A thing I love about The Cottage and âletâs be more honest & open with each otherâ is how Ilya looks softer, and more visibly queer. Both in clothing choices (imo) & behavior. Heâs been wanting to be Shaneâs BOYFRIEND and it shows.
And I canât help but think âwhat if he keeps going down this path?â. Like, of course, in public heâll still perform as Rozanov, Asshole Russian Menace.
He does like chirping other players on the ice, rile them up, and then show them time and time again that heâs the best player. Thatâs a huge part of him. But having to pretend heâs that clichĂŠ Straight Virile Man who has a different girl in his bed every night is getting more and more exhausting.
Time spent in private with Shane is like coming up for air. Because *Shane*, obviously, but also because he doesnât have to pretend. He can wear the tightest, slightly-too-short tank tops and soft loose sweaters. The holes in his ears he got as teenage rebellion get used again to put pretty dangly earrings in them. The slight lilt he has in his voice when speaking Russian becomes noticeable in English too, when he teases Shane. Thereâs a hip popped, a hand on it, a brow arched, when heâs being sarcastic. Thatâs who he is, too.
Itâs always been there, carefully, consciously hidden. And letting it out, even if itâs just in front of one person, his Shane, makes him feel whole, finally. At least for the time being.
And Shane? Heâs trying to keep his cool but every little change (or more like, every little thing that Ilya doesnât hide anymore) is making him fall more and more in love.
The possessive part of him is screaming âmineâ, âno one else gets to see that version of Ilya and thatâs good because heâs Mineâ. But an even bigger part of him wishes he could show the world how Ilya is so much more than what everyone thinks. How bright he shines, when he doesnât have to hide.
Shaneâs terrified for both their futures, careers, but on some (most) days, when the sun catches on Ilyaâs soft golden curls and jewelry, the urge to go out in public and kiss that beautiful man in front of a crowd is overwhelming. He worships him in their shared bed instead, but maybe, just maybe, when Ilya whispers âI love youâ in his ear after theyâre done, Shane thinks it could be time for a new plan.
the ilya in my mind has an ownership kink that could rival the heat of the fucking sun and it fully goes both ways because like yeah he wants shane to wear a collar with ROZANOV in real diamond lettering everywhere he goes but he also wants Shane Hollander's Husband permanently branded on his own forehead. when ilya is balls deep he's the one crying "yours, yours, yours i'm yours" and sometimes he begs for shane to bite hard enough to leave a mark that will last him days and he flashes his wedding ring every chance he gets and he fucking lives for the moments when he successfully triggers shane's jealousy in public, because he once found out what happens when shane feels the need to let someone know ilya is spoken for, and he still jerks off to it from time to time. before they got married he used to secretly trace "mr. ilya hollander" on the steam of his shower door and just stare at it until he came so hard he cried
PLEASEEE MORE MEL KING. Can you do a super angst filled fic where Melâs partner is close to dying when she comes into the Pitt and Mel can hardly help due to her partnerâs severe state.
(I know you posted one where he partner was a firefighter and was shot but I was hoping for something more gut wrenching?)
Panic | Dr. Mel King x Gn! Reader
TWâ ď¸: Blood, descriptions of wounds, and a car accident. Drunk driver car accident, depressive thoughts, lots of anxiety, mutism from stress, and vague descriptions of a panic attack. Also descriptions of grief and near-death
A/N: if anyone wants to be added to the tag list feel free to either comment, dm me, or send an ask!
Word count: 2,501
They always said adrenaline was a hell of a drug. But no one ever stopped to think where that adrenaline was coming from
Mel sure as hell never had.
Sure, it was something she dealt with every day in the E.R., but it was always a situation in which she had only seen one side. Never did she want, or expect, to be on that other side.
The side of the patient and their family who have no clue what is happening. No information, no say in what happens, no control.
Case in point; two weeks prior, four hours into Mel's shift.
1:32 am, Tuesday, October 7th
Night shift was not something she ever looked forward to, unlike many of her coworkers. Where day shifts were busy and crammed, hectic in all the exhaustingly grateful ways, night shifts were like a ghost town.
Dr. Abbot was the attending for the night, and Mel couldn't have been more thankful, for once, for the lack of patients as he humored her with tales of his time as a medical student.
Their peace was broken when a call came through informing the team of incoming car crash victims.
Mel and Dr. Abbot immediately went into action, setting up everything they thought they'd need to handle these car crashes.
Without much knowledge about the exact condition of the patients, all they could do was their best and have what they thought they'd need ready.
The first ambulance arrived three minutes after the call. The paramedics rushed out of the back doors, lowering the stretcher to the ground where Mel and Dr. Abbot waited.
"23-year-old intoxicated male. He's got a broken femur and a laceration on the forehead. He's conscious and doesn't appear to be showing any brain or spinal damage."
Once that patient was situated with a nurse (and a police officer), Mel and Dr. Abbot ran back outside as they awaited the arrival of the next ambulance.
The paramedics' faces were grim, with a quickness Mel had never seen before, as they began to unload the gurney and its patient.
It was unlike anything Mel had seen yet, outside of the PittFest shooting just a short while ago.
"20-something-year-old with cranial hemorrhaging, fractured collarbone, and a seatbelt laceration across the midsection. They've lost a lot of blood, BP's been dropping since we picked 'em up. They've also got some second degree burns on their left hand."
Their hair was so matted with blood that the color was completely obstructed. Their clothes were bloody and cut open, exposing the gash in their side going from their hip to their shoulder.
Mel scanned their injuries, wordlessly assessing them all. It was only when she got back up to their face that her mind went blank. She could barely even hear herself speak over the ringing in her ears.
"Did you get a name?"
The paramedic who had been relaying all the information to them glanced down at the sheet he held. This sheet of paper that, to them, contained everything this person had been and now ever would be.
"Y/N Y/L/N."
Mel's world went black. It was as if she were underwater. She heard and saw only bits and pieces. She felt something, or perhaps someone, gripping her arms. She knew, without actually seeing that without them, she would've hit the floor.
"Dr. King?"
Her focus was solely on the patient, who, underneath the layers of blood and ash, was her partner.
A loud beeping noise was what finally brought her out of her stupor.
"Heart rate's dropping! Starting CPR!"
Mel's horror increased tenfold as she watched Dr. Abbot hop up on the gurney, starting the CPR process to save her partner's life.
A soothing whisper in her ear was the only recognition Mel had of those arms still securely wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side.
Holding her back, she realized.
The sharp crack of her partner's ribcage was what finally set Mel off. Her feet dug into the floor, gaining absolutely no ground as Dana was apparently much stronger than she looked.
A strangled noise escaped Mel's throat as she struggled against Dana's grip.
Mel had never felt this kind of sheer panic before. It was like her body was on autopilot.
"You gotta let them work, Mel. It's ok, he knows what he's doing, they're gonna be fine."
She felt as though a spotlight had been placed upon her partner in her world-gone-black. She found herself unable to speak, as though her vocal cords had been clipped.
Air finally filled her lungs again as she heard the steady beat of her partner's heart again--thanks to Dr. Abbot.
He climbed down as he began giving orders to the nurses and paramedics alike.
"Take them to OR 4, it should be prepped and waiting. Now!"
They all took off, rushing into action to transport their newly critical patient upstairs, away from Mel.
All of her fight left her body at once, as soon as those elevator doors closed. Her partner no longer within sight, their condition to her unknown as their life now hung in the balance.
She slumped into Dana as her whole body shook, her legs too unstable to keep her upright any longer.
Dr. Abbot let out an audible breath once those doors had closed, his back to Mel. He took in another deep breath before turning around to face her.
Dana had maneuvered the two of them to the floor, where Mel clutched tightly to the arm she had wrapped around her front. Her other hand was in her hair, cradling Mel's head to her chest while she stroked her hair.
Dr. Abbot walked over and bent down, his arms resting on his knees as he shared a look with Dana over Mel's head.
Mel's eyes stayed unfocused and unseeing, her gaze directed down at the floor. Specks of blood littered the floor, marking where her partner had been.
She knew she probably needed to get up, go and find something to do, some way to help. She just--couldn't.
"Mel?" Her eyes shifted up towards his voice. "Hey, let's get you into a chair, okay?"
Together, he and Dana managed to get Mel off the floor and sit her in a chair. The two of them kneeled in front of her, one of each of their hands on either armrest.
"How about we get you some water, and you can go change your clothes, grab your stuff, and we'll get you a ride home. How's that sound?" Dana asked her, her motherly instincts coming out full-force.
Slowly, Mel began to shake her head 'no', beginning to shake her head faster and faster.
"Hey, it's okay, you don't have to," Dana laid a hand on her knee. "But you should go home and get some rest, Mel. You can't do anything but wait right now."
Hot, salty tears began to roll down Mel's face, her chin quivering as she stared at the droplets of blood.
Dr. Abbot followed her line of sight, quietly standing up as he discreetly asked a nurse to quickly clean it up.
The rest of the E.R. was background noise to her as every worst possible thought ran through her head at lightning speed.
How would she tell their parents? Their siblings? What would become of their cat? The house they'd just put a down payment on that Mel couldn't afford by herself?
What would become of Mel should the worst outcome come true?
She sat in silence, still unwilling as well as unable to talk. Tears streamed faster and faster down her face as she watched the last bits of her partner's blood fill the mop bucket, mixing with the suds.
Yelling caught her attention, a deep, angry, male voice from just a few feet away from where she sat. An aggravated clinking noise accompanied it, along with another male yelling back in response.
It must've been the other car crash patient.
The drunk driver.
Who was most likely responsible for the crash.
The id part of her brain took over as she immediately stood up, hurriedly walking over to the edge of his partition curtain.
Dana and Dr. Abbot were hot on her heels, careful not to touch her and risk her having a bad reaction, but also trying to make sure she wouldn't go after the patient.
Mel stood there, just out of sight of the patient, as she stared at him. His unbloodied face, his intact bones, his unburnt skin.
And for once, in her entire life of wishing to help people, she wished it had been him instead.
She wished he were the one who had been needing resuscitation on that gurney, the one who was being rushed into surgery right now.
Even while still thinking it, Mel knew she didnât really mean it. But god, did she want to.
She wanted to be angry. She wanted to scream and cry and blame him for all that heâd done.
But thatâs just not who Mel was.
And itâs not who her partner would want her to be.
Her mouth opened, drawing breath with which to speak, even if she didnât have any words pre-planned.
But she couldnât physically make a sound. Nothing came out, as opposed to the yelling Dana and Dr. Abbot had been expecting.
Dana grabbed her arms, gently pulling her away from the patientâs area and towards their break area, just wanting her out of the E.R. at this point.
The two of them took her to the back, Dana leaving Mel and Dr. Abbott at the table while she was âbrokeâ into Melâs locker to grab her things.
âHey,â Dr. Abbot leaned across the table to hand her hand, his touch finally making her meet his eyes.
âI know this isnât what you want to hear, but theyâre gonna be okay. We have a great team of surgeons and an amazing doctor for a girlfriend to help them out once theyâre out of surgery and in recovery. Theyâre strong, theyâll pull through. If only to see you again, theyâre so stubborn.â Mel cracked a small smile at that.
When Mel had first introduced them to her coworkers, it had actually been much earlier than planned.
They had shown up while Mel was on shift with their younger brother. Heâd taken a bit of a fall at a skateboarding rink nearby and Y/N refused to not let him get checked out, whether heâd hate her from embarrassment or not.
Mel got to be the lucky once to do the assessment, much to his dismay.
It was nothing more than a couple of scrapes and a bruised knee, that paired nicely with his bruised ego.
It was times like this, that Mel was thankful for their stubbornness.
Dana soon returned with Mel's backpack and her long-forgotten lunchbox in hand.
"Mel, why don't you go and change out of your scrubs, so we can get you a bit more comfortable, hm?"
Before Mel could really even start to shake her head in protest, Dana continued to speak. "We know you're not gonna leave, that's why we just want to make you comfortable. Those waiting room chairs are not the comfiest."
Mel reached out her unsteady hands, her eyes filling up with tears. This time, just for the sheer amount of love and gratefulness she felt for these two medical providers.
She couldn't have landed a better team of people to work with if she had been matched to her top choice hospital.
Gripping her backpack strap tightly, Mel stood from the table, her legs unsteady as they shook.
Slowly, she inched her way towards the door off to the side leading into the bathroom. The door shut behind her, leaving her to be by herself for the first time in hours.Â
The tears that had since slowed down, now streamed down her face as she sunk to the floor, against the wall.
She sat there on the floor, and cried until she threw up. Unaware of anything that wasnât the memory of her partnerâs bloody face.Â
Dana kneeled behind her, holding her hair as she rubbed soothing circles on her back, telling her to just, âlet it all out.â
Eventually, Mel somehow managed to pull herself together enough to get off the floor and onto her feet.Â
She grabbed the clothes that sheâd discarded, looking up at Dana. Her big, wet, sad brown eyes looked like those of a kicked puppy.
Which was what spurred Dana into action. Making sure to first garner Melâs consent, she helped her change her clothing, the same way she wouldâve for her daughter.
Mel didnât wear makeup at work so that wasnât an issue, but Melâs face was bright red and puffy.
Dana ran some paper towels under the sink, instructing Mel to hold them against her face while she stood behind Mel. She carefully removed the hair tie at the bottom of Melâs brain, gently unweaving each strand as she freed her blonde locks.
A knock at the door had Mel peaking one of her eyes out from underneath the wet towels. Who would be knocking on the bathroom door?
âCome in!â Dana shouted in response. Dr. Abbot walked in, cradling a small plastic water bottle in his hands that he handed to Dana as he gave Mel as assessing once-over.
âMel, honey, do you want to drink some water? I know your headâs killing you.âÂ
Mel nodded mutely, taking the opened bottle from her and taking a few small sips.Â
Her two elders stood beside her, just watching for a second.
âDo you want to go straight to the waiting room upstairs or do you want to stay here for a bit? Or go to the cafeteria and get something to eat?â Dr. Abbot gently asked her.
After only a second of consideration, she held up a singular shaking finger.Â
âStraight to the waiting room?â She nodded, taking another small sip of water. She held the bottle close to her chest, cradling it as if it were the only thing holding her together.
*********
Two hours later, Mel sat on a hard plastic chair in the waiting room two floors up from the E.R., robotically munching on some goldfish Dana had shoved into her hands.
Her thoughts were so far away, the comforting cheesy taste no longer registered with her. The seconds ticked by like hours, the minutes like decades.
She had debated calling her partnerâs parents, but she didnât want to incite extra panic with just a text and her inability to speak made calling impossible.
Her back ached from the hunched position she sat in, her tailbone burned from the cushion-less seat. Her head hurt from crying, her face puffy and sticky with dried tears.
She wanted to go home.
She wanted her partner.
Instead, she sat in the too cold, too brightly lit hospital waiting room.Having to face the notion that she may never get to go home with her partner again.
no pumpkin baby appearance in 9x05 so i had to draw him
* [esp if you're on mobile tumblr has been compressing the shit out of my art so pls click if you want to see it clearer/read what the ramble actually says or don't and it can just remain a mystery or say whatever you want it to say đŤś]
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