Steve. You won’t lose anything else, okay?” His eyes are wide and imploring. Deep brown, enriching, swallowing Steve whole. “You won’t. This is it. They just need you to rest. I’ll be right here while you do so; I won’t let them do anything to you that you wouldn’t want. But you need sleep. You’re wasting away on me.” His hands push firmer on Steve's shoulders. Imploring again, searching and hoping for Steve to understand. He reiterates, “You’re wasting away.”

“I’m not,” Steve weakly argues.

“You are,” Eddie whispers, “You look like you haven’t slept in days, Stevie. And the doctors already told me how you’ve been refusing to eat. That’s not good. You gotta rest and get healthy, to a place they need you to be, so that you can go home.” Steve doesn't like that idea. Back to his big, almost always empty house. Eddie must read that, somewhere, on his face. He gently splays his hand over Steve’s chest, shoving at it with light force. Promising low, "Home can be with Robin or Nancy or me, Stevie. But you have to get better first. You have to. Just lay down and talk to me, sweetheart."

Hesitantly, Steve lays down with Eddie’s push. Head lolled on the pillow so that his face is pointed towards where Eddie sits. He stretches out his hand and weakly grips to Eddie’s fingers. “I’m scared,” he finally confesses. The words falling heavy from the tip of his tongue.

And though Eddie knows, Steve can see it in his eyes, he asks anyway, “What’s got you spooked?”

Steve blinks groggily. Wrung out from the tears. From the sobbing. The speaking. From existing the way he has been. “Of not being myself,” he answers, muttering. “I can’t drive now. I can’t work out the way I used to. Can’t even stand to use the bathroom. I’m not losing more of my limbs, but it’s like I’m gone.”

Eddie’s thumb pushes firmly into the back of Steve’s hand. And he looks straight on at Steve’s tired, tired, tired eyes. “I ain’t letting you go,” he swears. “We’ll find what works. We’ll find you again, I promise. Especially now that we have all the time in the world.”

“It’s going to take so long, though. You don’t want to be stuck with me during that.”

Simply, Eddie shrugs. “So, what? I’ll be figuring out myself again, too. And from what I’ve heard, you’re the kind of guy to take no shit. If anything, you’re going to be the one stuck with me.” His voice grows lower and lower as Steve’s eyes dip to a near close. “Go ahead and sleep, Steve. It’s okay.”

With a long, grieving sigh, Steve closes his eyes completely. Mumbles, “You’re a good guy, Eddie.” Voice slow and sticky. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

As Steve’s grumbling snores fill the room, Eddie stands to lightly open the curtains. Soft sunlight pooling through the room. It makes Steve glow in yellows, his hair shiny and his skin glistening. He’s worse for wear, that much is evident to Eddie. But he can work with that. He’ll accommodate all that Steve is willing to give. And he’ll keep an eye and an ear out, too. Even if that’s all he’s allowed to offer.

He sits back in his original chair. Stretching himself so that he can lean over Steve's bed. And swipes the stray hair away from his eyes. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs into the white noise of the room. He stays until visiting hours are over.

And comes back every day until Steve gets to go home.

——— Their prosthetics don’t match perfectly to their skin (the prosthetic’s skin being a shade darker than what they’d usually have), but they make do with them. And they find a way to joke about it. To mingle with the still raw ache of what they’ve lost.

Steve ends up painting the nails of Eddie’s prosthetic hand to match his real fingernails, black and shiny. Eddie aids with changing out Steve’s sneakers so that they match his polos and sweaters. And they find it especially funny, when they get together and hook up for the first time, to be laying in a pile of limbs quite literally on Eddie’s bed—but to look off at his side table, their arm and leg are cradling each other. Just as they do. Holding one another on the worst days, through the phantom pains and the afternoons where they sob. It comes easily, being with one another.

It takes time, like all things do. Like watching paint dry on some days. Or waiting for water to boil on others. Prone to lash out, sure. Prone to stay stock still in bed with far away eyes. But they’re in it. They live it. And as time pushes, days grow to be normal. To be expected.

“We should draw tattoos on our limbs,” Eddie suggests one day.

“I can’t draw, Eds. But what do you have in mind?”

In it for the long haul, with a drawing of a hand, is put on Steve’s prosthetic calf.

And then some, with a leg wearing a Nike sneaker, goes on Eddie’s wrist.

“Can’t believe my first tattoo literally cost an arm and a leg,” Steve mutters later, admiring the work Eddie’s done. And all they can do afterwards is laugh until their stomachs hurt, air is impossible to catch, and their cheeks are wet with tears.

🦾🦿—————🦾🦿 When my mom was alive and, obviously, still used her prosthetic leg, she'd threaten to beat up my bullies by taking her leg off and whacking them with it. Also, her leg had a piece of see-through plastic on it where she could have something customized in it, it said "Kicking ass and taking names."

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #disabled steve harrington #disabled eddie munson #amputee steve harrington #amputee eddie munson

[minihotdog]

Stay a Wee Longer

Pairing: Soap x Medic!OC (Sergeant Lynn)

Summary: Soap ends up needing to be stitched up and is happy that the person doing it is so purdy

a/n: I actually like this fic ngl

c/w: poor understanding of medicine and the medical field, blood, wounds, mentions of dropping babies, saying too damn much while high off pain meds, a cutie patootie so cute it makes me wanna explode, too much smiling.

Word Count: 10k

***

You raced down the hallways of the small med bay alongside the medic you were turning over as he filled you in on the current influx of patients.

“We just got a wave of task force in the bay. You know what that means.” Reed sings at the end of his statement. 

“Trouble.” Your words are dry, already exhausted from imagining the day ahead. “Yes, ma’am!” He exclaims in agreement.

When the task force was back in town it meant everyone had their work cut out for them. All sorts of injuries would come through, many needing immediate care.

“Your first patient is Sergeant Mactavish. Ooooh, he’s cute.” Reed gasps, peaking at the patient chart before handing the clipboard to you. “You should really make a move.”

“What’s wrong with him?” You ignore his remark. 

Reed rolls his eyes at your attempt to deflect. 

“Laceration, Left pectoral muscle. Bleeding is minimal, large improvement from earlier.”

“Yeah, rog.” 

“If you don’t make a move on him then I will. Give me his file back.” He says while faking taking the clipboard from you desperately.

“Reed! I swear!” You finally break, smirking at your friend. He laughs before you both head in opposite directions.

You reach an unmarked door, a room reserved for more secretive guests. You knock before entering and greet an apprentice cleaning up a mess of bloody gauze.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

The apprentice nods and leaves. You feel a pair of eyes on you while taking another peek at the patient’s chart before speaking. 

“Hello, Sergeant Mactavish, how are you this morning?” You brace for a sarcastic or angry response only to be met with a genuine “Oh, I'm quite lovely.”

Your eyes dart from the chart to him in surprise. His baby blues staring back at you. You’d ask patients how they were, even when they were obviously in pain, it allowed you to gauge how well they may cooperate during the treatment. Usually, the response would be along the lines of “fuck off” or “what do you think?” Yet here he sat with a slight smile tugging at one side of his lips and a dazed look.

“What’s yer name, bonnie?” His eyes were tired, dark circles clung to them as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“I’m Sergeant Lynn. I’ll be tending to you today.” 

He gives you a proper smile, his eyes nearly closing in the process,

“Good tae meet ye, Sergeant Lynn.”

You notice the scar on his chin and recall his lengthy medical history in the chart,

“You sure do get hurt a lot, don’t you?”

He continues grinning, “Aye, I’m awfully good at that.”

You take a seat on the rolling chair next to the hospital bed where he lies. Your eyes give him a once over looking for any other obvious injuries. He’s lying shirtless, his camo pants splotched with blood here and there. He has a small patch of chest hair and a Scottish flag tattooed over his heart, and old scars litter his torso and arms. Your cheeks felt warm at the sight of his physique, it was obvious that this man loved the gym as much as life itself.

You mentally tell yourself to keep it together as you put your gloves on and begin removing the bloody bandage placed on his chest to help stop any bleeding he still had. His wound still oozes out a slow stream of blood traveling down his chest and slowing at his abdomen. You wipe up the blood with gauze, feeling his muscles contract under your touch. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s bleeding, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m happy yer the one lookin’  after me today.”

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” You glance up at him quickly before continuing to examine the wound and its depth.

“Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve set eyes on in a long time. And I’m no sayin’ that ‘cause I’ve been starin’ at ma teammate’s ugly mug fir months.” His words occasionally blend together in a messy slur.

You felt a little embarrassed by his compliment. It wasn’t the most appropriate time for you to be receiving one. He was bleeding, wounded, and your eyes trying so desperately to not gawk at his bare chest or stare back into his captivating eyes.

“Thank you, sergeant. I assume the pain medication you’ve been given is working well.”

“Ye assumed correctly, but I still hae some discomfort.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, I’ll up the dose for you.” You quickly reach over him turning a dial on his dropper, the liquid beginning to drop more frequently. Soap notices your sweet-smelling perfume at the brief proximity and he lets his head drop back on the bed, eyes shut trying to savor it. The cool liquid entering his arm through an IV causes him to sigh and you assume he’s feeling the effects of the medication a little more, relaxing even further into the bed but once again he looks at you, this time with the softest eyes making your heart jump at the sight.

“Could you state your name and date of birth for me? Gotta ask before I do anything.”

“As ye wish. John Mactavish, January 12, 1996.”

You thank him quietly and continue trying to clean his wound and stop the little bleeding that is still present.

“A winter baby, huh? I heard they’re the happiest little things.”

“Aye? Where did ye hear that?”

You toss the used gauze into a small bin on your work table. “It’s an old wives tale.” Your lips form a downturned smile. “I used to deliver babies. The old midwives always had the darndest things to say.”

He chuckles sweetly, “Ah wonder if it’s true.”

“Me too. Unfortunately. I only saw the babies when they were born. Never got the chance to catch up.” You find yourself chuckling alongside him. You were certain a tint of pink had found its place on your cheeks. 

“It must be a wonderful experience tae see the birth o’ a wean.”

You pause looking up at him with your eyebrows raised. He recognizes the look he gets almost daily from his teammates and translates, “A baby.”

You grab your suture and begin stitching the wound shut.

“It is. Sometimes it feels like a game of Russian Roulette, sometimes you get an easy delivery.” Your lip twitches downward, “Other times it all goes to shit. You don’t know what to expect, but with time it becomes a sixth sense.” You dab his wound with some gauze before continuing. “Most people don’t realize how hard birth actually is, or the risks. People think it’s easy because you might have the organs for it, but it often doesn’t go as planned.”

He listens to you attentively, his eyes go from the ceiling to you and back to the ceiling.

“Why did ye leave that work? Ye sound passionate.”

“Well, you can only drop so many babies before they send you running for the hills.” You joke, hoping he picks up on it instead of believing you were some serial baby dropper. His laughter fills the small room, the sound almost boyish but laced with the deep bass of his voice. You can tell he probably needed a laugh after the pain he’d endured. 

“Ye hae a great sense o’ humour, sergeant.” His laughter dies down and he looks at you for the thousandth time. “Seriously, why did ye stop?”

You sigh, “I wanted a little more… Pizzazz?” The word sounded more like a question, you weren’t sure if it truly explained how you felt.

“…Pizzazz?” He repeats with a snicker falling from his lips. He tilts his head at you, his eyebrows raised in amusement. You look up at him with a spark in your eye that he can’t explain. “I wanted more chaos, more variety, heart-pounding work.”

“Hmm.” In a way he understood.

“When I woke up this morning, I had no idea what I’d be doing. Here I am stitching up a handsome Scotsman and tomorrow…” You shrug, “Maybe a rookie will come in with their fingers in an ice chest after a Roman candle fight. Who knows?”

He chortles, partially from you calling him handsome and from remembering his days of being a mentor to the rookies of his old unit before the SAS and Task Force. He’d received countless phone calls in the dead of night being informed that his troops were out raising hell. A rookie’s life was hell, but without responsibility, the blame would fall on whatever poor soul was listed as their supervisor. 

“That mean ye work well under stress?”

“Something like that.” Your words trail off focusing a little harder on the intricate parts of the stitch. “What made you want your crazy-ass job?”

“The adrenaline is mental, but I get tae do something rewardin’. I’m proud tae protect folk, even frae dangers they dinnae know exist.” He hisses slightly at the end of his sentence. You stop, waiting for him to recuperate. He gives you a reassuring look before you continue. “What made ye wan’ tae be a medic?”

“I like helping people, even if they fight back half the time.” You go quiet for a few seconds. “Also, some rotten girl I went to school with said she wanted to be one as well and I said I could do it better.”

“Haha, ye seem like the competitive type.” His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips. Your eyes retreat back to his chest, and you chew on your lip trying to calm yourself. 

“I’m sure ye’d kick her arse at this a thoosand times o’er. I can see ye pit a lot o’ love intae yer work.”

“I do what I can.” You wink at him playfully. It was now his turn to blush, he was thankful that the scruff he’d grown the last two days was there to camouflage it. Cannae let a bonnie lassie see ye like this, John

“Alright, Sergeant Mactavish. You’re all stitched up and ready to go. Please take it easy until it heals. And please no Roman candle fights.” You warn while placing your tools on the small table to your side. 

He laughs heartily, “Thae days are long behind me.”

“I’ll have an apprentice come to take out your IV and if you have an escort you can leave immediately.”

“Thank ye. I suppose it’s better tae be safe than sorry. Even though I reckon I could handle it.” His large hand comes up to scratch his scruff. His bicep contracts in what he thinks is a natural movement. You mentally roll your eyes at his innocent peacocking. If he hadn’t been so delightful, you’d have written him off as another sweet-talking womanizer you’d encountered from the special forces. 

“Maybe you would manage just fine but every precaution comes about because the unthinkable has happened.” You clean up your station, disposing of your gloves. 

“Do you need anything before I leave?”

“Tae be honest, I’d like if ye stayed a wee bit longer and humored a poor injured man.”

You shake your head at him with a smirk. Your pager cuts you off before you have a chance to respond. “I’d love to stay but I have to run.” You take out a notepad, scribble on it and hand it to him. Your soft hands graze his calloused ones. “Here you go, darlin’.” You shoot him a smile and he gladly returns one before you scurry off leaving him alone in the room. He looks at the piece of paper realizing you’d given him your phone number. A big smile spreads on his face, red finally peeking out from behind his facial hair. Oh, Johnny lad ye hae ootwitted yersel!

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap imagine #call of duty fanfic #john mactavish imagine #john mactavish fic #myfic

[abiatackerman]

Detective Levi x Doctor Reader

Warnings: Description of sexual fantasy and sexual teasing. MDNI!

Levi is the most famous detective of your country. He's the best when it comes to manipulation, physical combat, figuring out hard puzzles and riddles, catching even the smallest clues that are left by the criminals. Not to mention pulling out information from people or making the criminals admit their crimes in the most unpredictable way possible, just through talking. Every single criminal in the country is scared of him because if he's the one who's taking the case, that's the end for them.

You were just a normal doctor, working in the same organisation with him. And since it's not rare for him to get hurt, dealing with the criminals.... You two meet each other often. And since you're the only one who takes care of his wounds, he couldn't help but fall for you.

Slowly but dangerously......

You smile entering the infirmary as you find bruised Levi sitting on the bed.

"Ah, Erwin did tell me you were beaten up pretty badly.... I'm really surprised that you're still sitting."

You offer him a sweet smile as you start to prepare the equipment for his treatment.

“I’ll be fine.”

He speaks in his usual dry tone as his piercing eyes fall on you. The eyes, everyone is scared of.....

"Of course, after all you're getting treated by me."

You say smiling and look at him as you speak.

"Take all of your clothes off without your underwear.... I need to know how much of a bad state you are in."

Levi can't resist any of your demands, so he did as you asked without saying a word and got undressed for you to examine him. You hum as you roam your eyes around his whole body and sigh.

"One gunshot, several deep stabs, lots of bruises.... What the heck happened? How many people did you fight?"

You ask, as you fill the injection with muscle relaxant.

“Does it matter?”

"Nah, just curious about the person who has beat you up like this. Sounds unbelievable...."

You say chuckling as you slowly inject his shoulder, where he was shot.

“It’s not important.”

Levi repeats, his tone of voice still rough.

He's suddenly feeling an urge to kiss the cute smile off your face and push you against the wall especially when you get closer to him… But he refused to tell you any of this. That's how stubborn he is.

"Seems like your ego is bruised?"

You say chuckling again as you lean over his shoulder and start to clean his wound making Levi freeze. He can feel your body heat and smell your shampoo, which is making his cock hard.

“You want to try my ego?"

"Why would I?"

You say as you pick up the bullet extractor and lean on his shoulder more and concentrate on pulling the bullet.

"Don't move."

You say in a commanding voice.

“Make me.”

Levi challenges you, his rough voice filled with hidden emotions that he tries to hide behind his usual tough demeanor. Every time you lean against his side, it is hard to keep his body from aching with desire. He wants to pull and kiss you senselessly and make love to you until you'll beg for him to stop.....

And when he's done you will be covered with his love bites and won't be able to walk properly.... But being completely oblivious to his feelings, you smack his chest.

"Shut up.... I don't want to accidentally cut any of your nerves. So stay still and don't be a brat."

You say as you slowly start to pull the bullet. Your words make Levi grunt as he tries to focus on keep being still as you pull the bullet out. You huff and sigh.

"Done. Now I'll stitch you up, ok?"

You say as you put the bullet on the tray and take the medical needle.

“Do whatever you want.”

He let out a rough huff of air making you chuckle. You hold his chin, making him look up in your eyes.

"Whatever I want?"

“Yeah, are you deaf?"

His words were stern and rough.

"What if I want to fuck this body?'

You keep looking into his piercing greyish blue eyes as you speak, making him freeze. His breathing has become heavier....

“I wouldn't resist.”

"I can see that. You can't...."

You say pointing at his bludge and smile making Levi freeze again. His heart starts to pound faster as his breathing became more shallow.

"Just do something, already…"

You smile evilly and push him back as he falls on the bed.

"Should I?"

You say, leaning down on him, placing both of your hands to his waist's both sides, stangeling him.

“Go ahead... I don't care anymore…”

You smile and put your hands on his bulge over his boxer.

"Of course, you don't.... You're too whipped. You thought I haven't noticed? I'm not that fool."

Levi is clearly too aroused to put up any resistance, and she knew it. He despises how weak you make him feel, but at the same time, he enjoys the feeling of your hands playing over his hard cock. He speaks as you feel his cock twitching against your hand, begging for your touch and release.

“I don’t know what you're talking about...”

"Then I will make you say the words."

You say confidently again as you start to stroke his cock over his boxer, to tease him.

“I know what you're trying to do... You're enjoying this.”

Levi tries to keep his tone of voice even and neutral. But even he could hear how weak he sounded. He tries desperately not to groan and buck his hips to your hands.

"You're so damn hard... Is it because of me? Tell me."

You ask as you stop stroking him and look into his eyes.

“You know it’s because of you…”

Levi says making you chuckle.

You remove your hand from his cock. You know now it's useless because he can control his emotions very well. He won't beg for you nor he won't moan the words " I love you" even if you make him cum in your hands. So instead of that you take the needle again and start to stitch the wound of his shoulder.

"So when are we going on our first date?"

You ask, chuckling.

“I’m not going on a damn date with you…”

Levi speaks in his usual rough voice. He is trying to regain his composure after you remove your hand.

"Ok then.... I'm going with someone else. I can't keep stuck on you forever if the feeling is not mutual."

You say as you keep stitching his wound.

“That’s fine. Go be with whoever you want. It’s not like I care."

"I see. Then don't you dare to blackmail or beat him up secretly. I swear I'll poison you if you do."

You say as you poke his lip softly with the needle. He furrows his eyebrows as you poke and speaks in a nonchalant voice again.

"Then don't date anyone else. I won't do anything."

"Wow! You won't take me to date, or even let me date anyone.... Is that fair, Mr Ackerman?"

“There is no fair and unfair in life, Dr. Y/N. There is only what is and what isn’t.”

Levi says bluntly. He hates that he feels possessive of you. To lose you to someone else would be losing his life... So he'll beat up every guy to the group if that's needed.

"Tell me, Levi. You don't like me."

After finishing stitching him, you say the words, making both of your lips touch others with every word. The touch is soft and sweet, making Levi's heart beating faster and sending his emotions into chaos.

”I hate you”

Levi’s words aren’t convincing and you can see it in his eyes. You smile and kiss his lips softly.

"Do you?"

Levi freezes for a few seconds, feeling your lips on his. But he doesn't kiss you back, instead replies in a soft tone.

“I hate that I can’t hate you…”

You smile as you start to stitch and take care of the stabs of his body.

"Why do you hate yourself for that? It's not one sided."

“You know me...I hate being vulnerable.”

"I really don't know how expressing your love to someone can make you vulnerable."

You reply as you keep treating him.

“Because it makes you vulnerable to the person you love. You’d do anything for them, you trust them to the end, and would let yourself get hurt because of them… How is that not a form of weakness to you?”

You raise your brows as you ask curiously.

"Why do you think I'll hurt you?"

“Isn’t it obvious? Look how I react to you when we're together. I can't stay rational or calm around you, I'm always an irritated mess when we're together.”

You reply, chuckling.

"But I absolutely like that... Seeing the greatest detective being a mess around me. I'll deal with that and you'll deal with my mess... Like my drawers?"

Your words change Levi’s mood a bit. He wants to organise your drawers... Organise you... Organise the bond of you two.

“So are they like... really messy?"

You nod.

"It's just, I don't get enough time to organise my clothes."

You finally finish taking care of his stabs and move away from him.

"I'm finished.... About the other bruises, they'll get healed, themselves. Most importantly, rest your shoulder for at least 3 days."

“Can I come over and help organize them? I can't stand messy stuff like that, especially clothes."

"So, you're willing to be my boyfriend Otherwise my disorganised clothes shouldn't bother you?"

You ask, chuckling making him freeze again. Levi doesn't know if you are serious enough to consider this a dating opportunity. But if that's the case, he'll gladly accept.

“I want to be more than your boyfriend…"

You laugh as you ask him playfully.

"Oh? What happened to your 'I hate you' earlier?"

“You should've known that my words weren't true. I can't hate you.”

You roll your eyes at his words and throw his clothes at him.

"Yeah yeah. Now get dressed.... I'll text you my address later."

You say as you walk towards the sink to wash your hands, making Levi was so happy and excited with your words.

He's not just gonna clean.... He'll definitely take revenge on your teasing earlier... Hell definitely make sure to cum inside you... Definitely.

“I’ll be waiting for your text…"

#levi #levi ackerman #levi smut #levi fanfiction #levi aot #levi heichou #captain levi #levi x fem!reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x reader kiss #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n smut #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan levi #levi edit #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #snk #aot fanfiction #levi oneshot

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, dry humping, violence, threats, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Pete doesn’t get up. You look between him and the archway of the kitchen. You move cautiously into the entryway and near the door. You flip the latch back and open it to the two officers on the other side. 

“Uh, hello,” you greet dumbly.

“We got a call from this unit about an intruder,” the taller one says.

“Yes, yes, he’s in my kitchen,” you sigh, “please, you have to make him leave–”

“Ma’am, does he have a weapon?” The officer asks.

“I…” your eyes round, “I don’t think so. But there’s knives in there.”

“Please, step back, ma’am,” the second officer orders curtly.

You do as they say. Thank god. They’re going to drag that maniac out of here in cuffs. You point through the archway and fade into the plaster. They enter and go into the kitchen.

“Sir,” the first officer greets, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you hear a clink as Pete answers casually.

You cross the hall and peek into the kitchen. He stands at the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the still brewing carafe. Alright, you can see how this appears less than insidious.

“I’m Officer Bodecker, this is Officer Rogers,” the first cop introduces himself, “we got a call about a break-in. Is it alright if we look around?”

“Sure,” Pete shrugs, “as long as I get my coffee. You want some?”

“No, wait, it’s him,” you race forward and throw your hand out, pointing accusingly, “he broke in last night.”

“I’m so sorry, officers,” Pete turns and grips the knot at the top of the towel, “I haven’t had a chance to get dressed. My girlfriend has an appointment today,” he points to the fridge calendar, “she’s on a lot of meds and she gets like this. You can check the cupboard.”

“N-no, no, I’m not lying. This guy, I don’t know him–”

“Really, I’m so embarrassed,” Pete talks over you, “I was in the shower when she called. It’s been rough. She’s under a lot of stress. And her treatments are so expensive–”

“Shut up!” You cry out, “please, please, don’t listen to him.” You step between the officers and turn on them, “can you please just get him out?”

“Christ,” the pudgier officer, Bodecker rolls his eyes and looks at the other. They exchange a scoff and shake their heads, “look, ma’am, a false report is not something we take lightly.”

“Another fine,” Pete mutters, “I’ll have to pick up some hours again–”

“Well, we can leave it be just this one time,” Rogers offers, “considering… we’re not entirely heartless, you know?”

“I swear, this isn’t–”

Pete startles you as he steps up and puts his arm over your shoulders, “shush, honey, it’s okay. Just calm down.”

You tremble as your head spins. How do they believe him? They need to listen to you. This is your apartment. He doesn’t belong here.

“No, n–”

“Look, it’s so nice of you to let it go,” Pete continues, “I’m really sorry you came all the way out here. This is so embarrassing. I’ll take care of her. She won’t bother you again.”

“Make sure of it,” Bodecker tuts.

“Please, officers,” your voice cracks.

“Let’s go, we’re just upsetting her,” Rogers grumbles, “ma’am, I hope you feel better.”

The officers turn and you go to follow them. Pete grabs the back of your neck and pinches, keeping you in place. You hiss and he shushes you as the police file out the front door. As the door shuts, he turns his head and leans in.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” He growls.

“Ow, let go– get off of me! Get out of my apartment! Get out of my life–” You twist away and try to shove him off. He keeps his hand on you, his other coming up to your throat as he backs you against the counter.

“I’m going to have to teach you a real lesson. Last night… that was nothing. You’ve really done it now,” he pushes until you bend backwards. He grabs the coffee pot off the machine and holds it close to your cheek so you can feel the heat, “you think anyone will want you with that pretty face all marked up?”

“Stop,” you beg, grasping at his wrist.

“We coulda been nice, sweetheart. I was being real fucking nice. I’m just trying to take care of you,” he moves the pot and tips it over your chest. It splashes onto your skin and scalds down beneath your shirt. “You need to stop being so goddamn careless.”

He flips it straight and slams it back down. You whine and whimper as your nails drag down his arm. He lets you go and you fold onto the floor. He grabs his cup of coffee and stomps back to the table.

“Too bad you won’t make it to your appointment, sweetheart.”

“Please, I can’t–”

“Shoulda thought of that first,” he sits and slurps his coffee loudly, “I wanna take care of you, but you gotta let me.”

#pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #drabble #series #au #i knew you were trouble when you walked in #pain hustlers

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ The Meeting Of Minds | pilot | JJK

Pairing: doctor! Jungkook x doctor! fem! Reader

Summary: You start working at Hanyang University Teaching Hospital as the new member of the diagnostician team under the watchful eyes of the arrogant Doctor Jeon Jungkook. You'll have to stick around to find out Doctor Jungkook's true nature and perhaps figure him out. If you didn’t grow to hate him first, that is.

Warnings: doctor! AU, grumpy x sunshine! AU, SLOWBURN sarcasm, dark humor (it will get darker), mentions of sickness, mentions of treatments, Jungkook is an ass, cussing (like once), oc is described to be shorter than Koo, oc wears perfume, mentions of food, this is a light chapter tbh, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.1k words

A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome to the pilot of my new series! I hope you are excited about this new project of mine. This will be a looong series to begin with, filled with long chapters and lots of dark humour. löl

This was inspired by the American series "Dr. House" as I recently started to watch it (again) and well, this came out. I really hope you will enjoy it and will look forward to more of our medical duo!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

The soft tick tack of the clock on the wall was the only thing that could be heard in the spacious office among the dry sound of someone playing with a yoyo. The lights were off, people walked outside of the hall, not paying attention to the eccentric doctor who waited to clock out of work as soon as it was five sharp.

The door to his office opened and a loud sigh was heard before the sweet voice of the man at the door spoke.

"Dr. Jeon, Seokjin wants to see you."

With an abrupt movement, Jungkook caught the yoyo before he stood up with lethargic movements, already dreading to meet his boss and Dean of Medicine of the hospital he worked at.

"What now? Is he going to pester me again about the clinic?"

Taehyung, the man at the door and a kind nurse at Hanyang University Teaching Hospital shrugged as he pressed his lips in a thin line. The doctor sighed, making his way out of the office without another word.

While walking through the corridors, he felt the eyes of the staff on him. How they somehow felt intimidated by his emotionless aura. Jungkook didn't care. He has never cared to begin with. But he wasn't going to deny it came to be uncomfortable from time to time. And all because of what? Because he didn't like visiting his patients? What a crappy excuse to hide their distaste.

"What do you want, Seokjin?"

Said Jungkook in an almost demanding voice as he entered the office of his superior. Seokjin sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair before he stood up.

"Have you ever heard about knocking?"

"Well, I have now. Thanks for the enlightening experience."

Seokjin rolled his eyes, already on edge at the attitude of the slightly younger doctor before him.

"You owe me your clinic hours."

Jungkook let out a deep breath, taking out his zippo lighter from his pant's pocket as he flipped the lid on and off, on and off and on and off again.

"Are you really going to lecture me right now? I have work to do, Seokjin."

The latter pursed his lips together, annoyance bubbled within him at the audacity Dr. Jeon had to speak that way to his very own superior and boss.

"Don't provoke me, Jeon. You'll do three hours a day and since you delayed it for two years, I'm adding an extra four years to compensate for the time lost."

Jungkook frowned, closing his lighter abruptly with a dry sound that resonated across the walls of the nearly empty office.

"I can always resign."

A smirk painted itself over Seokjin's plump lips as he gazed at the doctor in front of him with subtle arrogance over his dark eyes.

"I sign your paychecks and you signed a contract with this hospital. Besides, no-one would hire you. You are hideous to work with, Jeon."

Jungkook let out a groan, visibly irritated at how his day had turned into.

"If that was all you wanted to say, I'll be in my office questioning my entire existence."

Seokjin let out a soft chuckle, happy with himself at Jungkook's annoyance. Sometimes, the young doctor needed a taste of his own medicine.

"Dr. Jeon,"

He stopped at arms length from the glass door. Closing his eyes in utter exasperation before he turned around and glared at Seokjin.

"your immunologist has been selected. She'll be with you in an hour or two."

Jungkook frowned, putting his lighter back in his pocket as he took a step forward, never breaking eye contact.

"She?"

He lifted an eyebrow and Seokjin nodded, shoving his hands in his white coat as he elaborated further.

"Oh, yes. You'll love her. She's quite a darling, actually. Very professional too."

Jungkook rolled his eyes, turning around to exit the office for once as he mumbled under his breath a single sentence Seokjin was too far away to actually hear.

"We'll see."

And with that, his hand grabbed the metal handle and he opened the door, turning around abruptly to go back to his office and silently wait until it was five o'clock so that he could leave when he suddenly felt someone collide with him.

Jungkook let out a soft grunt at the impact before his hands automatically went to stabilise the person whose scent invaded his senses like a thick fog on a summer morning.

The smell of Miss Dior suffocated him as he looked down at the woman who blinked in confusion before she began apologising profusely.

"I am so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up with wide eyes and slightly parted lips only to meet the intense gaze of a tall man with dark hair and doe eyes that were as cold as ice. His hands held your waist with a firm grip while your hands rested on his forearms.

"Obviously you weren't looking."

You gulped, taking a step back from him. Forcing his large hands to leave your form before you bent down and picked up the -luckily- still container of fresh salad as well as some papers you dropped when you collided with the handsome stranger.

"Again, I am deeply sorry for-"

But when you looked up, he was already gone. You caught a glimpse of him rounding a corner before he disappeared from your line of sight, leaving you to sigh to yourself as you stood up and entered Seokjin's office.

Wordlessly you walked over to the desk, head down as you placed the files and the food down.

"I see you have already met Dr. Jeon."

You looked up at the older male as your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at his insinuation. He probably saw everything from the commodity of his office.

"That- that was Dr. Jeon?"

He chuckled at the surprise in your voice. Seokjin was well aware of the reputation Jungkook had in the hospital. It was actually one of the main reasons why he didn't fire him despite his bitter demeanour and ironic comments that balanced between sarcasm and rudeness. A line very thin he crossed more times than he could count.

"Don't worry about him! He'll love you."

You sent him a nervous smile, not actually knowing what to do with yourself as you were caught up in such an awkward situation.

"I bet he will."

Those words left your lips in a soft murmur, only meant for you to hear but, despite your efforts, they brought a smile to Seokjin's face.

"Where's Jeon?"

Doctor Min Yoongi asked with a tint of irritation in his normally calm voice while he spinned his pen between his fingers. Doctor Jimin cleared his throat, organising his papers before he commented in his soft voice to ease the tension that had suddenly risen in the office.

"Have you all heard of the new immunologist? Seokjin said she'll be joining us today. I heard she's beautiful."

At that last sentence, Yoongi sighed deeply while Hoseok, a doctor who worked in the ER, chuckled.

"You find every single woman beautiful, Jimin."

That latter rolled his eyes, a soft smile painting over his rosy and plump lips before the door opened and the attention fell over your figure. You held yourself with elegance yet sympathy in your movements.

"I'm sorry, is this the diagnostician team office? Dr. Seokjin left me in the middle of the corridor so that he could go and get one of those tuna sandwiches."

A tall man with hazelnut coloured hair and a charming heart-shaped smile approached you.

"Yes it is. Are you looking for someone?"

You nodded, mirroring his gentle smile as you spoke with confidence laced in your words.

"Yes. I'm Doctor Lee (y/n) and I am here to work on Doctor Jeon's team."

Hoseok turned around slowly and sent Jimin a surprised look before his attention was back on you.

"You are certainly in the right place, Doctor Lee. Let me introduce you to the team."

Jungkook walked toward the office where a meeting had started twenty minutes ago. His team was probably already there and waiting for him. With heavy yet quick steps, he travelled across the large hospital, navigating through its halls as if he lived there. In a way, he did. From nine to five that was his life.

When Jungkook entered the diagnostician team office, he smelled it again. That lovely perfume he had detected two hours ago when he was leaving Seokjin's office. Miss Dior. He recognised the perfume immediately and it only took him another second to look up to spot that woman from before now sitting next to Doctor Min.

"Where were you? The meeting started twenty minutes ago."

Asked Doctor Park as he fixed his glasses over the bridge of his nose. Jungkook sighed, walking over to the whiteboard they had in the room before he faced his team once more.

"Smoke break."

He simply stated. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. To him it was, at least. You looked at Jimin in front of you, asking him silently if it would be a good opportunity to introduce yourself now to which he replied with a subtle nod and an almost invisible smile. You took a deep, silent breath in before you stood up.

"Good evening, Doctor Jeon. I'm Doctor Lee (y/n), I'm sure Seokjin told you about me. I am to work under you."

Jungkook turned to look at you. The rumours he had heard about the new immunologist were true for you were indeed rather beautiful. Not that he was going to point that out now but still...

"I know who you are. We met earlier today, remember?"

"I... uh-"

He narrowed his eyes at you, as if he were scrutinising you. Analysing you even. And something in his intense gaze made you shiver.

"Don't worry, Seokjin told me everything I need to know about you, Doctor Lee. Just do me a favour and do not keep bumping into people in the hospital, it can cause quite the drama sometimes."

Your cheeks flushed at his comment. So he did see you. He did remember. You didn't say anything further before sitting down on your chair.

"Doctor Jung, what do we have?"

Completely disregarding the last subject, Jungkook spoke with a monotonous voice. Making all eyes go to Hoseok who cleared his throat before saying.

"The antibiotics on the 401 patient are working accordingly and we are seeing progress on the damaged tissue. We believe he'll be discharged in five to seven days at most."

Silence stretched into the room.

"If that was all, you could have sent me a text."

Doctor Jeon spoke with bitterness before he began walking towards the entrance way.

"Where are you going?"

Asked Yoongi, the cardiologist sitting next to you. With all eyes on him, Jungkook opened the door and simply said.

"It's five o'clock."

And with that, he was out of the door before he walked down the hallway. Doctor Min let out a dry chuckle, picking up his notebook as he stood up.

"He took that long-ass "smoke break" only to cut this meeting short. Typical."

You looked around confused. This was certainly not the way you were used to work. Let alone call it your first experience in a new hospital. Yoongi and Hoseok left the office room, leaving you and Jimin alone as the latter put his glasses on their respective case before he stood up as well.

"Wait, what just happened?"

Jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he gazed down at you with tender yet tired eyes.

"That's how he is. Trust me, you'll get used to his antics."

You blinked, still confused as to what just this so-called meeting was.

"I don't understand, Doctor Jeon seemed to know what he's doing."

Jimin let out a soft chuckle. Almost as if his laugh alone was a spoonful of honey.

"Oh, believe me, he does. How else do you think he had kept his job for so long?"

You nodded slowly at that before you, too began picking up your notebook and pocketed your phone. Jimin and you left the office in silence but you just couldn't stop thinking about the eccentric and almost rude doctor that was now your boss yet was as well incredibly handsome yet seemed to have swallowed the most bitter caramel there ever was.

You'll have to stick around to find out Doctor Jeon Jungkook's true nature and perhaps figure him out. If you didn’t grow to hate him first, that is.

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

February/25/2025

~Drabbles are open for this AU!

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #sweetcarrotsandroses97 #bts #bts fic #love #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook bts #jeon jeongguk #reblog #jeon jungguk #bts fanfic #bts jungguk #doctor jungkook #dr house #house md #ft ot7 #bts series #slow burn #grumpy x sunshine #jungkook angst #jungkook au #diagnosis: love

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

I never considered myself a Mayday girl but 👀 that last one got me in the fluffy feels so 33 and 47?

@coffeeandbatboys I know what you mean, but once you become a Mayday girl, I don't think there's ever a way to go back. LOL.

I hope you enjoy this one. I certainly did.

Love oo,

My Heart

Warnings: Frostbite, injuries, medical treatment, mistreatment of clones, anxiety, tears, anger, hitting the wall, kisses, innuendo, not feeling worthy enough, appreciation, I think that's it. If I miss anything, please let me know.

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You shook your head as. You gently placed Hexx’s hands in warm water, your heart hurt when he winced in pain. “I know, I know it hurts, Hexx. Just bear with it for a little bit, okay? Once we get your fingers defrosted, we can make sure there’s no permanent damage. Alright, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Thanks, vod’ika.”

“Don’t worry I got you. I’m gonna put your feet in warm water too, okay?”

Hexx simply nodded, too tired and cold to really answer. You wrapped his body in a blanket, “We gotta raise your body temperature okay? Your body suit was able to protect most of your body, thankfully, but we still need to bring it up okay. I’m gonna get you something hot to drink. Okay?” You wrapped the blanket around him tighter.

“Vod’ika, in case we don’t say this enough. You’re amazing.”

You gave him a soft smile as you patted his back, “Not that amazing, but I’ll take it. I’ll be back.”

As soon as you were out of his sight and heading to the poor excuse you all called a kitchen, you let the anger you had been holding back unleash itself on the wall, smacking it with your hand over and over again, as tears welled up in your eyes.

You felt the strong arms you have come to know even in your sleep; wrapping around you and holding you close, as you felt him pressing you into his chest, as you felt his heart beat against your back. He closed the door with his foot so you could break down in his arms, “It’s alright, babe. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” You turned in his arms and buried your face in Mayday’s shoulder holding him close as you cried your eyes out. “Another hour and he would’ve lost his fingers and toes. What’s the point of staying here?”

Mayday wrapped his arms tighter around you, pressing kisses to your forehead, “Babe, I know…” he let out a sigh, “I don’t know what to do right now,” he let out a chuckle. “I can either get super angry and pissed with you and we go to the training room, go a couple rounds of sparring or… I just stand here and shower you with kisses, because the fact that you get so upset about one of my men, means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you nuzzled into his chest, “Oh, I love you.”

“I know, and you have to know there’s no one I could love like I love you. You’re one in a million cyar’ika.”

“So are you babe” you pulled back to look at him, smiling. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Make my anger washaway?”

“Simple, mesh’la. I make sure to keep your needs above my own.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “What is the prognosis on Hexx though?”

“Well I got him warming up his hands and feet right now. I’m going to take him some warm cocoa. Once he’s warm enough, I’ll dry off his hands and feet, see what sort of damage he’s dealing with and then go from there.”

His hands rubbed your back as he placed another kiss on your forehead, “Thank the force … for whatever that’s worth.”

You let out a sigh as you leaned back and looked into his eyes, “I should get back,” you stood on your toes and leaned in and kissed him, “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yeah, cyar’ika.” Once he was sure your anger had subsided, he slowly lowered his arms and hands until he held yours as he looked at you, “Cyar’ika, before I go,” his hands gently held yours, lifting them until they pressed into his chest, “I want you to know how much we appreciate you being here. You could’ve left like all the others, be asked to get transferred out, but you didn’t. You’ve stuck by our side from day one since you joined our unit. You are one of the best medics the GAR or the Empire has ever seen, you should be somewhere better than this barren wasteland of a planet. You should have someone better by your side, than me. Someone who can do so much more for you, than what I can. And the fact … the fact you’ve … you’ve taken care of us, supported us, tried to find ways to keep us alive and safe …” He pressed his forehead against yours, and took in a deep breath, “You are my heart, cyar’ika. It doesn’t beat without you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, “You are the air I breathe, and you are exactly where you need to be, by my side. I don’t care about that stuff, all I care about is you, and your men.”

“You can always lean on me, okay? When things get hard, when you get angry and need to smack a wall, or you need to scream your head off, I’m here for you. Alright? That’s what this is all about, you’re there for me, and I’m there for you. Always.”

“Yeah…” you nodded in understanding, “I need to get back to Hexx, but I love you.”

“I love you,” Mayday gave you one last kiss before letting you go, so you could focus on Hexx’s injuries, “and tonight, I’ll wear you out good and proper so you don’t have to be so worried.”

You giggled at his innuendo, “Promise?”

“Try and stop me” he chuckled, pressing one more kiss to your lips, before he headed back to his men.

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Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

#star wars #450 follower celebration #Star Wars fic roulette #SW Fic Roulette #450 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION #Follower Celebration #Star Wars Fic Roulette #Fic Roulette #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #starwars #pick your character #pick your prompt #the clone wars #the Mandalorian #Andor #Book of Boba Fett #original trilogy #Obi-wan #Ahsoka #The Bad Batch #star wars prequels #star wars sequel trilogy #commander mayday #tbb mayday #mayday tbb #mayday x reader

[dazzlinglybitter]

It's Disability Pride Month!! Let's talk about POTS!

Hello beautiful people. Since it's Disability Pride Month, I wanted to talk about my disability. I have a condition called POTS. It stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Sydrome, which is a very long name, and you can see why we just say POTS. Essentially, it means that when I change position or stand up, my heart rate gets too high. It is normal for your heart rate to go up when you change positions. But what makes POTS different is it changes too suddenly and much higher than average. The National Institutes of Health defines that a person with POTS has "an increase in heart rate of 30 beats/min or more when moving from a recumbent to a standing position that lasts more than 30 seconds". Which on its own doesn't sound all that bad. I would be a much happier human if that's all it was. However, POTS comes with its own host of symptoms. That swing in heart rate can cause dizziness, lightheadedness, blurred vision, and sometimes fainting. Other symptoms of POTS include:

Exercise intolerance

Headaches

Nausea

Fatigue

Anxiety

Dry mouth

Excess thirst

Leg pain

Blood pooling

Brain Fog

Swollen Extremities

Sleeping problems

Bladder problems

Digestion issues

Tremors

Shortness of breath or chest tightening

Memory issues

Poor temperature regulation

Chronic dehydration

Neuropathic pains

Increased sweating to the extremities

Loss of appetite

Light sensitivity

Dry eyes

Heart palpitations

Chest pain

Cold extremities due to poor blood flow

Heat intolerance

Hypovolemia (low blood volume)

And probably more that I've missed! Doesn't sound all that fun, and trust me, it isn't! POTS is a condition under the larger umbrella of Dysautonomia. There are several different types of dysautonomic conditions, POTS is only one of them. Here are some fun facts about POTS:

POTS effects around 0.2% of the world's population

It is most common in females, 75 to 80% of all patients are female

Though it can be diagnosed at any age, it is most commonly diagnosed between the ages of 15 and 25 (I was 19 when I got diagnosed!)

There is no cure for POTS and it's a chronic illness

Some teenagers will outgrow the condition in their 20s

The average time to diagnosis is 5 years and 11 months (took me almost a year, luckily)

According to Dysautonomia International, 25% of POTS patients are so disabled they cannot work or attend school

There is no singular cause for POTS, and many patients will likely not know what caused their condition

Research on POTS is incredibly sparse, making advocacy, treatment, and diagnosis even harder

The usual recommended treatment is increased fluid intake, increasing salt intake, wearing compression stockings, raising the head of the bed to conserve blood volume, reclined exercises like rowing, recumbent bicycle, or swimming, and a healthy diet

While there is no FDA approved medication for POTS, some medications such as beta blockers can be used to aid the condition

Though the heart is directly involved, POTS is not technically a heart condition. It is technically a nervous system disorder stemming from the autonomic nervous system

There's lots to be said about POTS! I don't think I could fit it all in one post if I tried. But if you made it this far into the post, thank you for taking the time to learn about it! Awareness is key, and the more people that know about the condition, the better we are. Happy Disability Pride Month!!

#potsawareness #dysautonomia #disability pride month #chronic illness

[slxsherwriter]

Waking Up

Fandom: Repo! The Genetic Opera

Parings: Luigi Largo x Reader

Word Count: 1,414

Warnings: Scars, talk of surgery, mentions of addiction, cursing, talks of violence

Series: Genetic Repossession

Author's note: A straight continuation of Better Me Than You. Just a short little fic to detail a little fallout and Luigi getting to display a slightly softer side.

Beeping. A gentle, steady beep. It was the first thing that registered. A gentle tickle on the brain that brought you back to the conscious world. Slowly. Disoriented and feeling like you were swimming through a dense fog, it was a struggle to latch onto the feeling of waking and not get pulled right back under. That was until a not so gentle touch yanked at your head, causing a groan to slip from a chest that seemingly didn't want to expand right away.

“For fuck sakes!” A familiar harsh voice yelled out, breaking the peaceful quiet of the room. “Be fucking careful or I'll take those fucking hands and mount them like God damn trophies on the wall. How the fuck did you ever become a fucking nurse?” It took effort but finally, you forced your eyes open. The world was blurry for several long seconds as you tried to blink your vision clear. Low lights made the adjustment easier, no harsh fluorescent lights greeting. A thud sounded somewhere off to the side but there wasn't enough energy or care within you to turn your head. Right now, the focus needed to be on what the hell happened.

‘“I'll get the doctor…”

“You fucking do that,” the voice barked. Warmth encompassed your hand and finally, Luigi came into focus. There was a hesitant smile on his face. “Hey there, sweetheart.” Oh, shit. A soft pet name. Yeah, it had to be bad. Your throat and mouth felt incredibly dry, as if someone had filled it with cotton. A soft cough came when you opened your mouth to respond, though it hardly hurt the way that could have been expected.

“I…”

“Easy. Here.” The water was soothing and cold as it washed down. Definitely helpful. The room spun a little when you shifted your head again. Before Luigi could say anything else, a doctor came in. A soft greeting before the exam started, though right then as he babbled, words you should understand sounded foreign.

“We'll start weening back the medication, hopefully clear your head up a bit. I know things probably aren't making a lot of sense right now…” Well, that was hitting the nail on the head. Your vision started to blacken at the corners, slowly creeping and consuming your field of vision. “Get some more rest.”

Your head felt significantly more clear the next time your eyes opened. A little sore and sorry. The room was quiet. Not a typical hospital room. Grunting softly, it took a little effort to shift your weight and work to a seated position. The family home, your room with Luigi, that was where you were specifically. Part of you was surprised and part of you wasn't all things considered. Curiosity got the better of you before anything else. No one else was in the room, so you took the opportunity to carefully pull back the covers and pull up the shirt. A large wound ran across the left side of your abdomen, sutures keeping the skin shut. Where the knife had entered you and likely where another, that one by skilled hands, tried to do damage control. Across your chest was a marring wound that didn't require sutures as it hadn't pierced flesh deep enough to require such treatment. Alive. You were alive. Something you should be grateful for, even if it broke the streak of never having had surgery.

The door opened.

“Shit, you're awake.” The shirt dropped from your hand, as if you were guilty of doing something that you shouldn't be. Luigi quietly closed the door behind him and moved to the bedside. “Had to replace your liver, bastard really got a good jab into you…” You would never expect him to be all that great at comfort and it was apparent he was struggling at the moment. Giving him a reprieve, you offered a small smile.

“And I take it that he was relieved of his own?” That seemed to lessen his worry and the uneasy nature about him that was a little unnatural feeling. As if he had been unsure how you would handle everything. “I'm honestly a little surprised to be awake at all…”

“It was close,” he admitted. “Doctors weren't all that sure you were going to wake up.” He settled down on the edge of the bed, careful to not jostle you too much.

“I thought I was dead when my knees hit the ground.” Which was the truth. You had accepted that your dying act had been protecting the man beside you. A worthy trade in your eyes.

“Shit fucking security has been dealt with too. How the fuck he got in there and that close with a weapon is ridiculous.” The words grew in volume, Luigi seething as if the event was happening all over again. It was a valid point. No one should have ever gotten that close or been allowed in with a hidden blade. Everybody was supposed to be checked. Not only to keep the Largo's safe but for the general safety of the event. It looked bad when shit like what had happened actually happened.

“And the PR nightmare that is surely causing a shitstorm?” He rolled his eyes in response.

“Nothing that you have to worry about right fucking now. You aren't getting paraded in front of the press until you can actually stand up.” Judging by the fact that you were able to sit up with pain, you thought that it may be at least a week before you would be able to get yourself to your feet and put on a face that did not show just how much discomfort and pain that you were in. Being able to school your features was too important in order to maintain appearances, so you would have to take it careful.

“Right.”

“I mean it. I don't give a shit what my father says. You are staying in bed and healing until you get a clear from the other docs.” You held up a hand, hoping to placate the man before he ended up stabbing whoever came into the room next. A high possibility on a normal day but judging by the slight redness to his cheeks, he was particularly worked up.

“I'll keep my ass in bed until given the all clear.” Repeating back the near order had him pausing and returning his eyes to yours. It accomplished just what you had hoped as his shoulders dropped a bit, his body going just slightly more slack. Tension unwinding from a constantly tense man. There was something on the tip of his tongue as he went to start speaking and thought better of it after a second. Silence reigned for a moment, neither of you willing to say something right away, for different reasons. You wanted to know what it was that he had been ready to say, while he was restraining himself. Until finally, finally he broke.

“Did you need any more Zydrate?” Ah, now it made sense. As uncomfortable as you were starting to be, the dull throbbing becoming more insistent and increasing in intensity as you sat there, you weren't willing to mask it. For multiple reasons. One of which was clearly on his mind. Shaking your head, you decided to recline yourself slowly instead, hoping it relieved enough pressure on the wounds to calm them down mildly.

“No, I'm okay. Would be preferable to not have to take any more.” It was impossible to miss the small sigh that rushed out of him. One addict in the family was enough. “Rather be uncomfortable and have a clear head anyway. Hated that I couldn't understand what was being told to me when I woke the first time.”

“It gets bad enough you don't need to go being a martyr. Take the fucking medicine, okay?” You nodded your consent, even though you both knew that there was a likelihood that you would ignore it entirely. His hand engulfed yours again and you used what little strength that you had left to give him a tug. A silent request for him to just lay down beside you. He grumbled a bit, an attempt at putting on a show, before he did just that. Carefully, his body settled down onto the bed beside you and with just as much care, his arm wrapped around your waist. Warmth seeped into your skin. Settling enough that you began to drift off once more.

#slasher writing #horror writing #slasher x reader #reader insert #slasher x you #luigi largo x reader #luigi largo #repo the genetic opera #repo! the genetic opera #bill moseley characters #cross posted on ao3